H.P. Mallory Interview - Part I

H.P. Mallory is known as a popular indie writer in the Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance genres. (For those not in the know, an indie writer is someone who has found success circumnavigating traditional publishing and going the ebook, self-publishing route.)

AA - The first thing that struck me about your books is that your covers are so cute. What can you tell us about the artist and how the covers came about?

HP - Thank you! I actually designed them in photoshop. I purchased the images from a stock photography site and then added the Halloween backgrounds and the text myself. I was really going for something that would echo the tone of my books which I think is spooky but lighthearted, silly and fun.

AA - What advice would you give aspiring writers who are considering going the indie route? What did you do to promote your work online?

HP - Never give up! Also, I'm currently working on a book about my self publishing journey, including all the tips and tricks I did that I think helped contribute to my success. That should be out in the next few months.

(AA – Great. Please keep us updated on that.)

AA - What’s your writing process? Do you get cleaned up like you’re going to the office each morning or write in your pajamas half the day?

HP - I wake up in the morning and get my little guy ready to go to his nanny's. Then I drop him off, head to the gym for an hour and then go home and write until I have to pick him up again.

Then I go home, cook dinner for the little guy and the big one and once my son goes to sleep, I spend some more time either on Facebook, chatting with my readers or I do edits.

And, yes, sometimes I do find myself in my pajamas all day. LOL

AA - You’ve recently been offered a deal by Random House to continue with your Jolie Wilkins series. (Book 1 – Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble, Book 2 – Toil and Trouble) Why did you decide to go with traditional publishing after having so much success as an indie author?

HP - I decided to go the traditional route because I thought it was best to have a foot in each camp, traditional and indie. And because of the fact that ebooks only currently account for 30% of total books, I wanted to better my chances of becoming a well known name in paranormal romance by also going the traditional route.

AA - Will Random House release your first books in the Jolie series as traditional print books?

HP - No, the first two Jolie books and all the Dulcie books will always be mine to self publish.

AA - When you were a kid, who did you find scarier, vampires, witches, ghosts, or werewolves? How did you ward off attack? (blanket snorkel, knocking on wood, nightlight, etc…?)

HP - Um, I would say as a kid, I was scared to death of the idea of ghosts. I never believed in vampires or werewolves but I did and still do believe in ghosts so the idea of seeing one is enough to still freak me out. LOL

And I don't know of any way to ward of a ghost attack. Hmm, that sounds like the premise to a good story...

AA - What are six of your favorite words in the English language?

HP - I like this question! I've never been asked this before:

1. Henry Cavill (LOL that's two)

2. Love

3. Unstoppable

4. Infinite

5. Babies

6. Laughter

AA - Part II of the Mallory interview coming soon.

Upcoming H.P. Mallory Interview

That's right, the author of Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble and To Kill a Warlock will share her thoughts on ebooks, the future of publishing and the best words in the English language. Stay tuned!

Fangs for Nothing - Prologue

“Do you want to see the vampire?” the old man hissed. I was wandering around Chinatown by myself because my friends were lame and wanted to go dancing instead of actually trying to see something of the city. The answer to the old guy’s question was yes, damn straight I wanted to see the vampire. I mean, if there was one available for viewing.

Judging from the thick layer of grime he was sporting, my new friend was more than likely a homeless person. He drew a crude map on the back of a Lone Dragon Restaurant menu some hawker had forced on me earlier and I had yet to throw away. “And take this,” he said, pressing into my hand a dirty, sealed envelope which he had fished out of his crusty overcoat. “Don’t open it till you get there.”

“What is it?” I asked, wishing I had some handy wipes or something. The envelope was a bit sticky and I didn’t want to think about what had made it that way.

“Something you’ll want,” the old dude rasped. He cracked into a jack-o-lantern smile, “Trust me.”

After that, he gave me the usual shakedown for money and I ended up parting with two bucks. If I got to meet an actual vampire, it was a good deal. And even if I didn’t, the old guy looked like he could use the cash.

Following the map, I crossed the street and made a left down an alley. San Francisco’s Chinatown had been crowded with vacationing families pawing through piles of silk fans and faux jade talismans when I first started looking around. After the sun went down the tourists quickly evaporated. Besides the old guy and the customers at a few late night noodle shops, I was pretty much on my own.

