Name: P.I. Barrington
Where are you from: Southern California
A little about your self `ie your education Family life etc:
Growing up in LA you are pretty much required to work in the entertainment industry, lol! That’s everything from performing to holding the lights in place. So, of course I did too. My goal was to meet Paul McCartney and I did that so there wasn’t much left to accomplish. I worked in radio, music industry, film and TV and a tiny bit of journalism. But I think I should have been writing all along.
Fiona: Tell us your latest news?
I recently moved across the country to the South, specifically Tennessee! It’s been really an upheaval since we’ve never lived anywhere else but California and in fact, we lived in our last house 42 years! It gets swampy here in the summer. The worst thing here is trying to get used to the time difference. I never have any idea what time it is so I sleep and wake up at strange times, lol!
Fiona: When and why did you begin writing?
I’ve always written I just never took it seriously. Finally, for some strange reason I decided to see if I could actually write fiction since all of my writing was news. I lurked on some writing groups online and one day I saw a submission call for a new publisher and submitted. One thing led to another and I ended up with a three-book contract. That’s when I started to take it seriously as an actual career. Plus, as I said, I worked in entertainment, so when I’m writing, I’m seeing that movie playing in my head. Why I began writing is simply that I want to entertain people. Take them on a ride to somewhere they’ve never been or never really thought about going. I’m not trying to change the world; I’m just trying to make it a little bit more bearable, a lot more fun…for a while anyway.
Fiona: When did you first consider yourself a writer?
You know, I think I secretly always was a writer deep down. I wouldn’t admit it and that twisted things around and wasted a lot of time and effort on my part. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, I’d have already been doing it.
Fiona: What inspired you to write your first book?
The Editor/Publisher wanted me to write a sort of dystopian futuristic romance which ended up being a futuristic crime thriller/romance set in Las Vegas (my “second” home). It was a trilogy. It was my first ever attempt at writing an entire book, let alone a trilogy. I think I managed it well…I hope.
Fiona: Do you have a specific writing style?
I do I think. It’s a bit gritty and edgy with a lot of swearing but not very erotic usually. It’s what I call “dark”. Which doesn’t mean it’s horror or gore or too graphic. It means that the stories and/or characters’ back stories aren’t always happy or don’t have an HEA (Happily Ever After) ending. It’s also very concise. I don’t waste words if I can write tight and fast; that’s a leftover from my journalism days. If I can use one word that gets an emotion across I don’t need to use 12 words. I only write two points of view: Third Person Omniscient (i.e. “He/She/they ran down the hall” (Third Person) and First Person (“I ran down the hall”) It’s easier to write FP but I think that TPO is faster and bigger since you see all the characters’ points of view, motivations, reactions, plans/plots and you can control the speed with which things happen.
Fiona: How did you come up with the title?
For my first trilogy, the Editor suggested “Future Imperfect” which I thought was great, but for each individual book, I pulled out each major plot point from the book (Crucifying Angel, Miraculous Deception, Final Deceit). For The Brede Chronicles, I knew I had the title once I had the character name. This is Book One and I’m working on Book Two even as I answer this! Also Brede is with another publisher so I was kind of alone on the title which is good in some ways and not so good in other ways. I have to tell you this; it’s one of my favorite lines from some fiction book that I don’t even remember: one character asks another if something is a good or bad thing. The other characters says “It’s like being ten feet tall—good for some things, bad for others” That line just cracks me up because it’s right on the mark without being insulting! That’s exactly what I mean about Brede’s title, lol.
Fiona: Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp?
No. Seriously, no. I’m not trying to change the world or standing on some soapbox with my writing. I’m just trying to show my readers a good time. If there was any message, it would be that good always wins out but that doesn’t mean it will always be perfect afterward. It just means that the ending is an ending but not a final end. There’s always a story to follow after the end. Kind of like life itself, you know, “it ain’t over ‘til it’s over” if you’ve ever heard that phrase. (It probably originated in Hollywood.)
Fiona: How much of the book is realistic and are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life?
Well…since I write what I call “Near Future” books (NEVER more than 100 years in the future) the technology changes & we have contact with aliens who are close to us in physiology, few real events in mine or others’ experiences are common. However, my brother in law is the Chief of Police in the next town over, and a lot of the new police technology I ask him about and am always amazed at some of the necessary advancements there are plus any I can think up myself. For example, I can’t fly an interstellar ship but my characters can. We do have a space station and can change crews or take up supplies when needed, but I can’t since I’m not trained for that and only a few actually are. But there’s no alien tentacle sex—that’s too far out for even me to relate to and my readers as well. I try to think how I would act in those situations and give them to my characters. I always tell people that my characters are much braver than me and that they do things I’d never do.
