Last week I said I would post my reply to the wonderful Keri Lake‘s questions, but Tuesday night came and I suddenly remembered (because somehow it had slipped my mind) that I was getting on a plane to Germany this Friday (tonight!) and I should probably, maybe, pack.

I fully intend to complete that little Q&A upon my return, but I’m also going to do my best to sneak some wifi and post pictures/updates along my travels. Lots of historical destinations on the itinerary, so there will be no lack of material.

This past weekend I went to our local Comic Con and had an amazing time! Not only were the panels hilarious, but as it happens to be Playoff season in a very hockey-oriented city, the guests seemed to have a good time inciting riots between the fans of different teams. I, myself, am not a hockey fan, so did not cheer wildly at any derivative comments towards the Toronto Maple Leafs *ahem*.

More impressive than the panels, the photo ops, the meet & greets or the autographs (although those were pretty great), were the local enthusiasts. There are some creative and courageous people out there! Red Shirts, Catwomen, Captain Americas, an endless line of Doctor Whos – each area of geekdom was proudly represented. I got to bump into people like this (I don’t know the names of the people inside the costumes, but if you happen to see this post – you are awesome and I applaud you!):

A friend of mine recently suggested I read The Rubberband Man and Other Stories by J. David Clarke. Always trying to support my fellow indie authers, I took a read. I then sent a huge thank you to my friend for recommending it, and followed up with Clarkes’s novel Missing Time. Since then I’ve connected with Clarke via Twitter and he’s just as fun a character as the fictional characters he writes. As such, it was my pleasure to ask him to stop by and answer a few questions.

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Let’s start with a bit about you. Who is J. David Clarke?

At heart, I’m a guy who never stopped loving the worlds of adventure that I experienced as a kid.  I think the first real reading experiences I had, such as reading Lord of the Rings with my dad or the works of Jules Verne at the library, were the foundation for my outlook on everything.  When I pass old abandoned places, I automatically think of what strange things may have happened there, and who passed that way and never returned.  This is why speculative fiction holds such appeal for me; comics, science fiction, role playing, all those nerd culture things, are my absolute joys.

One element of The Rubberband Man that really stood out for me is that you don’t seem to limit yourself to genre. Each story had its own distinct voice and tone, but while I noticed an undercurrent theme of innocence throughout, there was no real “genre” applied. Is there any genre that you find yourself going back to?

To me, it always begins with character, and the genre will sort itself out later.  As an example, the story “Onion Street” had its inspiration in a road sign I passed all the time when I was in college.  The name “Onion Street” was so evocative, I imagined my characters, Rhonda and James, encountering a place where the layers of their relationship were peeled away, and I wondered how they’d react to finding out that what was at its core was maybe not what they thought it was.  At the Onion Street Cafe, they run into what I consider to be the enemy of love itself: time.  Now it sounds very metaphysical when described in those terms, but to read it you wouldn’t know it had that genesis, you’d just think you were reading the story of two lovers who end up talking to fill the time waiting for their meal.  A lot of my work is flavored by Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone, where regular people wander into strange places, and are changed as a result.  Sometimes what happens is straight out of science fiction or fantasy, but sometimes it’s the most normal of places that has the strangest result.

Sort of carrying on from the question above, what were your inspirations for the stories in The Rubberband Man?

“The Rubberband Man” itself is an examination and deconstruction of power, I wanted to write a story about how easy power is to accrue and to lose, through Kevin’s meeting with the reigning school bully, Raymond.  “Green” was literally inspired by a tree, in my front yard, I wondered what the tree thought about the people around it, the passing of the seasons, etc, and so began the story of the lonely little girl befriended by the tree in her yard.  Of course, the story becomes that of Carla, the little girl, and the tree may be an imaginary friend…or maybe not. “Why Do Cats Have Tails” was a contest entry for a children’s story.  I did not win the contest, but I’ve always liked this little fairy tale, inspired by my cat, who I saw one day licking her tail and imagined cats thinking their tails must be a terrible nuisance.  Chaucer the cat goes on a journey to learn why cats are stuck with them.  “Rudy with One Hand” is actually based on a person I knew, and in fact I asked him, if I were to base a character on him, what he would want him to be named.  His immediate response: “Rudy.” I think the experience of having a friend who is constantly saying lewd, crude, outrageous things has got to be near universal.  Everyone has a friend like this, and the narrator, Bill, is at once an apologist for his friend and also finding out slowly that maybe these jokes aren’t worth apologies.  “Quantum Theory and Tube Socks” [interviewer note: one of my favourites in this collection] was inspired by a lot of bad late night television.  While watching some terrible show, I imagined the producer of said shows being forced to live inside them for just one day, and how that might change him.  Sam Darby goes on that journey.

