DEANN SMALLWOOD IS IN THE BLUE ROSE WRITING ROOM TODAY. | COLLETTE CAMERON
 
Today I’m thrilled to have  DeAnn Smallwood, author of  Wyoming Heather and five other  books titled in order of publishing: Montana Star, Sapphire Blue, Death  Crosses The Finish Line(under pen name of D.M. Woods-first in a series of suspense/thrillers), Tears In The Wind (her only contemporary novel), Unconquerable Callie with me in the  Blue Rose Writing Room.
 
DeAnn, how wonderful to have six published novels. You have a penname. Can you tell us about it?
I use the pen name of D.M. Woods for my suspense/thriller genre. I did this so my readers would be able to differentiate between my romance novels and the suspense/thrillers which also have an ongoing romance between my two main characters. The second book in this series, Death Is A Habit, will be out later this year. I love writing both genre’s but I get a special thrill seeing my real name in print.
 
I’m toying with writing a different genre and using my real name too, for that very reason. So, how long have you been writing?
As a child, I wrote in my head. Honestly, I can’t remember not writing. However, I didn’t have enough courage to send my manuscripts off until 2009 and surprisingly that book, Montana Star, was published. From then on, it’s been a go.
 
You’ve had some very productive years. What’s one thing you absolutely can’t tolerate during your writing? One thing you can’t write without?
I can’t tolerate music. I love music…just not while I’m writing. I bask in the silence of my office and let my fingers and thoughts run wild.  I would have a hard time writing without my synonym finder and my spell check.
 
I completely understand. I love music too, but I can’t have it on when I write. It distracts me because I want to hum or sing along. Tell us, what’s the funniest thing anyone has ever said to you about your writing? Or the unkindest? Or the oddest?
Well, I have to admit I cringe when reading reviews. I guess the unkindest was from a woman who took it upon herself to verbally criticize or critique my first novel in a public gym dressing room after 20 or so of us had just finish water aerobics. She liked the story, just found fault after fault with the punctuation and some words. I was hurt, angry and mortified.
 
 
Ouch! So not appropriate.  Let’s move on to something a bit more positive. Where is one place you absolutely want to visit before you die?
New Zealand or Australia. They both greatly appeal to me.
 
 
You’d be amazed how many authors say the same thing, including me! Is there any genre you won’t read? Write? Can you tell us why?
I won’t read about animals. I love animals and have two Yorkie kids of my own. My Yorkie daughter, Stormy, and my Yorkie son, Eli. I like to add animals in my books, but I won’t read any sad animal stories. They make me hurt, and I can’t get them out of my mind. Animal cruelty in any form truly wounds my soul.
 
 
I can empathize.  I’m an animal lover myself.  Let’s change it up to something a little out of the ordinary, shall we? What historical figure do you wish you could have met?
I would have loved to meet Abraham Lincoln. Honest Abe and his delightful sense of humor appeal to me. He was a master of words.
 
 
He was indeed. Tell us one unusual, weird, or curious fact you discovered while researching this book.
While researching Wyoming Heather, I discovered several curious facts about old veterinary treatments and remedies. The main character, Heather, was patterned after my granddaughter, Heather. She, like the Heather in my book, is a lover and healer of animals.
 
I love that! What are you most proud of about your writing?
Several of my books don’t have sex in them. There’s love and moments of passion, but no explicit sex. I wasn’t sure how this would go over, but my first publisher demanded no sex scenes so I had no choice. Then I began to get emails, letters, and verbal comments telling me how refreshing it was to read a book without graphic sex. I’m proud of those books and find myself gravitating to that type of writing. My suspense/thriller series have some sex, but it’s not graphic.
 
See,  that just goes to show that their is a reading audience for all different heat levels of romance novels. Good for you!  How do you respond to negative reviews?
Negative reviews hurt. I have to really talk to myself because I have a tendency to then think I’m not a good enough writer to keep writing. Does that make sense? Thankfully, I have no control over my writing as I have scads of books going on in my head. Scary, huh? I do stop writing my current novel long enough to jot down thoughts and later, maybe months-years later I pull out those notes and start writing. I love to write and am happiest while doing just that. I’m happy to say most of my review are positive and those carry you through the negative ones.
 
Okay, I’m chuckling about the scads of books going on in your head. Thank goodness, you do too! What is something you are determined to do?
I am determined to see a Hallmark Movie made out of one of my books. Hey, I can dream.
 
Oh, that would be amazing!! What are you most afraid of?
I am constantly afraid my books will stop selling and publishers will quit taking a chance on me. Talk about poor self-esteem. I’m getting better, though, with each book published. There is nothing like having your book read. Money can’t buy the thrill of knowing that people are reading and liking your books. That is my greatest thrill.
 
I think you just very eloquently said what every author fears. Tell us, do you have a favorite quote?
Well, it’s really a poem by Dickson called SUCCESS
If you think you are beaten, you are;
If you think you dare not, you don’t,
If you’d like to win, but think you can’t,
It’s almost a cinch you won’t.
If you think you’ll lose, you’re lost;
For out in the world we find
Success begins with a fellow’s will,
It’s all in the state of mind.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the stronger or faster man;
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the one who thinks he can.
 