Fiona: What books have most influenced your life most? Any mentor?
As a little kid, somehow I got hold of a book of Shakespeare for children and I read MacBeth which set the stage for my entire writing phenomena and themes. That guilt, that greed and trying to twist something right into something wrong and being destroyed by it is always a major theme for me. All of it gives my characters motives, actions, emotions—everything humans deal with everyday. After that, Mary Stewart’s Merlin series was a huge influence, Ray Bradbury, and Colleen McCullough who I adored with her Masters of Rome series and…finally…the king of them all…Stephen King. I read Carrie when it first released and that was it. I was hooked on him for life!
Fiona: Are there any new authors that have grasped your interest and who is your favorite author and what is it that really strikes you about their work?
I usually don’t review books because I’m always in the process of writing but there is an author out there named Shauna Roberts who writes ancient historical romance and who I requested to be sent her book to review. Unfortunately I suffered a cardiac arrest in early 2015, was in a coma 12 days and then in rehab. She probably thinks I didn’t like her book Claimed by the Enemy but it’s right up my alley of reading genre. She has a great feel to her books and I love anyone who can correctly use the name Sargon correctly and in a story! So, here’s a shout out to Shauna Roberts!!
Fiona: Name one entity that you feel supported you outside of family members. Several I think: two in music and at least one in journalism. One was a friend of my mother; one was a neighbor, and a college professor in journalism. They believed in me ferociously.
Fiona: Do you see writing as a career?
I do now. I used to think, “Oh, it’s stupid. It’s silly. Besides what chance do I have with any of the big 5 publishers?” Since publishing has become accessible to everyone via Amazon and others such as B&N, there are a lot more opportunities out there for writers and more choices as well.
Fiona: If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?
No, not really. There’s a lot of back story between Alekzander Brede and Elektra Tate so hopefully a reader will be captivated with them and their story. It was a labor of love for me, so I put a lot into it before I submitted it. Luckily, First Realm (Publishing) liked it and contracted it.
Fiona: Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?
It was truly just reading so much that I just sort of absorbed styles, themes, how scenes are constructed, how pacing should work or could work stuff like that. Oh, and then (like very many authors) there was that district wide story contest as a little third grader that…yes, you guessed it—I won. I think that was when I knew consciously that I could write but would definitely do it sometime in the distant future—which is now.
Fiona: Can you share a little of your current work with us?
He had every right to kill her if he needed or wanted. Once more he pounded and kicked her door and when she did not respond he shot the keypad making the door slide open as far as its now bent frame allowed it. She stood waiting for him. Elektra pointed a gun at him, arms straight forward in shooting position.
“Why can’t you leave us alone Alekzander?” she asked, voice shaky. “All I want is to raise my boy and make him feel safe and happy.”
“He’s my son too Elektra. I want him.”
“I can’t do that Alekzander.”
“I want him.”
“Please Alekzander I don’t want to do this. Please just leave us alone,”
“I want my son.”
“Don’t make me do this please.”
“You think you can?”
“Do you think you can—what—wound me and run away again Elektra—?”
“Alekzander,” she broke into his sentence. “I can’t wound you and leave it at that. You once told me that you learned to kill at ten and then learned not to regret it the next year. But I never told you, I’ve been a crack shot since I was three. I won’t miss.” She openly cried now but never lowered the weapon.
Brede looked at the floor and snorted out a small sarcastic laugh. He shook his head.
“So none of those shots were lucky?”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer but moved forward and twisted back her real hand, the right one until she dropped the weapon with a cry.
“Did you really think you could take me down Elektra?”
“Stop hurting my Mommy!”
Brede looked down at himself in shock. The blast went through his back and exited through his chest, tearing a large hole. He staggered back a little and looked at the boy and then at Elektra who backed away from him just in time to miss being hit herself. Her face, spattered with his blood, paled beneath it.
“You taught him to shoot his father?” He asked astonished.
“No! No I didn’t Alekzander! I taught him to shoot in self-defense if I couldn’t be there to protect him, that’s all! I never thought he might—” She turned to the child. “Give me the gun Zander,” She held out a palm.
“But he was hurting you Mommy. He always hurts you. He always makes you cry.”
“I know honey and you were very brave to try to help me but you made a mistake.”
