Interview of Author B.C. Brown

Today I'm presenting an interview of romance author B.C. Brown.

 Latest Book: A Touch of Darkness
Buy Link:  http://tinyurl.com/83uyucw

BIO: 
My name is B.C. Brown, or B.B., or that weirdo who writes, whichever one works best for you. I grew up in southern Indiana, in a rural town where local sports dominate, small town history is ever-important, and where everyone is under the delusion that the town is larger than it really is. I've been writing since a young age; my mother kept many of my first attempts and, let me tell you, those are humbling, to say the least. My first novel, a fantasy adventure entitled Sister Light, Book One: Of Shadows and published under the pen name B.B. Walter, came out in 2007. I've subsequently published a paranormal romance, A Touch of Darkness (Winter 2010), and have participated in a transgressive fiction anthology, Fracas: A Collection of Short Friction (Fall 2011).

Q: What's the first thing you did when you received word that you sold a book?

A: *grinning* I danced around the living room with my dog.  Actually, I do that every time I see I've sold a book.  My dog is beginning to wish I'd give up this particular vocation, I'm sure.

Q: What part of a book is hardest to write:
A: Particularly, transition scenes between plotlines are most difficult for me. Segues from primary plot to secondary plot require a certain finesse that I am continually trying to learn how to do better.  There is nothing that draws me up shorter when I am reading someone else's work (except, perhaps, for clunky dialogue) like poorly transitioned plotlines.

Q: If one of your books were to be made into a movie, who would you like to play your hero/heroine? Tell us about your hero/heroine.

A: Jada Pinkett-Smith would be my first choice to play Abigail St. Michael.  The actress has a wonderful range, a statuesque physical appearance and demeanor (despite her lack of physical height- which would mean she'd need to be filmed specially since the character is supposed to a very tall woman), that would be well-suited for Abbey's particular personality.  As far as an actor to play a character from one of my stories, I would have to choose Leonardo DiCaprio to play David Constantine from my fantasy novel, Sister Light, due to his range and ability to emote better than most actors twice his age and with twice the experience.

Q: What hobby do you enjoy when not writing?
A: I am active in my community theater; we put on 3 plays/musicals a year.  And I am a HUGE karaoke fiend.  Despite not being able to sing very well (due to my limited deafness) I enjoy music and thrill in performing live in front of people, strangers and familiar faces alike.

Q: What is your strongest point as a writer?
A: I like to think my strongest point is my verbal and internal dialogue and how I use them to interact with and shape the current scene they're in.  Most comments I receive from fans, critique partners, and from editors and beta readers are on the way I use internal and external dialogue in conjunction with my scenes, often using both to shape or alter a scene in rapid-fire manor.

Q: You're on a remote island with a handsome man, a computer, and a "mysterious" source of electricity to power your computer. What do you do?
A: My question really is: is the man both handsome and a strong communicator with good conversational skills?  If he is, I'd have to...um...work with him to stir up a few good ideas for writing.  If he's not a good conversationalist, well, I'd have to sit on the other side of the island with the computer and write myself some better company!  The best thing about being a writer is the limitless supply of adventure, company and excitement one can conjure in one's life.

Tell us where to find you! 
www.bcbrownbooks.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com/bcbrown
www.twitter.com/bcbrownbooks

BLURB: 

Abigail St. Michael, a former cop, has joined the recently growing ranks of metaphysicals, individuals with abilities outside that of normal human nature. When a murderer stalks her town killing children, Abbey uses her ability of touch clairvoyancy to hunt him down. Her only roadblock is that her murderer seems to have his own unique talent, the ability to 'wipe' his victims and their surroundings of any metaphysical energy. With little physical evidence and no supernatural evidence, Abbey is forced to rely on instinct and luck to solve the case. However both Abbey's luck and instinct seem to have taken a permanent vacation as the victims keep piling up with the killer's escalating bloodlust.

EXCERPT: WARNING  - Language 
Lieutenant Jason Davis was a tall man with thinning auburn hair and a mustache that reminded me of a squirrel in desperate need of Rogaine.  You might mistake him for merely being tall, but trust me I know tall since I myself am well over six feet; Lieutenant Davis was freakishly tall.  If I had to gauge a guess-

Don't ask; don't tell.

I'd estimate him around the seven feet mark.I'd once heard he had been offered a basketball scholarship to some prestigious university because of his height, but he'd turned it down to go to community college to become a cop.  Davis said he liked police work.

Bullshit!

Nobody likes police work.We're good at it, and nobody else wants the fucking job.

