Please help me welcome Author K.L. Kerr to my blog today!
About the Author:
Born
and raised close to North York Moors, initial setting of American Werewolf in London, one might be excused for thinking K.
L. Kerr's interests might lie with those furry beasts. But she has always preferred
monsters of the fanged variety, having written the very first draft of her
novel, The Genesis, aged sixteen.
When
not writing, Kerr can be found playing the MMORPG, World of Warcraft, or
listening to music from video game soundtracks. She still lives in the North of
England, close to The Moors (keeping to the roads, naturally), with two cats
who--like all cats--think they're people.
Here's my interview with the Author:
Here's my interview with the Author:
What is your name? Do you
use a pen name (if so, why?)?
My name is Kathryn, and my books are written under the name
K.L. Kerr. I chose to use initials for two reasons: 1, There is already an
author called Katharine Kerr and I didn't want there to be any confusion; 2, I
believe that having a gender neutral name will help the book to reach more
people.
Tell me a bit about
yourself:
I'm a British-born author with a weak spot for action movies
and a love of vampires.
What type of genre do you write?
The Blood of Ages series is Urban Fantasy.
What genre to you personally
read?
I love me some dark and urban fantasy. Anything with vampires
in it, generally, though I tend to avoid those heavy on romance.
Tell me about your latest?
"The Genesis" is the story of Catrina Malinka, a
fledgling vampire in a world where vampires are preparing for a war against
those who hunt them.
What sparked your passion
for books and the art of a good story?
What I love about books is the way your imagination can open
up entire worlds, and how a well-written story can transport you somewhere else
entirely, creating people and events from absolutely nothing. It's a very
particular kind of magic, and it's an incredible skill to have.
Is there a particular book
that changed or affected your life in a big way?
In 2005, I bought Justine Musk's Bloodangel, based solely on
its cover (just as a sidenote, the artwork of Christian McGrath is absolutely
stunning, and I have made several book purchases because of his covers--not all
to a positive result, but that's another, far less praising story). It was the
first book where I really loved the writing style,
as opposed to just see the writing as a tool used to tell the story.
Is there a message in your
book that you want readers to grasp?
I suppose the only message I really have so far is the
warning that power corrupts.
What has been your best
moment as a writer?
In 2004, I wrote a play based very loosely on my life in my
late teens/early twenties, which was picked up by an ameateur dramatics company
in Manchester. Watching that play was such a high point for me.
Who is your author idol?
I envy George R R Martin and awe at his ability to pick the
point of view of so many characters that build up to tell such vivid stories
from so many perspectives.
Do you see yourself in any
of your characters?
Catrina is a lot like me. I'm also stubborn and often make
choices without really thinking them through.
Do you feel like your dream
has come true or is there much more to do?
I am nowhere near finished yet, I'm afraid. Much, much more
to do!
What does your workspace
look like?
It's a tiny desk propped against the wall in a box room of an
office. It's nicer than it sounds. Very cosy.
Have you ever had a day when
you just wanted to quit?
Yes, I had one just the other week, actually. It tends to hit
around the middle of a book for me, when I'm working on tying all the
storylines in together to tell a singular, coherent narrative. Only some of the
characters have already wandered off-course and I can't see any way to bring
them back to where I need them to be. The frustration felt when stories just
don't work cannot be paralleled.
What do you do when you’re
not writing?
I love my cheesy 80s and 90s action films. I recently
introduced my partner to Demolition Man. Other than that, I play the MMORPG,
World of Warcraft. I've recently ventured into multi-boxing, which is where you
control multiple accounts on one computer. It's a real test of hand-eye
coordination.
What are the most important
attributes to remaining sane as a writer?
In the words of Dory the fish: "Just keep
swimming." Persistence is key.
Did you have a moment when
you realized you were meant to be a writer?
I suppose the very first time I handed my very first draft of
my first book to my best friend when we were thirteen. Hearing her sing the
book's praises (it was a terrible book, but that's not the point), I knew I had
to keep creating!
What advice would you give
to aspiring authors?
Don't expect your first drafts to be incredible, because you
will likely never get it finished that way. They're allowed to suck. The most
important part of writing actually lies in the editing.
After this book, what is next?
I have four more books to go before this series is done. I
have just completed the first draft of book two, which I am hoping to release
in September this year, and then a new book each year in September until 2016.
Your website?
Your blog?
Where can your book be
found?
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/16940362-the-genesis
The Genesis
Blood of Ages, Book One
K. L. Kerr
Genre: Urban
Fantasy
Publisher: Penrefe
Publications
ISBN: 0955984556
ASIN: B00999FXZ0
Number of pages:
314
Word Count: 100,000
Cover Artist: K. L.
Kerr
Book Description:
The vampires of
Dayson city are preparing for war. Having lived in constant fear of the Archway
Corporation for decades, desperation has forced them into action. Their
solution is to bring the First vampire, Alistair, back from the dead, a warrior
famed for eradicating entire armies in the name of his kind.
For fledgling vampire
Catrina Malinka, the fabled return of some unknown deity falls low on her list
of concerns. Between fending off strangers trying to kill her in her dreams and
trying to rein in an uncontrollable power that no one else even understands let
alone shares, Catrina is forced to fight her assumed role in the war against
Archway, which threatens to send her down a path she doesn’t want to travel.
The first book in
The Blood of Ages series, “The Genesis” is an urban fantasy about the
inescapable nature of Fate and the corruption of power.
Genesis
(Blood of Ages, Book #1) Excerpt:
This isn’t right, Catrina thought to
herself, throwing down another swig of beer without taking her eyes off the man
sitting across the table. She couldn’t taste anything except bile clinging in
the back of her throat, the only body part bruised more than her ego. Her head
still throbbed from its recent encounter with concrete; the music and constant
drone from the bar’s other occupants wasn’t helping.
This hole-in-the-wall establishment could at best
be called an over-sized rattrap and felt about as pleasant as being in one.
Bodies pressed close on the dance floor below, writhing together to the sound
of strumming guitar riffs. An amalgamation of cheap perfumes and colognes mixed
with alcohol and cigarette smoke in the sweat-slicked air.
He’d chosen a table upstairs, overlooking the
dance floor; the tables up here were mostly empty. She wouldn’t have chosen
this spot. While it gave them a visual advantage over the rest of the room, it
was too far from any exits. After what she’d seen him do, she would’ve preferred
easy access to an escape route. And witnesses. Then again, if he’d wanted to
kill her, he could’ve simply let her attacker finish the job in the alley.
In return for saving her life, all the tall
stranger had asked for was an hour of her time.
He’d already admitted that he hadn’t been there by
coincidence, which set her immediately on edge. After assuring her he wasn’t
involved with the authorities, an assertion she took on face value for the sake
of argument, he claimed to represent an organisation that had been tracking her
work for “some time.” Her initial hesitance had already subsided into
suspicion, reinforced by his now distant composure and the fact he hadn’t said
a word since sitting down.
She couldn’t take his silent stare any longer. “What
did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t.” His voice was harsh and gravelled,
like boulders grinding together. He offered his hand across the table, as
though noticing her for the first time. “It’s Fox.”
She shook Fox’s hand out of courtesy but was eager
to let go, amazed to get away without broken fingers. “Catrina.”
“I know what your name is.” He picked up his
drink—a double shot of whiskey, neat—and dipped the tumbler in her direction
before having a taste. “I know a lot about you.”
“You mentioned that already,” she said, fairly
sure he was bluffing. No one knew what she did, save for Tony. All other
acquaintances—the total of which consisted of her apartment landlord, the staff
at her local haunt, and the pizza delivery guy—thought she worked part-time shifts
packing boxes in a warehouse.
“I could tell you what I know.” He made it sound
like a threat. She spread her arms, wordlessly baiting him to do his worst.
“Your name is Catrina Ann Malinka. You are nineteen years old. You despise
being referred to as ‘Cat’ and will automatically correct anyone who tries to
call you as such. For the last three years, you’ve been working as some sort of
‘gun-for-hire’ for Anthony Gostanzo, the man who fostered you when you were
ten.” A lump rose in her throat, as he counted off the secrets of her life with
indifferent ease. “Tonight was just another assignment, which I was perfectly
content leaving you to get on with, until your gun jammed and your target
almost killed you.” He paused to take another mouthful of whiskey, ignoring her
gaping jaw. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.” His eyes—dark, like his hair
and outfit—danced with the laughter his stern expression failed to show. “I
should be expecting a cut from your fee, considering I was the one who
carried out the job.”
Catrina overlooked the private information he was
somehow privy to, the threat of damaged pride spurning her. “I had everything
under control.”
He took out a cigarette. The lighter flame caught
a distant gleam, a spark flashing across his eyes so brief and fleeting she
decided she must’ve imagined it. “It didn’t look that way to me.”
“Maybe you should’ve left me, then. Now we’ll
never know who was right.”
A thin line of smoke trailed through his barely
parted lips. “Maybe.”
Despite the sculpted perfection of his face,
arrogance was Fox’s most prominent feature.
“You said your people have been watching me for
‘some time’.”
“I did?”
“Are you planning to tell me how long ‘some time’
is, or even why—”
“It wasn’t my people watching you,” he
interrupted, tapping excess ash from his cigarette. “It was just me.”
She put up her hands. “Whatever. Why have you
been watching me?”
Completely ignoring her question, he said, “I’m
going to get another drink. I’ll get you one, too.” He was already walking
away. She must’ve still been light-headed from her fall, because she didn’t see
him get up.
His presence was a distraction in itself. She
leant over the railing, watching him descend the stairs to the ground floor,
where the mass of people swallowed him up. His height and pale features were
more accentuated within a crowd, but very few paid attention. He didn’t even
need to avoid walking into people; they moved aside on their own. The sea of
bodies parted for him to pass without acknowledging he was there.
Definitely not right, she
reminded herself.
