What inspired you to become an author?
A lot of different sources deserve
credit. First and foremost goes to my mother, who used to read me books every
night before bed. Secondly, I have to thank the brilliant minds behind Batman: The Animated Series, which
captured my imagination as a young girl and made me want to tell stories as
grand and exciting as the ones they did. I began with rudimentary fanfiction
and eventually graduated to writing my own original fiction. As time went on, I
realized I had more fun writing than I did in my first major in
college—veterinary science—and so I switched my major. I never thought I could
become a professional author until I met Jackson Pearce, an urban fantasy YA
author who did a lecture on creative writing and publishing at the University
of Georgia. She inspired me to decide take a chance on myself and my work, so I
did. Thus, if I die a penniless nobody, I’m totally blaming her.
All kidding
aside, I became an author because I love the act of storytelling. I love the
freedom. I love the scope. I’ve watched all kinds of television shows, anime,
cartoons, and movies, and read hundreds of books that made me realize that
writing is one of the most fulfilling feelings one can experience.
How did you come up with the title for your latest
book?
The Holy Dark is named after a beautiful lyric from
Leonard Cole’s “Hallelujah”: “There was a time you’d let me know what’s real
and going on below, but now you never show it to me, do you? And remember when
I moved in you; the holy dark was moving too, and every breath we drew was
hallelujah…” Unfortunately, using the stanza in the novel is prohibited because
of the deeply annoying copyrights of song lyrics, but it’s totally legal to use
it for the book’s title. Has a great ring to it, and it really fits the
struggle of the characters inside it, trying to find light in the darkness.
Do you title the book first or wait until after it’s
complete?
I always write a working title before I start the
novel. I don’t know why, but the book doesn’t feel real until it has a title at
the top of my Word document. The working title for She Who Fights Monsters, for
example, was “aeria gloriam” which loosely translates to “heavenly glory.” It
was an idea I had from the Yoko Kanno song “Inner Universe” from the Ghost in
the Shell soundtrack, whose lyrics fit the tone of that novel well, but it was
way too hard to pronounce, so I changed it to the title inspired by the famous
Friedrich Nietzsche quote.
Is there a message in your novel that you want
readers to grasp?
Have faith in yourself and in the ones you love, and
you can accomplish wonders.
Is the book, characters, or any scenes based on a
true life experience, someone you know, or events in your own life?
As far as The
Holy Dark, here and there you’ll find little bits of things I’ve actually done
in real life, but for the most part, no, the plot is 100% fictional. The
characters are mostly original, but I have stolen small traits from my family.
Myra Bennett, a new character whom readers will meet in The Holy Dark, reminds
me of my Aunt Z.B., my mother’s sister-in-law, who is hilarious and has no
brain-mouth-filter. She says anything that comes to mind, and is one of the
smartest, toughest, funniest people I’ve ever known. Another example is the
forehead kiss that Gabriel always gives Jordan in greeting or when he leaves.
It’s based on something my favorite cousin Mikey did once years ago: I was
sitting on his couch watching television and he came up behind me and kissed me
on the forehead. He didn’t say anything or explain himself. He just kept on
walking afterward, and for some reason, I remember feeling so safe and loved
that it nearly overwhelmed me, so I added that as one of Gabriel’s brotherly
actions towards Jordan, who is basically like his little sister.
What books/authors have influenced your life?
Jim Butcher,
author of The Dresden Files, is basically my hero. I waited in a room for
nearly six hours just to get his autograph, and so that I could called him a
sadist for writing the ending to Changes
and Chapter 14 of his recent novel Skin
Game (to which he cackled, waggled his eyebrows, and said, “Oh, I’m SORRY!”
in a hilariously facetious way). I’m a relatively new author and I have a long,
hard journey ahead of me, but I want to become the kind of writer that he is.
He never pulls his punches. He writes so beautifully, and yet he’s not afraid
to make you laugh your ass off or shake the book in frustration when our
lovable Chicago wizard does something stupid. I want to learn how to become an
author who can genuinely make you feel things about the characters, and the
kind of author who can write diverse, three-dimensional characters no matter
what the scenario. Butcher’s Dresden Files inspires me constantly and it’s
honestly my favorite series of all time.
I also have to give credit where credit is due to
the late great Brian Jacques, author of the Redwall series. Those books fed me
years and years of entertainment and beautiful language. It’s so fantastic because
he wrote for children and young adults, but he didn’t talk down to them. There
is death, violence, war, poverty, betrayal, and all kinds of seedy things
within the pages of that series, but it’s so wonderfully told and in a way that
is accessible to all ages, honestly. Sure, the characters are all animals, but
trust me when I say you do not underestimate them at any point.
