I was thrilled to sit down and chat with author Elaine Dodge today.
What do you do when you’re not writing, how often does your
muse distract you from day to day minutiae, and how do you like to relax after
a day writing?
Unfortunately, it’s the other way around. Day-to-day minutiae,
like paying the rent and, I’m ashamed to admit, Facebook, distract me from my
muse. Unfortunately, paying the rent is a big part of my day. I write copy for
websites, blogs, articles, reports etc. as a freelance copywriter. I’m also
writing a script for the Jameson First Shot competition. Every year since it
started in 2013 I’ve said I was going to enter. I’m doing it this year if it
kills me! If I’m not paying the rent, or writing my own stories, I’m hiding
inside other people’s imaginations; reading or watching TV or movies.
What genres do you write in and what do readers have to look
forward to in the future from you?
I think I would get bored if I wrote only in one genre. This
might change, but for now I’m exploring everything. My second novel, ‘The
Device Hunter’ is a steampunk novel. I have the opening chapter and basic plot
concept of ‘The Raging of Christopher Sly’ -a post-WWI mistaken identity,
family revenge novel; ‘The Incident at Grover’s Mill’ - an alternative telling
of H.G. Well’s War of the Worlds; basic plot layouts for an Elizabethan
detective series; the opening chapter of, hopefully, the first of a paranormal
detective series set in circa 1930; a Edwardian time traveling invention
adventure novel as well as the sequel to ‘Harcourt’s Mountain’ provisionally
called ‘The Heart of the Mountain’.
If you could sit down with any author dead or alive who would
it be?
Georgette Heyer. She did impeccable research and had an uncanny
ability to mix humour, romance and suspense – suspense in the sense that you
just had to know what would happen next, not was the axe murderer in the closet
or not - in every story she wrote. Her timing was incredible and her use of
language was masterful, as was her ability to set a scene. She seldom went into
great detail but you knew you would recognize everything if you suddenly found
yourself transported physically into her books. I so wish that was a
possibility! As long as I was one of her heroines and not the scullery maid
with bad toothache!
Do you keep a notebook near your for when new ideas pop into
your head and how do you keep track of
timelines, ideas, inspiration and such?
My
notebook is basically attached to me like a limpet to a rock. Although,
sometimes, I’m not sure who’s the limpet and who’s the rock. As ideas can occur
at the most random, and often the most inappropriate moments, a notebook is an
essential piece of writing equipment! Waiters at my favourite coffee shop are
used to lending me their pens and occasionally ask about the book. I have been
known to sketch out a story idea on the back of the bill! The notebook is just
the start. I try to plot the books
entirely before I start writing. I have it all on a vast spreadsheet in the
computer, so can slot ideas from the notebook in fairly easily. That wait also
means I can also pick and choose which scene to write, instead of monotonously
writing from Chapter 1 to The End. When I need to, I print the spreadsheet out
and lay it down on the carpet so I can see it all at once. If I’m still stuck,
I dig out my crayons and lie down on the carpet and cover the spread sheet in
colourful doodles waiting for inspiration to strike! My muse has a thing for
blanket forts, slices of Bovril toast, chocolate, big glasses of cold milk and
colouring in! As I’ve had to move the furniture anyway to make room for the
spreadsheet, a blanket fort is the next logical step! My notebook also has
lists of things I need to research. As a result, I have files thick with
research, both print and electronic.
Writer’s block—real or hype?
Mostly hype, I think. I think one can always write. If not on
the book that’s giving you a migraine, then at least on something else. I have
a short – and by short I mean really, really short – story collection on the go
called, ‘Running the Bathwater Stories’. I have to come up with the idea and
then write it and finish it, including edit, in the length of time it takes to
run the bath. A lot of them are more ‘slices in time’ than actual stories. But
people seem to like them as the number of readers is increasing with each one I
post on my author’s Facebook page. They may not be my latest ‘in-progress book’
but it keep s my hand in and the creative juices flowing.
Do you have a favorite genre? Is it the same genre you prefer
to write?
I have a very eclectic taste in…well, nearly everything really.
My favourite genres are historical romances, sea tales in the Nelson era,
westerns, cozy thrillers set in almost any period, steampunk stories and
stories about the Roman army and era. I’m not that crazy about contemporary
stories, but I’m willing to give them a go, if the story is interesting enough.
What has been the defining moment in your career that made
you think “Yes, I am now a writer!”?
It was the
moment I got an email from Tirgearr Publishing that said they loved ‘Harcourt’s
Mountain’ and would like to send me a contract. I was pretty useless at work
for the rest of the day. I was working at a wildlife television production
company at the time and I think I must have driven everyone insane telling all
and sundry a million times that my book had been accepted by a real-life
publisher! From then on I have called myself a writer!
If a movie or TV production company chose to produce your
books into a series of shows or movies, who would your ideal cast be?
Easy! My hero
in ‘Harcourt’s Mountain’ was completely modelled on Daniel Craig and in ‘The
Device Hunter’ he was modelled on Hugh Jackman – my wishful thinking cover
proves it! It’s on my website. I pretty much use these two actors as the basis
for nearly all my heroes. I create wishful thinking covers for the books and
put them on the research files as well – to keep me inspired. (Cough)
How much of your own personality bleeds into your characters?
A fair amount, I should think. But isn’t that true of all
writers? To write character convincingly we have to write out of what we know;
what’s in our own past, or the people we know or out of our own emotional
experience, at least. We have to be chameleons. We have to be able to get into
the skin of other people. Which is just a nice way of saying that deep down
we’re complete psychos and totally schizophrenic – we just hide it well and let ‘the others’ out to play through
our writing!
