Inkwell Guest: Vicki Batman
Vicki Batman is here today to talk about her new release from Noble Publishing, I Believe. Say hi! She’s my stalker buddy so I give everyone permission to be her stalker buddy for the day. 🙂 Plus she’s just awesome. Awesome, I tell you. Please note: Your comments may go into moderation but I’ll approve them as fast as I can. 🙂
You can buy the book by clicking here!
Here’s a note from Vicki:
Contest alert!!! For those who post here or on my site, http://vickibatman.blogspot.com, you will be entered into a drawing for a goody box which will include a copy of “I Believe.” Entry closes Wednesday, April 27 at 7 p.m.
I guess everyone says this — since way back when. You could say I started writing creatively at age nine when I penned my first poem as extra credit for reading a book. I dabbled with poetry for a long time. But when I devoured Dick Francis mysteries like chocolate, my husband asked me why I liked them so. I confessed, “I wish I could write like him.” It took me twenty years to try (thanks to a good friend who jump-started me with my first manuscript).
Where do you find your inspiration?
This is sooo funny. Some places you would not believe–like walking through our closet and my sight zeroing in on Handsome’s colorful ties. Or a passing fire truck. Or a Dear John letter (yes, I got one). My grandmother’s tomato cake recipe. I’ve also looked at pictures and heard people say things which made me stop, and my head go cha-ching!
What is the one writer’s tool you can’t live without?
Tool? One? Hmmm. I love a good thesaurus. A GOOD critique, too, one that pushes me to the next level.
How many words/pages do you do in a day/week/month? And how do you keep yourself motivated to do them?
Every day is very different. I don’t have official deadlines; yet, I do treat my writing like a job. I work out, clean up, and sit down until a lunch break, then back until four or five-ish. I love what I’m doing; so I don’t have a motivation problem.
Whose work has influenced you the most?
I have favorite authors and read everything they have written: Janet Evanovich (for her wacky humor); Dick Francis (sigh); Linda Howard (sigh); Mary Stewart (sweet romances with action!); Emilie Loring (sweet, too). I’d save all of those if the house was on fire…and the cats. Lots of thrillers, historicals….
A dream– I’m not kidding!!! At RWA I roomed with Elizabeth Essex. I woke up and said, “I had a dream,” blah-blah-blah, and repeated a poem. She threw a pen and notebook at me, and said to write it down. I did. (Thanks, Ms. Essex!)
I’m a pantser and put stuff on the computer. Then I flesh, rearrange, edit, add, and finally, I have a product worth critiquing. After that, back to work to take it to the next level.
Tell us a little about the book. How about a blurb?
“I Believe,” a 13,400 word sexy, magical novella, written in first person POV.
Allie deeply desires what her sister and cousins have–the man of their dreams. And they assure her she can…if she’s willing to believe. When her sister shares their grandmother’s spell for conjuring her own true love, Allie’s deeply conflicted. After all, magic is a risky business. A woman died when a potion went wrong. Did she want to mess with magic, knowing it might not work? Only the outcome will tell….
“I Believe” explores what happens when someone is so desperate, she’ll do anything to–and quite possibly will–find true happiness.
I know you’re also published in short fiction. Do you plan to continue with that? Or transition to novels?
I LOVE writing romantic shorts. I’ve had fourteen short stories published and would LOVE to sell more. I think I’m ADD in my writing because I like the satisfaction of finishing quicker than a book. And writing shorts fits my schedule. So I’ll keep doing shorts for now. (My biggest regret is I won’t be considered RWA PAN if I only pen shorts.)
I’ve written three manuscripts, but haven’t sold those–as yet. Two are about a girl who takes temporary jobs and gets into trouble. LOL. One day… 🙂
What other things are you working on?
I’m working on several more short stories. I open a word doc and jot down *things* when they hit my head. That away, I don’t forget and always have an idea to develop.
If you weren’t a writer, what would you be?
This is sooo funny. Just the other day, I told a friend I’d love to work at World Market. I’ve had lots of retail jobs. I like the satisfaction of merchandise moving off the shelves, of new merchandise coming in, of helping a customer find what they are searching for. OR I’d probably have my own store. OR design handbags (big surprise-lolol). I ADORE handbags.
What’s your favorite genre to read? What’s your favorite genre to write?
