Please help me welcome Kim Carmichael to the blog today!
Tell us a little about yourself.
I began writing eight years
ago. I am a rep by day and writer
by night. When I'm not writing, I
can usually be found slathered in sunscreen trolling Los Angeles and helping
top doctors build their practices.
Did you always want to be an author?
No, I wanted to be a
rock star!
What is your favorite part of being a writer/author?
Living
in my dreams
Tell us a little about your book.
It’s a story about finding lost love and dealing with your
past.
Here's a peek at Hands On Me.....
After fifteen minutes of discussing the world of digital
publishing with Mike
Taylor, Riley realized this man had absolutely no twinge of
recollection of her.
"The world has changed. Everything is interconnected.
Feedback comes from all over and is instantaneous. No longer can writers live
in a bubble, they need to interact.
You either need to get on the ride and hold on, or you will
fall out of the car and be run over." Mike picked up the butter knife,
twirling it between his fingers.
One thing was certain. The driven valedictorian of seventeen
years ago turned into a driven business mogul. The way he spoke about his work
reminded her of the speeches he gave in student counsel, and the lectures he
gave her during their tutoring sessions.
She'd been part of him giving back to the school, but she
became the fool who thought it was more. "Some would say the writer should
write for themselves."
Years ago they had this exact conversation when she wanted
to write a story about a town stuck in permanent summer and how they craved
winter for her essay instead of what she did on her vacation. He told her to do
the assignment as instructed. No, he demanded she follow the directions.
She shifted her focus from his grey-blue eyes and his one
crooked tooth to the sprig of mint on the edge of the glass. The man should
have been on a billboard on Sunset Boulevard touting the slogan 'people never
change.' Back in school, people feared the way he stormed in and took control
of any situation, said tough truths and made things happen without turning back
to see who or what he left in his wake.
"What if the writer wants to actually sell
something?" He tilted his head. "There is a way to do things."
At one point she'd thought herself immune to his destruction
because she was attracted to it. They had a connection, an unspoken bond. Did
they have that now?
She wrote the story her way, and failed. He insisted on
sitting with her in an empty classroom while she rewrote the assignment,
telling her he had to make sure she did it correctly. It was freeing having
someone tell her what to do, insist she color within the lines.
While she forced out every word, he read the original. That
night at home, she found the papers in her messenger bag. On the last page he
wrote Awesome, but you didn't follow the rules. She saved that paper
shoved in a box with the memory of the girl who pressed the pages to her chest
and dreamt about the boy who wrote it as if he were some teen idol.
"Do you always follow the rules, Mr. Taylor?"
The corner of his mouth twitched, his eyes widened.
For a scant second she thought she noticed a flash of familiarity.
Her heart stopped along with her breathing, pausing to find out what would
happen next. Did the connection die, whither away with time, or was it always
there?
"You follow them until you are allowed to make
them." He tapped the point of the knife on his butter dish.
"When do you allow yourself to break them?" She
focused on her iced tea, but reached across the table for the bread and brushed
her hand against his.
"Excuse me." She swore her body tingled, or she
wanted that reaction. Still, she squirmed in her seat.
He looked straight into her eyes. "You're
different."
She forced herself to stare back. Again, his words took her
back to those high school halls. He had asked her why she insisted on being
different. She told him there weren't any rules. There also weren't many people
in Peoria, Illinois with maroon hair, white makeup, a nose ring and all black
clothes. Too many days she found ads for the local funeral parlor stuffed into
her locker. She was by herself, wilting in a town that didn't understand, until
Mike Taylor took her on.
"How so?" Her voice sounded as if someone else
were speaking for her. What she really wanted to ask was if he felt it, too.
He put the knife down and rubbed his chin. "Are you
going to write any of this down?"
She pursed her lips, holding back the words she wanted to
let out. Right when the questions got tough, when he didn't have control, when
he would be exposed, he went another direction. He veered a road where he knew
the map. "That's what they pay me for."
"How are you going to remember what I said?" He
crossed his arms.
"Are you worried I'm going to get something
wrong?" Without him knowing, they slipped back into their old banter. She
reached into her bag, found a pad and pen and held them up. "Do you feel
better now?"
"Yes, different." He pressed his back against the
chair. "A challenge." His smile let the tooth peek out, while
seventeen years caused the little wrinkle at corner of his eye to appear.
"You know, I have some meetings here the rest of this week."
"Should I be writing this down?" She clicked the
pen twice, trying to stop herself from reading more into this.
"Not unless you're writing down your address so I know
where to pick you up for dinner tomorrow night."
Everything stopped. Even if only in her mind, for that
second the world froze. The constant clink of dishes ceased, the bustling wait
staff stood motionless.
Back in the school hallway when he had invited her out, he
used a similar assumptive close. He turned to her and asked what time he should
get her Friday night.
Though the years had diminished the pain, to this day every
now and again, she wondered what would have happened if took her out rather
than succumbing to the pressure of his friends and parents. She'd been nothing
but a project when she wanted to be a girl.
Here together, they repeated history, but not in his eyes.
She couldn't blame him for not knowing her. She'd changed her name, changed her
looks, but never managed to change her heart.
She always wondered.
Maybe she always wished.
Was she handed another chance to get her heart ripped to
shreds, or had she just received the ultimate do-over?
"Excuse me for a moment." She pushed her chair
back and walked away.
When did you start writing and when did you finish your
first book?
8 years ago and I
finished my first book 8 months later and it is better left never talked about.
Where do you get your inspiration?
My pretty insane life.
Do you plot and outline or do you just write?
Outline!! Plotter or Pantser? Im a Plantster – A hybrid. I like a loose plan.
Can you tell us a little about the process of getting your
first book published?
I found a
call for submission, poured my heart in the story and then waited everyday
until they accepted it.
What book have you most recently released?
Closure
What was your favorite part of the book?
The scene with the coconut cake.
Rate your story in terms steaminess?
The pages turn to ash after you read
them. LOL
I like that!
Do you have another book in the works?
I just started a new WIP and have my
other novel I'm finishing as well as two sequels and a re release.
What advice would you give new authors?
Don't give up and don't let the
naysayers get to you.
What have you learned about the business?
You better know how to market
yourself. Plan on spending more
time on that than writing.
Boxers or Briefs?
Boxer Briefs
Pizza or hamburger?
Steak
Beer, Wine, or mixed drink? Iced tea two spendas
If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would
it be? Would you write or read there, or do something else?
In a mountain cabin in the snow with
one of my heroes and a computer to write
(Character Questions)
What were your first impressions of each other?
Riley thought Mike was
controlling. Mike thought Riley
was strange.
What’s your favorite characteristic of each other?
Riley loves that Mike takes control and
Mike loves the Riley is her own person.
What are your plans for the near future? We'll have to see J
Where to find you @
Websites, Blogs, Twitter, FaceBook, etc.
Email:
author@kimcarmichaelnovels.com
Twitter:
@kimcarmichael4
Website/blog: kimcarmichaelnovels.com
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