Sarah Madison is here! Sarah Madison is here! Her interview has been a long time coming and I am so excited to be hosting her today. Sarah has been a wonderful supporter of the Hat Party <3 Definitely check out her giveaway at the end of the interview.
Hello Sarah and welcome to The Hat Party! <3 Thank you so much for subjecting yourself to the RANDOMNESS that is a Raine O'Tierney interview! Please don your best hat, and let's get started!
What is your favorite writing memory?
Oh, that’s easy! My boyfriend had gone to a conference and I’d tagged along. The hotel overlooked a harbor, and every morning after he’d left for the meeting, I’d sit down at the desk facing the window and work on a story. The hotel was a definitely different from most national chains (for one thing, it had a *huge* walk in shower with a bench and everything...) and the view was to die for—very suggestive of Paris or some other European city with its colorful buildings and flower boxes on every window. At noon, I’d take a break from writing and walk down to the shore or peruse the shops. The town was designed with pedestrian traffic in mind, so I’d put on my heels and a short skirt and pretend I was one of the wealthy. The funny thing is, I felt fabulous, like I belonged. I’d join the boyfriend for lunch, and then head back to the hotel for another round of writing. In the evenings, we’d walk the town, taking in the sights, sitting in on Some Like It Hot shown on a big outdoor screen and eating in little diners.
On my best day, I wrote 10 K. It felt like nothing. It was one of my best vacations ever.
The zombies are on fire and they are shambling toward you. What. Do. You. Do?
Okay, just so you know, zombies scare the piss out of me. No, really. I have a low threshold for scary things anyway (I dream in Technicolor and I never forget anything I’ve ever seen or read) but zombies scare me more than anything out there. I can tell myself that vampires, werewolves, and ghosts don’t really exist, but zombies are a metaphor for the pandemic that will probably wipe us out. I have a medical background, so this is truly frightening to me. I’d grab the pets and run until I couldn’t run any further. I’d abandon the car and take to the mountains. I’d hope and pray that I could find a way to live until the zombies fell apart. All the while sweating and crying and trembling. Give me a poisonous snake, and I’ll willingly transport it out of the campground. Ask me to corral a wild bull, or face down an angry Rottweiler, and I’m your gal. Mention zombies, and I’m a quivering mess.
Share your secret writing dream with us! (Your most wild, outlandish dream!)
Okay, this is sad, but I would love it if my writing would allow me to quit the day job. How low-bar is that? I mean, E. L. James wrote the 50 Shades series and made something like 97 million in sales. She doesn’t have to sell another story—she’s set for life. I don’t want that. No, really! I don’t. But I would love it if I had such a fan following that I could quit the day job and stop worrying about how to pay the bills. I recently had to make some sacrificial decisions—the kind that really hurt—for lack of money. In my wildest dreams, I have enough money to buy a little cabin in the woods. I live there with my dog, my cats, and my horses. Every day is just like that vacation I took with the boyfriend: I get up and take the dog for a walk. I write until noon. I ride the horse or work in the garden, and then I write until the BF gets home. What a lovely, heavenly life that would be. I don’t need much. I don’t need accolades, or fame, or recognition. I don’t need scads of money. But, oh! If I could have just a little peace and quiet every day to do what I love most, I could die happy.
A drunken relative has just insulted M/M rom up one side and down the other. Plus they spilled their drink on you in the process. What is your most articulate response?
Oh dear. My relatives don’t get drunk. I suspect that is part of their problem. If you looked up the definition of ‘uptight’ on Wikipedia, you’d probably find the entire family portrait there. But let’s say that this DID happen. I’d probably smile, blot my blouse, and say, “You should try it sometime. You know what they say, once you’ve gone to the Dark Side, you’ll never go back.” Then I’d ask for the bottle, since they obviously don’t know how to hold their liquor.
Would you rather read a super spicy sex-scene aloud to a parent or in front of 300 people at GRL?
Oh, seriously! No contest here. I’d read to GRL in a heartbeat. I did a lot of theater when I was in high school and college. I find speaking in public a SNAP. One on one, especially with a rigid and uptight family member, not so much.
Would you walk across the country on foot for the assurance of a Big Six publishing contract?
When do I start? Not that I’m convinced that a contract with the Big Six is any assurance of success, but there’s still that whole cachet thing, you know? A contract with the Big Six is still a marker of success solely because the Big Six has seen to it that it is. Kind of like how the DeBeers company has made diamonds the gem of choice for engagement rings. That’s changing rapidly, but there is still that sense of having ‘made it’ if one of the Big Six signs you on. And it’s just walking. I can do that.
You have 200 words—Make. Me. Swoon. (PLEASE!)
From The Boys of Summer: in this scene, David McIntyre is taking one final weekend alone with Rick Sutton. It’s near the end of the Battle of Britain in WW2. They know their relationship is doomed, and yet they are determined to have this last moment together before the war separates them forever.
“Goddamnit, Mac. A two bit whore is less of a fucking tease than you are.” Instead of sounding frustrated, he was languid as he lay back and let David lavish him with full attention.
