Wednesday, April 9, 2014

INTERVIEW: Therese Woodson

Steampunk! Steampunk! Steampunk! Today we are talking to the adorable Therese Woodson about her thoughts on blurb-writing, lyrics, and her steampunk work: Clockwork Horizon.

Hello Therese and welcome 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!

You have three words: describe your writing dreams.

Three words? Only three words? That’s so unfair. Fine – make people feel. (laugh, cry, swoon, shake their fists at the sky, etc).

On a scale 1 (super chill) to 10 (falling apart at the seams) how cool are you under the pressure of blurb writing?!

I am around a 3. I’m not super chill about writing blurbs, but I have a good knack for it. At my day job, I actually have to summarize huge amounts of information into small paragraphs all the time so I’ve had tons of practice. And I have some good folks that I can send drafts to who will tell me what to fix.

If you could go back and speak to your 13-year-old self, what would you say?

Go for it! Seriously. I was timid as a teenager and I was so scared of screwing up and not being able to do things. I opted out of activities all the time, especially around creative endeavors, because of the fear of failure. I would tell her to just do it, fuck what other people think. You might fail but you’ll never know unless you suck it up and try.

A genre-specific virus has attacked you, rendering you INCAPABLE of writing your chosen genre. What do you do now?!

Oh noes! What an evil virus! Okay, so no more m/m romance? Fine then, I will try my hand at writing fantasy and science fiction. Or maybe a western. I love westerns. Or a mixture of the three. I’ve always been a fan of space cowboys.

Describe yourself using song lyrics.

Some people call me the space cowboy
Some call me the gangster of love
Some people call me Maurice
'Cause I speak of the pompitous of love.
(The Joker, Steve Miller Band)

(see what I did there?)

Zombies attack while you’re editing your latest novel. These zombies are ON FIRE. How do you fare? Are you now a flaming zombie?

Oh, I’m so dead. I’ve taken the online quizzes. I never last long in the zombie apocalypse. Now, if I can choose help, I pick Daryl Dixon. Maybe then I’d have a chance.

You have 200 words—Make. Me. Swoon. (PLEASE!)

This is a snippet from Clockwork Horizon where Malachi and Ian move to another phase in their relationship.

They kissed and touched, tentatively, mapping each other with their fingertips under the hems of their shirts. It left Malachi aching in a completely different way, his body flushed with desire, but the hour was already late and he needed to leave.
“I have to go,” Malachi said between heavy pants as Ian sucked at his throat, his hands splayed across Malachi’s back, holding him close. Ian bit playfully at Malachi’s collarbone, and Malachi gasped and swayed forward to press against Ian’s body, pleasure sparking up his spine.
“So soon?” Ian mouthed into Malachi’s shoulder.
Malachi didn’t want to leave, not with Ian’s enthusiastic mouth marking his shoulder and neck, and Ian’s sinuous body surging into his, and Ian’s hands under his shirt, grasping, stroking, sliding over skin that had never been so intimately touched. Malachi’s fingers clutched in Ian’s unruly hair as Ian continued to lave attention to the hollow of Malachi’s throat.
“I don’t want to go,” he confessed.
“Then don’t,” Ian answered simply, pulling back. He met Malachi’s gaze, his brown eyes dark. “Stay with me,” he said softly.

What is your most irrational fear and what makes you inexplicably happy?

Irrational fear – balloons and zombies. (don’t ask). Inexplicably happy – going on vacation. I love traveling. I don’t get to go often but when I do it makes me ecstatic.

Worst mistake you’ve made in your career and what you’ve learned from it?

Oh man. I don’t think I’m going to fess up to this to be honest. But I will say that I’ve learned to trust myself and how much better at storytelling I’ve become over the years.

And finally, for THE most important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kinds of dachshunds?


Synopsis: As a major airship port, Aerial City welcomes visitors from all over the world. Despite being surrounded by new inventions and colorful people, Malachi Covington partakes of little outside his books and studies. He aches for adventure and excitement but labors under the rules and expectations of his wealthy uncle.

Five airships arrive in port, keeping his uncle busy and, as Malachi’s best friend Millie reminds him, they’re carrying parties full of crew members. Excitement finds him in the form of Ian, a charming airship pilot who invites him to tour his ship, the Mockingbird. With Ian at his side, Malachi discovers a world beyond his books and takes daring steps to become his own man.
Available from Dreamspinner Press


The evening had deepened, the sky a blue-black canvas pinpricked with stars and painted with a waxing moon hanging low. They climbed a set of stone steps to where Ian’s airship was moored, and Malachi felt like he ascended to the edge of the world, skirting the line where the land and heavens met.
“There she is,” Ian said, gesturing with his arm, like he unveiled a magnificent piece of art. “The Mockingbird.”
Malachi’s eyes widened as he took in the magnificent ship.
She was long and wooden, bolstered with iron along the framing, and she boasted stacked decks like the sailing ships of old. Instead of beams and sails, however, cables attached the Mockingbird to an oblong helium balloon. She floated in her slip, strong ropes and expertly tied knots keeping her from escaping into the clouds.
“She’s beautiful,” Malachi breathed.
“She sure is,” Ian agreed. “I can only imagine what she looks like to someone who has never seen one up close before.”
Malachi’s step faltered, surprised, and Ian caught him by the arm, his grip steadying and firm at Malachi’s elbow.
“How’d you know?” Malachi asked.
“You have ink on your hands, but no calluses. And this afternoon, when we met, you were carrying books and ledgers. Not to mention the clothes. Only someone who has at least another pair of trousers that fine would drop to his knees in the street. You’re not working class.”
Malachi swallowed. He looked down at his outfit, frowning, upset that his attempt at fitting in was all for nothing. “I’m sorry,” he offered.
Ian smiled wide. “Don’t be. It makes you interesting.”
“I’m not really.”
“You are to me,” Ian said. “Now, follow me, because we’re going aboard.”

Author Bio:

Therese Woodson is a wife, mother of two, and writer of stories, who lives in the Blue Ridge mountains. She is an avid reader of all literature. She holds two degrees—one in Psychology and one in English Literature and hopes to pursue an MFA in Creative Writing in the near future. She is a fan of watching bad television shows, superhero movies, and anything sci-fi. She loves creating interesting characters, universes, and plots with happy endings.

Social Media Links:
Twitter: @writer_reese

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