If you had to choose, which writer would you
consider a mentor?
I am lucky enough to actually have a real one! His
name is Andy Rattinger. He’s a gruff but lovable screenwriter/indie filmmaker
who found me on Twitter and took me under his wing. He basically kicks me into
writing or researching when I’m off-track, and every so often I’m lucky enough
to chat with him on Skype about problems I’m having with my narrative or plot
threads that just aren’t tying together. He’d deny it if you asked him, but he
singlehandedly saved The Holy Dark. I came to him last year with all kinds of
problems with the story and he helped me straighten it out and make the best
version of it that I could. Plus, he’s mean and funny as hell, aka just like
me, and so our relationship is one of the most fun I’ve had in years.
What book are you reading now?
I’m neck-deep in getting The Holy Dark ready for publication,
so I haven’t been reading lately, but I’m re-reading and reviewing Grave Peril
by Jim Butcher as part of my New Year’s resolution to review the entire Dresden
Files series. Once the book is out, I’m going to start Good Omens by Neil
Gaiman and Terry Prachett, because I’ve heard nothing but great things about it
for years, and it’s in a genre I enjoy reading.
What books are in your to read pile?
Good Omens, as mentioned above, Sandman Slim by
Richard Kadrey, Magic Bites by Kate Daniels, Push and Pull by Emily Cyr, Raging
Heat by Richard Castle, Graveyard Shift by Angela Roquet, Self-Inflicted Wounds
by Aisha Tyler, and Peace Talks by Jim Butcher (God-willing that it comes out
this year and not in 2016.)
What is your current “work in progress” or upcoming
projects?
I’ve got a massive YA epic fantasy in the works that
I will pick back up on once The Holy Dark is all settled on the virtual
landscape. Still no name yet (though it does have a working title just because
I can’t write an untitled story) but think Avatar: The Last Airbender meets the
X-Men, with just a dash of Firefly. Sounds awesome, right? I don’t know if it
will turn into a full blown series yet, but it looks to be probably two books,
perhaps three. I want to have it finished by the end of the summer for a
fall/winter release, but we’ll see how it goes before I shoot myself in the
foot.
Can you share a little of your current work with us?
Absolutely! Here’s a little piece of Chapter 6 for
your enjoyment.
I finished rinsing out
my hair and groped for the towel with my eyes closed to avoid getting any
residual shampoo in them. Weirdly, my fingers hit nothing but the moist air
near the rack. Frowning, I reached out farther. It wasn’t there. Had it fallen
onto the floor?
“Lose something?”
I froze. A deep,
mocking, dry-as-sandpaper voice. No. Please, God, let it just be my
imagination.
I pried my eyes open
and ducked my head around the shower curtain. There, in front of the sink,
stood a tall, pale-skinned man with shoulder-length hair as black as soot and a
smile as sinister as the devil himself. His eyes were the lightest hue of blue
that existed and the pupils were thin and diamond-like rather than round. His
features were vaguely European—small forehead, narrow nose, thin but sensual
lips, arched eyebrows—but I knew he didn’t have an accent.
He clutched my towel in
his long-fingered hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his easily
seven-hundred-dollar black suit pants. I recognized his favorite dark color
scheme—a charcoal grey button up shirt, black silk tie, and Gucci dress shoes.
“Looking good, my pet.”
The archdemon Belial
was standing in my bathroom.
Shit.
I snatched the curtain
up across my upper body to hide it. “What the hell are you doing here, you son
of a bitch?”
He let his gaze drag
across what he could see of me. “We need to talk. With all the charms and
incantations you have knowledge of, this was the only place I could think of
where you’d be vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable? How did
you get in my hotel room in the first place?”
“Your roommate was
loathe to cooperate, but even the Honey Badger cannot defeat an archdemon with
orders.”
I glared at him, but it
was only to hide a pinprick of fear blossoming through my chest. “Where is
she?”
“Relax. I have no
intention of harming such an interesting specimen. She’ll come around shortly,
after we’ve conducted our business. Speaking of which, I think it’s time you
got out of there.”
“I’m not going anywhere
near you naked,” I snarled, trying to analyze the situation. As always, he had
the upper hand—strength, speed, and ruthlessness to boot. My Glock was in the
bedroom. No way I could get to it before he got his hands on me. I had a backup
weapon in here, but it would take a miracle to get to it with him in the way.
Belial chuckled.
“Forgive me. I must have made that sound like a suggestion. Get out of the
shower or I will happily help you out of it.”
The threat carried in
his emphasis on “help” made me realize I’d used up the last bit of his
patience. Time for Plan B.