I jumped right from your short story collection to your novel Missing Time, which is a really great sci-fi/fantasy superhero story. Can you tell us a little bit about the book and what your inspirations were behind it? 

First of all, thanks for reading and for the compliment! I was engaging in hypnosis sessions, and some of the themes, such as false memory, and yes, missing time, kept coming back to me.  They blended with a concept I had about kids who find they have superpowers after their school bus crashes.  One day, the opening scene in the nightclub hit me out of the blue, and I started writing.  I knew I had a story about kids who had no idea what had happened to them, and no idea that all the kids on the bus had gained powers until they start being hunted down.  I knew they’d have to piece together the mystery of what happened to them in order to survive, and I knew each chapter would unfold a piece at a time, driven by each character’s journey through their change.  Psychology plays a huge role in the book, as each chapter flashes back and forth through one character’s life to fit together why they are the way they are, and how they deal with everything going on, as well as putting together the puzzle bit by bit.

Is there any character from Missing Time that you related to the most? 

It’s funny, I find that whatever character I’m writing at the moment feels like my favorite, because I have so much fun delving into their psyches, but if I had to choose the one who is most like me, I’d have to go with Brandon.  Brandon is the comic geek of the bunch, and his reactions are probably most like mine would be, popping off with comic and movie references and feeling that becoming a superhero is the most awesome thing ever.  Of course, Brandon’s quips cover a lot of loneliness, as we see in his flashback scenes.  All the characters in “Missing Time” have unresolved issues from their history, which I think is pretty true for all of us as well.

I understand there are some sequels to Missing Time that we can look forward to. Do you have anything else on the go right now?

Absolutely! If anything, I have too much floating around in my head! I have to get some of it out of there before it kills me! (LOL) “Missing Time” is part of a three volume story called “313″. Volume 2, TIME SPENT, will be out later this year.  TIME SPENT has more of everything that MISSING TIME had: more powers, more backstory, more mystery, and the stakes are even higher as it seems our heroes have unleashed someone who is a danger to reality itself, and none of them know who or what it is!  Vol. 3 is tentatively titled TIME LOST, and I’m projecting that for sometime in 2014, at this point it’s too early to tell, but as the title implies, bad things happen.

Alongside these I’m also working on an epic fantasy series called KEEPER OF DAYS.  Book 1 is called “The Book of Day and Night”, and it introduces Daniel, the Master of an order of monks whose task is to keep the count of the days and ages of the world, as handed down by the Seven Lords, the gods of their world.  Every thousand years, one monk must make a pilgrimage to a place called the Eye of Stone, where he will witness the signs of a celestial event the monks know as the Godsmoot, where the Seven Lords choose which among them will rule the world for the next thousand years.  Daniel is chosen to make this pilgrimage, but when he emerges from the monks’ mountain cloister, he finds that the world is in turmoil.  A new warlord is trying to conquer the known world and install his son as a God Emperor, erasing the history and religion that exists, putting Daniel and his quest in dire peril.  Beyond that, I have notions but nothing concrete as yet, but don’t worry I’m not running out of material any time soon!

Important question: where can people find your books?

THE RUBBERBAND MAN AND OTHER STORIES and MISSING TIME are available right now for Kindle, Nook, iBooks, Kobo, Sony, and through Smashwords.  MISSING TIME is also available in paperback through CreateSpace and Amazon.  I also sell signed copies directly, through the channels below.

Equally important question: where can people find you?

My Facebook page is the best place. Like and you will receive daily updates on all my work: http://www.facebook.com/clarketacular

Twitter, Goodreads: Clarketacular (you will find I am Clarketacular on most social media)

A good place to look is my Independent Author Network page because it has quick buttons to every place my work is available: http://www.independentauthornetwork.com/j-david-clarke.html

Once again, I couldn’t think of any good WiPpet segments, so you guys get a flash story! Be sure to check out the links of the other WiPpeteers because this week’s contributions are fantastic. The link below will show you everyone who joined in – feel free to add your own!

