Hello Suki 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!
How’s your handwriting?
Suki, how come you’re so freaking cool?
Well, I am one of those people who gets cold really easily, I think that’s what you must mean XP
If you could go back and speak to your 13-year-old self, what would you say?
13 hmmm…I guess I’d say the whole school thing will be over in a flash (I hated school, it was boarding school too), you’re doing fine, try not to worry so much.
What is your super secret, wildest, most outlandish writing dream?
Oooh, if I told you it wouldn’t be secret :)
No moon and stars for me really. I’m just so happy to be published and I hope I can continue to write things that people want to read. All I’ve ever wanted from my writing is for it to affect someone.
If writing were poisonous to you, would you continue to do it?
Yes. Undoubtedly (it probably is).
Describe yourself using song lyrics.
I’ve thought about this a lot and I don’t think I can describe myself using song lyrics, so instead this song is one of my all time favorites and if I can succeed in writing something evokes the feelings this song evokes for me, then I’ll be happy.
Sat in the grass, up on a hill
The air so still, you come to me to say
"I will wash away your fears, and stay with you for years"
I lay beneath the wings of an angel
I`m standing in the shadow of a saint
All roads are long and no one can deny them
Everything will come to those who wait
Ian Brown- Shadow of a Saint
How will you handle yourself in the coming zombie apocalypse?
I am rubbish at plants vs zombies, so in a real zombie apocalypse I suspect I will get eaten :P
You have 200 words—Make. Me. Swoon. (PLEASE!)
I guess there are always tears when I kiss him. It always hurts how we're so perfect for one another and yet never meant to be. Right now is there more to my passion than a desire to forget? I wish I could lie to you Xavi.
But one lie is enough. I'm trying not to hurt someone. You.
What we did last night then.
We stole one another away for one unforgettable moment. Stepped out of time.
Do I want to do it again?
I want to die from it.
He smiles. He knows.
I never imagined we would be this way round. Me. Him wanting me like that.
Please Sam. Xavi murmurs, pulling me down against him on the soft bed.
And despite everything, I just want to be a warm, anxious tangle of limbs. I want to be the only thought in his head, and he the only thought in mine. I want to be obliterated, wiped out, set free.
Maybe he can save me, I deceive myself as I fall into kissing him, maybe the secret to everything is in the way our bodies lock together- nothing has ever fit so perfectly- maybe we are the key.
From an old story of mine called Wildflowers
Give new writers a piece of advice based on one mistake you’ve made.
Believe in yourself. And when you’ve written something you can read through and think ‘Yeah, this is the story I wanted to write’, don’t hold on to it until you feel ready to send it off to a publisher (you’ll never feel ready), just take a deep breath and send it.
And finally, for THE most important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kinds of dachshunds?
~ ~ ~
When fifteen-year-old Romeo's mother leaves one day and doesn't return, he finds himself homeless and trying to survive on the streets. Mute and terrified, his silence makes him vulnerable, and one night he is beaten by a gang of other kids, only to be rescued by a boy who pledges to take care of him.
Julian is barely two years older than Romeo. A runaway from an abusive home, he has had to make some difficult choices and sells himself on the street to survive. Taking care of Romeo changes him, gives him a purpose in life, gives him hope, and he tries to be strong and keep his troubles with drugs behind him. But living as they do is slowly destroying him, and he begins to doubt he can be strong enough.
This is the story of their struggle to find a way off the streets and stay together at all costs. But when events threaten to tear them apart, it is Romeo who must find the strength within himself to help Julian (and not let their love story turn into a Shakespearean tragedy).
There’s this boy (isn’t there always?), this beautiful, glowing creature who makes me feel alive.
Even here, living on the street with all the shit that happens—the cold, the hunger, the terror of spending one more day like this, one more night like this—somehow he makes me want to survive it, despite everything, just to spend another fucking minute in his starry-bright glow.
Even now, especially now, as we stand on the embankment next to the busy main road. This is the red-light district for boys like us. This is where we sell ourselves, one piece of our souls at a time.
Four coins rest in the palm of his hand, the rest hidden in the strap beneath his threadbare sleeve.
He holds them out to me, and I am entranced by the warm gold skin of his wrist—people pay a fortune to get a glow like that, for something he just has naturally.
“For you,” he mouths, fixing his light brown eyes on mine.
Yeah, for me to go and get warm in Joe Brown’s stinking cafe while he gets fucked under the railway arches by some dirty creep who doesn’t give a shit if he hurts him. I wish Julian didn’t act like my big brother. I wish just once he’d trust me to look out for him. I’m not as fragile as he thinks.
But I take the coins, when really what I want to do is throw them into the road and beg him not to go.
He knows, and our gazes lock, the both of us trying to communicate something the other doesn’t understand, or doesn’t want to.
It’s like this every time he gets picked up.
As if on cue, the guy in the car blasts the horn. We both jump.
“Hurry the fuck up,” the creep hisses.
Through the steamed-up car window I can’t see the face attached to the voice, but the rest of him looks old and thin—hands gnarled as the roots of the trees that line this part of the embankment grip the steering wheel. And though I know that his age doesn’t mean he’s harmless, I can pretend, I can hope.
Julian tries to smile, his eyes telling me it will be okay. But how will this ever be okay? I can’t bear it.
But we have nothing.
We are nothing.
His warm fingers brush my cold ones, and I long to grab his hands and pull him away with me. I want to run along the embankment with him until my lungs burst. Maybe I will anyway.
“Twenty minutes,” he mouths.
I nod robotically. He gets in the car and watches me from the window as he’s driven away. I make a note of the color, model, and registration number. Knowing this makes me feel safer: if anything were to happen, I would have a tether, a proof that this car exists and Julian exists within it.
Nothing is going to happen. I bite back a sob. And run.
Availabe from Dreamspinner Press
About the Author:
Suki Fleet currently lives in the heart of England. Her childhood was quite unconventional and she spent some time living on a boat and travelling at sea with her family. Since she was very small she has always dreamed of writing for a living, but though she has written original fiction online for years and encouraged many new writers to keep going and follow their author dreams, it is only recently she got the courage to make her own dream a reality and actually send something off to a publisher.
By day she runs her own business selling fabric (her second love) and juggling family commitments, by night she weaves the stories that the characters in her head dictate. These stories often start with pain or longing but always end with love.
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