If you could have one paranormal ability, what would it be?
It’d be great to be able to touch an inanimate object and to
automatically learn that object’s history.
What is one thing your readers would be most surprised to
learn about you?
My writing includes an obsessive attention to details and little
things, so people might presume me to be a rather acquisitive person. In point
of fact, though, I own almost nothing.
When writing descriptions of your hero/ine, what feature do
you start with?
It’s best to begin with deciding just what it is the
character wants. Kurt Vonnegut says that every character should want something,
even if it’s just a glass of water.
Are you a plotter or a pantser?
Careful plotting and awareness of structure are absolutely
crucial. If you plot and maintain structure, you are a writer. If not, you’re
little more than a typist. Writing is not typing. In saying that, of course, I’m
referring to Truman Capote’s famous criticism of Jack Kerouac.
Did you learn anything from writing this book? If so, what?
I learned that one ought to follow strict form but not let structure
and form take the reader to a predictable place. By experimenting with form and
structure, the storyteller can lead the reader in circles. And that’s necessary
for a story about someone struggling to learn something. By going around and
around in circles, my protagonist echoes the frustrations of any and all of us.
Obsessed
with learning the origins of the cosmos, the actual meaning of life, and the
true purpose of civilization, a fine Scotsman named Fingal T. Smyth dedicates
himself to the study of Plato’s most extraordinary ideas. Convinced of Plato’s
belief that humankind possesses any and all innate knowledge deep within the
collective unconscious mind, Fingal soon conducts a series of bold, pioneering
occult-science experiments by which to resolve the riddle of the universe once
and for all. However, Fingal forgets how violent and perilous the animal
impulses that reside in the deepest recesses of the unconscious mind. And when
Fingal unleashes a mysterious avatar of his innate knowledge, the entity
appears as a burning man and immediately seeks to manipulate innocent and
unsuspecting people everywhere into immolating themselves. Now, with little
hope of returning the fiery figure into his being, Fingal must capture his
nemesis before it destroys the world.
Excerpt
Two:
Fräulein Wunderwaffe did not return the smile. Hand on
heart, the little girl drew a bit closer. Then, as the hot, animalistic
presence undulated all across Fingal’s body, the little girl’s eyes grew wide.
Until the little girl’s expression turned to that of a vacant stare.
A moment later, her feet pointed inwards, she removed her
hat and undid her long, flaxen hair.
Again, he cringed. “If you’ve noticed something, ignore all.
This hasn’t got anything to do with you.” A third time, he cringed.
A most ethereal, lyrical, incomprehensible hiss commenced
then: from the other end of the winding, decorative-brick driveway, each clay
block shining the color of blue Welsh stone, a sleek Siamese cat with a coat of
chocolate-spotted ivory had just appeared. And now the creature raced toward
his shadow.
As he looked into the animal’s big, searching, blue eyes,
the chocolate Siamese studied the off-center tip of his nose. Then the animal
turned away, as if to compare the peculiarity with that of some disembodied visage
hovering in the distance.
Out upon the loch, meanwhile, a miraculous rogue wave
suddenly arose—and now the swell crashed against the pebbly strand.
Not a moment later, a cool flame crawled across Fingal’s
throat. The strange fire rattled, too—not unlike the sound of fallen juniper
leaves caught up in the current and dancing against the surface of a stone
walkway.
Crivens. By now, the alien, pulsating presence held him so
tight that he could barely breathe. Before long, he fell to the earth, and as
the dreamlike flame continued to move across his throat, he rolled all
about—until the illusory sensation of cool warmth wriggled and twisted and
dropped into his neck dimple.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
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M. Laszlo is an aging recluse who lives in Bath, Ohio. Rumor holds that his pseudonym is a reference to Victor Laszlo, a character in the classic film Casablanca. On the Threshold is his first release with the acclaimed, Australian hybrid house AIA Publishing. Oddly, M. Laszlo insists that his latest work, On the Threshold, does in fact provide the correct answer to the riddle of the universe.
7 comments:
Thank you for hosting today.
Thank you for hosting me!
I liked the excerpt.
I enjoyed the post. Sounds like a good read.
I'm excited to read this novel. Thanks for sharing and hosting this tour.
Looks like a interesting book.
What's your favorite writing-related quote?
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