I hope you guys are ready for an Evensong–laden blog week! As promised, this week will be filled with character interview goodness. Since they’re the ones who face the dragons, get their hearts broken, and fall off horses, I think it’s only fair to give their voices some air time.
Keep in mind, I conducted this interviews near the beginning of Evensong to help work out some plot gaps, so there should be very few spoilers to worry about.
To kick things off, I would like to introduce you to my narrator, my fellow author-in-crime, Jeff Powell.
KW: Thank you for stopping by, Jeff. I know how busy you are right now, right in the middle of drafting Evensong.
*view pans out to show a smiling man with tired eyes and messy brown hair in a red and black checked shirt, white t-shirt and jeans. He’s sitting on a green sofa next to a roaring fire*
JP: Always happy to take a break to chat with a fan.
KW: *blink* Right. I can’t say that I’ve read any of your work.
KW: Well … see, it doesn’t exist in … never mind. I’ll look them up. How about we start at the beginning with a question I ask all my author guests. Tell us about yourself, Jeff.
JP: I’m a best-selling fantasy author from Montreal, Quebec. My claim to fame is the Feldall Saga, which after four books I’m currently wrapping up with Evensong.
KW: And how is the fourth book coming along? Don’t worry, I’m not asking for you to give anything away.
JP: *nervous laugh* Well, it’s great. Really. I’m loving it. Going to be my best work ever.
KW: I guess there will be a bit of a delay in production with your current circumstances?
JP: *laugh disappears into a somewhat startling glare* They tell me I’m stuck in my book.
*view pans back further to show stone walls covered in tapestries*
KW: *trying not to laugh* That must have been a terrible surprise, waking up to find that you were transported into your own fantasy world.
JP: It’s a dream. Work stress. You’re probably a figment of my imagination as well. Give me another couple of hours and I’ll be fine.
KW: Be that as it may, what do you think of this place so far?
JP: It’s … I’ll admit it, it’s amazing. It’s like picturing all your life what Disneyworld would be like, and then finally getting there and getting hugged by Mickey Mouse as soon as you walk through the gates. Authors write worlds they wish existed–because they get to do so from the safe distance of their office spaces–but somehow I actually climbed between the pages. Figuratively.
KW: Or so you hope.
KW: *holds up hands* All right, all right. What about the people? Your characters. Have any of them surprised you?
JP: All of them. To look at them, they’re identical to how I wrote them. Then they go and open their mouths and none of them say what I expect them to say. But please don’t tell them that. As far as they need to know, they’re exactly how they should be. I don’t think I can handle any more of Brady’s crazy “we exist independent of you” theories.
KW: My lips are sealed. *Adds question to Brady’s interview* So what do you plan to do next?
JP: Wake up. Get home. However you want to call it. In fact, I should probably go see Maggie. See if that woman’s figured out what she’s doing.
KW: Good luck, and thanks again for meeting with me.
*Jeff walks towards the door. When he reaches it, he stops and turned back around*
JP: Hey — how are you getting home? Can’t I just hitch a ride with you?
At which point I closed my notebook and effectively ended the interview. Couldn’t have him coming home too early, could I? Now, as promised, I have a few paragraphs from the book to share with you! Be sure to check back tomorrow to hear from Jasmine & Jayden. Any questions you have for any of the characters? Leave them in the comments!
In the books, he always pictured the area within the walls of Feldall as a small enclosure, but the understatement astounded him. The Keep sat on the top of a hill, and from his vantage point on the stoop, he could see the whole thatch-roofed village stretched out below.
“Incredible,” he murmured in wide-eyed wonder.
Barracks and cottages, shops and training yards, and beyond the gates more houses still, with acres and acres of tilled fields as far as he could see. Too bad they were brown and lifeless from the drought.
Feeling guilty, he allowed Brady to lead him down the long line of stone stairs and over the bridge to the courtyard itself. Under the afternoon sun and falling leaves of autumn- touched trees, crowds of people hurried among the horseshoe of shops in the centre of the square.
The bustle of activity and hum of chatter filled Jeff’s senses. He closed his eyes to absorb the sounds and smells, and the chill of autumn air as it brushed over his skin. Another set of shivers ran down his spine at the wonder of his being here at all. Here, standing the middle of this invented world, where it no longer mattered whether he was dreaming or insane. Either way — miracle of miracles — he was in within the pages of his own novel.