Today’s guest author is Henrietta ‘Rietta’ Clarke. Rietta was kind enough to host me earlier this year so when her new book came out I was only too happy to return the favor. For those who don’t follow her on twitter, I’d suggest you check her out by clicking the link at the end of the post. She’s here today to talk about herself, her writing and her new release, The Truth About Riley. So since this is her day, I’ll stop and let you hear from her.
Author Profile: Henrietta Clarke.
Welcome Rietta. Why don’t you start by telling everyone a bit about yourself.
Thanks, Andy; it’s lovely to be here. =)
Okay, about me? I’m a quirky Yorkshire lass with the hoarder gene, who collects everything from DVDs to books to keyrings to addictions to phobias. Fortunately, the addictions are mostly harmless: reading, bad TV, chilli in any form… I am, however, in imminent danger of becoming a caffeine addict—blame the writing. I seem to do it best with a cup of strong coffee in my hand. The general impression people seem to have of me is “sweet”, which is fine by me. It makes a good cover for my plans to conquer the world with snuggles and rainbows. Bwahahaha!
How long have you been writing?
Pretty much since I could hold a pen! The first story I can clearly remember writing is a modernised Enid Blyton-style mystery for children—that was when I was six, and I haven’t stopped since.
Do you write in any other genres besides m/m?
I wouldn’t exactly call M/M a genre, per se, more like an umbrella category within which I write mostly contemporary but dabble in other genres such as paranormal and sci-fi.
In terms of romance, though… absolutely. M/M is my favourite to write, but in the pipeline—some of it a long way away, but still there—I have some F/F, some M/F, some M/M/F… I’ll happily write anything that occurs to my muse if the story is good and the characters need to have it told.
I’m unsure at this point though whether to publish the upcoming M/F under a different pen name, so if your blog followers have any thoughts, I’d be delighted to hear them.
Sports? The Arts? Theatre/Film/Television? Which would you pick if you couldn’t write?
Oh, God, I honestly don’t know! I wouldn’t be me if I couldn’t write. Are we talking tragic accident where I lose the ability, or never having had it in the first place?
Tragic accident?? Heavens no. Just a what if you couldn’t/wouldn’t.
The Truth About Riley is your first novel – talk about it for bit.
First, a brief summary—Riley is suffering from a lack of self-confidence and affection as a result of the facial disfigurement he obtained in a fire a couple of years ago. Cameron just had a four-year relationship end really badly, and his ex advertised his cell phone number as a phone sex line in revenge. Riley calls the number, the two men get to talking, and gradually they begin to fall in love with each other—over the phone, because Riley is too scared to show Cam his face because he’s really been enjoying being treated normally and doesn’t want to lose that.
Basically, it’s a story about having to find a certain measure of peace with yourself before you can hope to find it with another person, but how sometimes it’s that other person who helps you to get there.
The premise is really quite interesting – most of the book takes place in dialogue between the two characters, but there’s an interesting side twist – that readers will need to buy the book to find out about. But what gave you the idea to write this type of story?
Riley actually started as an anthology submission written in response to a prompt which can essentially be summed up as “meeting through a small ad”. So that’s where the idea initially came from—I looked at the prompt and my muse said “vindictive ex; phone sex ad; caller who wouldn’t normally respond to that kind of ad.” I thought “okay, sounds good,” and sat down to think of a good reason for someone who wouldn’t normally call a phone sex line to do so in this instance. Riley popped up and said “well, this is what happened,” and it all spiraled from there. The dialogue is a direct consequence of the characters’ situation. It’s also been the tiniest bit problematic for me as a writer, because when I sat down to start writing something else after Riley, my action-writing skills were definitely a bit rusty—“what do you mean, these people are in the same room? How does that work?” Riley was great fun to write though.
Tell us something(s) interesting that is not in the blurb?
Oh, goodness, that’s a bit of a hard one since what’s interesting to one person may not be to another. Is the fact that Riley is an M/M romance author interesting?
I have to confess that Riley’s best friend Drew—my favourite secondary character—is as we speak posing with a hand on one hip and the other on his heart, pouting: “C’mon, honey, what about me? I’m interesting!” (I shouldn’t be surprised by this. He does have an audience here.)
One other thing that may be interesting—it certainly made my publisher and I chuckle bemusedly—is that Riley has been linked on Twitter by a group that tweets about new releases in parenting-type books. I guess they must really love Riley’s mother?
Were your characters based on anyone you know?
Not in the slightest. I do have one book in the pipeline where several of the characters are reminiscent of people I know. It’s not something I ever set out to do, but sometimes my subconscious just takes over and it happens. Not with Cam and Riley though.
What’s your favorite part of the writing process?
Please don’t shoot me, fellow authors, but I actually really enjoy doing edits. I definitely write from my subconscious, so the edits are where I have more of a chance to get involved, to take that raw material that came from somewhere inside and chip and carve and polish it into something—I hope!—wonderful. It’s wonderful to me, at least, to think that these seventy-nine thousand words came from nowhere and suddenly they’re sitting on my bookshelf in paperback form.
What’s your least favorite?
