Author Profile: Lex Chase

I probably say this a lot, but I’ve met some of the nicest people through Dreamspinner, Gay Authors and other writing activities. Maybe it’s the ‘we’re all in this together’ mentality that fosters camaraderie, but I don’t think that’s the reason. I just think I’ve been lucky to meet nice people. Today’s guest is one of the really nice people I’ve met. Lex didn’t know me from Adam, but when my book came out, Lex was one of the first people to offer to help. More than that, she did it despite major IT issues with her site and being super busy with school and family.  Like I said, genuinely nice people.  Lex’s book – Pawn Takes Rook is the type of book I’m drawn to – a novel whose main characters are super human – I’d say super heroes, but that suggests the “Big Blue Boy Scout” image of Superman or Captain America.  Lex’s characters have a bit more of an edge.  In addition, Lex has just sold her second book in the series to Dreamspinner Press, so take a moment to read her post and congratulate her on her successful first book or wish her continued success with the second.  Better yet, wish her both.  🙂

Hello! I’m Lex Chase and I am thrilled for Q to have me on his blog today. I’m the author and quite possibly the diseased mind behind the superhero comedy Pawn Takes Rook. It’s the first installment of the Checkmate series following the highest highs, the lowest lows, and the creamy middle of Memphis Rook and Hogarth Dawson as they navigate the perils of Axis City.

Writing Pawn Takes Rook, or writing period takes time and not a lot of us have it. Today, I’m talking about finding that smidge of time with the world on your shoulders.

A little about me, I’m a college student, a freelance journalist, part-time caretaker of my parents, full-time cat parent, and a writer on top of it all. In February, my mother faced unexpected complications in gallbladder surgery, so what was three days off her feet turned into six weeks. In early March, my father had knee surgery. And I had school to get through, this very book to promote, a book to get ready for submission, another book to finish, and I was it for taking care of my parents.

So when people tell me they’re going to write the great American novel when they retire, when the kids move out, when they move to Key West, when they walk the dog, shave the cat, wash their hair, or rotate their tires, I just get furious. Why are you making excuses? And you’re just going to continue to make excuses. If you really want to write you’ve got to put the hours in. If you want to be serious about it you’ve got to put the hours in.

But the hours don’t always come in long stretches and we have other commitments. That’s why you carve it out wherever you can, when you can. I believe you can write anytime, anywhere, on anything. You need to also realize writing doesn’t just involve the physical act of writing. It can be brainstorming, daydreaming, and recording a note on your smartphone.

I talk to myself in my car, and hash out my ideas on my way to school. I manage to get out a thousand words before class or between classes and sometimes both for a 2k win! I get up earlier and stay up later. I carry a Moleskine (AKA A Dirty Hipster Notebook) everywhere I go, even to Target. I feel naked without it and a pen.

In the case of Pawn Takes Rook, I’m a little insane. I wrote the first installment in four days. Not making that up. It was December 2011, I was on Christmas break, and I was getting my wisdom teeth out that Friday. The book had to be done. To this day, I still write PTR at what a friend calls “90 miles an hour.” I wrote the second one in December 2012 in a week. I spent three days, brainstormed on the third one, and wrote 3/4s of it by New Years. On March 1^st I stuck a fork in it, and now it’s onto the fourth one. If everything goes according to my fiendish master plan, all six parts of PTR will be complete and published by November 2014. Because with all my other commitments, I don’t have a lot of time to just leisurely stroll through it. I gotta get it done, and get it done now.

So, you want to write that story you’ve had burning in your head since childhood or even since five minutes ago? What’s stopping you?

As one of my journalism professors used to say: Just write the damned thing.

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Pawn Takes Rook: Blurb

The first time Hogarth Dawson sees superhero Memphis Rook, he comes to Hogarth’s rescue by cracking the heads of two thugs like eggs into a skillet. Hogarth is utterly smitten, but he soon discovers the superhero Power Alliance has ejected Rook for failing to protect a civilian.

Hogarth devises a plan that will reinstate Rook and might even earn Hogarth a place in Power Alliance roster. But what he expects to be a simple few missions rescuing kittens and helping little old ladies cross the street turns into a shocking reality of citywide chases, foiling robberies, and facing his ex. Then Hogarth discovers the beating Rook saved him from wasn’t a chance attack. It’s possible Hogarth is just a pawn in Rook’s game….

