Hi Glynis 🙂 Thank you for interviewing me for your blog.
What is your genre? Why did you choose it?
I actually write in multiple genres (paranormal/fantasy/science fiction/ crime/romance), and it sounds odd but the characters choose the genre. My story/plot ideas always start with a character, and they come to me fully formed and ready to go. So when I meet them, the genre for their story comes with them.
Do you work on more than one manuscript at a time?
Always! I usually have at least one completed manuscript with beta readers, another in the editing process, and several others in various states of completion. Not to mention many documents full of character and plot ideas that pop up while I’m trying to write something else.
Do you work with a writing/critique group?
Yes. I was very lucky to find the massive online community Scribophile early on, before I’d approached any publishers. The people there were immensely generous with their time not only in terms of making suggestions on the nitty gritty of my stories, but with advice and tips that have helped me to get where I am now. Several individuals and smaller groups from Scribophile have continued their support outside that community, and I couldn’t have come this far without them.
Can you remember your first reading book?
The first book I have clear memories of reading is The Tale of Peter Rabbit. I used to read it to my grandmother when I was really small – before I started primary school. She still has the book in her bedside drawer and when we visited her in more recent times, my children used to read it to me too.
Do you nibble on snacks while writing? If so, what is your chosen treat?
I don’t nibble every time I write, otherwise I wouldn’t fit in my desk chair! However I do love chocolate and like to reward myself at the end of a chapter, or sometimes as a pick-me-up during the exhausting editing process.
Tidy desk or a bombsite? Describe your writing area with us.
At the moment I work on my lounge chair with a laptop, as my house is undergoing large renovations, but usually I have an extremely tidy desk. I really, really hate clutter!
Are you published in the traditional manner or self published? Share your journey.
Currently my story is in a self-published anthology with other self, indie, and traditionally published authors. It began as a project to promote ourselves and our other works, and I feel very grateful to be a part of it. I have several other full length novels that will be self-published next year, but I won’t rule out going down the traditional path either.
Who would you say have been the three most influential authors in your reading/writing life?
As a prolific reader in my school years, this is a hard list to narrow down. The first would be Bryce Courtenay. His books surround you and immerse you in another time and place right from the first page. The second would be Anne McCaffrey. I’ve read countless science fiction/fantasy books, but for some reason Killashandra’s stories stayed with me. And the third is a bit of a nod to the geeky Browncoat side of me – Richard Castle. Not only do I love reading the books, but I love the meta-ness of it all. A TV show about a bestselling author which spawns the exact same series of books that he’s written in the show to be sold in the real world. What’s not to love about that?
What advice would you like to share with other writers/authors with regard to preparing a manuscript?
I can’t advise strongly enough to have other people read your work before sending it to a publisher, or publishing it yourself. And for them to be people you can trust to give you honest feedback. This not only catches typos and grammatical errors, but goes a long way to making sure what you want to say comes across the right way to fresh eyes that aren’t emotionally invested in the story and characters.
If the movie rights to your novels are purchased, who would you like to play your main characters?
I have so many novels in different genres that this is a hard question! I’d love famous actors to play my characters of course, but I’d also be really chuffed if a movie of my work opened the door for up-and-coming new talent.
I was on my way to the supermarket, when … Do you have a tale to tell relating to an everyday, boring event?
Apart from seeing a couple of local celebrities occasionally, unfortunately I don’t.
contemporary/erotic/paranormal romance, crime drama, science fiction/fantasy
Michaela Miles writes. By day she is a mild-mannered copywriter and web designer, but by night she is consumed by the characters in her head and writes to set them free.
In her spare time, she is primary carer and chief wrangler for a husband and three children, the big boss at her web design company and photography studio, and is completing a Bachelor of English Literature.
Michaela is very active on social media and has an eclectic posting style—humorous writing memes, hump day hunks, quotes, inspirations, interviews, book reviews, and anything that takes her fancy!
Follow her everywhere to keep up to date on publications, interviews, book reviews, social media tips, and more. So come and join the fun and enjoy the ride!
Buy the Anthology:
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-least-expected-meredith-bond/1120790265?ean=2940046296808
Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Meredith_Bond_Love_Least_Expected?id=CT9pBQAAQBAJ&hl=en
All Romance Books: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-loveleastexpected-1681062-166.html
Love Least Expected anthology story – Keep Calm and Eat Chocolate
Eleanor Carrara is angry. At the world, at the people who had her committed to the institution, and at the people holding her captive in it. When the sexy, but calm and stoic Chris becomes a fellow resident of the facility, things begin to change. He taunts her, challenges her, and even makes her cry. But her anger dissolves as she realises he’s the one person who may be able to break through the armour built around her heart.
