Monday, November 24, 2014

Introducing Nickie Jamison; author of S.E.T.H.

Let me introduce you to my dear friend, Nickie, who is just adorable, who owns a ton of really sweet purses, and is one of my better friends in the universe (especially considering that she married my brother and made my life much easier by contributing significantly to his happiness)

She also wrote one of the more humorous pieces in Coming Together: Among the Stars. When I got to the line about taking a sample, I laughed out loud and knew I had to have this story... you may never look at a hair dryer the same way again....

Thank you for interviewing me, Lynn.

I’m sharing a photo of my future workspace. I live in the house that I grew up in and it’s currently in a state of flux – we’re updating/reorganizing the kitchen. The room pictured was my playroom when I was a kid.

When did you find out that you wanted to be a writer? What inspired you to put pen to paper?

I wrote a full length horror/ mystery/ thriller novel in fifth grade - or at least as close as you can get to one when you’re 10 and your literary inspiration is R.L.Stine. I wrote it by hand in a  one subject notebook (covered with Lisa Frank stickers, ftw) and was promptly sent to the office…apparently you’re not supposed to pen the rather graphic demise of the principal of the private Christian grade school you attend…it frightens the other children.

What are your biggest pet peeves for other people's grammar? 

Using words incorrectly – it makes me want to throat punch the writer with a dictionary.

Are there any mistakes that you find yourself making regularly?

Dialogue tags are the bane of my existence as a writer. Part of that is a hang-on from my days in the theater where stage directions abound and speech is punctuated by acting.

Tell me about your first publication. Who was it with? How did you feel when you got that acceptance?

S.E.T.H. is my first published short story making Coming Together: Among the Stars my first official publication.

How much of your life and the people you know end up in your work?

“As a mental exercise, I’ve often planned the murder of friends and colleagues…” – Sherlock (BBC)

A significant amount – I’m an avid journal keeper so it’s natural that writing is my method of dealing with shit.

What projects are you currently working on? Are you willing to share a small excerpt from a work in progress?

An excerpt from the Sci-Fi piece I’m currently working on:

Avaliegh tried not to stare at the bishop’s rotten tooth – a black slice among the brown jumble of his other teeth, but it drew her gaze and she watched his dry cracked lips move over it as he talked. The bishop’s condition was the consequence of a half a lifetime on the outlier planet Rondure 9 and a lack of good general dental hygiene. The balding old man beckoned Ava forward from the line of red-robed Breeders – women dedicated to the service of Theotokos. The bishop placed a warm arthritis knobbed hand on Ava’s shoulder and turned to the visitor, a poor farmer called Isaac.
“This Sister has come to us from a convent on Tersaris.” The bishop said.
“So she’s in good shape?”
“Very.” The bishop gave Ava’s shoulder a light squeeze.
“Let me see her marks.” Isaac’s silky bass voice made Ava’s heart drop into her stomach and she faltered, averting her gaze from Isaac’s face to the floor.
“Certainly,” the bishop said.
Ava timidly pulled the wide sleeve of her red robe up to her elbow to show the five scars on the inside of her forearm; two ‘x’ marks for the two miscarriages, two straight lines for the two stillbirths, and a circle with an arrow for the male child.
“She is still young, not even twenty-five orbital cycles.” The bishop’s breath stank and Ava jammed the tip of her tongue into the roof of her mouth, stifling her gag reflex.
Isaac’s lips pressed into a flat line and his brow furrowed in thought. From beneath the hood of her robe, Ava looked Isaac up and down, evaluating him. He was a handsome man; his jaw square dusted with dark stubble and his body strong and lean from farm work. Isaac’s dark hair was silvered at the temples and Ava reckoned he was at least forty. 
“Five pounds of salt and I’ll send milk to the convent thrice a week.”
“Done.” The bishop and Isaac shook hands. 

Blog: []
Facebook: []
Twitter: []

No comments:

Post a Comment