Where To Buy:

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=3643

Goodreads:

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17404975-pawn-takes-rook

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Pawn Takes Rook: Excerpt

I jogged up the steps, then cracked open my squeaky door, only to be greeted with the esteemed sight of Rook, clad in Pac-Man pajama bottoms that were definitely not mine and little else. I watched as he polished off my gallon jug of milk, tossed it aside, and moved on to the OJ, fresh from the fridge. If you could have seen the utter horror on my face at watching my hard-earned groceries disappear with shocking efficiency, you’d agree with me. One thing was for certain, he didn’t eat double-decker buses, but he pretty much ate everything else! I had to step in before he slurped up the remains of the pickle juice straight from the jar.

I snatched the jar out of his hand, and he looked at me like a swatted puppy. I was onto his game, and he wouldn’t sucker me for sympathy.

“Hey….” he groaned like a five year old denied ice cream.

I squinted at him and frowned. “Do you want to make yourself sick again? I saw you puke your brains out. I’d like it if you’d refrain from decorating my apartment with an explosion of Baskin-Robbins!”

Rook went silent. His lips pursed, his wild eyes narrowed—I should add he had some crazy long lashes. Like that guy in that show about the crazy mysterious island with the smoke monster. Yeah! Guyliner dude!

Anyway, he was about to say something. I could see the train of thought coming to the station. He took a breath, and then broke into a bright superhero grin, blaze of gleaming white against tawny skin.

“You’re sweet, Garth,” he said.

My ears felt hot. I flushed like a freak. At that moment, my feet became really interesting. He stepped past me, rummaged in the pantry for the Golden Grahams, and then poured them straight down his gullet. I spun around and ripped the box from his hand. Tiny squares of tasty goodness showered the floor.

“Hey!” he growled.

“Don’t ‘hey!’ me, bucko!” I snapped at him. “You don’t get to say sweet things to me, show your junk to me, or other sundry flirty things to get your way. You do not get to use my credit card in return for giving me a peep show. You do not get to raid my fridge just because you pay me a compliment. You do not get to waltz into my life and not explain a Goddamned thing to me! Why did you puke, then pass out? Why did you pass out when you saved me? More to the point, why do you goddamn flat fuck fall over all the time?”

Rook crossed his arms and pressed his lips into a thin line. “Will there be anything else you’d like to file with the Complaint Department?” He grinned. “Press one for ‘sit and spin’, and press two for ‘cry me a fucking river’.”

God, this man was absolutely incorrigible. If you can’t beat ’em….

I shook the box of Golden Grahams as a temptation. “Answer my questions, and I’ll show you where I hide the pretzel M&M’s.”

Rook gently took the box from me and shoved his hand into the crinkling plastic. He popped a handful of cereal in his mouth and crunched obnoxiously. “I freaking love the pretzel ones,” he mumbled.

I sat on the counter and watched him scarf down my beloved Golden Grahams. “Why did you puke?”

“That’s appetizing….” he said and scanned the fridge, choosing a bag of shredded cheese.

I pointed a finger and watched him pour the Colby-Jack from the bag into his mouth. “Are you like a gremlin? Can I not feed you after midnight?”

“And you don’t know what DeLoreans are,” he chided, then slurped caramel sauce from the jar.

“Hey. One ’80s reference at a time!” I scolded him. “Answer the question.”

Rook smirked as he popped the tab on a Sprite. “You know how every superhero has some ultimate super-secret power?”

“Yeah?” I said, leaning in eagerly.

“That’s mine,” he said and chugged the soda.

I didn’t get it. “…Puking?”

Rook coughed, and his hand clasped over his nose. Let it go down in the history books the moment I made Memphis Rook snarf on Sprite.

“No!” he gurgled, then coughed wetly. He snorted carbonation up his nose. “Raising the dead….” he said softly.

“Say what, now?” I blurted out. Not the smoothest of things to say at the moment. “But… you’re a fighter.”

His crazy eyes met mine. “You could say I’m a giver too.”

Man, my shoes were seriously interesting at that moment. Wow, never noticed that peculiar dapple of puce paint on the toe. The more I tried to make myself stop blushing like a freak, the worse I made it.

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Bio:

Lex Chase is a journalist by day and a writer by night. Either way you slice it, she makes things up for a living. Her style of storytelling is action, adventure, and a dollop of steamy romance. She loves tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes it’s never a party until something explodes in a magnificent fashion, be it a rolling fireball of a car or two guys screaming out their love for one another in the freezing rain.
Lex is a pop culture diva, an urbanite trapped in a country bumpkin’s body, and wouldn’t last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse. She has learned that when all else fails, hug the cat.
She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine residing in the ‘burbs of Northwest Florida where it could be 80F and she’d have a sweatshirt on because she’s freezing.
You can find her on those Facebook and Twitter things at:
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/LXChase
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Lex_Chase
And her blog at http://lexchase.com.