I slapped my hand down
on the faucet. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti benedicam
aquae.”
I grabbed the handheld
spout and sprayed the now purified water straight at his smirking face. He
dodged, but the tiny bathroom prevented him from getting far. He slammed against
the far wall. The water skimmed over his right hand. The skin flushed an angry
red and steam billowed forth, making him hiss in pain.
He examined the fresh
burn and then tossed an impressed look my way. “Using your own shower to defend
yourself. Clever girl. However, you and I both know that you are stalling.
You’re not going to defeat an archdemon with some holy bath water. I’ll offer
you a truce. Put it down and we’ll talk.”
I kept a firm grip on
the sprayer, not pointing it at him but considering it. “We’ll talk when you
give me my damn towel.”
He clucked his tongue.
“Still stubborn and irritatingly modest. Very well. Here you are.”
The demon held it out
with his uninjured hand. I glared harder. “Toss it to me.”
He rolled his eyes and
obeyed. I caught it with my left hand and shifted behind the curtain, wrapping
it around myself. It was stupid, really. He’d seen me naked before in my
ex-boyfriend’s memories after he killed him and inhabited his body. I didn’t
like thinking about it. Terrell had been dead over two years now and it was my
fault. I’d visited his grave a few months back and put fresh flowers on it. He
liked lilies. Always had.
“There. Happy now?” he
asked.
I didn’t answer. The
holy water really was just a stall. I couldn’t kill him with it. I’d have to
get out of the tub, which is what the bastard wanted. Dammit.
I let go of the sprayer
and set one foot on the bathmat. He didn’t move—just kept staring at me with
that infuriating smug look. So far, so good.
The sole of my right foot hit the bathmat and then I
realized too late that his long, narrow shoe was only inches away from it. He
used his heel to jerk the mat towards him. I stumbled and fell forward, landing
right in his waiting arms.
Is there anything you find particularly challenging
in your writing?
I’m a character writer, personally, so sometimes I
struggling with plotting out a story from stem to stern. Plus, I grew up
writing fanfiction, and readers would string you up if you directly describe
your character, so I have to constantly remind myself to introduce characters
with brief drive-by descriptions as the habit was beaten out of me at a young
age. I’m also pretty awful at giving descriptions of rooms and environments,
for the same reason as characters’ appearances. Bad habits die hard.
Who is your favorite author and what is it that
really strikes you about their work?
God, I sound like such a fangirl already, but Jim
Butcher is my bread and butter. The reason I’m in love with Harry Dresden is
that he’s so atypical from your average male protagonist in an urban fantasy
setting. Most of them are hyper-macho alpha male characters who are all dead
sexy and have a cool car and a sweet job and a super hot girlfriend. Harry is a
freakishly tall (no, seriously, he is six-foot-nine, yikes) socially awkward
dork with a ton of personal issues thanks to his screwed up childhood, a job
that pretty much no one believes is real (he’s a wizard), and only a handful of
friends. What’s more is that Harry has real flaws. He can get irrational when
he’s angry, he has this chivalric streak that makes him feel the need to always
save the girl even though it gets him into tons of trouble, and there are
plenty of things that go bump in the night that scare him. Butcher found the
exact right spot between likable and realistic with Harry. I read nearly all
the novels in the series in just one summer because I had so much fun spending
time with our lovable Chicago wizard. Plus, Butcher has this incredibly ability
to crack jokes that make you laugh so hard your stomach hurts and then can turn
on a dime and make you cry like a toddler.
Do you have to travel much to do research for your
books?
Nope. That’s one of the perks of writing fantasy.
You can do most of the research sitting in bed with the Internet and your cell
phone.
Who designed the cover of your latest book?
The incomparable Gunjan Kumar designed the cover,
and Deviant Artist Christopher Cold painted that gorgeous landscape background
inside the silhouette of Jordan Amador. I could not be happier with it.
Do you have any advice for other writers?
Don’t give
up. You will have infinite chances to throw in the towel. The easiest thing in
the world to do is not write. Ignore that cruel voice in your head that tells
you no one cares and keep punching them keys, my dears. You’ll get through it
if you do.
Do you have a song or playlist (book soundtrack)
that you think represents this book?
Naturally, since The Holy Dark is named after a
lyric from Leonard Cole’s “Hallelujah,” the actual song is a fantastic
accompaniment to my novel. (I personally recommend the covers done by Rufus
Wainwright and Jeff Buckley.) It talks about the struggles of love, life, and
remaining intact when it feels like your soul is being torn apart by another
person. The Holy Dark revolves around the shifting relationship between Jordan
and Michael, but it also expands outward to their friendship with Gabriel, and
their never-ending battle against the archdemon Belial, who has designs on
Jordan. The book is also about having faith in the face of unimaginable horrors
and understanding what it means to love someone—signing up for difficult times.
