Today we are talking to the fantastic Jaye Edgerton whose hat, hair, and book cover all make me INCREDIBLY jealous!
Welcome back Jaye to The Hat Party <3 Thank you so much for subjecting yourself to the RANDOMNESS that is a Raine O'Tierney interview! Please don your best hat, and let's get started!
If you could have a conversation with your 13-year-old yourself right now, what would you say?
Stop with the boys. STAHP. Lesbians exist outside of the Indigo Girls and you are one. Also the internet is going to be amazing, and someday you will be able to afford new shinies and all the Transformers you want but you’ll give it up to chase your dreams, so no, you will never stop being totally punk.
Describe yourself using song lyrics.
There's a picture opposite me
Of my primitive ancestry
Which stood on rocky shores and kept the beaches shipwreck free
Though I respect that a lot
I'd be fired if that were my job
After killing Jason off and countless screaming Argonauts
We’re both gamers! Have you ever had a game reduce you to tears?
I’ve reduced myself to tears in the context of a game, certainly. When I played World of Warcraft, like so many other writers (and other women!) I was on a role-playing server. Though to really explain it I’ll have to take a moment to explain to our readers about the Forsaken:
A few years ago (in narrative time), Lordaeron, one of the two human kingdoms in the world, was hit by, well, a zombie apocalypse. Even their crown prince was corrupted and turned into one of the undead Scourge army’s Death Knights. But as the rest of the world fought against the power controlling all the zombies, its control over some of them loosened, and they were able to break free. These former citizens of the kingdom regained their free will and took back their capitol…but they were still zombies. They called themselves the Forsaken.
I played a character who was one of these zombies. She was religious, and as a zombie she was an absolute mess of self-righteous self-loathing. In life she had been part of the city guard in one of the kingdom’s biggest cities, which was not only still under the control of the evil zombies, it was one of the game’s major dungeons. Role-playing her sorting through the wreckage of what had been her life, a life she could never have again, definitely got me sniffling on more than one occasion.
What is your superpower? What is your Kryptonite?
I have a freaky ability to recognize patterns and find things. When I worked at a mainstream book shop (as opposed to the used book shop I worked at several years later) we’d get lists of books for stripping or remaindering, and they’d always give me the list after everyone else had gone over it to find the books they’d missed. I was really good at the technical support side of technical support, too, but terrible at the social side.
Productivity is my Kryptonite. I have like zero willpower. Part of why I quit my day job to write was because I knew I’d never be able to do it unless I forced my hand like that.
You have 200 words—Make. Me. Swoon. (AGAIN!)
I have this habit of writing absolutely filthy scenes for otherwise mainstream novels I’m working on, so have part of one of those!
He pulled me onto the bed. I teetered on top of him, trying to keep my balance when all my body's attention was on the growing erection between my legs. His hands were all over me as I kissed him, unbuttoning my shirt, tugging at my belt. I only reluctantly pulled away from those warm moist lips to squirm my way out of my pants, letting them fall to the floor. I tugged off his pale green shirt and added it to the pile of clothes. The tangles of his hair hooked around my fingers. He pushed against me, his erection hard against my own, and I moaned into his mouth. Part of me wanted to slow down, to savor this, but it was buried under that aching need to be in him. He slowed down for me. His fingers around my shaft defied my memory of him, his last six years of experience teasing out tiny helpless sounds from my throat. His other hand was everywhere: in my hair, on the small of my back, clutching my rear. I pulled away from his lips and looked down to see him gazing up at me. "I missed you," he murmured.
A GENRE SPECIFIC-VIRUS has targeted you and rendered you incapable of writing your chosen genre! What do you do now?
Aaaaahhhhhhhhhh! Gosh… Mainstream? I’m terrible at mainstream. I have this weird quirk about writing real places. I can’t help but feel like I’m messing it up. So if I couldn’t write sci-fi/fantasy I’d probably die.
What is one mistake you’ve made during your writing career that you’ve learned and grown from?
I got it in my head for a while that writing sci-fi short fiction for the big anthology magazines would be my ticket to greatness, but I can’t actually write short fiction to save my life. My strengths as a writer are completely incompatible with that kind of story—I need space to spread out, to explore my characters. It took me a lot of angsting to accept that and move on.
What are you going to do to survive during the zombie apocalypse?
Pfft, I am SO READY. I have a great post-apocalypse car—an old Volvo 240 wagon—so I’ll just drive over zombies until I get to the middle of nowhere and hole up there, living off the land.
Seriously, my roommate/BFF says I am his Zombie Survival Plan. I credit a Southern upbringing with making me super handy.
Give a shout-out to another author who may, or may not, know how much you appreciate them.
There’s a sci-fi-fantasy author named C.S. Friedman who doesn’t get talked about nearly enough, but she’s both an excellent writer and had a direct impact on my life. When I was in high school, the English department put together a Writers’ Conference, and as my creative writing teacher was dating Ms. Friedman at the time he roped her into coming to talk to us. Attendees were chosen based on submitted short stories, and it was the first time I felt like my writing was taken seriously. I’ve recently been rereading her Coldfire Trilogy, and unlike a lot of things I thought were awesome as a teenager it still holds up well.
And finally, it’s STILL THE most important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kinds of dachshunds?
The fluffy long-haired one! One of my grandmothers had one of those.
~ ~ ~
When Erik, a human scholar and amateur mage, sets out to find Alfheim, the legendary home of the light-elves, he has nothing to lose. His village suffers under a mysterious Unending Winter, and his lover died in a hunting accident while trying to find food. Erik wants to find a way to end the cold, but he doesn’t expect a beautiful but Winter-cursed fey lord who wants him for his champion—and his bedmate.
Lord Therial is an elemental creature, tied to the land, and the elves of his kingdom revere him like a spoiled but rightful ruler. A spell cast by a rival fey locks him and his little corner of Alfheim into a perpetual Winter that seems connected to the one afflicting Erik’s home. If Erik fails to defeat the enemy, both realms will remain trapped forever.
About the Author:
Jaye Edgerton lives in Columbus, OH, with three ferrets and a long-suffering best friend-slash-roommate. “Eccentric” is a nice way to put it. In addition to fiction, she writes about geek culture for her local alt-weekly. She likes her fluffy happy romance to be about men and her serious dark fantasy to be about women—she’s contrary that way. Before deciding to take her writing seriously, Jaye spent a cumulative five-and-a-half years working in bookstores, used and otherwise. After that she spent seven years in tech support where she mostly wanted to cry a lot, but the experience encouraged her to chase her dream of being a professional writer instead of just writing dirty vignettes about her Dungeons & Dragons and World of Warcraft characters that she showed to all of two people. She’s much too fond of office supplies, out-of-print sci-fi/fantasy authors, and Transformers.
Jaye can be found on Twitter as @JayeEdgerton, and she blogs at http://jayeedgerton.wordpress.com/. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org and http://jayeedgerton.com/