Jillian Chantal

Today’s guest is Liv Rancourt. Liv has popped in before and today she’s talking about another release. I love, love this woman. She’s witty and charming and a very supportive friend.

Here’s Liv with some questions and answers. Enjoy!

1. What’s the most compelling thing about your most recent project, the thing that’s kept your butt in the chair through hours of writing and revising? I don’t really watch TV, so am not always up to date on who the hot young actors are. I stumbled over this picture (http://www.flickr.com/photos/thessasveapics/3360239087/) on Pinterest; just about lost my mind. It’s Eric Dane, and while I guess I knew he was on some TV show or other, I had to hit IMDb.com to figure out which one. And all that is really beside the point. I just knew I needed to tell this guy’s story. (&

2. If you had to recommend one writing resource, either a class or a book or a workshop, what would that be? What’s had the most impact on your work? Yeah, I know the question says, “one writing resource” but…I learned a whole lot about writing from Christine Fairchild. She teaches on-line classes and now has put out some of her materials as ebooks, and she’s definitely worth checking out (http://editordevil.blogspot.com/). I’ve also taken several good on-line classes at SavvyAuthors.com, and when I have specific technical questions, I can often find answers at Janice Hardy’s blog, The Other Side of the Story.

3. Fantasy or reality? Most people lean one way or the other in their work. Do you have a preference, or do you swing both ways? Fantasy FTW! (That’s “for the win”, for those of you who don’t get regular text messages from teenagers.) I find that framing things as fantasy or paranormal lets me deal with harsher realities than I otherwise would. Vampires don’t actually exist, so the bad things they do couldn’t happen in real life, right? They’re my safety net.

4. Clutter or quiet? Describe your perfect writing situation. I am the QUEEN OF CLUTTER. Apparently I abhor open spaces and smooth surfaces, because there’s crap everywhere in my house. And I’ve been known to slog away at the word count with the husband’s favorite news show on the TV and the 14-year-old’s stereo rocking and a 12-year-old peering over my shoulder, asking for his turn at the laptop. Quiet? What is that?

5. How to you juggle all your hats (spouse, parent, worker-bee, housekeeper, writer)? Very carefully…

6. What’s your favorite non-writing activity? Like, are you a closet marathon runner? Could you crochet a house-cozy if you had to? Maybe you secretly want to appear on Antiques Roadshow? I could, in fact, crochet a house cozy, and I would love to appear on Antiques Roadshow. Hmm…maybe this question has more to do with MY dreams than I thought.

7. Football, basketball, baseball or soccer? Which one gets your blood moving the fastest – or is there another sport you prefer? I love ‘em all, but if I had to pick a favorite, it would be basketball. And it’s really awesome when one of my kids is on the court.

8. What’s next on your horizon? Describe your current WIP(s) or other upcoming project. I need to finish my current WIP (the one that grew up around the Eric Dane picture – working title, Hell…The Story), and I’m trying to find a publishing home for my paranormal chick-lit romance Forever & Ever, Amen. I’ve also got an Urban Fantasy called Sisters that is suddenly sending up sparks, so I’ll probably be reworking it and finding it a home, too. And I’m trying to spread the good word about Heat Wave, an anthology that contains my short story Honolulu City Lights. There’s lots going on, which is why it took me something like a month to get you this blog post, Jillian. Thanks again for your patience!

BLURB: Honolulu City Lights

Tag: Blue eyes, dimples, and a hot surfer’s body means trouble, right? There’s only one way for Katie to find out…

Blurb: Losing seventy pounds was sure something to celebrate, but at the same time it created problems Katie never expected to deal with. Like, what to do when the hot-bodied surfer, Jack, turned out to be the DJ at her roommate’s favorite dance club. Katie was positive he had ‘Trouble’ stamped on his butt. Didn’t he?

Sneak Preview:
I stepped off the elevator carrying a white Styrofoam cup of frozen yogurt and smiled at my neighbor Darla out in the hall.
“Hey lady,” Darla said in her smoker’s rasp.
“Hey Darla.” I juggled my backpack and fished out my keys. Our building was surrounded by residential neighborhoods. From our fifteenth floor unit, we gazed over the tops of palm trees and red-roofed houses to the aqua ribbon of ocean at the edge of the world. Or that’s how it felt.
“You need a nice young man to take you to dinner.”
“Nope.” I glanced over my shoulder at her and laughed. “You do.”
Darla laughed too, a sound as wrinkled and leathery as her skin. She owned an extensive collection of old cotton bathing suits in graphic block prints and neon colored flowers. Straight from the sixties, they had built-in skirts, bullet boobs, and wide shoulder straps. She seldom wore anything else. Today’s choice had sunshine yellow hibiscus blossoms on a green background.
“Oh, I’ve done my time.” Darla punctuated her thought with a loose cough. “Miss Bitty and Stinker keep me busy enough.”
Miss Bitty and Stinker were cats. In my mind, they were the finishing touches on a perfect nightmare. In my ugliest fantasies, I ended up like Darla, living alone, dressing crazy, and talking to my cats all day. I wouldn’t be Meli’s roommate forever. Then what? It’s not like I had much hope of getting married. I’d had no practice with men. Seventy pounds ago it wasn’t an issue. Now, at size eight and with Meli coaching from the sidelines, it might be.
Our apartment was fairly standard. There was a short entry hall with a galley kitchen on the right and two bedrooms on the left. The kitchen was separated from the living room area by a waist-high counter. Two bar stools on the living room side to allow visitors to sit and watch the cook, if we ever cooked. We were more into Lean Cuisine frozen dinners.
Across the living room was a sliding glass door leading to the lanai. Our carpet was beige, the walls were beige, and our furniture was made from a pale polished wood. If it weren’t for the forest green couch and bright coral flowered pillows, the place would have resembled a bowl of oatmeal.
I plopped onto the couch and dug my spoon into the frozen yogurt, quickly shuffling exchanges in my head. Weight Watchers would prefer I wrote everything down and I would…later. Hula Girl, our dancing doll, was in her usual spot standing next to the TV. Flipping a switch made her hips swing and her grass skirt swish while the music box played The Hukilau Song. The rest of the time she listened to my problems and gave me advice about diet and exercise and stuff. Okay, so I talked to a plastic doll. Everyone’s got their little eccentricities.
Today she was quiet until I remembered Jack, carving the curl of a wave, his shoulders and chest broad and sun-kissed over a pair of those ubiquitous baggie shorts all surfers wore.
She smiled like the Cheshire Cat.
“What? I barely know him.”
Hula Girl just grinned at me.
Thank goodness Meli wasn’t home from work yet. If she knew I talked to a doll, I’d never hear the end of it.

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