Friday, July 26, 2019

My First Big-Boy Phone!

Look at me, all adult and everything! Against my better judgement, my wife finally made me get a "smart" phone.
Feh. I didn't see the need to get rid of my flip phone (a friend said I should just flip my antiquated phone right into the trash). I think my wife got fed up watching me pecking away three times per letter to text, then cursing when I screwed up.

So. First thing I did with my smartphone was get on Snapchat, so I could torture my daughter and nieces via pictures of me with a dog nose or as a hot dog or cat. That's kinda fun. And, as far as I can see, the best usage for a smartphone.
On the downside, I have big, ol' fat fingers and am still punching the wrong letter every time I text. Furthermore, friggin' auto correct makes me type things like "What time should we come ovary?" And the voice application wants to "Kill Mom" instead of calling her. I'm gonna have to watch this phone.

The phone's like a giga-pet (wait... Am I dating myself? Quickly I texted my nieces and asked if they knew what a giga-pet was. They didn't and wanted me to stop bugging them.). But just like a giga-pet, my phone's needy as hell, in constant demand of my attention lest it  die. I have to feed/charge it pretty much every day. Constant alerts, updates, messages, terrifying warnings, and other ominous distractions keeps me scrambling 24-7. It's a full-time job.

It's a whole new world of discomfort. Where does a purseless person keep their giant phone? It won't fit in my pocket. (The one day I crammed my phone in pocket, I had accidentally turned on the flashlight. After an hour of shopping, I finally realized my crotch was glowing.) Don't even get me going on butt-dialing. 
So. What's the advantage of a smartphone? I can find the nearest pancake shop in a jiffy. I suppose I could watch a movie, but, really, who wants to watch a 3" x 4" screen? Granted, it might take the edge off John Malkovich, but still...

The other day, I went to the doctor. While waiting in the office, loud surf music played over the speaker. Much too loud. I said, "Doc, is this the special surf-rock suite?"

She stares at me, then says, "I thought you were playing it." I shook my head. So she tracks down the nurse to yell at her to turn it off, then comes back, and says, "She says it's your phone." Finally, I track the noise down to my coat pocket. Panicking, I couldn't even figure out how to shut it up.

This phone's beating me down.

For the longest time, I've steered clear of diving into the nebulous world of smart phones because I didn't want to become a pod person. I've been to many restaurants where a couple sits across from one another, not talking, but interacting constantly with their phones. Then there're the people walking down the street, head hanging down, nose buried in their phones. It's scary. An epidemic.

Gah! My phone just blurted at me. What now? Dear God, WHAT NOW?

Speaking of all things ominous, my collection of horror tales, Twisted Tales from Tornado Alley, might just distract you from your damn smartphone for a little while. Just sayin'.

Friday, July 19, 2019

Super Veins!

Last week, I woke up at three in the morning in excruciating pain. "Great," I thought, "I broke my leg while I was sleeping."

Now, I hear you asking, "Stuart, how in the WORLD could you break your leg in your sleep?"

Thanks for asking! First, I'm a very violent sleeper. Second, over the past year-and-a-half, I've broken my leg twice and didn't even know it. I knew I was in horrific pain, but just powered through it. I was even walking on the treadmill with a broken leg. Twice. Anyway...I know what broken leg pain feels like. Yet, this seemed much, much worse.

And here's where my wife got aggravated. She thought I should go to the doctor. Me? I hate going to the doctor. I mean, it wouldn't be so bad if you could just get in and out, but for whatever reason, doctors love to make you wait and wait and wait...a sort of mental water drop torture as you wait on the edge of your seat in searing agony to find out if you're gonna die. Plus, wh0 do you find at doctors' offices? Sick people! No thanks.

I told my wife, "Let's just give it a couple of days, see if it'll heal up."

Well. Turned out my wife was right. (As usual, grumble, brumble, grumble...) After three extremely painful, sleepless nights, my wife had had enough and said, "You're going to the doctor."