Anyone who follows me on Twitter, all together now: TITLES! I’m SO bad at coming up with titles. Riley was christened by my beta, and I’m sure she’ll be thinking up more titles for me in the future.
I’m also not so keen on blurbs, and don’t even get me started on synopses… Basically, all the formalities that have to happen before you can thrust your book at your publisher and say “publish this!”
Since there is always another story to tell, what are you working on now?
That in itself is quite a story—I was at the UK GLBTQ Fiction Meet this past weekend, and on Sunday morning we had a panel about representing the entire QUILTBAG in fiction, which basically started by a flat statement that asexuality is virtually unrepresented right now. I had to stand up and say “well, actually, I’m working on an asexual romance as we speak.” That seemed to go down well, so I’m hoping when it’s published there’ll be some interest, if only to see if I did pull it off.
And since anyone who knows me knows I cannot work on just one thing at once—my muse has ADD—I’m also working on a handful of anthology submissions for various publishers, as well as the sequel to The Truth About Riley. There’s always another story, true, but for the moment Cam and Riley’s is not over.
What have you read lately that most people haven’t read but should?
Hmm, I actually have no idea what most people have or haven’t read, so this is quite a tricky one to answer. I’m going to take the easy way out and tell you about the best book I’ve read lately.
As I mentioned, I was at the UK Meet last weekend, and during a brilliant panel on humour, Josephine Myles read an extract from her book The Hot Floor, and it amused and intrigued me enough that I went straight home and bought the book. I devoured it with great relish, giggling the whole way through. It’s not a book to read if you’re not a fan of graphic sex or if threesomes offend you, but if you’re good with those things: so funny, such incredible, loveable characters, and so freaking hot! I will definitely be reading it over and over again. (And Jo herself is fabulous too, very nice and funny.)
If you could meet any writer, alive or dead, who would it be and why?
Only one? Oh, God, that’s such a hard choice! Maybe Enid Blyton, since she’s the one who started me writing. Or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, because Watson is the first character I fell head over heels in love with (I was eight.) Or P.G. Wodehouse, just because… If I had to pick one, probably P.G. Wodehouse. That would be an amazing day or dinner or drink or whatever. I just adore his sense of humour and the homoeroticism of his novels.
I think you managed to slip in three by my counting. 😛
What’s a fun – non-writing – day for you?
Any day when I get to see my best friend. We live a fair way apart so I don’t see her nearly enough, which means when we get together it’s always loud, crazy and hilarious. Mind you, I’m not sure that counts as an answer to this question as since we’re both writers, writing or at least plotting is generally involved.
Besides reading and writing, what else do you enjoy?
Sleeping! Working four jobs, I don’t get enough of it. (Though three of those jobs are writing, editing and proofreading, so don’t go feeling too sorry for me—I love almost all my jobs.)
In my waking hours, I enjoy swimming, sewing, and vegging out in front of bad TV.
Last question is all yours – feel free to talk about anything you want your readers to know about you, your book, anything at all.
I’d like to take this chance to say a massive “THANK YOU!” to everyone who’s bought the book so far. I’ve been literally staggered by the novel’s very presence in bestseller lists, never mind its position, and I know that none of those amazing, humbling things I’m feeling right now would be possible without my readers. I’m just so grateful to everyone who’s taken a chance on Riley so far, and really hope you enjoy it. Thank you all so much.
Thanks for being my guest, now it’s time to plug your work –
Before I plug, thanks for having me! It’s been great to be here today. =)
Blurb:
Riley Aylworth’s life has been completely devoid of intimate contact since a fire three years ago left him with horrific facial scarring, so when he finds an ad for a phone sex service, he decides to give it a call. Except that the number is not a phone sex service—it’s the revenge Cameron Kirkwood’s ex-boyfriend took on the uptight advertising executive after Cam forgot their anniversary and accidentally put him in the hospital. Needless to say, after thirty-nine disturbing calls seeking phone sex, Cameron is at the end of his tether and yells at his fortieth caller. What he doesn’t expect is for Riley to hit redial and yell right back.
The argument helps both Cameron and Riley vent about their issues, and when they’ve calmed down, they decide to exchange numbers and talk again. From this decision springs a friendship that, over time, grows into a gentle romance—all over the phone, because Riley is too scared to meet Cam in person. Showing a potential boyfriend his disfigured face is the fastest way to get rejected, right? Even a month of scorching hot phone sex can’t change his mind, no matter how hard Cam tries to persuade him that with their phone chemistry, the sex would be so much better in person.
Meanwhile, Cam is haunted by the scarred blond he seems to be seeing everywhere, and Riley can’t get the handsome brunet who always seems happy to see him out of his mind. It’s a shock to both men to realise that the guy they’re falling for over the phone is also the man who brightens their day with just a smile; but it’s one thing to let a stranger smile at you and quite another to let him close enough to see into your soul. If Riley can’t break down the walls in his mind and believe that Cameron loves him in spite of his scars, their relationship may be doomed before they’ve even had a chance to kiss.
