Interview With S. Katherine Anthony

Hello, everyone! I would like to introduce you to author, S. Katherine Anthony, who won When Stars Die’s cover art contest some time ago. Let’s begin with the synopsis, and then we’ll kick off with the interview.

Being strong is one thing. Being an unlimited source of power is quite another.
Genetically altered by the Organization, Annie Fox takes down criminals CIA-style with her luminary strength. With nothing to mend but her broken heart, she is relentlessly pursued by her boss Derek Lake. Just when Annie is about to give him a chance, her ex-husband unexpectedly comes out of hiding.
A wanted man, Nick Logan is a cold-hearted murderer who is considered enemy number one, and orders are clear: kill on contact. He is more powerful than ever and threatens the lives of those she holds most dear. His plan? Get his hands on Annie and use her Kinetic energy to destroy them all. When Annie finds herself with an opportunity to end him, she pauses, horrified by the scars covering the face she once loved. A split second that will cost her everything…

1. First and foremost, tell my readers about you (well, everything you’d like to share).

– I am a book-a-holic who runs away from baby spiders!

2. Tell us about Kinetic, your inspirations, the story itself, the characters, anything that will draw readers’ attention.

– It follows a broken-hearted Luminary, Annie Fox. She works as a crime-fighter and uses her “special skills” to kick some serious butt. Annie will have to struggle with the fact that her ex-husband, Nick Logan, is now the evil she is supposed to bring down. The problem is, if she even gets close enough to him, she will hand him the weapon that will allow him to destroy everyone she loves: herself.

3. What sets Kinetic apart from others books in its genre?

– Well, it’s a New Adult Urban Fantasy for starters, with some light sci-fi. But the whole premise is based on Annie’s ‘special power’ so its definitely action packed. There are several other characters and each of them come with their own ‘gifts,’ this makes for some interesting group dynamics.

4. What inspired the gorgeous cover art for this book, and who had a hand in it?

– The actual “Kinetic” power of Annie inspired the cover. At first glance it might be hard to understand but once you read the book, you’ll go ‘uh-huh!’ I would tell you more but then I would be giving a lot away 😉

5. How many rounds of edits did you go through to get this book in tip-top shape?

– Oh goodness, I had a lot of rewriting and revisions. I lost track of how many times but it was over fifteen times, for sure. I wrote the full first draft and let that sit for about a month then ripped it apart. I repeated that several times then sent it off to betas and ripped it even more. This final book is version number 3,499… ok, so maybe I’m exaggerating but it sure feels like it.

6. What made you decide to self-publish this book?

-I chose to self publish simply because I love having the control. Originally, I was afraid to write my books because I didn’t want to deal with the query stress, the “change this or else” aspect of it, or the rejections. But once I was researching it (yes, I still intended to pursue it), I found out about self-publishing and loved the idea, so I went for it.

7. So, what is your favorite wine?

– Anyone that will get me tipsy? 😛
I like both red and white, but lately I’ve been enjoying Pinot Grigio.

8. What books inspire you?

– I’ll keep it simple and just stick to the seven Harry Potter books.

Author Bio
S. K. Anthony is a writer, a reader and a make-stuff-up-er who lives in New York with her husband and toddler twins. She is a wine connoisseur, which just really means she knows she loves it, and a caffeine addict. When she isn’t busy with her family she finds herself being transported into the world of imagination. Well, either that or running away from spiders…she is convinced they are out to get her!

Links:
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18072566-kinetic
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/S-Katherine-Anthony/403554526400225
Twitter: https://twitter.com/SKathAnthony
Blog: http://www.skanthony.com

My next post will be on The Fussy Librarian. It is an amazing resource for writers and readers, one I would argue that is better than KDP and BookBub, as, not only it is free, but it sends you one update each day with two books. Yes, two books only so you’re not inundated with so many decisions.

Emypreal Illusions On Sale

Since I am practically Jake Bonsignore’s street team, I am posting this on his behalf.

Here are the links to where you can find this awesome book:

Amazon US – http://amzn.com/B00D18OUU4

Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00D18OUU4

BN – http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/empyreal-illusions-jake-bonsignore/1115427220?ean=2940016473031

Victoria’s Asylum of Maggots

This was published in issue 4 of Sorean: A Gothic Magazine. There is also a part 2, and I may continue it with a part 3 and whatever else I can conjure from this mind of mine so that way all of you can have a taste of my writing style. Sorry for the one column, but I just copied and pasted it directly from the magazine because I lost the thumb drive this was on a long time ago, so I have no copies myself. Here we go!

VICTORIA’S ASYLUM OF MAGGOTS: PART ONE

Alice, from American McGee’s Alice: Madness Returns. This is similar to what Victoria faces.

Unwanted wife, suicidal, prone to hysterics,

abnormal–that is what my chart reads. My

mind says otherwise. I am an unwanted wife

who never wanted to be one. My husband is

abusive, so hysterics are to be expected.

And suicidal is normal when ones husband beats her for forgetting to put out his tie.

As for my abnormality, I see nothing wrong

with pouring boiling tea on my husband’s

crotch.

That’s not what Bethlem Royal Hospital, or

Bedlam as we victims call it, would have me

believe. If I’m considered mad now, I’d like to

see just how mad I am when someone decides

to let me out.

Four gray walls stare down at me. An eave

sits above my head to keep me down. There is

no window, no light. The floor is marred wood.

A layer of dust sits like a quilt, tucked neatly

into the cracks of the floor. Moss creeps across

neglected walls and grows through fissures.

Unknown creatures twist and turn in the walls,

as well as my nightmares.