I caved. Problem was, it was the Fourth of July. So we had to go to the E.R., thus turning what could've been a $40 doctor visit into $40 plus a couple of extra "0's".

At the E.R., we go through all of the million dollar hullabaloo. X-rays are taken (kaching!) and a technician performed an ultrasound on my leg (kaching, kaching!) while dollar signs rolled in his greedy eyes like a human slot machine.

After the E.R. doctor examined all of his findings, he came back in. Fairly speechless. He shook his head (I knew I was dying at that point), scrambling for words.

Finally, he mustered, "Well...you have some seriously very impressive veins going on! I've never seen so many, so swollen! Your veins even showed up on the x-rays! I've NEVER seen that before! I was hesitant to give you pain meds at first, but yeah, here, take however many you need. Whatever."

Proudly, I puffed out my chest, knuckles burrowed into my sides like Superman striking a heroic pose. I said, "I don't know whether to be proud of this super accomplishment or to be very, very afraid."
So. My leg wasn't broken. I wasn't dying. But my Super Veins had swollen up on me ("Edema") because I'd over stressed them on the treadmill.

The cure? Stick my legs up on the wall as much as possible. Great $4,000 advice.

What have we learned here?

A) I have super veins;
B) Never seek out a doctor on a holiday;
C) Listen to your spouse;
D) Exercise is bad for you.

Speaking of really, really bad decisions, my protagonist in my new book, Corporate Wolf, has a tendency to make quite a few of them. Which ultimately leads him down the path to lycanthropy and...MURDERRRRRRRR. See how (if?) he gets out of very, very bad trouble.

Friday, July 12, 2019

Testicle Festival!

So, last weekend we were visiting family. We're all in the pool, four adults and two nephews (12 and 14). Somehow the conversation circled around to the insidious nature of Ikea and how they trap you like a rat in their endless maze of uncomfortable furniture. Someone mentioned their meatballs are worth the torture.

"If you don't mind eating horse-meat," someone opined.

A nephew said, "What's wrong with that?"

Naturally, foot in mouth, I said, "Nothing, I suppose, if you don't mind eating horse balls." Quickly (but, too late!), I said, "Wait. That kinda came out wrong."

Which is my long segue into what's really on my mind. Of course, I'm talking about "Rocky Mountain Oysters," aka "calf fries," aka "prairie oysters." And then there's "cowboy caviar", "Montana tendergroins", "dusted nuts", "swinging beef," and "bull eggs." Now let's quit prettifying the item in question with all of those tricky "aka's"; no matter how many ribbons you put on them, we're still talking about BULL TESTICLES!
Good Lord, people actually eat these. And like them. There are festivals--festivals, mind you!--devoted to these so-called scrumptious nuggets. It boggles my mind, especially since those who "claim" to like them are usually the rugged, macho types who I'd think would rather be wrangling bulls instead of chomping into their nards. I've also never met a woman who has said, "You know, I'd really like to scarf down a big steaming plate of bull testicles. Yum."
So our science lesson in the pool continued. I said to my nephew, "Boyo, never--under any circumstances, ever--eat rocky mountain oysters." I explained what they were.

Here's where things really got interesting. It turned out my brother-in-law had tried them. He said, "I ate one once and now I'm done."

I asked, "Were they crunchy?"

The women in the pool scoffed. My bro-in-law said, "No, they weren't, not like you'd think they would be. They were kinda...gooey."

(Which just REALLY makes me want to steer clear of them).

Incredulous, my wife and sis-in-law gang up on the guys, think it's silly that we believe they'd be crunchy. Yet, all four males agree.

Patiently, I explained, "I find it amazing that women don't think they'd be crunchy. I mean, we live with the things after all. Why do you think they're called nuts?"

Our exploration into science came to a screeching halt. 

Later, though, I pulled my nephew aside, whispered, "Somewhere, there's a field of poor, depressed bulls without testicles milling about."

All in the name of science, of course.