“I know baby. Give me the gun and you go back upstairs. Mommy will come up after a while.”
“Zander! Do what your mother says!”
Both of them stared at Brede. Whether it was the tone, a deep growl, or that the boy somehow recognized the voice of his father, he ran up the stairs, two at a time, the gun on the floor where he laid it.
“Do you see now Elektra? He needs a disciplinarian, not a coddler.” He grimaced at her from the floor and wall that he now slumped against. “Now, you’re going to fix me up.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Doesn’t matter, you’re going to do exactly as I tell you. And don’t think you can kill me through this. You won’t.”
“Alekzander, I didn’t want to hurt you I told you that. I never thought he’d think to use it on you—”
“Yeah, that’s great. Now shut the fuck up and listen to me. Do you have a cauterizing tool?”
“Yes but that’s only for—”
“Go and get it.”
She started to respond but then thought better. She stood up and ransacked the shelves on her walls seeking the little torch. She tossed whatever she found over her shoulder and behind her and when she found it Elektra spun around and held it out to him. He grunted and slid almost flat on the floor.
“I’m not going to use it you are.”
“Listen to me.” He grasped the collar of his shirt and ripped it in half, exposing the deep wound. “You are going to power up that thing. Then you are going to reach into this hole, grab the edges of my torn rear aorta and then squeeze them together. When they touch you are going to run that tool along the edges and cauterize them shut—seal them. Do you understand Elektra?”
She nodded once again unable to speak. He could see the white around her irises. She was afraid again, a good thing for once. He grunted.
“Do it now.”
“Do it now.”
She reached inside him with shaking hands and he watched her breath unevenly as she followed his instructions. Amazingly he did not scream.
“Is it done?”
“Alright, I’ll live. Now do the same thing with the frontal aorta and until the skin is the last thing you solder together, got it?”
She pressed her lips to squelch another sob and nodded.
“Do it.” He inhaled with pain and then looked at her. “Now,”
To Elektra’s credit she managed to do it competently and with little unnecessary pain to him.
“Leave me,” he said. “Go check on the boy.”
She nodded again and entered the lift after wiping his dark indigo blood from her hands on her skirt. He watched her thinking the small apartment primitive and probably all she could afford though it was relatively safe and hidden from most of Amphidia and somehow she’d managed to keep them both alive in the planet’s violent existence. At last she’d done something right. By the time she returned Brede stood at the half-open door, its power source constantly buzzing in frustration unable to open or close completely. Already his body was healing; his alien half took care of that. Zander’s shot nicked the rear heart but tore through the frontal one. Luckily the rear cardiac system was the crucial one. He looked at her.
“He’s sleeping as if nothing happened.” She shrugged, surprised. “I’ve never seen him do that before. He gets upset so easily,”
“I told you he needs discipline Elektra.”
“He’s only a little boy—” She stopped and shook her head. “I’m tired Alekzander. I don’t want to fight now. I’m just so tired…”
“I’m going. But know that I will be back, Elektra.” He turned toward the door.
He turned only his head looking over his shoulder but not at her.
“Look, I know you still hurt and well, as always this is my fault, but if you want, you know, you can sleep here on the sofa tonight,” she waved a hand at what looked more like a bed than a couch. “You know…if you want. I mean, if you think it will help with…the pain and everything.”
He turned fully around.
“You won’t let my son kill me this time?”
“Don’t be funny. I’m trying to be nice—I just want a—a truce for tonight, okay?”
She turned toward the kitchen space, letting him make his own decision. She bent to pick up some toy of Zander’s and her hair fell half way out of the clip she’d swept it up with. Ignoring it she tossed the toy over the Permaglass partition, their son’s obvious play corner and he stood behind her, brushing a stray strand from her neck. Elektra stopped moving and he watched a shiver run down her back. Brede ran a finger along her shoulder.
“You know, the last time we actually spoke civilly to one another, you confessed that you only stowed on the Scythe was to ‘get close enough to have an outside chance with me,'” He said quietly.
“That was a long time ago Alekzander.”
“Not that long.”
“You didn’t want me you wanted Narita. I was just a convenient substitute.”
“Not this time. You’d have more than an outside chance.”
“Look what happened last time Alekzander. He’s sleeping upstairs.”
He kissed her neck and she shivered again but still did not move.
“If—if I do this, will you leave us alone?”
He twisted her head around to face him.
“This is not about custody.”
