Rie Sheridan Rose was nominated as an Indie Author who deserves appreciation and acknowledgement of her work. I am pleased to present this author a showcase blog post.
Author Bio:
Rie Sheridan Rose multitasks. Her short stories appear in numerous anthologies, including On Fire, Hides the Dark Tower, and Killing It Softly Vol. 1 and 2. Her poetry has appeared in Dreams and Nightmares, Illumen, and Penumbra, as well as numerous anthologies. Her photographs have appeared on several independent book covers, and in Ghostlight: Magazine of Terror, The Passed Note, and Thoughtful Dog. She has authored ten novels, six poetry chapbooks, and lyrics for dozens of songs.
“The Interview”
Tell me two things about yourself that are separate from writing. 1) I love Photography because I come from a family of visual artists and can't draw or paint...my photographs make me feel like I can do something "artistic." 2) I am an obsessive collector -- of keychains, movie cards, autographs...all sorts of things.
Why do you write? Ever since I was little, it's all I ever wanted to do. When people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, it was always "___________________ and a writer." Putting things on paper, or in a file, makes me happy.
Brag about ONE accomplishment as a writer. My proudest accomplishment as a writer is the fact that I am working on Book Five of a series. I never expected that I could write a sequel, much less a series.
Name up to five people who inspire you. Lynn Flewelling, Gail Carriger, Isabella Bennett, Marc Gunn, and my husband Newell.
If you could sit down with anyone, living or dead, and have a conversation with, who would it be? -- William Shakespeare
Books:
The Conn-Mann Chronicles series
Skellyman
The Lute and the Liar
The Luckless Prince
The Right Hand of Velachaz
Two upcoming releases: Book Five of the Conn-Mann Chronicles -- The Elderly Earl's Estate and Mutiny on the Moonbeam.
Mutiny on the Moonbeam is the story of a stowaway on a flying elven pirate ship, and the consequences to all involved.
Mutiny on the Moonbeam Excerpt:
“Let me go!” Branwyn twisted with all her strength against the man’s hold, the bones of her wrist grating against each other as she fought. The resulting pain brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back.
“You are my ward, and you will do as I say.” The words were hissed between gritted teeth. Eyes narrowed to slits glared down at her in the dim light of the fire in the grate. The room smelled of woodsmoke and damp wool.
Praetor Goldsmith had come home early because of the rain—two minutes more, and she would have been free.
“You don’t want me here. You complain daily about how I’m a drain upon your pocketbook. Then let me go!” She jerked away, backing toward the door of the study. “I won’t say anything.”
“Say anything about what, you little fool? Do you think anyone in this town would believe your lies over my word? I am a well-respected merchant, and you’re the daughter of a whore!”
The words stopped her in her tracks. “Take that back,” she whispered.
A wolfish grin bloomed on his face. “Didn’t you know? She spread her legs for anyone who asked.”
“You’re a liar.”
“Doesn’t match the image you have of your sainted mother, does it?” Now that he had reasserted his dominance, he turned his back to her, pouring himself a glass of wine.
Rage choked her. She felt herself shaking. She couldn’t believe the words were true, and yet…
She wheeled, reaching for the door handle. She wanted to put as much distance between them as possible. Escape lay in her grasp—
—Until a grip of iron encircled her forearm. “Not so fast, my girl. I’m not through with you yet. I will have you to wife!”
Fear churned within the rage, and she grabbed the heavy wine-jug from his desk. Swinging it with all her strength, she slammed it into the side of his head.
He grunted and fell, hand relaxing as he dropped.
She kicked him away from her and jerked open the study door. Heart pounding in her ears, she ran through the house to her tiny garret room. She grabbed the bag she’d packed for her escape, hesitating as she caught a glimpse of herself in the polished brass mirror. Her skirts would slow her down. What could she do?
In earlier, happier, days, the household had employed several servants, including a stable boy. Her step-father never discarded anything. She tiptoed back down the stairs, easing into the study.
He lay where she had left him, blood trickling from the wound on his forehead. Biting her lip, she stepped over his recumbent body. A handful of coins lay upon his desk, and she swept them into her bag. In the corner stood a large trunk, and she had seen him put clothing into it on more than one occasion. She searched through it quickly, flinging discarded choices to the floor in her haste. Near the bottom, she found a pair of trousers that fit her, and a loose-fitting shirt. She pulled the clothing on, whipping her dress over her head and dropping it into the pile. Twisting her hair back into a tight queue, she tied the end with a length of string.
The man on the floor groaned, and she darted out of the room, her bag clutched in one hand. He was waking up. Only precious seconds remained before he would be on her trail. She didn’t bother to shut the front door as she left the only home she remembered.
Website links:
Final Thought …
-- I LOVE to hear from people who have read my books or have questions, comments for me. I can always be reached through Facebook, Twitter (@RieSheridanRose) or directly at riewriter@gmail.com