Today I’m thrilled to have Jaye Garland, author of THE 25th HOUR, with me in the Blue Rose Writing Room.
Do you use a pen name/pseudo name? If so, why. If not, why did you decide to write under your own name?
I struggled with this decision a long time ago because my legal last name is hyphenated: Maiden-Spouse. As much as I dearly love my legal name, I chose to write under a pen name for the simple reason that almost everyone will mispronounce my maiden name a dozen different ways when they see it in print…and if I pronounce it, they won’t spell it correctly. My legal name is just too long and cumbersome, and besides, it doesn’t fit on the cover of any book.
Can you tell us how long you have been writing?
I’m late to the author party. I didn’t pick up the pen to write anything, other than letters to family and friends or essays for a grade, until I was in my mid-twenties. My first attempt at ‘writing’ was a huge learning experience, and the result was totally laughable. A whole lot of life happened between then and the point in which I actually took my scribbled efforts seriously. That’s when I buckled down and studied the craft of writing. I devoured the How To books and took every workshop I could manage. It’s paid off, and the learning never stops.
I came to the party much later than you did!
What’s one thing you absolutely can’t tolerate during your writing? One thing you can’t write without?
I need vast quantities of alone time, without music, to get the story written. I can edit and revise anywhere, in any noise level. Pen and paper are the best tools to get me unstuck, but I’m adapting to free-writing via the keyboard. Must have a timer, though, and set to writing sprints like 20, 30, or 40 minutes, or I’d never get out of my chair.
I love that!
What’s the funniest thing anyone has ever said to you about your writing? Or the unkindest? Or the oddest?
The owner of the company where I work had read my book and grilled me about the historical accuracy of a couple items in the storyline. That took me completely by surprise. Not surprised that he’d actually read my book, because he’s a voracious reader, but that he picked up on the minutiae.
1: Yes, lemonade is available in 1877 Wyoming Territory. Lemons were shipped in and stored in root cellars, along with apples, potatoes, and all that good stuff.
Research: Total number of oranges, lemons, and limes shipped out of San Gabriel and Riverside in 1876-77 was 2,383,166.
2: Yes, the little fingernail divot in the blade of a pocket knife was part of their designs back then. I’d inherited my great-great-grandfather’s knife and it’s stored away in my jewelry box. The picture below is an example.
Research: Around 1784 folding fruit knives came into fashion and were frequently included in travel sets. The fruit knife is distinguishable from a regular folder by its silver blade which was resistant to fruit acid.
So, you see, it’s always good to write what you know…or be able to back it up. Ha!
Oh, I agree. Historical accuracy is a must.
Place you absolutely want to visit before you die?
I need to go home. Back to South Dakota, where there are still miles and miles of open space with nothing but Mother Nature to distract your attention. Ah! I can almost smell the freshly mowed Alfalfa and hear the trout jumping in the streams. Wyoming is a second ‘must visit’ so that’s on my list, too. [[Must. Go. Back. Soon.]]
We traveled through both North and South Dakota ten years ago. I was amazed at the rocks!
Is there any genre you won’t read? Write? Can you tell us why?
I’m not a fan of scary books or movies, so I don’t see me ever writing a thriller. I adore a good Regency, but I wouldn’t get the details right, so they’re off my list. Same goes for Inspirational Romances. Now here’s a secret I’ve discovered about me. I can’t read a spicy-hot story if I know the author, personally, because their real voices are in my head. Nope, just can’t do it. LOL! And now that my kids are grown, I’ve found my writing bends more to the sensual rather than sexy.
Case in point: I received the sweetest email just the other day from a reader to say how much she loved my book. She was buying a copy for her twelve year old granddaughter so they could share the reading experience–without having to worry about graphic scenes. I think that tells me that I’ve found my niche.
I don’t do scary or horror either.
What historical figure do you wish you could have met?
Gotta go with my local heroes from the Dakotas: Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill Hickok, Calamity Jane, Annie Oakley, and all that crowd.
Tell us one unusual, weird, or curious fact you discovered while researching this book.
The opening scenes of THE 25th HOUR originally started with the heroine speeding along in her dad’s European roadster and getting stopped by a highway patrolman. After much research, I found the perfect ‘little rich girls’ car, a 1960 Austin Healey 3000. Okay, you read the question about learning to write, right? One of the first things you’re told is to never start your story with someone waking up, or someone driving. Duh. Tossed the opening, but the research paid off. The car makes it into the story. Yea!
What are you most proud of about your writing?
That I’ve touched the hearts of my readers. You can’t buy that kind of fulfilment.
What is something you are determined to do?
I’d decided a couple years back that I would to learn to fly an airplane. You know, one of those zippy little 2-4 seaters. I’ve always loved to drive, especially fun cars like my old VW Bug from high school days, and now my adult fun car which is a BMW Z4. So, becoming a pilot seems like a natural next step. Just think how fun the trips to conferences would be! What? You say being a pilot involves math and science? And, the lessons are rather expensive? Oh, darn. I guess that leaves me with the 2nd item on the list: I’m determined to finish this next book.
Okay, now for the quickie questions: Answer in three words or less. Ready? Go!
Favorite Disney Character? Gotta go with Cinderella, the original H.E.A.
Favorite Fruit? Peaches
Favorite Hero? Mighty Mouse (Hey, he saves the day!)
Favorite Eye Color? Green, wish I had ‘em
Best Vacation destination? Ireland, The Vatican, Prague
Food you can’t stand? Sushi
What annoys you? Kamikaze drivers cutting-in-line
Coffee, tea, or something else? Coffee, but that ‘something else’ seems interesting!