Buy Link:
http://www.bottomdrawerpublications.net/#!the-truth-about-riley/c1igv
Excerpt:
In the end, it took Riley two days to pluck up the courage to call the number in the ad. There was a delicate balance between hunger for interactive sex and shame at the thought of paying for it. He was still debating with himself when he stripped naked and crawled into the middle of the bed sometime after eleven p.m., phone in hand, the bedroom door firmly closed to keep his beloved but inquisitive Samoyed, Bella, from interrupting. Once he’d entered the number slowly and carefully, checking every digit three times, Riley lay back, closed his eyes, and pressed the device to his ear.
“Cameron Kirkwood.”
The answering voice was one part professional, one part exasperated, and one part sarcastic, and Riley frowned. Call him paranoid, but this did not seem like a good start. Weren’t phone sex operators supposed to ease you into the conversation and make you feel comfortable? Riley felt like a teenager caught masturbating by his mother.
“Um, hello. I’m calling in response to your ad . . .”
In response to your ad? What was he thinking, speaking so formally? There was something in the voice that compelled it, perhaps. It was a nice voice, but it didn’t sound at all like he’d imagined a phone sex voice to sound.
“I work for an advertising agency—I deal with hundreds of ads every week. Did you have a specific one in mind?” Yeah, definitely sarcasm now, and Riley had a horrible feeling he might have dialed the wrong number. But he’d checked so carefully . . .
“The . . . phone sex one?” he questioned, voice small. Maybe the guy only moonlighted as a phone sex operator?
Maybe not. The sigh that drifted back down the line in response was the most aggravated Riley had ever heard.
“Look, buster, that ad is not for a phone sex service; it’s my vindictive asshole of an ex-boyfriend’s death warrant. If you want to get your rocks off, you desperate, horny freak, go find yourself a fucking rentboy, but don’t call this number again.”
The dial tone cut across any apology Riley might have made, and he stared at the phone in disbelief. How rude! So maybe that was a fairly sucky situation, but was it really so hard just to say “sorry, wrong number”? Without stopping to think it through, he hit redial, sitting bolt upright and dragging the comforter over himself.
“Look, I told you—” the voice answered, sounding as pissed as Riley felt, and Riley let him have it.
“No, you look, you judgmental bastard! Where the hell do you get off yelling at people and calling them freaks for one tiny, innocent mistake? It’s not my fault you have issues with your ex—”
“Innocent? Yeah, I like that, when you’re calling a phone sex line—”
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! You know nothing about me! You have no fucking idea why I’m calling a phone sex line; if you’re not one, the least you can do is politely tell me I have the wrong number.”
“You think I haven’t been doing that? How about I advertise your cell phone number as a sex line? Call me back when you’ve fielded thirty-nine disturbing phone calls from horny assholes insisting they have the right number and begging for all sorts of fucked up shit and tell me you’d be polite to lucky number forty!”
“Believe me, if I had forty people queuing up to have sex with me, I’d be sending ‘lucky number forty’ a fucking bouquet!” Riley shot back honestly with a stab of pain.
“Well good for you, slut! They don’t want—”
“Don’t call me a slut, you fucking, uptight prick! You know nothing about me!”
“So enlighten me, why don’t you? Tell me what’s so magical and special about phone sex that you think you need to be treated like royalty!”
“Fuck royalty; I’d settle for human!” Riley was vaguely aware that his voice was shaking. “Look, Cameron or whatever your name is, whatever issues you have with your ex, you’ve got it easy, believe me. Just change your number, write him an apology or get a restraining order, and just chill the fuck out, okay?”
~~~
Cameron should have resented being told to chill the fuck out by the man who had phoned him back to yell at him, but the truth was he felt better now than he had since that first phone call forty-eight hours or so earlier. Arguing with a complete stranger had given him an outlet to vent about the situation, and he felt some of the tension seeping out of him.
“What’s your name?” he asked impulsively, calming his tones, and he could almost feel the surprise radiating off the stranger as he replied.
“Sorry, what?”
“Your name,” Cam prompted. “If you’re going to try and slap me in the face with reality, or whatever it is you think you’re doing, I’d at least like to know who I’m talking to.”
A pause, and then the stranger’s voice sounded again, much more pleasant now the anger was fading out of it.
“Riley. My name is Riley.”
Bio:
Henrietta Clarke is a quirky Yorkshire lass who had the misfortune to discover the path she was actually meant to take in life three days into an intensive postgraduate course. Now free from the hell of law study, she divides her time between working as a lunchtime supervisor in a primary school, training as a fiction editor, and writing her own stories. When she’s not working, Henrietta can usually be found in the kitchen, hanging out with her parents and eccentric dogs or baking cupcakes. Every remaining second is spent reading or sleeping—sometimes simultaneously.
A hopeless romantic who is as much in love with the English language as with all the delicious fictional men it creates, Henrietta suffers from abibliophobia and has a serious book-buying addiction as a consequence. The day there are no unread items on her Kindle will be the day the Earth stops turning. Her other addictions include bad TV and chilli in any form, and she collects everything from books and DVDs to china elephants, keyrings and photo frames—most of which stay empty far too long. She has a minor obsession with rainbows, and plots everything in purple Sharpie.
Social media links:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/riettaelisa
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Henrietta-Clarke/489679787744604
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