Dear Readers, I'm excited to share this new book with you.
Welcome, Don and
Stephanie. I know that this is a collaboration. How did this story come about?
Steph: Funny that
Don is the one who got us started. He is dyslexic, therefore hated writing, and
seldom read anything growing up other than comic books. I always loved reading
and writing and wanted to be an author. When I became a wife and mom, I simply
forgot about the dream. Then one day, at age 57, Don told me this storyline was
stuck in his head, and he wanted to publish it as a novel. I confess I
snickered. He worked at it for four years before inviting me to join him. I
figured I’d be nice and correct the spelling and grammar, but instead I fell in
love with the story. Little did I know that I had to “learn to write” too. It
has taken us ten years to reach publication, but sharing the “passion” has been
a fantastic experience.
Did you find it easy
to work together on it?
Don: It really
helped to have a division of labor. While I wrote the initial draft, I realized
I had to turn my precious baby over to Steph and trust her feminine
sensibilities to soften the way I’d told the story. At first I gritted my teeth
at any suggestion of change, but as we read how-to books together and attended
writers’ conferences, I realized the worth of literary surgery on my poor
child.
How did collaborating
with this team impact you?
Don: It
ultimately caused me to love my wife more as I grew in respect for her. I
marveled at the way she was able to elegantly express ideas that I was just
clumsy with.
Steph: I tend to
be a global thinker and often reduce my knowledge to the bottom line. Over and
over I was impressed with the details Don had imbedded in the story, especially
from his experiences as a Marine Corps reservist and Viet Nam veteran. I also discovered
that although he wasn’t a big reader, all those movies he watched had made him
into an excellent plotter. Most important for both of us was that collaborating
on our novel created a terrifically enjoyable bond for us as husband and wife.
What is the hardest
thing about writing as a team?
Steph: We rarely
disagree but when we do, we feel free as husband and wife to, um, clearly
express ourselves. However, with forty-nine years of marriage under our belts,
we also know how to get over it, find a way to agree, and move on. Being
Christians with access to prayer definitely makes a difference.
I so understand that
statement. James and I just celebrated our 50th anniversary last
month. What are you reading right now?
Don: I like Lee
Child’s Jack Reacher series because there is lots of action and the story is
not slowed with unnecessary description.
Steph: Our church
has a women’s book club, so right now I’m reading A Different Sun by Elaine Neil Orr for them, and the Brother
Cadfael mystery series for me.
How did you choose
your characters’ names?
Steph: Poor Don,
we’ve ended up changing most of the names he started out with. He had all the
first names of the protagonist’s family begin with J, and all the names of the
antagonist’s family begin with R. Not any more! The protagonist’s last name is
Chalmers, which is a family name in Don’s ancestry. Otherwise, the names were
randomly chosen or selected from a list for the year they were born.
Would you want to
work on another book together?
Don: I have the
rough drafts of five novels waiting on Steph.
Steph: Ouch! I’m
working on book two but am a slow writer and probably won’t live long enough to
get through Don’s list. He’ll have to die before I do so he won’t end up
disappointed, LOL!
What do you want to
tell us about the book?
Don: It’s one men
will enjoy reading.
Steph: Women too,
of course! I think having a man and a woman co-author it has made it an
attractive mixture of adventure and suspense on the one hand, and warm
relationships plus symbolic spiritual layers on the other hand.
Please give us the
first page of the book.
Prologue
The heavens faded from black to dusky blue, arching like an
inverted bowl over the inky waters below. Sprawled across a fragment of boat,
Jake Chalmers scanned the horizon. Darkness cloaked the expanse to the west,
but in the east the circle of the earth etched a line of gold between ocean and
sky. Pushing himself chest high, arms shaking, he studied the line for
movement. Nothing. Nothing but the rising sun.
He rolled to his back and threw an arm over his eyes.
Seawater dripped off his sleeve, stinging the cracks in his lips. He winced and
pressed them together. A scum of brine coated the inside of his mouth, numbing
his tongue and the back of his throat. Swallowing to generate saliva blazed a
trail of salt down his esophagus. His stomach heaved, but there was nothing to
expel, not even bile.
So thirsty. The
craving ground like fine sandpaper against every cell in his body. Forty-two years
old and he’d never experienced misery like this, not even in Nam . He raised
his arm and flexed his fingers, blinked until the crinkled skin on the back of
his hand came into focus. Were the wrinkles a symptom of dehydration? Or the
result of floating five nights in the ocean?
He shifted back onto his stomach and hooked his left arm
over the edge of the fragment to keep his balance. The flat-bottomed vessel,
split in half lengthwise by the explosion and flipped into an upside-down V,
barely accommodated the stretch of his six-foot-two frame. The submerged air
compartments that had doubled as tourist passenger seats kept the damaged craft
afloat, but the V tipped precariously with each swash of a wave.
He’d count, clear the haze from his mind. Count the days
since he’d boarded the cruise ship. The days alone on the ocean after the
explosion. The hours, the minutes, every second of the rest of his life he’d spend
hunting down Captain Emilio.
He sat up, catapulted by the heat of rage. The boat fragment
jerked, and he fell on his back and slid, grasping with outflung arms at the
wet surface. The ocean swallowed his feet, his chest. The bucking craft smacked
his head as he slipped off. Blood filled his mouth, stinging his tongue where
his teeth slashed it. He caught the edge of the vessel, pulled up, and spat.
Crimson dots spattered the craft’s white paint.
Ginny. The ache
for her pressed against his chest. Where was she? Floating like him in the
ocean? Or had she slipped under the waves to a briny grave? He closed his eyes.
Tired. So tired. Wanting to save her. Failing. His throat tightened.
He repositioned his grip and willed himself not to let go.
Willed himself to fill his lungs and release the air in a slow exhale. Willed
himself to crawl back onto the broken sea vessel. He lay on his stomach and
stretched his limbs into a sprawl.
God and man may have abandoned him, but he wouldn’t yield
body and soul easily. The ocean would have to wait.
Wow! I can hardly
wait for my copy of the book to come. Where can our readers find you on the
Internet?
Steph: Stranded: A Novel is available for
only $2.99 on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OQGJBUY
Thanks, Lena , for inviting
us to your blog! Your readers rock!
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