Harcourt’s Mountain
Genre: Historical
Romance
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing
Heat Rating: (According to Tirgearr Publishing’s Heat
Ratings): Level 2
- Sensual (kissing and at least one
sexual encounter – there but not described in detail, if that makes sense.)
Book Blurb
Spring, 1867 – The
western frontier of British Columbia hardly seems a likely place for romance.
Filthy, terrified and confused, Hope Booker is waiting to be sold off the
‘bride’ ship. Luke Harcourt happens upon the sale. It’s not love at first
sight, but he feels compelled to save her from a life of slavery and
prostitution. To allay her fears of being raped, Luke promises never to touch
her. Being a man of his word, this is a pledge he quickly finds almost
impossible to keep.
Battling their growing
attraction to each other, they must learn to live together in the forests of
the wild and almost unexplored mountains. They face white water, Indians,
wolves, and dangerous men.
No longer able to deny their feelings, their
‘happy-ever-after’ is shattered when a corrupt land baron forces Luke’s hand.
Enraged at the man’s actions, Luke rides into town—and disappears.
Alone and pregnant, Hope
faces the prospect of the worst winter in ten years. The trauma of fighting off
a hungry grizzly brings on labour, but the baby is stuck. Luke meanwhile wakes
up on a ship bound for South America, captained by a revengeful sadist who
plans to murder him. Will Luke survive and make it back to Hope in time?
Excerpt
Harcourt
played along to see just how far she would go and exactly what she wanted. She
coquetted outrageously for the length of time it took them to finish the
bottle. When a waiter came to see if they wanted another, to Miss Butler’s
obvious disappointment, Harcourt shook his head. As the waiter left, she
stretched out her hand towards the cord that held the curtain in place.
Harcourt
was quicker. He captured her hand saying, “Leave it. It might set tongues
wagging.” She shot him a look, as if trying to read his face. Harcourt smiled,
lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “We wouldn’t want that,” he said.
She
fluttered her eyelashes. “Mr. Luke Harcourt. You don’t mind if I call you
Luke?” Harcourt wondered if she seriously
believed that half a bottle of champagne
had made him more pliable.
“Not at
all, Miss Butler.”
“You’re
a very good poker player, Luke. How much did you win tonight?” She
moved closer, her knee touching his.
“Just
over five hundred dollars, I believe.”
“Don’t
you know for sure?” She laid her hand on his thigh.
He
shrugged. “Counting the money while you play is a distraction.”
“How
wonderful to be able to play and not worry about how much you might
be losing. That’s awfully brave. You must be
very rich.”
Harcourt
gave a short laugh. “Not rich enough for you, Miss Butler.”
“You
could be very rich. My father says your mountain is a gold mine.”
Ah. Of
course. “Does he indeed?”
“Oh
yes.” Her fingers danced lightly on the muscle of his leg. “He says a man
could be wealthy overnight with all that
lumber and salmon. Not to mention the
possibility of gold. Imagine how exciting it
would be to discover gold!” Her hand
tightened.
“Imagine.”
“It must
be awfully lonely living up there on your own.” She gazed into his
eyes, her hand relaxing slightly on his
thigh. “I’d be terrified. It’s so far away. No one
there to keep you company. What if something
bad happens? Indians or bears?”
She lifted his hand, pressing his palm on
her chest. “Here, you can feel my heart
trying to leap out my body even thinking
about it.”
He let
it lie on her white skin for a moment. It’d been a long time since he’d
been with a woman. He felt a momentary
flicker of disquiet. But looking into her eyes he caught a glimpse of her
empty, amoral, little soul and knew he had no cause for concern. He moved his
hand round until it cupped the soft weight of her breast. She breathed in. “If you sold your
mountain to my father,” she murmured, “you would be very rich. You could move
to town. We could get to know each other better.” Her hand crept up his thigh.
“I’d like to get to know you, Luke, very well.”
He ran
his thumb gently over her skin and bent towards her. She closed her
eyes. Her red lips parted, softening in
anticipation, her breath came quickly. He gave
a soft laugh. He could feel her skin begin
to warm under his fingers, her desire
spreading through her like smoky whiskey,
melting her in his hands. She seemed to
have totally forgotten who was meant to be
seducing whom.
“Luke,”
she purred.
“Miss
Butler. Will you do something for me?” His voice so latent with want she almost
moaned in response. She could feel his breath on her face. She tilted her head
back, shivering as his lips moved very gently on her neck, the tip of his
tongue touching her.
“Anything.”
“Anything?”
His voice was deep, intoxicating. She pressed herself into his
hand.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He released her and sat back, his voice normal, hard even. “Tell your
father my land is not for sale.”
She
blinked. “What?”
“You
heard me. Neither my land, nor my person for that matter, is for sale.”
He rose and moved away.
“But
why? I, I mean I don’t know what...” She stared up at him. The shock of
his rejection was swiftly replaced by
outrage. She stood up abruptly. “Oh, how, how
dare you! You were—”
“If you
do want to get to know me better, Miss Butler, you can start with this—I’m not
interested in little girls.”
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My Bio
I
was born in Zambia, grew up in Zimbabwe and am currently living in South
Africa. I say currently because I did my first round-the-world trip when I was
four years old. So who knows where I'll end up! I trained as a designer and worked
in that field for a number of years, even running my own company. A long stint
in advertising followed. When I moved to South Africa I spent eight years
in the TV industry, winning an odd international award. Writing was an aspect
of each part of my career. But I realised this wasn't enough. I love
"telling stories". I'm passionate about it, so in November 2011, I
decided to "wrestle the Rottweiler" and put those stories on paper. I
feel most alive when I'm writing and delight in letting my imagination run
riot.
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