Welcome back, Latayne. God has really been moving in your writing life. What do you see on the horizon?

I am working on a couple of nonfictions next. One of them is about how to protect your children from sexual predators, co-written with Dr. Beth Robinson.

I have two adult children and five grandchildren and am blessed to have them live near me. My husband is disabled and lives in a care facility, but we have a great 44 year marriage.

Since you’re asking right after asking about my upcoming book, I have to say I know more about child sexual abuse than I ever wanted to know.

In addition to the nonfiction, I’m returning to two fiction projects; one a YA, the other a trilogy set during the Civil War and its aftereffects.

I love Egyptology, gardening, classical education, apologetics, and grandchildren. Not in that order!

Hmm.  The books ideas come to my mind as a package:  Each story has to take place in its setting, because the setting is integral to the story.

Well, Jesus of course; but in second place either Priscilla or Rahab.

When I started, the digital age was beginning. I had no idea so many people would be writing novels and self-publishing them.

Humility.  Over and over.

Pray about your career, don’t get caught up in the publicity trap, and read in the genre you’re writing.

Some scholars think a woman wrote a book of the New Testament: the book of Hebrews.  Some speculate it was Priscilla. But that’s just the background of my book—the book is really about maintaining faith when God is very open with you in some ways, but withholds things you believe you need.

Praefatio

I carry the wrapped child in front of me, in the crook of my aching arm, his head above his curled feet, as if he were alive. As if he had ever been born, or named, or drew breath, or saw his dying mother’s eyes. As if she had ever seen his.

This is night work, and the mule beside me stumbles in the uneven, now unseen streets that only reveal shadow and character in the light of a doorway, here and there. All around our feet are what people throw away after a spectacle—torn banners, scraps of food, dropped, lost mementos.

Behind me on the creaking wagon are the remains, what I gather after the spectacle: torn things, fallen, saved, remembered.

When I first began this job, I could do it in the daylight. It was a curiosity to those who saw me, a woman who wore the robes of aristocracy and did the work of a ghoul. Most of those who knew me would not meet my eyes, or if they did, it was with a mixture of disgust and wonder. And later, some of them, with triumph, from behind secure windows, around impassable gates.

The first time I gained permission to bring the bodies back from the killing places, Cordelia began to strategize how to borrow a cart and donkey. Many of our friends still lived and had animals then, and she still had a bit of her father’s money left.

“We’ll need a big wagon,” she calculated, counting without knowing it on her crooked knuckles, imagining that the aftereffects of imperial entertainment would necessitate strong beasts of burden, perhaps several trips with several wagons.

She wasn’t thinking straight, I should have seen that. There is little left when wild lions are finished with a human being.

Wow! How can readers find you on the Internet?

I’m at Latayne.com.  And Author Latayne C. Scott on Facebook.

Readers, here are links to the book.

Leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the featured book. You must follow these instructions to be in the drawing. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory or country if outside North America. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

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Although I try not to write myself into my characters overmuch, inevitably bits of my personality, philosophy of life, and values end up either spoken by a character or as a part of his or her actions. I think I probably write much more of what I aspire to be into my characters than what I truly am.

That’s a hard one for me. I did a mind search and concluded that probably the quirkiest thing I have ever done is never to have done anything quirky enough to mention! However, I suppose the antics I go through to entertain my four-year-old granddaughter might qualify as a distant cousin to quirkiness.

I was brought up in the country and mostly got to see leisure books when the bookmobile came around every six weeks or so. Although at six years old I had no concept of what a writer does, I think the sheer joy of holding a shiny, large, colorful book to my chest spoke to the future writer in me. It was not until I majored in English/literature that I knew I someday wanted to craft a book of my own.

Now that I have published novels, I’m afraid my reading range is quite limited. Other than the Scriptures, I mostly read historical fiction which is what I write. My preference is a longer book that allows me to live with the characters a few days and savor the experience of having gotten to know them.

I pray a lot and try to pace myself, understanding that the choices of what is available far outstrip my ability and capacity to embrace them. Simply put, I prioritize—all the time.

Mostly they just “materialize” in my head, and I know instantly the name that fits the personality I’m trying to develop. Now and again, I have to rethink names, especially if they sound too much like someone I know (or know of) or if I find I have too many characters with the same initials.

I think I am most proud of the opportunity I was given to design and teach an honors world literature course for advanced-level college students. I was able to choose classic works and teach them to the most receptive students of my teaching career from whom I am sure I gleaned much more than they could ever learn from me.

My animal of choice would be a bird. I love how, at a moment’s decision, they have the ability to soar and simply leave it all behind.

Shrimp dishes in their myriad variations are my most popular choices. I’ve never seen a shrimp I didn’t like.

My greatest roadblock in writing has always been plotting. I have little or no problem with theme and characterization, but the details that drive the aforementioned present a challenge for me. It forces me to corral my thinking in an organized way so that the use of words that I so love will, hopefully, engage the reader through action.

