Happy Monday! I promised new and exciting things for today.
Ok I didn’t actually say exciting, but it is exciting – at least for me – so be excited too. It is the nice thing to do.
Most of us deep down inside are a little twisted. We might not show it openly, or even know just how twisted we really are, but when we tap into that twisted side, crazy things can happen. Sometimes we need a little push, a little shove, or a big kick down a flight of stairs to really get our creative juices flowing.
Today the launch of Twisted Writers goes live. What is Twisted Writers? Well, it is more of who are the Twisted Writers.
Ok, you ask, who are the Twisted Writers?
That is an excellent question. And one that I am going to answer very, very slowly. Over the next week in fact, with a daily author interview.
Today I introduce you to JesiKay Scott…
When did you first realize that you wanted to be a writer?
A writer isn’t what I was; writing is what I did, and I’ve been doing it since I was around 14 years old. I would wake each morning and write whatever was in me to write, but I never considered myself a writer, per se. Not until a little over a year ago when I realized that what I was doing, and had been for a while, was being a writer.
Who or what inspired you to start writing?
My seventh and eighth grade English teacher, Linda Humphries. It was an advanced English class and we had to write a poem for homework one day. I turned my offering in with all the others and she read them while we were working on some classwork. She called me up to her desk to discuss my poem and the first words she said to me were “Do you know who Cynthia Voigt is?” I said no and she told me she was the author of a book called Dicey’s Song (which I hadn’t read) and that my poem sounded exactly like the way Ms. Voigt writes. I got an A+ on that poem and I remember going to the school’s library and reading everything by Ms. Voigt that I could. I didn’t see how my writing resembled hers at the time but I’ve been writing poetry ever since. And I’ve been writing stories for about ten years.
Which writer do you admire most and why?
This is one of my “dreaded” questions. It’s like asking me “who’s your favorite author or book?” Really, I admire any writer who has the creativity to imagine a character/s and create a world around them that I want to read about, the desire to write about it, and the tenacity and strength of purpose to write a full book from beginning to end. I think the writers I admire most are the ones who are natural storytellers like Neil Gaiman, or those who create such an enchanting world that I have to finish the book immediately, like J.K. Rowling did with the Harry Potter series or J.R.R. Tolkien with Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.
What is your primary writing goal and what are you doing to achieve it?
I want to be a published author. I want to get something out there, be it my poetry or a novel, which will touch someone’s life and maybe inspire them, or even just put a smile on their face. Already I am in the beginning stages of writing what I hope will be my first book, but I am currently in the process of self-publishing my first poetry collection. I am also a part of a writing critique group which helps keep me in thinking about my writing, and I have a blog where I try to get something posted every day.
Do you have any strange/ unique writing habits?
Not yet. Although, I do find I work better with some music playing and I have an inspiration wall that I tack things that catch my eye like a quote or a picture. Actually, I have a lot of bookmarks hanging up now that I think about it. I apparently collect bookmarks like people “collect” pens. I even have one from the 1980’s back when there was a TV series about Beauty and The Beast with Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman. I loved that show. Anyway, it has a quote from Romeo and Juliet on it. I can’t remember where I bought it but its’ definitely over 20 years old.
What do you want your tombstone to say?
No tombstone. Uh-uh. No way. I want a Viking funeral complete with my bow and arrows and my favorite books piled high around me. Or failing that, I want to be cremated and have my ashes planted along with a tree in London which is my favorite city.
What literary character is most like you?
I have no idea. When I was younger I wanted to be Laura Ingalls from the Little House books, Jo March from Little Women, Rose from Eight Cousins, and Juliet from Romeo and Juliet so I could change the ending of the story because I thought it sucked. I knew exactly how I would have ended the story and it wouldn’t have been with either Romeo or Juliet dead. At some point, in my early twenties, I wanted to be Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing because she was smart and witty and knew she didn’t need a man to make her happy and was content to be single. Nowadays, I have no idea although I do admire Claire from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. My kids, however, are convinced I am Princess Leia and no amount of me laughing hysterically has changed their minds. They apparently think I am a kick butt rebel. Riiiiiight.
If you had any super power, what would it be?
I want the ability to heal others-people, animals, plants. I hate being sick and can’t stand seeing others in pain. I even thought about being a doctor or a child psychologist when I was in college.
Are you a Plotter or Pantser?
I am a total pantser but I have in the last few months began plotting as well. I don’t like being forced into outlines and rigid rules, but if left to my own devices I make my own outlines and rules that work for me.
Give us an interesting fun fact about the book you are working on?
The original idea came from a dream I had when I was in my twenties and will tie in to another dream I had ten years ago.
Where is one place you want to visit that you have not been before?
Would you like to give a snippet or synopsis of your current work in process?
“Time seemed to stand still as I watched Alex’s life being violently taken from him. I rolled over onto my side, and painfully inched my way in his direction. But I would never reach him in time. I knew it even as I grabbed at the edges of the stones and pulled myself slowly over them.
Then the air stilled, my sobs and Draeke’s gasping breaths the only sounds. I watched my brother’s body drop just inches away. I laid my head on the cold stones, already missing the other half of my heart like a ghost limb. I reached my hand out as far as I could to try and touch any part of my twin. My own death was imminent I knew. At least we would go out of this life the same way we had come in, together.
Draeke slumped to the floor, hands to stones, trying to keep from collapsing himself. His face was pale and he tried to catch his breath. Rage flowed through me. I hated him. I wanted him dead. I could feel adrenaline beginning to flood my veins giving me the strength I needed. Now, while he was unguarded and weakened. I could kill him; no one else had the power to do it but me.
I pushed myself to my knees and forced myself to ignore the pain. Fighting to keep conscious I stood. I was unsteady on my legs but for all intents and purposes I was upright. I looked at Draeke still on the floor.
“Stand up and face me, you bastard,” I said to him now. His head shot up and surprise was evident in his eyes.
“Annalise, wait,” he began. He rose to his feet and started to walk toward me, hands outstretched in surrender. His steps faltered and he fell against the wall. He was weaker than he thought.
“Not for you, you fucking traitor!” I raised my hands and saw purple begin lining my fingers. I knew the blue of my own eyes had intensified and I felt my blood hum as power began building in my body. My hair whipped around my head as if a stray wind had entered the room. I drew on the force of my rage, deep and black, and began calling forth as much magic as I could hold. My body would not be able to contain it all, but I wouldn’t have to hold it for long. I just had to control it long enough to direct all of it at Draeke. I had seconds only before he could cross the room and try to stop me. I pulled hard on my power. The familiar colored spots began to dance within my vision. Draeke pushed himself away from the wall and walked towards me again, one hand outstretched, fear in his eyes. And something else on his face. Incredulity? Horror? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t care. And then everything froze except the power building in me.”
Thank you JesiKay for taking the time to do the interview for me.
You can catch JesiKay at Twisted Writers every Monday.
Come back tomorrow to see who is next!