I have been staring at these walls for the

past two weeks. I have not seen the light in

four months. I don’t know what the sun feels

like, or what the flowers smell like, or what the

sky looks like anymore. Wetness devours my

body in the form of bodily fluids, and ice strips

away my skin, replacing it so that I am forever

shivering. My hair is a pile of brambles. My bed

sheets haven’t been changed in weeks. Chains

hold me down.

Why am I in chains? The scenario happens

as such:

‘Victoria Wilson. Age fourteen. New arrival,’

the nurse says. ‘Attacked her husband. He

couldn’t handle her anymore.’

‘What should we do?’ the other nurse asks.

I am on my bed, staring out the window. I

used to be in a room with a window.

‘The only thing we can do.’

‘Leeches?’

‘Yes. Fetch them for me.’

Emilie Autumn’s Leeches

One can imagine what happens afterwards.

I lacerated those beasts, and they removed my

fingernails for it, a procedure that turned me

into a twitching fiend. My nail beds are dried

pieces of bloody skin.

I am a rose that has lost its thorns.

I can’t be insane, though. The insane ones

are outside of Bedlam. They choose to ignore

the fog infecting London, the dark creatures

slithering through their minds. They ignore it

by gambling, drinking, and buying prostitutes

and children for themselves.

I should have lost my sanity by now. I

should be grazing the air with my stubby

fingers. I should be mutilating the slimy

creatures in me. I should be screaming,

writhing, moaning, panting. Yet, I haven’t felt

the urge to. If I did, I wouldn’t hesitate to

unleash the black worms from my mind, let

them glide across my body, wrap their slickness

around my limbs and take control of me like a

marionette.

Instead I stare up at the eave, thinking too

much, waiting for sleep to consume me. Present

thoughts are comforting. Memories are

despairing. I purged myself of my memories

when I heard my husband was sending me to

Bedlam. I let all my insanity out at home before

I came here.

But I believe maggots clogging my veins are

delaying this inevitable lunacy. Soon they‘ll

turn to flies, and begin to buzz within me. It

won’t be long before I find these chains too

tight.

A girl screams in the cell next to mine.

Startling me, jolting my eyes wide. The

walls are hollow arteries, so sounds are never

muffled. I should be used to these screams; this

one is just too near. Thudding emerges behind

my head. Like everyone else, she just wants to

pull her brains out and ooze away her

memories.

Thud, thud, thud.

A steady, hollow rhythm.

No one answers her cries. She’s a banshee in a

hollowed-out body. Two black coals for eyes. No

heart. No soul. Every girl here is a banshee.

Some day, I’ll be one as well.

It must be nighttime, which is why no one

comes for her. One can never tell if it’s night or

day in here. The darkness is eternal.

The thudding stops, but the screaming

doesn’t. A simple word follows the screaming.

“Why?” Her voice is hoarse and cracks as

she draws it out.

That’s the simplest question, the word with

the most impact. Why is she here? Why is she

subjected to this? Why does no one care? Why is

she alone? Why isn’t anyone coming for her? I

could ask that same question, too.

“Why indeed,” I whisper.

Alice from American McGee’s Alice: A Madness Returns.

Footsteps resound down the hall. Must be

daytime then.

The footsteps stop at her cell. A lock clicks

open. The screams crescendo, then die down.

“Tabitha,” a female voice says.

She lets out a string of incoherent words.

Only the mad ones understand her.

“Tabitha,” the woman says again.

“Get out of here!” Tabitha says.

“Wot’s she ‘ere for?” a rough, masculine voice

asks.

“She’s here after attacking her husband. No

reason given. No reason asked. They talk

about her as though she isn’t in that cell, as

though she isn’t human. We are rats and not

patients. “Her father wants her here until she

is wholly sedate. Then he wants custody of her.

She’s twenty-three.”

Not a girl, but a woman old enough to care

for herself. A woman is never a woman, though,

no matter what age. She’ll forever be a girl.

“We’ll have to act fast with this one.”

“Should we try the leeches?”

“Yes.”

“Wot if those don’t work.”

“Cliterodectomy.”

For a moment all the suffering in the world

makes itself known to me. There’s a torture

somewhere, a woman getting raped. A babe is

dying in its mother’s arms. Men are killing

each other faster than rabbits reproduce.

Someone commits suicide. Slaves are whipped,

girls molested, boys abused, mothers killed,

animals tortured.

Maim, rape, torture, kill, abuse. Repeat.

Living is impossible if one is not doing any of

those things.

“Come on, Tabitha,” the woman says.

The screaming starts up again. It sounds

like Tabitha’s now clawing the wall as though

she can create a hole, crawl through it, and run

away. Someone slams the door to the side.

“You’ll have to get her arms,” the nurse says

in a hurry.

Tabitha screams louder. The sound of two

bodies colliding meets my ears. One of the

bodies hits the floor. The sound of tussling

mixed with screaming ensues. I imagine

Tabitha’s a tiger clawing at a gazelle, rending

its flesh with sharp claws.

“Nurse Hayes, grab ‘er legs!”

The screaming stops. The struggling ceases.

There is only the sound of whimpering.

“I’ve got ‘er from ‘ere.”

“Are you certain, Carlisle?”

There are no words. I assume Carlisle

replies with a nod.

Carlisle grunts. He must be hoisting her

over his shoulder. Boots scuff across the floor.

Heels click. The door shuts.

The boots scuff down the hall. The heels

click in my direction.

The lock clicks on my door.

“Time for your medicine, Victoria,” Nurse

Hayes says.

No. Not the medicine. Please not the

medicine.

My heart swells to the size of a boulder and

drops through the earth, taking my stomach

with it. I soil my bed.

When Nurse Hayes comes into my room, I scream.