I read just about anything. Honest. Except for vampires and other-worldly goodies. And I finish everything I read, too. I figure I can learn from a bad book just as well as from a good book. I’m a born-and-bred Nancy Drew girl, so probably lean toward mysteries, thrillers, romantic suspense. I read contemporary, chicklit, and historical, too.
My manuscripts are sorta like chicklit — pardonez moi: contemporary women’s fiction — with suspense elements. I tend to write in first person, which most people say is chicklit-style.
I say my shorts are fun, humorous, and sweet. My novella is quite different–very, very sexy (makes my girl parts steam!) with magic tossed in.
Find me at: http://vickibatman.blogspot.com and friend Vicki Batman on Facebook.
Thanks so much stalker buddy for having me!!!!
Excerpt of I Believe:
Loneliness is a four-letter word.
And I’d been lonely far too long.
June—the time of year for summer, picnics, baseball. And weddings. My cousins, my sister, and I had gathered in Bitsy’s living room for the monthly meeting of the Single-teeners Club, the one we’d begun when we were fancy-free, out-on-the-town gals. Cheerfulness radiated from the girls like moonbeams in a sickening, sticky-sweet way.
I knew why: Everyone had found her beloved, her mate. Her happily ever after.
But not me.
As if reading my thoughts, my sister Paige frowned my way, then at her knitting project. “Allie Palmer, it’s time you found a man.”
“A man?” I snorted. “The good ones are hiding. You three got the only decent guys in the whole universe, and I’m stuck with alien, delivery man Jeffrey Carpenter, who persists in making goo-goo eyes at me while I’m working hard on Sweet Style’s new wedding campaign. His “aw-shucks” manner is so corny. The fashion police should arrest him for those plaid shirts.”
“Here we go again. He can’t be that bad.” With a click-click of her knitting needles, Martha, Bitsy’s sister, said, “You need to get royally screwed.”
“Martha! If our mothers heard you, you’d be dead. Served up like Sunday fried chicken.”
Martha shrugged. “They aren’t here—”
Bitsy looped yarn around a needle. “Praise the Lord.”
I frowned. Since when did the Single-teeners become the Knitty Witties? I was without a knitting project, leaving me feeling left out of this club, too. “Where did you get the idea I needed a man? For sex?” I huffed. “Men aren’t necessarily a requirement. Just ask my best friend, Alex, my vibrator.”
“You don’t have a vibrator. If anyone would know, I would,” Paige said. “You’re too picky.”
“Yeah, picky,” Bitsy said. “Men fall at your feet, even when you treat them like slime balls. And still they come back for more. Go figure.”
“I. Am. Not. Picky.” My eyes rolled ceiling-ward. “I followed Single-teeners’s rules. Remember our standards? Doctors. Lawyers. Accountants. Not delivery men-slash-box company owners.”
“Those standards go beyond club requirements.” Paige clicked a stitch counter. “Picking boogers from noses . . . .” She snapped her finger in the universal flipped-off gesture. “Gone.”
Bitsy perked up. “Moustache and/or beard?”
Snap went Martha. “Gone.”
“Zip-up dress shoes—”
“Okay!” I flashed my palms their way. “Point taken, except for nose picking. Did you ever stop to think maybe nothing jived between those bozos and me? No chemistry? That’s what a successful relationship needs, as you well know.”
Paige resumed knitting. A small, white bootie dangled from the needles. “The only chemistry you’re familiar with is the one you almost flunked in high school.”
“So chemistry wasn’t my favorite subject, Miss I-do-everything-perfectly. You’re talking about the wrong kind, anyway. And I have more dating under my belt than you ever had.” I tossed my hands skyward. “I don’t know what else to do. Post a want ad on Facebook or Craigslist? Wave a magic wand?”
A hush cloaked the room. Paige’s project fell to her lap. “Did Allie say magic?”
“She did.” Bitsy nodded. “I heard her.”
Pausing her knitting, Martha bobbed her head vigorously. “Me, too.”
This conversation was going nowhere except down the Port-A-Potty. But as I sat there and thoughts passed through what little brains my dad teased I had, I noticed the girls shared a distinct look, like they knew something I didn’t. Each lifted one brow, a shoulder raised in a bare shrug, as if they were communicating through . . . telepathy.