He twisted her face farther and kissed her. She responded greedily, surprising him and they tumbled down on the couch. Brede’s eyes were closed when the secreting began. As he licked her body, anywhere his tongue touched her the sweet, granular gel called Sugar by humans and Amphidians alike, spread over her making her moan and arch toward him. In Amphidians it was a sign of great emotion; an automatic response uncontrolled and unbidden and once begun unable to stop until their bodies pulled apart in satiation. Sugar served other purposes as well; to enhance the human pleasure and to prime her body for pregnancy. It happened once before when she’d stowed away on the Scythe. After they were through Brede laid on his back thinking. At the time he didn’t realize it was happening or didn’t want to realize it. It never occurred with Narita, not once, even during the most intense sex. The Sugar caused Elektra to conceive Zander but Brede put it down to his general fury at her, especially when she’d hitched a ride with the express intention of sleeping with him. The anger was the reason it happened at all. He’d never been that angry with Narita until he killed her and then it was cold anger, no real emotion at all. The Sugar was also responsible that the sex with Elektra burned into his brain and body never wiped away or forgotten.
This time it wasn’t for quick intense release and when they finally finished with each other, Elektra lay in deep sleep with her back to him, hair askew and soaked with sweat. He watched her, moving her hair from her eyes and then put an arm around her, against her breasts, and his leg over a thigh enjoying the feel of her flesh. Her hair, grown out and long, was no longer cut short and childish and her face less thin and angular; living off the streets made her healthier. Her body was not long and thin and boyish now, but softly rounded no doubt from giving birth to their son.
“Mommy?” Zander stood at the open lift door, eyes wide with fear. “Mommy!” He rushed toward them and stuck his face into Elektra’s. When he was sure she was breathing he stared hard at Brede. “Did you hurt my mommy again?”
Brede shook his head in the negative and held a finger against his lips. “She’s sleeping,” he mouthed at the boy. Zander promptly climbed on the ‘bed’ and sat at their feet.
“Who are you and why do you make my mommy cry?” the boy asked in a mix of curiosity and hostility.
“I am your father Zander.”
“But why do you make her cry if you’re my father?”
Brede thought for a moment.
“Because I am a man…and something else,” he said finally. “As you will be a man.”
“When I am a man I won’t make my mommy cry.”
“You will Zander.”
“I won’t ever! I’m not like you! I’m not mean.”
“You are like me regardless you like it or not. And one day you will find that you have another side, like me, that is different from a man. A side that likes to hurt just because he can do it.” Brede stared into the boy’s eyes, identical to his own, until recognition dawned in them and the child looked away.
“But you still need to learn to be a man Zander.”
A small tapping sounded on the frame of the twisted, half-open door and Zander leapt off the bed and ran to it. Two children, Amphidian, asked the boy if he could play with them. Zander spun and ran back to Elektra’s face.
“Mommy, can I go outside and play?” He worked a finger between her eyelids. “Mommy is it alright?”
Elektra grunted, pulled his finger out of her eye and then opened them both. She sat up a little.
“No Zander. I’ve told you before that it’s not sa—”
“Let him play Elektra.”
“No! It isn’t safe. He’s only four—”
“And he needs to learn how to deal with things—with people.”
“No. He needs to learn to be a man. There isn’t any better place to learn it. Let him go.” He looked at his son. “Go on Zander.”
The child spun and ran outside, laughing and talking non-stop in Amphidian with his newly allowed friends.
“Besides, I don’t believe that we are quite through here,” Brede grasped a handful of her pale hair. She struggled against his hold.
“Are you trying to condition me that every time I let you countermand me I get some sexual thrill from it?” Elektra snapped.
“Hm, hadn’t thought of that but it’s damned a good idea.” He snickered and pulled her face toward him again. “And where the hell did you learn the word ‘countermand’?”
“Up.” He finished for her.
“Alekzander, I can’t do this. I can’t be the other woman.” Elektra shifted on the bed and lay on her back. She stared at the ceiling and Brede readjusted his arm to continue pressing it against her breasts.
“Yes. Look I’ve tried to be—mature about everything but…I tried to get you out of the pyramid when they activated the tracking device in my palm. It started blinking off and on red and I knew they were trying to find you again. I couldn’t let that happen. I tried to cut it out of me, to dislodge it but I couldn’t. That was when I got back into the pyramid and told you to leave with Narita. I told you I’m a crack shot. When they came in after you, I had an old ball detonator full of processed napalm. I tossed it to them and out of reflex one caught it but as he did I shot the ball in the direct
center. The firestorm rolled over them and exploded detonating away from me. It did throw me out of the pyramid and how I landed without losing Zander I don’t know. I didn’t even know I was pregnant, that’s probably why.”