Nightgown or Jammies? Mood and/or circumstances determines winner J
Prefer dogs or cats? Cats
A bit about Jaye
Born and raised on the Great Plains, Jaye Garland thrives on ‘what-if’ scenarios by turning ordinary ranch life events into novels steeped in adventure on the American West. Her award winning first novel, THE 25th HOUR, debuted on August 28, 2013 as an eBook on Amazon.com.
The blurb about THE 25th HOUR
The impossible can be quite simple, actually. Just imagine…. With one stroke of her architect’s eraser, an heiress is chased through time by her father’s murderer and lands in the arms of a 19th century Wyoming rancher. The enduring lovers must find the killer before another life is taken—and the rift in time closes, separating them, forever.
Enjoy an excerpt from THE 25th HOUR.
Speaking of lemonade, the smallest, most insignificant, details help to connect your readers to the characters and what’s happening in each scene. Here’s the set up for an excerpt from THE 25th HOUR: Current day heroine, Sheridan Wells, has traveled back through time to 1877 Wyoming Territory and lands on the ranch owned by our hunk-of-a-hero, Alexander Reed. Enjoy!
Alexander sipped a fresh glass of lemonade as he strolled from the kitchen. He’d been mucking out stalls in the barn and had worked up a healthy sweat. It’d gotten warm this last week. If he were to get ready in time to make it to town before the store closed, he’d have to hurry. He’d bathe later. For now, a quick rinsing off and a fresh shirt would have to do. Repairs on those harnesses couldn’t wait.
As she tediously inspected the risers, her fanny wiggled in countermotion. Alexander gulped. He held the glass of lemonade suspended in the air as he all but forgot his thirst. His body surged in reaction to the wanton display. He was acutely aware that his under-drawers now bound him into an extremely uncomfortable position. He thirsted, now, for a form of refreshment other than his cold lemonade.
Hell, I can’t do this. It’s just not right.Resigned, he swirled the contents of his glass and the chunks of ice rattled against the crystal.
Sheridan’s head popped up in surprise as she turned to face him, then sat on the step on which she’d been kneeling.
“Alexander. I didn’t realize you’d come in from the barn. How are Dixie and the kittens doing?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Amazingly, Dixie is holding her own. Those kittens must take after their ma because they seem to be thriving.” With a quick wave, he indicated the stairs. “What’s so fascinating? Did you lose something?”
Sheridan checked the room as if confirming they were alone. In a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “The answer has got to be here, somewhere. It’s these stairs. If I can figure them out, then I can find my way home.”
“Back home? Oh, you mean to your time. Your era. Just when was that, exactly, Miss Wells? I seem to have forgotten.”
Her eyes measured his expression before she answered. “I seriously doubt you’ve forgotten the year. In your line of work, you rely on facts. A lawyer can’t forget details or he’d never win a case. You’re just testing me.”
She stood and descended the stairs stopping on the last step. Eye-to-eye, and with hands on her hips, she grinned. “I don’t blame you, you know. I’d have a hard time swallowing my story, too, if I was in your position and you showed up in my house.”
Alexander felt his ears burn as he’d been caught cross-examining her. His gut reaction was to believe her. He was good at judging a person’s character. But his years behind the bar back East proved it was wise to check out a person’s story. In this case, there wasn’t any way to prove her story—true or false. At least, not from any manner he knew. This case was a complete mystery but he still had a card or two up his sleeve. He wondered if his war contact was still in the Territory. He’d send a telegram to Cheyenne. If anyone could find something on her, it would be his old friend, Bill Cody.
Sheridan giggled. “You look miserable. This whole thing has got to be very frustrating for you. I wish I could do something to help you understand. I’m not too happy about the situation either. If I knew how to get back, I’d already be gone.” She indicated the stairs with a nod. “That’s what I’m trying to do now. While Angel is napping, I thought I’d scour this whole stairwell and search for clues.”
Alexander shifted. Her nearness intensified the ache in his loins. He was painfully aware that if she glanced down, just once, his embarrassment would be complete.
“Ah, clues to what?”
“Clues on how I got here, silly. Once I figure that out, then I should be able to reverse the phenomena and get home.”
She swung her gaze from the stairs back to Alexander’s face and he could tell she really believed she’d find a way to take herself forward in time—back to her present-day era. All by the use of his staircase.
He stepped closer, filling the space between them in an effort to conceal his distress. The scent of lavender wafted in the air and he envisioned the hauntingly beautiful Miss Sheridan engrossed in her bath. Um, big mistake. His arousal intensified. “Why the stairs?”
She frowned and tilted her head. “Isn’t it obvious? The stairs is where I woke up. It’s where I landed and hit my head when I fell backwards through time. Your staircase is the key to how I arrived in 1877.”
Alexander needed relief. He hadn’t felt this way since he’d been a lad in school. After his wife died, he’d grown accustomed to the occasional fanciful dream and dealt with the resulting dampness in his sheets the following morning. That was inevitable, he supposed, for a man his age who hadn’t been with a woman in five years.
This was new. He’d come face-to-face, so to speak, with the realization that leaving his urges to nature’s whims wasn’t going to suffice. Not with Sheridan in his house. And, not as long as she insisted on wearing those blasted stretchy denims.
Here’s how you can contact Jaye Garland.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/JayeGarlandAuthor
Twitter: @jayegarland
Website & Blog: http://jayegarland.wordpress.com
Email: [email protected]
Thanks again, Jaye, for joining me here today.
Buy links
THE 25th HOUR is available at Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/ma8kuyp
