Why don't you start with telling us a little about yourself? What genre do you write in and why?
I run a flower shop and write every free second I can manage, dipping into whatever genres the characters take me. So far, urban fantasy, urban sci-fi, paranormal suspense, historical, all with layers of spicy to sweet romance.
Tell us a bit about your latest book, and what inspired you to write such a story.
Ashes came about on a hot summer day. Words popped out of nowhere concerning a man who’d been murdered. I started to wonder who was this guy, who’d miss him, and what type of idiot kills off main character in the opening paragraph?
Dead guy’s brother came along, and wow, was he pissed. Then I’d started to care about the unfortunate, who became more and more of a sweetie the further I wrote. It took 80K to make things right, and I had to dip into the paranormal to do so. But, I swear, no vamps or zombies where used in the making of Ashes.
Basically, Ashes is about the love between brothers, how far a man will go for his twin. My inspiration was based on guilt for murdering a guy before I even knew him.
Did your book require a lot of research?
Yep. I love Google. Did you know there are shrubs that contain myrrh in the desert of Nevada? That’s the reason for the setting of Las Vegas.
If you could have any vice without repercussions, what would it be?
I’d love to be able to eat, drink and be merry without any physical consequence.
If you could have been the servant to any famous person in history, who would that be and why?
Not sure about living in the distant past, so Bill Watterson, Christopher Moore, Lisa Gardner, Kurt Vonnegut, I’d have to flip a coin because I’d love to spend time with so many authors. But, assuming I could return to occasionally check my email, I’d debate over Leonardo De Vinci, Socrates, Gandhi. Just fascinating people, and ones not apt to strangle me when I burn the meal. I mean, live without a microwave? Shudder.
What so you see for the future of publishing and e-books?
E-books are outselling paperback, how cool is that? I think this is an incredible time to be an author and the future is electric!
Which of your characters do you love/hate/fear/pity the most and why?
I don’t hate any and I pity them all. Myles Logan comes to mind as a guy I care for, just because he’s so loveable. He’s the star of Ashes, along with his twin, Lyle. I fear Malcolm, a non-human who refuses to cooperate unless I remain true to his personality, and that calls for demise in my current work that won’t be easy for me to write.
Do you get along with your muse? What do you do to placate her if needed?
I don’t have many ideas, and those I do have are usually stubborn and difficult to begin. I worry at it, until the scene clicks. No matter how strange, I’ve learned the best way to placate is to not let go until it flows. So, I bang my head a lot.
Do you have another book in the works? Would you like to tell readers about your current or future projects?
I have a series coming out this year. Book one, Splintered Energy, the end of this month. In a nutshell, I’ve brought seven, complex and flawed personalities (byproduct of a splintered particle of light) to life in adult human bodies. Trapped on Earth and wanting to go home, without memory of where that even is. Splintered Energy concerns their journey to reunite, and survive each other and mankind.
Have you ever experience weird cravings while you write? If so, what kind?
No, unless the desire to bash in my head or strangle someone is considered weird.
What is the most ridiculous thing that you have thought about doing to any of your characters but never did?
I did consider not reaching that HEA for a guy, but no. It seems a rule I won’t easily break.
If you had to write yourself as a heroine/hero, what kind of heroine/hero would you be? What would you be named?
Guess I’d be an immortal that doesn’t eat brains or blood, and with wings. Be cool to fly. I’d be flawed, but capable of growth, and my name would be simple. The lower case letter, a, comes to mind. Not that I have low self esteem, but I’m lazy. How easy is it to sign a message…a.
If your muse were to talk behind your back, what secrets would he/she tell?
That she’d kill me if I babbled secrets without even being tortured.
If someone hasn't read any of your work, what book would you recommend that they start with and why?
Of my published works, I’d say Ashes. I consider Myles Logan to be my greatest achievement as a writer to date.
If there was a soundtrack to your latest novel, what genre/songs would be included?
The flight of the bumblebees worked great in the trailer for Ashes.
When you're not writing, what do you like to do to just kick back and have fun?
Read, movies, drive someplace fun without a zillion people or cops on the road, hang with my son/family/friends.
If we peeked at your bookcase(s)/e-reader, what kind of books/authors would we find there?
My kindle is filled with authors I know. Some reads are published and wanting reviews, others want my thoughts on works in progress. As to print books, the classics of course. Barbara Elsborg, DJ Jackson, JK Rowling, TC Boyle, Christopher Moore, Harlan Corben, and way too many to list.
Where can we find you on the web?
Sneak Peek into Ashes by Arlene Webb
Paranormal Romantic Suspsense
MuseItHot
Blurb: Ashes is a paranormal suspense novel with romance as well.
Not happening. Four hours pass while Lyle Logan holds his brother's corpse and pretends he’s the one not breathing.
Those responsible are dead. Only one reason to live now—vengeance.
Please. Lyle will do anything to alter reality. But he can’t. Instead he fills his stomach with ashes and unwittingly devours a myth.
I want to die. Guilt holds hands with grief. Lyle doesn’t care when authorities conclude that he committed the crime of Cain.
Acceptance. Lyle has no choice but to acknowledge the entity burning within.
When five stages lead to a precipice, Lyle takes the next step. So what he’ll lose his humanity and hold a miraculous creature hostage.
Resolution. Ashes to life, he will find a way to his brother.
Excerpt:
An imaginary hand stroked his head, the firm touch of male flesh soothed the tears on his cheek and his dead brother’s voice whispered in his ear, “Sorry, Lyle. Permanently separated—how weird is that? You mustn’t follow me. Move your butt. Find them instead. Avenge me.”
“Sure.” Lyle spat blood through his cracked lips. “I’ll get right on it.” Impetuous and irrational, Myles had always been the weaker. But Lyle, older by three minutes, managed to rescue his younger bro from every sociopath that befell him.
Not this time. Myles headed for a pine box.
Lyle headed toward damnation as soon as he stopped pretending he was Myles. The chain didn’t hold his leg tight, no sharp object had opened his veins, and not a bone in his body had been smashed. Lyle lay facedown in the dirt, alongside his twin, imagining over and over what it must have felt like to die like this.
How much guilt can a heart take before it goes quiet? And who dared to approach, interrupting his snuggle with the dead? A ripple of dust and a fluttering irritated Lyle. Hot air and cinnamon hit his face. He snapped open his eyes and jerked to his feet.
A dying buzzard? More like a deathly ill, midget flamingo. The creature that landed in front of Lyle appeared deader than Myles.
He lowered his hands and hunched down. Three feet tall at most, a foot of height added by its scrawny neck, the bird angled its head as if it were blind, wobbling on decrepit legs. Two feathers—faded crimson and gold—clung to its hairless, grey form. It looked like it should be hanging from the fist of a voodoo queen. The thin twig dangling from its cracked beak smelled like the crappy shrubs circling them.
“Thirsty, little guy?” Lyle snorted. “So am I. Go away.” If it dared to peck at Myles, he’d wring its neck.
The creature opened its beak and the twig tumbled down. Pencil legs cracked and it collapsed. Its head whacked into the branch, and a sharp burst of resin saturated the air.
Lyle swallowed hard. He knew what the saintly dead would do. His canteen lay beside Myles. Dumping it into Myles’ mouth had been as futile as performing CPR.
A feeble chirp from the bird suggested the thing still breathed. Lyle grabbed the canteen, shook it, and a few drops fell into his cupped hand. He held his palm out to the creature.
Buy link for Ashes: http://tiny.cc/9akrv
Trailer for Ashes: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iKyagcOSJw8