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Tomorrow would mark two years since he killed her.

On some days she felt like no time had passed; other days stretched out like decades until she couldn’t look in a mirror without expecting to see age catch up with her.

She looked on tomorrow as a cause for celebration, embracing the hope that the third year would be easier, more endurable. But as much as she clung to wishes, she couldn’t deny the truth – that every day the poison in her heart spread further, consuming more soft tissue in its solidifying power. She could feel the weight in her chest growing heavier, little by little.

Had she known what would happen when he stabbed her with that blade, she would have begged him to make it fast, to end her life outright instead of this slow wither, an existence hardly called living. After the initial shock passed and the bone-deep agony subsided, she had escaped to the Chateau Solitaire – a single tower in the midst of a barren wasteland – to await her future. Only there, miles away from the nearest human being, did she feel connected to the world.

Not that she was alone in her isolation. She had the birds. They flocked to her as if sensing that the healthy flesh on her bones actually concealed something rotting and delicious. Night-black feathers coated the window sills and the stone floors. Their cries, those foreboding quarks and caws, became the sweetest music in her loneliness, driving her closer to madness and holding her back from the brink.

Her empty days consisted of small routines. A morning and evening walk across the cracked and hardened grounds outside the castle, a period of time picking at food she never wanted to eat, and the rest of the time losing herself in the sparkle and flash of the rubies.

Red gems encrusted everything in Chateau Solitaire. Engraved into the furniture, framed in her jewelery, embroidered into her clothes. She had come here with a single stone, one pendant that hugged her neck and served as a constant reminder of everything she had and lost. The birds brought her the rest. As if they understood the comforting heat of the ruby’s inner fire, the flap of raven wings always meant more stones – tribute to her status as their future meal. Carried in beak and talon, they piled their gifts for her inspection and approval, taking away those she discarded for their own nests, as drawn to the glitter as she. The ones she accepted, the ones with the right hue and depth, she scattered about the castle, the confetti of her black and dreary life.

He had promised a world of colour – emeralds and diamonds and sapphires. He spoke of countries where flowers blossomed no matter the season, of years spent together exploring the secret places of the world. She didn’t believe he lied. And maybe that was worse. He meant every single word. Meant them right up until the day he stole his promises back, slid the blade up between her ribs, and cursed her to this living death.

She remembered the pain, remembered thinking her life was over. Then the wise women had told her the horrible truth: her body would heal. And as it did, her heart would gradually turn to stone. She would lose the warmth of blood in her veins, lose her ability to feel.

“You’ll be nothing more than a walking statue, the stone flaking away over time until nothing is left,” they said.

To this Fate he had abandoned her.

Yet she found the pain becoming less intolerable. As lost the ability to cry, the teardrop gems became her tears; as she lost the ability to feel emotion, their fiery glow became her passion. He had turned her heart to stone. She would replace it with a ruby – something stronger than what she had before, something not so easily destroyed.  She would find a way to move on without him.

With page 270 giving too much away, page 27 too similar to the bit I already shared and chapter 27 not existing, I opted for half-way through chapter 13 of Evensong.

Once you have a read, be sure to pop over to K. L. Schwengel‘s blog to read her post & check out the links of the other WiPpeteers!

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Jayden’s eyes flicked from side to side, his hands clenched into fists and Jeff wondered if his concern was for someone in particular. His thoughts drifted to Maggie’s family, but Jayden bypassed the cottages and led them to the community well in the centre of town. A small group crowded around it, one young child, his blood-spattered face buried in his mother’s apron, shrieking with fear.

“What’s happened?” Jasmine demanded, shooting a concerned expression towards the child.

Jayden turned the winch to bring up the bucket, its contents sloshing inside – but it wasn’t water. Too thick and dark. He tipped it onto the ground and Jeff stepped back to avoid the spray. The droplets that hit his boots stained them a dark red.

The source of the blood.

There was too much of it to be caused by an injured person falling down the well, and Jeff could think of only one other possibility – the water wasn’t so much tainted as transformed. Jasmine’s narrowed eyes fixed on her brother. “He may as well have poisoned our whole water supply.”

“That’s not all.”

How much more can there be?