“My night. My rules.” He liked sucking cock. It was one of his favorite things to do, and he knew he was good at it. Usually with Sutt, the very public nature of their trysts meant that he had to get Sutt off as soon as possible. Not tonight. Tonight was about making Sutt forget the war, to stop thinking about anything and everything and simply feel.
“Mac.” His voice was slurred, and David was inordinately pleased that he had rendered Rick to this state. “Please. Mac. Fuck me.” He shifted his legs slightly, opening his body to David. The small movement made David catch his breath. He had come so close to royally fucking up things between them earlier by trying to get Rick to quit the RAF. He had to make sure he got it right now.
“Not Mac. David.” He lifted his head so he could look down into Rick’s eyes. “Not Sutt.” He moved down Rick’s chest, punctuating his words with kisses. “Rick. Always Rick.”
Everyone that is anyone is now a vampire. Do you become a vampire too?
Well, no. I mean, if I leaned toward the vampire lifestyle anyway, that might be different. But simply because that was the IN thing and everyone else was doing it? You’d be far more likely to find me doing something as different as possible out of sheer perversity. Like being a werewolf or something.
Explain yourself in 7 1/2 words.
Loyal. Hard-working. Clever. Inventive. Imaginative. Funny. Toug...
What is the most RANDOM thing to ever inspire you?
I once misread a prompt for an anthology call about lesbian vampires. I was 60 K into the story when I realized my mistake, and then I wondered what the hell I’d do with the finished product. I made the decision to make the main characters male instead of female, and re-wrote the story line by line. I ended up with one of my best-selling novels, Crying for the Moon. I think I should make these kinds of mistakes more often.
And finally, for THE most important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kinds of dachshunds?
PATIENT ONES (see photo)
~ ~ ~
Take a ride to Northern Scotland on the famous train, the Jacobite, and rediscover desire. Get lost in the Peace Maze in Northern Ireland during a downpour and let a handsome young redhead come to the rescue. Take a tour of historical Blackpool on the English coast and set the stage for the perfect romance. From England to the outer isles, the UK holds treasure troves of romance, history, intrigue, and—naturally—quirky British humor. Not Quite Shakespeare samples it all in fifteen stories.
A man in London makes an accident confession of sexual need to a virtual stranger who happens to be his boss. An American revisits West Sussex and rekindles an old flame with a romp in the stables. A couple finds their perfect third while vacationing on a pig farm in Yorkshire. In the office, on the race track, or in the kitchen baking bread—romance in the UK is alive and well, and full of sweet surprise.
Available from Dreamspinner Press
Excerpt from Chanctonbury Ring:
Tarq’s hair was as wild as ever, but some London barber had cut it in such a way as to free it from its heavy weight so that it stood up in spiky disarray. The most fashionable New York metrosexual would give up his club memberships up if his hair would do what Tarq’s did naturally, the bastard. So. Not. Fair.
“So why wouldn’t you sell?”
Why wouldn’t he sell? What would Tarq do if he answered with the truth? I want to live where you are.
Instead, Denny shrugged. “I still have dual citizenship. I don’t have any family back in the U.S. anymore. Besides, I can write from anywhere, as long as there’s internet.”
“The taxes will eat you here, but then you probably know that. I thought you were getting married.”
It was tempting to point out that Tarq was well-informed for someone who professed not to have kept tabs on his life.
“It didn’t work out.” The abruptness of his reply startled him. He heard the anger and resentment there and it surprised him that he still felt so strongly. Breaking off the engagement had been the right thing to do—getting engaged in the first place had been the mistake. But he could still recall Angela’s stinging verbal backhand as she ended their relationship.
I refuse to be the Alma to your Ennis.
The sad thing is, she’d been right.
*What inspired you to write your story?
Well, it’s no secret that I’m a bit of an Angliophile. When I heard that Dreamspinner Press was soliciting submissions for an anthology for UK-centric stories, I knew I had to write something for it. I’d travelled to the UK for the first time in 2012 and my impressions of that trip were very strong. I was so excited to be in England after a lifetime of reading British cozy mysteries that even the *mud*filled me with ecstasy. Best. Trip. Ever.
*Is there anything special you’d like us to know about your story?
I was fortunate to have marvelous weather and an excellent guide for my trip to the UK in 2012. I hiked the trail up to Chanctonbury Ring and relished the beauty of the landscape before me. If that turned into a hot M/M romance, well, my favorite motto is “Everything is grist for the mill.” I suspect this tendency to turn every life experience into a story is a wee bit embarrassing for the BF, but it doesn’t prevent him from offering help at every juncture. He’s awesome like that.
*What are your hopes for this title?
I’d love it if a reader ‘discovered’ me in this anthology and decided to not only read everything I’ve ever written, but told all their friends to read my stories too. :-)
About the Author:
Sarah Madison is a veterinarian with a big dog, an even bigger horse, too many cats, and a very patient boyfriend. She is a terrible cook, and concedes that her life would be easier if Purina made People Chow. She writes because it is cheaper than therapy.
Contact her through Amazon | Facebook (Author Page) | Facebook (Profile) | Twitter | Website | Dreamspinner Press | Goodreads | Tumblr
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