Friday, October 11, 2013

Eye of the Soul by Terri Rochenski: Interview


 




Welcome Terri!  Thanks so much for stopping in and agreeing to answer some of my questions.  Does travel play in the writing of your books?

At this point, I’d have to say yes. The world created for the Pool of Souls series has a definite middle earth feel to it, which was supposedly inspired by Tolkien’s homeland of Great Britain, a land I have always wanted to visit. The next fantasy book I have planned has a Tuscany-like world, another place I would LOVE to see some day.


Tell us about your next release.

My next release will be Secret of the Souls. It is set to release October 6, 2014 and is the final book in the Pool of Souls series.


Where do you research for your books?

While I would LOVE to spend hours upon hours in the library sifting through dusty old books, life gets in the way & I’m stuck with nabbing a few minutes here & there


How do you describe your writing style?

I think I’m a person of few words, so I’d have to say my writing is short and to the point. I’m no purple proser full of flowery paragraphs.

 

Tell us about your family.

I grew up in what has been called a Normal Rockwell family. My mom still wears rose colored glasses much to our amusement. As for my ‘now’ family, I have a wonderful husband and three delicious little children, all gifts from God.


How do you develop your plots and your characters? Do you use any set formula?

Really the only set formula I abide by is doing character interviews. I have a list of questions I make the characters in my head answer so I can get to know them a bit better.


Do you have a milestone birthday coming up? If so, how are you approaching it?

I turn 40 next year. Honestly, I’m not too concerned by that number. Life is life, and I just try to enjoy every moment I have with my family.






Series:  Pool of Souls #1

Genre:  Fantasy

Publisher:  J. Taylor Publishing

Release Date:  October 7, 2013


 


 

 



Escape.

That should be Hyla’s first thought as her people are chained and imprisoned for no imaginable reason.

Instead, Hyla finds herself traveling through a land void of Natives, with human soldiers pillaging in desperate pursuit of her, and in search of the mystical Pool of Souls—home to the one man who can save her people.

Or so she believes.

Led by her faith in the deity Fadir, Hyla is met along her journey by Jadon—a human male and fierce King’s warrior, and his childhood best friend Conlin—one of the few Natives aware of his Fadir-given Talents.

Protected by Jadon, guided by Conlin, and with an unfailing belief in the purpose of her pilgrimage, Hyla carries on.

Like her, though, another searches for the Pool, and should he gain access first, everyone she loves, and everything she knows, could be lost.

Forever.




 

Cursing her arthritic fingers, Miri squeezed out a rag and draped it over the human man’s hot forehead.

“I’ve seen a lot more harvests than you, old goat,” she muttered, lifting his eyelids. “I’m thinking you’ll never catch up either. Doubt you last another half-moon’s phase.”

Miri pushed to her feet and stretched her hunched back. A heavy sigh slipped past her wrinkled lips as she glanced around the sick house. Keeping the night watch wasn’t too bad—she’d volunteered often since her old bones wouldn’t allow much sleep.

“Joints wasted, hearing all but gone …” Miri yanked on the long white braid lying over her shoulder. “I’m the old goat.”

She shuffled down the aisle, woolen kirtle swishing in the silence. A cool, autumn breeze rustled the crimson leaves of the magnolia and palm fronds overhead, drawing her gaze upward. Violet streaks lit the pre-dawn sky.A dog barked, yipped, and fell silent.

Miri peered across the village green to the thatched buildings beyond. A shadow passed between two cottages. Another three hurried toward the neighboring dwelling.

“Sight fading or my mind, too?” Miri rubbed her watery eyes, blinked, and leaned forward. Light flickered through the palm trees behind the outlying homes.

Torches?

The flames drew closer, weaving between the trunks.

Humans from the mainland? Miri’s hand clutched at her throat. Soldiers. Fadir have mercy.

The men crept through the village, taking up positions at every doorway. Two brutes, more horse-like in size than human, approached the sick house.

Sputtering torch held high, the first strode forward, dark eyes intent upon Miri. A green surcoat covered broad shoulders and fell to his thighs. The golden wheat sheaf of the city of Varosh adorned his chest.

Cold sweat beaded upon Miri’s brow. Breath burst from her lungs, and she moved back, clutching the door jam.

The second soldier stepped closer, chains and shackles clanking in his hand. He stopped two paces away from Miri, and a smile stretched his stubbled cheeks, revealing rotted teeth. “Good morning pointy-ears.”

Miri stared, heartbeat thundering in her ears. She’d been called worse in her eighty-three birth passings but never with such malice.

A single cry rang out across the village, and doors crashed inward. Screams rent the air.

“Don’t fight Native woman,” rotten-teeth sneered, shackles outstretched.

“W-why?” Miri whispered, taking a step backward.

A scowl narrowed his gaze, and his fist shot forward.

Bursts of light and pain exploded through Miri as she crumpled to the floor.

 #

Miri’s people huddled on the village green as fall’s pale sun crested the trees. Cold metal had been clasped around their necks and ankles. Many trembled in the cool air, little more than night clothes covering their nakedness. Miri held to her braid with a white-knuckled grip, her head and its egg-sized bump throbbing in time with her pulse.

A handful of other battered Natives who had attempted flight were the last to join them, the soldiers tossing them forward like sacks of potatoes.

 

 

 

 

Terri started writing stories in the 8th grade, when a little gnome whispered in her brain. Gundi’s Great Adventure never hit the best seller list, but it started a long love affair with the fantasy genre.

Today she enjoys an escape to Middle Earth during the rare ‘me’ moments her two young daughters allow. When not potty training or kissing boo-boos, she can be found on her back patio in the boondocks of New Hampshire, book or pencil in hand.


 

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1 comment:

Terri Rochenski said...

Thank you so much for hosting me today!!!