Making another left down a smaller, darker alley, I nearly bumped into a young woman leaning against a wall. She was Caucasian, but wearing one of those snug fitting Chinese silk dresses with the high collar. Burnt red chopstick pierced a dark brown bun of hair piled on the top of her head. Lifting a clove cigarette to her crimson lips, she gave me the eye. “Are you here to see the vampire?” she asked in a gravelly voice.

“Uhm, yeah.”

“I thought so,” she said, dropping her cigarette to the pavement and grinding it out with a stiletto clad foot. She grabbed me by the arm, “Come with me.”

Up close I could see that she was probably in her early twenties with large dark rings under her eyes that she’d tried to conceal with makeup. Somewhere in the distance I could hear the muffled throb of music from a dance club. Xander and Rini were going to be miserable that they’d chosen to try to sneak into a club instead of hanging out with me. “So this is a real vampire?” I asked as she hurried me along.

“Shhh,” she hushed me, pausing to listen. In a voice just above a whisper she asked, “You never met a vampire before?”

“Not exactly.”

A grave look crossed her face and she nodded. “Okay.” Hiking up her dress she pulled something out of her black lace garter. “You’ll probably want to hang on to this.”

I was so intrigued by my glimpse of the top of her stocking that I almost didn’t grab the thing she thrust at me. “What is it?” I fumbled. It was a long cone shape with a very pointy end. I became acutely aware that Miss China Doll Dress had just handed me a stake.

“Come on,” she began pulling on my arm again, hurrying me further down the alley.

At that point I was pretty excited. I was armed, had a hot babe at my side and I had been assured by no less than two San Franciscans that I was about to meet a vampire. The only thing that gave me pause was the stake didn’t have the heft I would have expected. It felt more like balsa wood than an implement strong enough to drive through a vampire’s ribcage and into his heart if necessary. Not that I was planning on snuffing a vampire or anything, but it was good to be prepared. China Doll didn’t seem too ill at ease so I let her confidence bolster me. It was weird that she was my voluntary guide, but I assumed I was reasonably safe. Unless she was one of the vampire’s servants who brought him his dinner each night, choosing from whomever was foolish enough to wander the abandon streets of Chinatown after sunset. That idea made me slightly uncomfortable. She was urging me faster and faster down the darker and darker alley.

“Uhm,” I was starting to feel a little nervous. “You know, my friends would probably really like to meet the vampire too. In fact, they’re waiting for me right now. I should probably go get them and then I could meet you back here.”

“Here,” she said, jerking me to a stop. “We’re here.” We stood in front of a large wooden door. It looked about a zillion years old and the large windows on either side of it had been bricked over. “Do you have something for me?” China Doll asked. When I gave her a confused look she added, “Something the old man gave you?”

“Oh… yeah,” I pulled the sticky envelope out of my jacket pocket.

“Open it,” she commanded hammering on the door with three loud strokes.

My hands trembled slightly as I worked at tearing open the envelope. “Hurry,” she told me. “What does it say?” The clouds that had been crowding the sky all evening chose that moment to part and the light from the moon shown down on us. As I pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it, I could hear someone on the other side of the door turning a very rusty lock. “Read it. Read it now.”

I squinted, confused, “Two for one drinks until midnight?”

The door flew open. “Velcome to Fangtopia!” a balding Dracula in plastic fangs called out. Before I could get my bearings, I was ushered inside. “Fangtopia is San Francisco’s only roving vampire dance club.”

“He got two for one drinks,” China Doll chirped in a bright voice, instantly more cheerleader than seductress.

“Congratulations,” Dracula said as if he was genuinely happy for me. “Now all I need is to see some ID. And there’s a twenty dollar cover charge.”

I peered into the poorly lit room. About a dozen Goths dressed in black swayed listlessly on the dance floor. Others lounged on battered couches looking bored. The whole place smelled a little too much like sour dough bread. I wouldn’t have wanted to go in, even if I had a fake ID.