“I saw the firestorm from the ozone,” Brede told her. “I figured nothing was left of the building or half the city.”
“Why did you come back to look for me if you thought I was dead?”
“I had a…revelation of sorts.”
She gave him a curious frown.
“I heard something that changed my plans.”
“What about Narita? Does she know you’re here with me—or looking for me?”
“Narita doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Don’t lie to me Alekzander.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I have a right to know if she’s going to come after me with murder in mind,” Elektra said.
“It’s not something you have to worry about anymore.”
Elektra sat up completely.
“Where is she?”
“I took care of it.”
“Took care of what?” Elektra stared at him eyes wide.
“Took care of it—of her.”
Her eyes widened.
“You killed her?”
“Because she needed it, that’s why.”
“Alekzander, you were her sworn consort! Why would you possibly do that?”
“I told you. I learned something that changed my mind.”
Elektra looked away.
“Will you kill me too if I don’t give you what you want?”
“I doubt it.”
“But you might. I know you Alekzander. If you want something badly enough, killing someone to get it isn’t beyond you.”
“I could have killed you at any time Elektra. I haven’t so far.”
“Only because you don’t want Zander to see you do it,” she looked away again.
“He’d get over it.”
Her head whipped back around.
“You’re hateful. I don’t know why—”
“He’s more like me than you know Elektra. He has more sides than one—and one that you don’t and shouldn’t know about.”
“I’d never let him grow up like you—”
“You have no choice in the matter. And neither does he,” Brede sat up and grabbed her shoulders. He twisted her to face him. “I want him. He needs me more than he needs you.”
“No he doesn’t—”
“Elektra,” it was a statement. “This isn’t open for discussion.”
“Don’t—“ He licked his lips. “Make things harder than they need to be, Elektra. Especially for yourself.”
She glared at him.
“You really will kill me won’t you, you bastard!”
Brede said nothing. There was nothing he could say. He merely stared back at her.
“Oh! I don’t know how I could ever think that you were someone or something I wanted! I hate you! You hold all the fucking cards here Alekzander and you think that makes everything you do all right. If you take him Alekzander I swear that I will hunt you down until my last breath. I will destroy you.”
“No you won’t.”
“Oh!” Elektra slapped him. He caught her arm and held it.
“Don’t ever raise your hand to me again woman.”
She grasped his hand with her mechanical left one and tried furiously to twist herself out of his grip. Although surprised by the power of her left arm, Brede simply held her until she exhausted herself.
“I mean it Elektra. Don’t ever do that again.”
She made one last weak attempt to wrest her arm out of his hand.
“You are not my master Alekzander. No matter who I am I still have rights.”
“I care nothing for rights Elektra—yours or anyone else’s. Not even Narita’s,” He smiled at the memory of her body floating aimlessly in space. “The only rights I care about are mine. And I have the right to my son.”
Elektra began to weep, hands covering her face.
“I can’t fight you Alekzander,” she told him between sobs. “I have nothing—no right to him whatsoever. Why do you have to take him? Why are you being so cruel?”
“Because I can.”
She wept harder for a long moment and then wiped the tear streaks from her face.
“If you take him, I’ll never see him again.”
Brede paused. Her response crept up his neck like a dark prophecy and he secretly shrugged it off.
“He’ll get over that too.”
If she wanted to strike him again she managed to control the urge. He watched her face tighten and her jaw set. His Elektra Tate was gone; the little girl pestering him for attention, taking all the cruelty for just a moment of his time had disappeared for the time being; perhaps for all time and Brede wondered for a moment if she could ever come back. He also found himself wondering why he wondered at all.
Fiona: Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing?
I think maybe the most challenging thing is the amount of time it takes writing and marketing a book. Marketing, whether you have a publisher or self-publish, is probably the bane of the writer. Writing can take a while, depending on your story and how you express it, but marketing is a killer.
Fiona: Do you have to travel much concerning your book(s)?
I travel in any case, but a lot of the time for my first novel, Crucifying Angel, had already been spent in Las Vegas. I could write about Vegas in my sleep! I have another book that I wrote after I’d first visited Britain. I returned to Britain in 2102 and found Salisbury Cathedral and its center area the quad was almost identical to what I’d written!
Fiona: Who designed the covers?
First Realm Publishing used a cover artist named Jared from Off The Wall Productions. I adore the cover art for Brede. It’s like he got inside my head and pulled my ideas out.