 
I have kept this poem before me for the past thirty years. Isn’t it great?
 
 
Yes! I’m going to use it when I teach! Tell us something unusual, quirky, or odd about yourself?
Quirky, huh? Okay, I’m pretty much a loner. I enjoy others, but in small doses. I live most of the time in my head…as the saying goes: Of course I’m out of my mind; it’s scary up there. I enjoy my own company and when around others for any length of time, I have to withdraw and go off and read, write, or just be alone. People find this hard to believe about me and often tell me how outgoing I am and that I’m a ‘people’ person. Go figure.
 
As someone who is very comfortable being alone, I get it! Okay, now for the quickie questions: Answer in three words or less. Ready? Go!
Favorite Disney Character?  Winnie The Pooh
Favorite Fruit? Bananas
Favorite Hero? My husband
Favorite Eye Color? Blue
Best Vacation destination? Hawaii
Food you can’t stand? Onions (Sigh, I love them.)
What annoys you? Constant negativity
Coffee, tea, or something else? Coffee
Nightgown or Jammies? Nightgown
Prefer dogs or cats? Dogs
 
 
 
Here’s a  bit of information about DeAnn Smallwood

DeAnn Smallwood lives in Colorado with her husband, Marvin and their two Yorkies, Stormy and Eli. She has the support and pleasure of family surrounding her. DeAnn is a native of Colorado, but lived several years in the beautiful states of Wyoming and Montana. She draws from this time for many of her novels. Her greatest pleasure next to writing is having her books read and enjoyed.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Wyoming Heather Blurb

DEANN SMALLWOOD IS IN THE BLUE ROSE WRITING ROOM TODAY. 3
Heather is a spirited, independent woman living alone on a ranch left to her by her parents. She is also a healer of animals, domestic and wild. A woman doing a man’s work running a ranch that everyone said couldn’t be done, not in this untamed, vastly unsettled land, in the mid 1800’s. The ranch had everything she needed except water. She stole that from a neighboring abandoned ranch watched over by a lonely cabin and a grave.

He rode alone coming back after five years to an empty cabin, a run-down ranch, and a grave on a hill. A former Texas Ranger burnt out on life and afraid to love. Whip had spent five years hunting the man that took his wife’s life and left him to die.

Whip and Heather meet in an explosive moment on the banks of the Powder River. Both lonely, both drawn to one another, and both fight the attraction.

Enjoy an excerpt from Wyoming Heather
 
 
No lantern shown in the window to welcome him home. The cabin looked gray in the moonlight. Gray and ghost-like in the shadow of the mountains and the full moon. The corral was empty, poles missing. The barn door hung to one side, held in place by a single leather hinge.
 
 
Whip Johnson leaned back in his saddle, shifting his weary body. His hand rested on his right thigh, his fingers absently circling the indentation of puckered flesh. The wound pulsed, the imbedded piece of lead seemed to seek out and rub against bone.
 
 
The saddle creaked as he leaned forward and patted the buckskin’s neck, his eyes never ceasing in their vigilance. He took a deep breath, drawing in the land, the mountains, and the pungent smell of sagebrush. The faded chambray shirt pulled tight across his back. He sat tall in the saddle, every six foot three inches of him hard muscle. Close to his hand, gripping the reins, a rifle rested in the scabbard. Nestled against his right hip was a holster, the butt of the pistol tilted at an angle for easy drawing. Like the man, they looked used. His long, tanned fingers left the warmth of the buckskin then rose and tiredly rubbed across his jaw, the day’s growth of whiskers rasping in the quiet of the night. No lantern shown in the window to welcome him home. The cabin looked gray in the moonlight. Gray and ghost-like in the shadow of the mountains and the full moon. The corral was empty, poles missing. The barn door hung to one side, held in place by a single leather hinge.
 
 
Whip Johnson leaned back in his saddle, shifting his weary body. His hand rested on his right thigh, his fingers absently circling the indentation of puckered flesh. The wound pulsed, the imbedded piece of lead seemed to seek out and rub against bone.
 
 
The saddle creaked as he leaned forward and patted the buckskin’s neck, his eyes never ceasing in their vigilance. He took a deep breath, drawing in the land, the mountains, and the pungent smell of sagebrush. The faded chambray shirt pulled tight across his back. He sat tall in the saddle, every six foot three inches of him hard muscle. Close to his hand, gripping the reins, a rifle rested in the scabbard. Nestled against his right hip was a holster, the butt of the pistol tilted at an angle for easy drawing. Like the man, they looked used. His long, tanned fingers left the warmth of the buckskin then rose and tiredly rubbed across his jaw, the day’s growth of whiskers rasping in the quiet of the night.
 
 
 Thanks again, DeAnn, for joining me here today.
 
 
Here’s how you can contact DeAnn
 
 
 
Buy Links
http://www.amazon.com/Wyoming-Heather-ebook/dp/B00DCHAV2K/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1372562210&sr=1-1
Death-Crosses-Finish-Line
Unconquerable-Callie
 
Sapphire-Blue
 
Montana-Star
 
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