My vampire host was getting impatient. I could tell he didn’t like me sizing up the club. “Come on, kid,” he said, clapping his hand on my arm. “You got twenty bucks or what?’

“Suck it, Dracula.” I jerked away from him, dropping the stake in the process. It bounced off the dance floor with a hollow fwap, nothing more than spray painted plastic. “I’m out of here.”

For Chapter 1 go here.

Fangs for Nothing

Check out the cover art for my soon to be released vampire comedy, Fangs for Nothing. Created for your viewing pleasure by the lovely and talented Phoenix Zoellick.

Stay tuned for sample chapters.

Betty and Veronica about to launch

XOXO Betty and Veronica: We're with the Band is about to launch through Penguin Press in conjunction with Archie Comics.

I swear this was the most enjoyable project I've ever worked on. The story was fun, my editor liked everything I did, zero rewrites, the pay wasn't half bad and the book is coming out nationally in less than a year from the time I wrote it. That's pretty much unheard of in the publishing world. I wrote another title for the series, "In Each Others Shoes" which was also fun and enjoyable to write. It will be out in the fall.

So nice to have something go smoothly in the world of writing. As other writers and aspiring writers know, it's a rare thing.

More on Consumerism

My reading of Peter N. Stearns' Consumerism in World History continues. Apparently consumerism started in the western world in the 1700s. Gained speed in the 1800s. And by the early part of the 1900s was in full swing. America started out slow, but picked up speed to the point of dominance, especially in the early 20th century.

Women were pointed out as particularly vulnerable to consumerism and many women expressed delight in going to department stores and handling goods for sale. It became a social event for women. And a new disease, kleptomania, was born from so many goods being so delightfully displayed.

Conflict between men and women began to brew as women became targets for attack for spending too much money. But a survey in 1920 showed that while women derived more pleasure from shopping and spent more time shopping, men actually spent more money on clothes and items for leisure activities. Clubs were all the rage and men needed special clothes to be part of their club. Men also spent a lot of money on watching sports and participating in sports, buying equipment, etc... Still, in newspapers and divorce proceedings, men continually accused women of spending too much money.

I wonder if that still holds true today? Do women shop more, but men actually buy the larger ticket items? (golf fees, super bowl tickets, big screen televisions, etc...) I hate shopping and so does husband so we don't really have any conflict there, but I do wonder in general.

Those Zany Brontes

I've been trying to read Anne Bronte's Agnes Grey, but keep getting caught up in learning more about the Bronte family, plus a lengthy introduction so I haven't yet waded into the text. Wow, for some women who were unmarried and mostly stayed at home, there was quite a lot of drama. (Which may explain the tone and content of their novels.)

Here are some recently learned tidbits:

During their lifetimes, there were quite a few more women in England than there were men. Something like 350,000 more women, plus an additional 150,000 men who were counted as English were living abroad. So that explains why in so many novels of the time period there are always all these "old maids" and gentlewomen of no fortune who live in fear of never marrying. Apparently, unless you had the cash to buy a husband, it was pretty slim pickins.

There were two older sisters who died of neglect that turned into tuberculous while they attended a boarding school. Apparently, Charlotte also attended the school and her her descriptions of the horrible school in Jane Eyre are actually autobiographical.

Branwell, the only son, was a complete waste, but still pampered by the family. He was sent to study portrait painting in London, but returned home a few months later, penniless. He'd never applied to the school and spent the large amount of money he'd been given for tuition on drink. Later, when his sister Anne got him a place as a tutor in a home where she was the governess, he started a relationship with the mistress of the household, Mrs. Robinson, an older and still married woman. There is some belief the characters in The Graduate were based on this affair. After being discharged and getting his sister discharged, Bramwell sunk into a funk and was pampered some more. He died at 24 of tuberculosis complicated by alcoholism and an addiction to laudanum. I remember reading someplace that he died leaning against a fireplace mantle having bet a friend that it was possible to die standing up.

Anne is the least known of the Bronte sisters, but that turns out to be because after her death at 29 of tuberculosis, Charlotte suppressed the reprinting of her novels. There was a demand for them and the publisher offered to reprint them, but Charlotte said they weren't worth bothering over. Nice.