Afraid so.
The idea initially scared me, but soon anxiety dissolved in fascination. I’m usually game for doing something new, but this was completely different (Apologies to John Kleese).
My friends at Heart of Carolina Romance Writers (HCRW) started a blog chain, and after consulting with my self, I jumped in with both feet.
The premise is simple. First, describe the interviewer, who is a character from one of my stories. Then, let them interview you. I hope I do the wonderful ladies before me justice with my bit here.
THE INTERVIEWER
Dr. Shaye Gillies is the new veterinarian running Island Animal Hospital in Granite Harbor, Maine. Two things — one obvious, the other not so much — make her stand out in the quaint village. One, she’s Australian. Two, she’s psychic.
THE INTERVIEW
The buzzing in Shaye’s head woke her from a sound sleep, but its intensity made her shut her eyes tightly to focus her receptors inward.
A man. He doesn’t look familiar, but I feel connected to him. He’s coming into the hospital.
“G’day. May I help you?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something just told me to come in here.”
“Your dogs?”
The man curls up a corner of his mouth, and I have seen plenty of others with that skeptical look. “You don’t need psychic abilities for that. I come into a veterinary hospital, and odds are I have dogs or cats.”
I laugh. “Fair enough, mate. I sense you have doubts. What if I tell you things about yourself you know I couldn’t know?”
Now he laughs. Three times. I feel his energy. A gentle spirit.
“You’re not from here, are you?” I continue the questioning.
“I could say the same about you,” he quickly replies.
“True, but I live here now. You don’t.”
He shakes his head and starts to say something when I feel like having a little fun with him. “You live where it’s warm, bloody hot sometimes. The eastern part of North Carolina.”
His reaction isn’t what I expected. He’s not surprised, just amused.
“You’re psychic … but I already knew that,” he says.
“You could’ve talked to anyone in the village, and they’d have told you,” I shoot back.
Ignoring him, I focused on his energy. Images flashed like a slideshow in my mind. A loving wife of many years. Dogs, lots of them. I see one, two … crikey! They have five dogs. Big ones. So much love. The dogs are their children.
“You have five dogs of your own, but you’ve rescued nearly a dozen more,” I say, hoping to surprise him.
His wide-eyed look tells me my plan worked, so I look inward for more. I see blueprints, computers and buildings being built.
“You’re an architect,” I tell him, pausing for the next image. “But your passion is … you’re a writer. That’s ripper, mate.”
My empathic receptors pick up on a strong romantic streak.
“You write romance stories?”
He nods slowly. His eyebrows rise. He’s impressed.
“Brilliant. You don’t find many blokes doing that, I must say.”
He smiles warmly and shrugs. “Very true.”
“I’m curious. Why do you write romance?”
“I love happily-ever-after’s too.”
“What makes yours different? I mean, besides you being a bloke writing about us Sheila’s.”
He rubs his chin as he seems to look for the right words. After a few seconds, he apparently has his answer.
“My stories involve unusual heroines in unusual situations. She might be a migrant worker unexpectedly given a chance to be a ballerina. Or maybe an international assassin and spy looking for the quiet life as an engineer.”
“Or a psychic veterinarian from Down Under now living on an island in Maine?” I tease.
“Could be, mate. Could be,” he jabs back with a smile and a bad Australian accent.
I point over my shoulder to the controlled chaos behind me and say, “I really should get back to work, but say, if you and your lovely wife are in town for the weekend, my boyfriend and me are having a barbie Saturday, around two. We’d love to have you join us.”
He grins and accepts. “That’d be great. Thanks.”
My eyes fly open like windows shades pulled down and let go. It’s still dark, but I hear the first lobster boats heading out. To my right is my boyfriend Dave. I wake him from a sound sleep.
“Love, you will never guess what just happened,” I say excitedly.
“Another vision?” the low rumble comes from the far side of the bed.
“Like none other. Like none other,” I reply before rolling to my side for a few more winks.
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(To see the wonderfully entertaining interviews before mine, please click the links below.)
Here is a list of the participants in the Heart of Carolina Writers Blog Chain:
Romantic Suspense Stories 