In Pursuit of an Emerald is a sequel to my debut novel, A Most Precious Gift. I confess to having villainized the character, Violette, in the first book, but I always felt she was worth redemption. Now she is the main character in Emerald. Violette is an ex-slave single mom living at the onset of Reconstruction, but ever in remembrance of what she has done and the people she has hurt to protect her daughter, Emerald, she remains a slave to her sordid past until she reconnects with Benjamin Catlett who has a devastating secret of his own. It takes the grace of God and a number of other mistakes before healing occurs for this couple and they find each other in love.

Violette McMillan pressed her back into the wall space just above the floor, the familiar pain twisting up her spine like a hostile whirlwind. There had never been so much as a bench to sit on in this cold, small space. Neither had there been a man to share it with if that coveted resting place had ever existed. She hunched forward. Rubbed the sides of her arms to fight the chill. Eyed the span of the tumbledown room.

What I wouldn’t give for just one padded chair.

But as for that species called men, she planned never to entangle herself with them again.

Seated on the splintery planks, Violette resumed her evening ritual of reading—tonight racing against time to finish the last few pages of a chapter of Uncle Tom’s Cabin before the wick of the lamp licked up the last bit of oil. Her lips moved in step with Augustine St. Clare’s monologue as she nodded to the brutal truth of the character’s words . . .

“If I was to say anything on this slavery matter, I would say out, fair and square, ‘we’ve got ’em, and mean to keep ’em,—it’s for our convenience and our interest—’”

Oh, no. Not the lamplight.

           

Violette pushed her face closer to the page. Squinted as she watched St. Clare’s words become one with the blackness. She grasped the lamp’s tiny metal knob. Advanced the wick.

Jacquelinefwheelock.com (website); @JFWheelock (twitter); Jacqueline Freeman Wheelock, Author (Facebook)

Readers, here are links to the book.

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I’d say historical romance, but it’s really a toss-up with contemporary. Not as much research is needed for my contemporaries, so I enjoy writing them.

Texas is the only place I’d ever want to live, but if I had to be transferred or my husband was, then I’d hope we could live in New England. I loved Vermont and Connecticutwhen we visited there. Not sure I’d do very well with the winters there. Hawaii would be a very close second, but the distance from the mainland keeps it from being first.

I’ve been to Austria, Germany, and Switzerlandand would love to go back. The country is beautiful and the people were absolutely wonderful. We were close to Italybut never made it across the border, so I would really love to go back and take a tour of Italy. There’s so much history there and a lot of it had to do with Biblical days as well. I’d love to see some of those places and walk where Paul walked.

My most romantic vacation would be in Hawaii. Oahu and Mauiare so beautiful and the settings in the mountains and on the seashore are perfect for candlelight dinners and romantic strolls. 

I have in mind a story set in Nashville, but it hasn’t been developed yet. It’s still a germ or a seed in my head, but I’ve never had one there, so I hope to get it plotted.

Christmas At Stoney Creek shows us the importance of accepting people as who they are. You have to truly accept a person for who he or she is outwardly to know the depths of love and character in their heart and soul.

When Tom first meets Joe on the train between Austin and Stoney Creek, others have shunned him because of his body odor, ragged clothes, and unkempt appearance. Tom, however, sees the potential for a story. As a newspaper reporter, he seeks unusual stories and he senses there is one with Joe. Joe makes friends with the people of the town and as time passes they learn how caring for one another leads to far greater blessings than they could have imagined.

The scruffy and somewhat dirty old man shrank into the corner of his seat on the train. Instead of the foul air surrounding him, Tom Whiteman’s journalistic nose smelled a story.

Tom contemplated the bedraggled figure a moment longer then folded the notes on the article he had been writing and stowed them in his coat pocket. He’d go over them later, but for the moment, this stranger aroused his curiosity. He didn’t appear to have much money, so how had he bought a ticket?

Instincts borne from reporting unusual events kicked in, and Tom sensed a story behind the tattered clothes and dirty exterior. Other passengers moved away to give the man more room and to escape the odor surrounding him. Snow-white hair needing a haircut as well as a good combing covered the man’s head, and a droopy discolored mustache graced the man’s upper lip. Although his hunkered-up state gave no clue as to height, his form didn’t carry extra weight.

While observation gave some clues, Tom would have to sit with the man to learn more about him. He’d make a good personal feature story for the Stoney Creek paper. Tom crossed the aisle and settled into the seat next to the stranger. He extended his hand in greeting. “Hello, I’m Tom Whiteman. I’m on my way back home to Stoney Creek, Texas. Where are you headed?”

The man’s blue-eyed gaze searched Tom’s face before answering. “Name’s Joe.”

“Hm, I see.” Rather evasive. This strangely dressed man in shabby, well-worn clothes hit a chord deep inside that prodded him to dig behind the man’s countenance and learn more. The man’s outward appearance may be ugly and worn, but the serenity in the man’s eyes grabbed Tom’s heart and wouldn’t let go.

www.marthawrogers.comis my website

www.facebook.com/MarthaRogersAuthor/Author Page on Facebook

Readers, here are links to the book.

Leave a comment for a chance to win a free copy of the book. You must follow these instructions to be in the drawing. Please tell us where you live, at least the state or territory or country if outside North America. (Comments containing links may be subject to removal by blog owner.)

The only notification you’ll receive is the winner post on this blog. So be sure to check back a week from Saturday to see if you won. You will have 4 weeks from the posting of the winners to claim your book.

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