Fiona: What was the hardest part of writing your book?
Knowing when to stop putting in back story. There was a huge amount in the first book because I was trying to establish characters and their relationships within the text/setting of dystopian Egypt. I’d get lost in it a lot of times.
Fiona: Did you learn anything from writing your book and what was it?
Yes! Relating to the answer above, I found out that using a lot of back story can actually work well and be enjoyable to write! Like I said, I would get lost in writing it, lol!
Fiona: If any of your books was made into a film who would you like to play the lead:
I gotta tell ya here that I always cast my characters as soon as I have a name for them. It’s funny but this book’s characters came about after I’d finally watched the film Pitch Black. I was watching Radha Mitchell and I kept thinking “who is this character (of mine) that I’m seeing?” I thought about it after watching it again and suddenly the light came on in my head: Elektra Tate!! Vin Diesel would be great for Alekzander Brede, but I worry that Brede is too much of an anti-anti-hero for him. I loved their combination and chemistry in PB though the characters’ personalities are different than the movie. But as I said, my characters are cast almost immediately.
Fiona: Do you have any advice for other writers?
I always tell them this: Be your own harshest critic, that way someone else won’t have to be. Be hard on yourself, make sure you’re not being indulgent with your writing or thinking that whatever you write is perfect simply because you wrote it. Writers—good writers can always learn something about writing even when they think they can’t.
Fiona: Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers?
I love you and I want to take you on an adventure! I want you to go somewhere you’ve never been before and I want you to love the characters that take you and guide you on that adventure! I love them and I hope you will too!
Fiona: What book are you reading now?
Nothing! I’m trying to make a deadline for Book Two for my publisher so I can’t really read anything!
Fiona: Do you remember the first book you read?
Well, it was one of these three: Black Beauty by Anna Sewell, Misty of Chincoteague by Marguerite Henry or Shakespeare for children (Scholastic Books I think) “MacBeth”. I have this feeling that it was Black Beauty.
Fiona: What makes you laugh/cry?
Most of the time what I laugh at is well written sitcoms or movies. Some lines from Seinfeld still make me scream with laughter. I also LOVE comedy films. Scary Movie 1-4 cracks me up still, the Naked Gun series (“It’s the bomb!”) and some of the old black and white films like “Coconuts” by the Marx Brothers or “Murder He Said” Comedy is the best thing ever we’ve accomplished as human beings! What makes me cry? Abuse of animals has to be the worst. It gets me every time. Any animals—snakes, lions, dogs, cats, all of them. It’s in their eyes.
Fiona: Is there one person pass or present you would meet and why?
Anybody from Ancient Egypt—peasant, scribe or Pharaoh, I don’t care—I just want to meet someone from that time (AND be able to talk to them)
Fiona: What do you want written on your head stone and why?
She made us laugh!
Fiona: Other than writing do you have any hobbies?
Gardening, creating art, travel is a biggie, though I am terrified of flying. It got so bad my doctor finally gave me a prescription and said “take it before you take off,” So now I have to take it or I literally can’t fly.
Fiona: What TV shows/films do you enjoy watching?
I am not, not have I ever been a big TV fan. Over the years, only a handful of shows made me loyal to them. Unless it’s such campy show that I can make fun of it (Love Boat, Fantasy Island) or it’s spectacularly hilarious (FawltyTowers/Monty Python), I rarely watch TV. Movies? I love big, spectacle films like Gone With the Wind and the Ten Commandments. They were just big events—you’d have to go and see them in the theatre—and they kept their promise to you, to entertain you on a massive scale. Even though we have excellent film technology these days and I love it, I am sorry we’ve left behind that old way of making those big movies & musicals.
Fiona: Favorite foods / Colors/ Music
Foods? Thai and Mexican. Colors? Three of them: Green, yellow and orange, alone or together. Music? ALL music from classical to rap, that’s why I worked in that industry. There is only one type of music I really don’t like and that’s jazz.
Fiona: If you were not a writer what else would you like to have done?
Well, I did do what wanted; to work in music. But I look back and think “Oh, I should have majored in ancient history and/or archaeology, or do stand-up comedy. There were so many avenues I could have or maybe should have gone into, but you only get one lifetime and all of those would take a lifetime to perfect. I chose what I loved most for good or bad. I don’t regret that choice at all, ever.
Fiona: Do you have a blog/website? If so what is it?
I only have a blog these days:
And last but not least: