Welcome to a special edition of Meet the Author where I’ll be putting YA author Laney McMann in the hot seat as part of her Tied blog tour.
If you met a yummy man who had a time machine, where would you ask him to take you, and when?
Ha … nice question, Jocelyn. Let’s see, I can think of a few places. My first thought would be to go to Ireland, though, and meet my ancestors, so I suppose that would be hitting quite a few time periods.
Ooo, Ireland is on my bucket list too. I’ve heard it’s beautiful there, and the culture seems open and fun. Who was your childhood hero? It can be someone fictional or real.
My grandmother was my childhood hero. 😉
Good answer. The real heroes of the world are usually the ones who clear the monsters out from under our beds, aren’t they? 🙂 What author do you most admire? What about him/her earned the place at the top of your list?
I have a few. Anne Rice for her incredible ability to transport her readers back in time. Tolkien for his rich and vibrant world building skills, and Neil Gaiman, not only for his wild imagination, but also for the realness he has about him. The way he sees the world is truly inspiring.
I haven’t read any Neil Gaiman, but I keep hearing his name so I’m going to have to pick up some of his work. What’s your favorite paragraph from Tied? No spoilers now, just a nice, slow tease if you please.
Here’s my favorite (at least one of them) paragraphs from TIED.
I tried to speak, but words wouldn’t form. I remembered his face, the waterfall, the forest. The warmth of his hand in mine. Droplets of water cascading down his golden skin. His eyes reflecting the sunlight like crystals. The rush of wind as he ran beside me. His laughter. The sound of his voice when he called my name.
Okay, so now I really want to see this guy too. The ole imagination is having a good time with that one. 🙂 Speaking of yummy, wet heroes, where did yours come from? Someone you know? Dreams of the *ahem* daytime persuasion? What makes him tick? Inquiring minds would like to know.
Dreams, dreams, oh the power of dreams. Max came to me like all my characters do—from my crazy imagination. He’s that perfect combination of strong and gentle. What makes Max tick? Layla does. 😉
Strong gentle type, huh? Love it. Best. Movie. Ever. As in, went to the theater ten times to see it.
All of The Lord of The Ring movies. Including The Hobbit.
Who’s your favorite artist/type of music to listen to?
I always play music when I write. It’s inspiring. I have too many favorite artists to mention them all, but my favorite kind of music is alternative/indie.
If you were to write yourself into a novel, would you be the heroine or the villain?
I’d probably be the villain. That’s so bad, isn’t it? Villains are so fun to write, though. 😉
Me too! Love me a good villain, and yes, they are definitely the most fun to write. If I opened up your purse/handbag right now, what would I find in there?
Nothing too great. My iphone, wallet, chapstick. I’m a chapstick junkie. Actually Blistex Herbal Answer. LOVE that stuff. Oh, and Visine for tired eyes. I think I need glasses now. ;P
Ah, yes. I have a stock of Visine around the house too. Getting old is such a joy isn’t it? Not. Now that we’ve picked Laney’s brain of all her secrets, let’s have a look at the lovely. Isn’t it awesome?
Normal people don’t believe their nightmares stalk them. They don’t fall in love with boys who don’t exist, either.
Seventeen-year-old Layla Labelle, though, is far from normal. Her delusions walk the earth. Her hallucinations hunt her, and her skin heats to a burn every time her anger flares.
Or is that all in her head?
Layla doesn’t know what to believe any more because if none of that’s true, Max MacLarnon must be an illusion, and her heart must still be broken.
No matter how much she wants to believe Max is real, doing so would mean everything else is, too. How, then, is that possible?
The answers lie in an age-old legend the supernatural aren’t prepared to reveal, and with a curse that could tear Layla and Max apart forever—if it doesn’t kill them both first.
In TIED, book one in the Fire Born trilogy, learning the truth will mean fighting an arsenal of demons, and being with Max will put Layla on a path toward her own destruction.
Just how far will Layla go to protect the one she loves?
The answer may never be far enough … away.
Sounds fantastic, right? Well, does she have a treat for you. She’s giving away one signed paperback (US only), two e-book copies (International) and some book marks. To enter for a chance to win, please click the link below.
Connect with Laney
You can find my occasional ramblings on Twitter.
Book updates on my author page at goodreads.
My Facebook Profile for inspiration and randomness.
Updates on The Fire Born Novels at my Facebook Author Page
My interests on Pinterest.
And I’m now on Tumblr ,too.
My window opened easily. The same way it had so many times before. Climbing out on the ledge, I found the ground empty and dropped from the second floor—a jump I’d made a hundred times. In another life.
My feet sunk into the sand, and I followed the well-worn pathway through the dunes. Even the strong evening winds hadn’t misshaped the deep gully. The ocean’s breeze lashed at my hair as the moonlight glinted off the water’s surface. Seagulls flew up from their nesting grounds. They should have recognized me, since I’d been wandering at night for so long. Wrapping my arms around my knees to block the slight chill, I settled in the sand, and the birds quieted in a tight huddle, the wind blowing their feathers in awkward angles.
My gaze fell on a figure standing beyond the dunes edge, a shadow hidden within the darkness. My pulse quickened, but I didn’t move. Another trick—an illusion. Weary of the games my mind continued to play, I bit back tears and the catch in my throat. I should have been immune to them—the hallucinations—the way they haunted me and followed me, but I wasn’t.
Forcing myself to blink, I turned my head away. The visions had grown worse as I’d become older. I’d tried to convince myself they were nightmares—or weird dreams. Hoped for years they were, but only people who sleep dream.
Unable, or unwilling to stop myself, I glanced back over my shoulder, thoughts flooding my brain. Memories I knew couldn’t be memories but I cherished all the same. For years I’d tried to shake them away. To make myself forget.
A stone raps against my bedroom window. I creep over and peer through the blinds.
“You’re late.” I lean out over the sill, grinning at the boy staring up at me.
“Come on, let’s go before she comes,” he says.
I climb onto the window ledge. “Be nice. She’s my friend.”
“Okay. Jump.” He waves at me to go faster.
“Move, and I will.”
He takes one casual step to the side.
The jump isn’t too high; I make it all the time.
He grabs my hand when I land beside him in the soft sand. “Ready?”
“One, two …”
“I’m going to tell!” Benny runs across my yard toward me, her blonde pigtails flapping in the wind. “You’re not allowed to talk to that boy, Layla! Your mom said!”
Max tightens his grip on my hand.
“Shut up, Benny! I’m old enough.”
“You’re only nine. Don’t go! ”
“Three!” Max and I leave the ground.
“You’re going to get in so much trouble.” Benny’s yell rings in the distance.
Our feet touch down in the wet grass of the Otherworld, icy sea air whipping at my face.
“Hopefully, she won’t follow us again.” Max lets go of my hand.
“She won’t. I told her not to.” I lead the way down the cliff face to the ocean.
“She never listens to you.”