AUTHOR: Cheryl B. Dale
BOOK TITLE: THE WARWICKS OF SLUMBER MOUNTAIN
PUBLISHER: MuseItUp Publishing
BUY LINK: http://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=484&category_id=8&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=1
Please tell us about yourself? Nothing interesting to tell. Oh, except we finally sold our lake house in north Georgia this year and moved down to a coastal island that we’re enjoying.
Tell us your latest news? This is the third and latest book out by MuseItUp. I also have a hardback light mystery coming out from Five Star in December of this year, TAXED TO THE MAX.
When and why did you begin writing? When I was little, I used to tell myself stories to get to sleep, usually building on books I’d recently finished. As I got older, I started making up my own stories and I’ve written off and on every since.
When did you first consider yourself a writer? I’ve always written so I always knew I was a writer. But it wasn’t until I sold a manuscript that I felt I’d accomplished something.
What inspired you to write your first book?
Is there a message in your novel that you want readers to grasp? Yes. Life is full of ups and downs, and it’s better to focus on the happy parts than the sad.
Are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life? (Has anyone ever realized it?) Well, the mystery coming out in December is based, very very loosely, on events told me or that happened around me from my years spent working in a tax commissioner’s office.
What are your current projects? I’m working and have been for some years, on a vintage mystery set on a coastal island in the early sixties. It’s about a supposedly dead heir who turns up as the estate’s about to be disbursed to the heir’s murderer.
Do you recall how your interest in writing originated? My eighth grade teacher told me I could write. That was all I needed.
Is there anything you find particularly challenging in your writing? Getting that first draft down.
What do you do when you’re not writing/editing or thinking about writing/editing? Go to family gatherings, wander around with my guy as he takes photographs, and enjoy living in this touristy place where there’s always something fun going on.
What was the hardest part of writing your book? First draft. Always that first draft.
Do you have any advice for other writers? Pick up Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Browne and King. I found it after I’d been writing twenty or so years and wish I’d had it a lot sooner!
Do you have anything specific that you want to say to your readers? I always hope they enjoy the story. If they don’t, it’s my writing that’s to blame because most of my plots are pretty good. IMO!!!!
Who is your publisher and how did you connect with them? MuseItUp Publishing. My critique partner at the time was keeping up with epubs while I was still looking at traditional publishing. I had two different agents for two different books but neither sold so I was feeling kind of down. She told me MuseItUp had garnered a great review on Preditors and Editors poll and urged me to try them. Thank you, Nancy!!!
How can we find you? Website, Facebook, Twitter, blog, etc. - please share your public links.
I have a Twitter account but I don’t tweet. Don’t have time.
“Come on,” Gareth urged. “Right over here.”
My unwilling feet lagged after him toward a fireplace at one end, tall enough to hold an
upright man and wide enough to hold four or five men standing shoulder to shoulder. A pair of
wing chairs faced it. A small fire blazed though it was September, and Georgia Septembers are
“Why in the world do you need a fire this time of—?”
A form, wild and shaggy and screeching, erupted from its hiding place beneath a bombé
It shot toward us.
I jumped back. “Ohhh!”
A flowing apparition rose from one of the chairs behind the squealing creature. A human scream pierced the air over the cat’s cries.
I bolted. Smack into Gareth’s shoulder.
He, giving his strangled laugh, caught me. His arms closed around me cautiously until he held me fast.
“Let me go!” The darkness and the mountain that had unnerved me on the way up were nothing compared to the attacking beast and the banshee behind it.
“It’s all right.” Gareth’s grip tightened. “Auntie El, it’s me,” he called over my head. He gave me a reassuring shake and murmured, “Come on, Lindy. It’s only Grandmama’s cat scaring my aunt. He loves picking on Auntie El and Auntie El can’t learn that screaming just makes him worse.”