Christopher Tailor feels nothing. Haunted by the memories of his awful past, he is institutionalised, and utterly alone in the world. Meeting Elle changes everything. She’s conceited, rude, and completely unaware that in some ways she’s just as broken as he is. But something about her gets under his skin. He takes a chance and shares his secret with her.
Falling in love was the last thing Chris and Elle expected. But for them to consider having a future together, they first have to let go of their past and trust the system imprisoning them both.
Keep calm and eat chocolate.
It used to be my favourite motto, and the slogan of our family empire—an empire I was next in line to control until certain family members staged a coup. Now they’re sitting pretty in my house and my company. They spend my money and live it up, while I holiday in this amazing white palace where the lights never go out, and padded rooms is an exaggeration.
I know everyone in here says this, but I’m not crazy.
My family, if you could call them that, spent a long time trying to make it look like I am. It worked, or I wouldn’t have questioned myself and sought counselling, and they wouldn’t have put me in this place. I read the regulations once a few months ago: involuntary commitment order under section something of the blah-blah act of some year that’s not as archaic as I imagined.
How can it be legal to institutional someone for refusing medical treatment for a mental illness they don’t bloody well have?
At least the place reflect the current century. State of the art facilities, comfortable rooms, decent food, and the ability to purchase luxuries if you have the means. Actual money isn’t allowed, of course. If you follow the logic that I’m crazy, then a credit card is a lethal weapon. Everything must been done by fingerprint: access to rooms, our private locker, meds, the lot.
My day consists of set meal times, menus, exercise, recreation, activity times, therapy sessions, and medications. Not much of a change to my real life actually. Gym session, breakfast with my PA to review my calendar, meetings, correspondence, more meetings, often a function for dinner with a nice piece of man-candy on my arm, a run or a swim, sleep. Repeat.
Now, though, I don’t have a choice to blow off a meeting or grab a takeaway on my way home from a late night event.
The only upside to the place I now call home is the gardens. Not only do they obscure the fences, giving an illusion of freedom, but they are quiet and usually unoccupied. Most of the other residents have unnatural phobias involving open spaces, insects, or plants. In Henry’s case it’s the colour green. So I often have an hour or more to myself to focus on taking my real life back.
I’ve considered everything. I could jump the fence, drug the night staff, cause a riot, start a fire, even hire a helicopter to fly in and pick me up. Anything except participate in the program. I won’t admit to being crazy, and prove the bastards who put me here right.
That’s never going to happen.
Instead, I watch and listen. The staff assumes the residents either can’t understand or don’t care, so they talk freely. I know who has money problems, husbands with a bit on the side, naggy ex-wives, and the ones I could bribe to get out— if I had access to my damn money.
Arseholes. I still can’t believe the people I trusted had me snatched up in the middle of night and committed to this psychiatric facility, especially when they’ve seen what a vindictive bitch I can be. I bet they think I’m a problem solved. I also bet they haven’t planned on my use of the phone here to retain a new lawyer.
It’s the only task I’ve spent my time on; the only one I’ve thought about.
Until the day Christopher Tailor arrived.
“I’ll hurt you if you don’t fuck off.”
“Now, now. That’s no way to treat a friend,” he said.
I jumped off the bed and glared up at the towering annoyance poking his head around my doorjamb. “A friend? What makes you think I would ever consider you a friend?”
“I see it worked then,” he said, and nodded towards several scrunched up tissues on the floor.
I pulled my arms across my body and sniffed. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been crying.”
His lips did something that resembled a smile. “Suit yourself. But if you ever get sick of all that bullshit in your head and can trust that I’m not out to get you like you think everyone else is, then you know where I am.” Then he just walked away.
He was really starting to piss me off. What sort of person keeps dropping emotional bombs and skipping out before they explode?
I stood and took a step towards him. I kissed his cheek on my tiptoes, then pulled back quickly, in case anyone saw. He grabbed my arm and held me close.
“Was that for me, or the money?”
“I don’t have any money. Remember?”
He put his free arm around my waist and drew me against him. He was quite slim under his over-sized shirt, and warmer than me. I had to tilt my head back to see his face. He smiled so I closed my eyes and waited for his lips, but they didn’t come. I opened my eyes again and raised an eyebrow.
“I wanted to savour this moment,” he said, and squeezed me a little tighter.
“Why? It’s just a hug.”
“It’s not just a hug. You’re smiling. I haven’t seen you do that before.”
“I smile all the time.”
“Not with your eyes. You get a little crinkle at the corners, and your blue seems to match the sky when you really mean it.”
My face flushed as he gazed at me. No one had ever looked at me like that before. He wasn’t aroused. He wasn’t groping me, or trying to stick his tongue down my throat. He just looked. It was a little uncomfortable, but nice in a strange way.
I opened my mouth and took a breath, so I could tell him to let me go before someone found us. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to mine.