Saturday, July 28, 2012
Welcome Guest Author - Jordan Bollinger
JORDAN: The basic plot for 'Duty with Honor-Leap of Faith' is an old one: Woman meets man; she runs and he pursues; and after a series of misunderstandings and mishaps, they become a couple. Book One introduces the characters, and sets up the premise for the series.
STEPH: What was the inspiration behind the main story?
JORDAN: My inspiration for the initial story was anger--well, frustration. I was taking a writing class, and the assignment was to write a story about a twenty-year-old girl, who falls in love. Well, I was on the backside of forty-five and nearing the end of an twenty-five year marriage. Something in me just snapped. Why is love only for the young. Didn't older ladies deserve passion and romance? Didn't I deserve passion and romance. I never did finish that class. Instead, I was off and running on writing the story of what I wanted in my life.
STEPH: How do the heroine and hero meet?
JORDAN: My heroine's brother talks her into meeting him in New York City, and springs his friend on her as a blind date.
STEPH: How does the cover reflect the story?
JORDAN: Well, hopefully, the cover art not only catches the readers' eye, but tells them that this isn't a love story for sissies. And, that this heroine isn't a shrinking violet, but a take charge kind of girl.
JORDAN: 'Leap of Faith', like all the 'Duty with Honor' series, is a Suspense Romance. After all, what's life, even romance, without a little danger and intrigue?
STEPH: How long have you been writing?
JORDAN: I toyed with the idea of writing all my life. Unfortunately, I'm a bit OCDC, which meant I never got very far. I mean, seriously, how many times can you restart page one because of typos. And then came the home computer. I can instantly correct mistakes. So, if you have any complaints about me writing, please address them to Bill Gates.
STEPH: Are you a plotter or a panster?
JORDAN: I am, what we call, a 'Plotster' -- a hybrid of both. I generally start out with a basic plot idea--I know I'm going to go from Point A to Point F, but I don't always know how I'm getting there; or what Points B, C, D, and E will involve. I also believe that if you have realistic characters, they'll tell you what it is they want to do. I sometimes refer to this as anarchy, but it works for me.
STEPH: Do you prefer to read ebooks or print books?
JORDAN: I'm now about six months into my Kindle Fire, and I'm developing a relationship with it, and I don't mind reading from it. The problem is I do my main reading in the pool--clearly a 'No Kindle Zone'. The good news is that now that I'm older, it seems that the water is too cold or the weather too hot, so I'm spending less time in the pool.
STEPH: Who is your favorite author?
JORDAN: My favorite author…? Hmm, the truth is I do like Dickens and Jane Austen; but I also am a tremendous fan of Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie for mysteries; and E. F. Benson for light and fluffy social satires. And then there's Edgar Allen Poe, and Philippa Gregory, and… Well, you get the idea.
STEPH: What's your favorite children's book?
JORDAN:I'm not sure if this counts as a 'children's book', but I've come to truly admire the Harry Potter series. (And I wasn't an immediate fan, either.) Not only did J. K. Rowling achieve the impossible in getting a generation to not only read, but drag their parents out in the middle of the night to plunk down $30 for the latest book as soon as it was released; but she wastes nothing. Study her plot line - nothing is just there. The simplest thing, seemingly 'thrown away' in Book One, will be a vital plot point further on. I also recently downloaded the complete series of Oz books on the kindle, and I'm hoping they're as good as I remember. But, that remains to be seen.
ENJOY THIS EXCERPT FROM LEAP OF FAITH:
Weaving between people, he led her to the Oak Room. There, at the far end of the bar, she saw the most handsome man she’d ever seen—and knew, without a doubt, this was the guy.
He was tall and dark, looking like a slick, glossy ad for Giorgio Armani evening wear in some stylish Manhattan magazine. He leaned against the back of one of the leather upholstered barrel bar stools, engrossed in conversation with an attractive blonde. He must have been watching for them though, because he gave the woman a final smile and sauntered towards them.
Beth watched him, mesmerized by his smooth, cat-like movements. He was everything her brother had said, and more. Damn him! Damn them both!
He had a rectangular face, with a narrow, straight nose. His eyebrows were level, except for a little slant at the outside edges. His evening clothes fit him perfectly and his ebony hair had just the hint of a wave. He stopped and stood grinning before her, the picture of ease and grace.
She straightened her shoulders and pursed her lips, ready to disapprove. Then she looked up into the lapis blue lakes of his eyes.
Richard popped forward to make introduction, but she couldn’t stop staring into the depths of those eyes. “Elizabeth, this is my good friend, Andrew Oliver. Andrew, this is my sister, Elizabeth Bennett.
She extended her hand, expecting him to shake it. Instead, he brought her gloved fingers to his lips and in a voice as soft as sable said, “Miss Bennett, how delightful, permit me to be your Mr. Darcy for this evening,” he said, but kept hold of her hand.
“You’re an unusual man, Mr. Oliver, to have read Jane Austen,” she replied in a flat monotone as she extracted her hand from his grip.
“I like to think so, but please call me Andrew—or perhaps even Drew.” He led them to a plush booth, but as they sat down he turned and sprinted back to the bar.
He probably went to get that woman’s phone number. She tossed her wrap on the seat beside her. It slipped off the slick leather and floated to the floor. She swooped down to retrieve it with a scowl, wondering if she could beg off with a feigned headache.
However when she sat upright, she found him standing before her, bearing a florist’s box.
“I’m sorry. I’d left this at the bar.” He opened it as he spoke, “I bought you gardenias. I could say I chose them because I didn’t know what you’d be wearing...”
he grinned wide and continued, “but the truth is I like them—their fragrance.”
She smiled, in spite of herself, as she looked at them and said with an appreciative sigh, “Thank you. I love gardenias.”
“Let me help you.” He lifted the creamy white blossoms from the box. The heady scent permeated their immediate surroundings. He must have taken her silence for consent, for he adroitly placed and pinned them at just the right place on her left shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said in a brittle voice. She hoped it conveyed her opinion he had much too much practice at such niceties. She added, “You do that quite well.”
Determined as she was to be cool and aloof, she was finding it difficult. Between his ‘GQ’ good looks, suave manners and familiarity with Jane Austen, she had to admit—much to her chagrin—he was intriguing.