Aside from that, here’s a list of other songs that
fit well with readings of the novel:
My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark by Fall Out Boy
Sometime Around Midnight by The Airborne Toxic Event
Red Hands by The Dear Hunter
Who Did That to You by John Legend
Baby by Warpaint
The Gambler by Fun.
God’s Whisper by Raury
Danke Schoen by Wayne Newton
She Lives in My Lap by Outkast
Cosmic Love by Florence + the Machine
Wires by Athlete
Spunky by Eels
The Holy Dark
The Black Parade Series
Book 3
Kyoko M
Genre: Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: April 24, 2015
ISBN 10: 1511543736
ISBN 13: 978-1511543736
ASIN: B00VULGGBK
Number of pages: 346 (eBook)
460 (paperback)
Word Count: 147,000
Cover Artist: Gunjan Kumar
and Christopher Cold
Book Description:
Sarcastic demon-slayer extraordinaire Jordan Amador has been locked in a year-long struggle to hunt down the thirty silver coins paid to Judas Iscariot. The mere touch of these coins is enough to kill any angel.
Jordan's demonic opposition grows more desperate with each coin found, so they call on the ultimate reinforcement: Moloch, the Archdemon of War. Moloch puts out a contract on Jordan as well as her estranged husband, the Archangel Michael. Now Jordan and Michael will have to find a way to work together to survive against impossible odds and stop Moloch's plan, or else he’ll wage a war that will wipe out the human race.
Excerpt:
Chattanooga had
been a nice place to live for the past ten months, a fact proven by my utter
disapproval of the hotel we checked in the following night we left. The safe
house was in Montpelier, Vermont and by car it was an eighteen-hour drive.
However, the two of us were exhausted from the recent fights we’d had and
needed some sleep so we stopped in Newburgh, Connecticut. We’d camp out here
for the night and then leave first thing in the morning.
Myra worked at
an office supplies store back in Tennessee, which paid alright, but neither of
us were exactly swimming in cash. The hotel we chose was not of the highest
caliber. The only benefits it boasted were cable television and air conditioning.
I missed my thin pillows and slightly lumpy mattress back home.
We were behind
schedule, but only slightly. Myra went to buy some dinner while I opted for a
long, hot shower. It wasn’t a nice place to stay, but it had one admittedly
awesome amenity—a handheld sprayer with plenty of settings. I stayed in until
my fingertips were pruny, mulling over recent events and hoping that a clear
solution would arise. No such luck. We were still on defense. I didn’t like it,
not one bit. The weight hanging off my soul was starting to make my knees
buckle. I had to fix this. I had to save the angels. I owed them. They had shed
blood for me more than once. I wasn’t going to disappoint them, not again.
Never again.
I finished
rinsing out my hair and groped for the towel with my eyes closed to avoid
getting any residual shampoo in them. Weirdly, my fingers hit nothing but the
moist air near the rack. Frowning, I reached out farther. It wasn’t there. Had
it fallen onto the floor?
“Lose
something?”
I froze. A deep,
mocking, dry-as-sandpaper voice. No. Please, God, let it just be my
imagination.
I pried my eyes
open and ducked my head around the shower curtain. There, in front of the sink,
stood a tall, pale-skinned man with shoulder-length hair as black as soot and a
smile as sinister as the devil himself. His eyes were the lightest hue of blue
that existed and the pupils were thin and diamond-like rather than round. His
features were vaguely European—small forehead, narrow nose, thin but sensual
lips, arched eyebrows—but I knew he didn’t have an accent.
He clutched my
towel in his long-fingered hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his easily
seven-hundred-dollar black suit pants. I recognized his favorite dark color
scheme—a charcoal grey button up shirt, black silk tie, and Gucci dress shoes.
“Looking good,
my pet.”
The archdemon
Belial was standing in my bathroom.
Shit.
About the Author:
Kyoko M is an author, a fangirl, and an avid book reader. Her debut novel, The Black Parade, has been on Amazon's Bestseller List at #5 in the Occult Horror category. She has a Bachelor of Arts in English Lit degree from the University of Georgia, which gave her every valid excuse to devour book after book with a concentration in Greek mythology and Christian mythology. When not working feverishly on a manuscript (or two), she can be found buried under her Dashboard on Tumblr, or chatting with fellow nerds on Twitter, or curled up with a good Harry Dresden novel on a warm central Florida night. Like any author, she wants nothing more than to contribute something great to the best profession in the world, no matter how small.