She ran her hand across the small of her back,
feeling the reassuring presence of the Beretta handle protruding from her
jeans. While in its current state the gun’s uses were limited, its mere
presence provided enough reassurance.
Before she had chance to wonder how this complete
stranger who she’d never seen before tonight seemed to know absolutely everything
about her, Fox returned with another set of drinks.
“Where were we?” he asked, handing over a fresh
beer to replace the empty bottle still in her hand.
“You were about to tell me why you’ve been
stalking me.”
He lit up another cigarette, handling the flip-lid
lighter, which looked older than both of them, with habitual detachment; he
must’ve been smoking for years. “I wouldn’t call it stalking.”
“Following a girl around long enough to know the
nicknames she doesn’t like?” She folded her arms. “I’m sorry, what would you
call it?”
His smile was so slight, barely a smirk; in that
brief moment, he appeared somewhat older than the early-twenties she’d
initially assumed. “You should just be thankful I was there.”
While she wasn’t about to admit it, she was
thankful, confident in the knowledge that she would’ve died out there, had Fox
not intervened. That look of equal parts fury and glee in her mark’s rounded
face would undoubtedly haunt her dreams for some time.
“Look,” she said firmly, “I’m grateful for the
help. Really. But I want you to tell me why you’ve been watching me. Now.” She
tried to make herself sound threatening, but she felt like a kitten arching its
back and hissing at a lion.
The lion just raised a brow. “And what if I
don’t?”
Between the immense strength already demonstrated
and the wealth of information he held over her, she realised just how
significant her disadvantage was. Before her temper made her retort to the
challenge, she did the most rational thing she could think of and rose out of
the chair to leave.
She found herself looking at Fox’s chest as she
turned. She wasn’t imagining it; he was moving faster than she was. At five
foot two, she’d always been considered petite, and in comparison to him—well
over six feet—she should’ve felt overpowered. She just stared up at him, blue
eyes ablaze, calling his bluff.
He relented. “All right. Sit down and I’ll tell you
what you want to know.”
She slid back into the seat without taking her
eyes off him, silently revelling in her victory.
“You can start by telling me what you are,” she
said. Immediately, his expression hardened, brown eyes becoming cold as steel,
mouth thinning into a tight line. Got you, she thought. “What is it?
Secret service? Military? Are you genetically engineered?”
“I can’t tell you that,” he replied, taking back
his second drink in one mouthful. “Not at this stage.”
This stage. Despite piqued interest at the
mystery hiding behind his stony stare, she struggled to keep frustration from
her tone as she asked, “So what can you tell me, Fox?”
“That you could become the same thing,” he replied
without pause, “if you wanted. That’s why I’ve been charged with watching you.
The organization I represent wants to hire you, and they couldn’t do that if
you were dead.”
“And that’s what this is about?” She gestured
between them. “Is this supposed to be an interview?”
“No.” He crushed out his spent cigarette. “They
already know they want you. The job is yours, if you want it.”
She had come across plenty of powerful people in
her life, but none had abilities the likes of which she’d seen in Fox. Whether
it was some controversial muscle-enhancement drug concoction or military
exoskeleton suit, she didn’t much care. A wealth of opportunity spread out in
her mind’s eye. Just the idea that she could possess such power made her want
to blurt out an acceptance right there and then. But as the thoughts came to
her, so too did the guilt, gnawing in her gut and adding fresh stabs to her
temples.
“You know all about me, right?” she checked, to
which he nodded. “Then you already know what I’m going to say.”
“You need to consider your obligation to Tony, to
weigh how much you owe the man who raised you, despite the fact you’ve been all
but estranged the last six months. So you’re going to say, ‘Thank you for the
offer, but I’ll have to think about it’.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” she echoed,
offering no thanks, which earned another slight lip curl from him.
He swept his arms into his coat as he stood. He
presented her with a slip of paper, which she unfolded to reveal a handwritten
address she didn’t recognise. “Think carefully,” he said from over her shoulder
now. She made a mental note to pay more attention while he was in the room in
future. “This opportunity won’t come again. If you want to go ahead, be at that
address tomorrow night, eight o’clock. If you’re not there, we’ll assume you
aren’t interested.”
He’d reached the stairs by the time she turned in
the seat. “Wait, that’s it? What about the details? What about the perks? Am I
getting in on the company pension scheme or what?”
“We can cover details if you choose to go ahead.”
While his expression remained unchanged, another spark in his eyes had the
hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention. “You have all the
information you need.”
“Right,” she said, glancing down at the paper
between her fingers. Even though you haven’t really told me anything about
yourself, or the company you represent. There’s “need to know” and then there’s
just ridiculous.
She
looked up to say this, but of course he was gone, leaving only a faint spice of
cologne behind. She slipped her head into her folded arms on the table. The
bruising around her neck hurt when she swallowed; it reminded her that while
the night hadn’t gone perfectly, at least it wasn’t her last night alive—thanks
to Fox.
Please thank K.L. Kerr for joining us today! Check out the websites and maybe even buy a book! Good Luck!
Keep Writing!
Jodie Pierce
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