I'd said as much to him at one point, and he'd only shrugged and ambled away.  If Davis didn't answer a question or comment I'd make, I'd learned throughout the years, it was because he agreed with me but couldn't say it outright.  I'd never had that problem; I said everything outright - even when I should just keep my fucking mouth shut.

I watched Davis as he blew on his fingers, flexing them in the chill late night/early morning air, as I strolled up to him, smiling despite the ridiculous hour.

Really, why couldn't criminals be more considerate and only commit crimes between the hours of nine to five, Monday through Friday?  I mean, jeez, don't they want a nice, normal routine like the rest of mankind?

"Good to see we haven't ruined your amusement, Abbey," he growled.

All right, growled was probably too strong a word for Davis's voice.  For such an incredibly tall man, he had a high-pitched and soft voice, but I knew the tone he implied; it was an ability I'd picked up over the years.

FYI: Always know your boss's tone.

I stared at the man and brought my croissant up for a big bite.  I tore at the buttery, flaky bread with gusto noticing how the golden yellow of the crust contrasted with the chocolate creaminess of my fingertips, the crumbs dusting the dark mocha of my palm like graham cracker crumbs atop hot chocolate.  I'd taken off my glove to eat my croissant.  The damned thing dripped buttery goodness and I didn't want to get the butter all over my glove as I chowed down.

I knew this great little bakery down on 19th street that had the best breads and pastries.

Oh, to die for, I tell you!

This sweet little German lady named Helga owned it.  Yeah, I know Helga is a bit typical a name for a German woman but, hand-to-God, it was true.  I'd met the woman a few years back prior to entering her baking establishment when I'd helped bag her husband's murderer.

 Du-du-du-du:  You are now entering a place, another dimension, known as the Twilight Zone...

The police had speculated that Irving Schleck had been mugged and then shoved down a flight of subway stairs not far from his home.  These brilliant deductions by our fine men and women in uniform were made based on the fact that Mr. Schleck was located at the bottom of the stairwell and his wallet was missing.

Astonishing.

Elementary, my dear Watson, elementary.

It helped that, while the Schleck neighborhood was generally pretty tame, some unsavory elements had begun to creep into the once nice neighborhood a little more every year.

If it walks like a duck...

Davis didn't think it was a duck, and he called me in. Of course, the quote-end-quote real police work had led the fine detectives to a dead end in the case.  Davis only had permission to call me in on the case when all the real leads were exhausted.

No, that's not sarcasm in my voice or anything?!

I'd gotten the call on my work cell.  I actually have a second that I carried for just police work.  For a while, my advisory jobs had become so hectic that the calls began to outnumber my personal ones.  Davis had spoken to the police chief and gotten the force to foot the bill for a company phone.

Everyone referred to it as the "Bat Signal."

I digress.

Davis called me in and, almost a week after the incident, I walked the crime scene for the first time.  I was more than a little pissed.  I was even more pissed when I arrived on the crime scene amidst a light drizzle.

Rain is a problem for people with my unique talents.  Water washed away metaphysical evidence as quickly as it washes away physical evidence.  A violent event can get trapped for longer but eventually time and the elements fade the energy no matter how violent the event.  I mean, I'm not still picking up shit from the Manson murders or anything.

Once I arrived on the scene, I was really doubtful I'd pick up anything left over.  I told the lieutenant my doubts.  He encouraged me to try, regardless; he always encouraged me to try.  It was his special talent, I guess.  So I slipped off my special-made gloves.

Clothing doesn't always protect me from seeing impressions, but the gloves were a damned sight better than me walking around bare-skinned.  That would land me back in the funny farm in no time.  Trust me, I know, I'd been there once already.  I had once brushed up against a woman who beat her two children on a twice-daily basis.  I felt her glee as she did it; her happiness as she felt their little bones crunch under her/my hands...

Oh, God...

I digress.

Davis knew my doubts, but I did my job.  I slipped off my sweet Italian, designer gloves and touched everything in sight.  The railing, the stairs, the curb where he'd busted his damned head, and...nothing.  Nada, zip, nein - no pun intended, Mr. Schleck.  There was nothing left to see.  I told the lieutenant as much, but I was wrong.

There was a cat. 

Is there anything else you'd like to add?

Many people ask how I come up with my ideas. Whenever I'm asked this question I usually have one reply only - just dream. If you can and really want to make your life better, you need to look no farther than your dreams to do so. Take what you're given, the wonders of the world and people around you and turn them into whatever you need/want them to be to make your life more interesting. The perk of being a writer is that not only is writing a way for personal fulfillment and enjoyment, it is also a way to make those around you happy. So, go ahead! Don't worry about what you're going to write, just write it! Deal with the fall-out and work out the kinks later. And if it makes you happy, all the better!