While we're on the topic of science, I'm reminded of lycanthropy (which has absolutely nothing to do with science and is a shameful segue into plugging my brand spankin' new book). Of course, I'm talking about Corporate Wolf, put out by the fine folks at Grinning Skull Press. Think "An American Werewolf in London" meets "Office Space" and you've got a good running start. Available for preorder right about....NOW! 

Friday, July 5, 2019

The (Un)Luck of the Irish with Eileen O'Finlan


SRW: Eileen O’Finlan. Go on. Everyone say it. Get it out of your system (And I can hear you over the introwebs, using your crappy Irish accents learned from dirty bar jokes. I do it, too.). 

But, Ms. O’Finlan is also an author. Damn good one, too. Her first book (First book? Really?) is catnip for historical fiction and romance fans. I read her epic tale, Kelegeen, of the 1800’s Ireland potato famine and the effects on the poor inhabitants of said town and was magically transported and entranced. I had to hit up Ms. O’Finlan (Okay, I’m gonna knock this polite stuff off right now)—Eileen—for an interview.

Hey there, Eileen, thanks for being a sport and putting up with my nonsense. It may not be easy, but welcome!

EOF:  Hi Stuart.  Thanks for inviting me.

SRW: Alright, before we get to your magnificent book, Kelegeen, let’s talk about you a bit. I understand you’re a big fan of paranormal books. A little ghost also put a whisper in my ear that you may’ve lived in a haunted house. Spill like the wind!

EOF:  It’s true.  Between the ages of 2-6 we lived in a house that I’m sure was haunted, though I think it was really the land, not the house.  The house wasn’t old and the houses on either side of ours had “trouble” too.  This was in Worcester, Massachusetts.  Strange things happened in that house.  For example my mom and I both experienced times when we felt like someone was standing right behind us, but no one was there.  One evening when my dad was taking night classes, Mom was home with my sister, Cindy, and me.  Cindy was asleep in her room on the second floor and I was asleep in my room on the first floor.  Mom was reading in the living room when she distinctly heard footsteps walking up the basement stairs.  It was impossible for her to get both of us kids out of the house in time so she grabbed the fireplace poker and stood at the door waiting to whack anyone who opened it.  That’s where she was a short time later when Dad got home.  She told him what had happened and that she’d never heard the footsteps go back down the stairs.  Dad, being Dad, took the poker, opened the door (no one was there) and went downstairs.  There was no one in the basement and the bulkhead door was locked from the inside.

A few other times, I experienced seeing a woman and a young girl dressed in black sitting on the window seat in our living room.  The woman said only one thing – “No news.”  I can’t remember what she looked like, but years later when my mom related this story to me, I vividly remembered the words “no news” spoken in a melancholy tone.  Shivers ran down my spine.  Years later, I read an article in a history magazine that told of how women during the Civil War who had husbands/brothers/sons/fathers fighting, but hadn’t heard from them in a while would inquire about them whenever regiments passed through town.  The request for information would be passed down the line of soldiers and if no one knew anything of them, the response that would come back would be “no news.”  I nearly fell off my seat when I read that!  No Civil War battles were fought anywhere near that spot, but I suppose soldiers could have come through the area.  I guess I’ll never know for sure.

As for our neighbors, they reported such things as objects moving by themselves, rapping noises, and the like.  I often wonder if the people living in those houses today have experienced anything unusual. There is a hill behind the house.  It’s called Stratton Hill, but when I lived there we called it Blueberry Hill.  There are apartment buildings on it now that weren’t there when we lived at the foot of it.  I wonder if they’re haunted.

One might think that after such an experience I would not want anything to do with the paranormal. To tell the truth I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with it.  I’m fascinated by it, probably because I want to know what was really going on in that house, but at the same time I don’t want to personally experience anything like that again.  It was VERY scary.  So I enjoy reading and writing about it, but would rather not repeat the experience.  I think.

SRW: Man, if only I could have the luck of the ghosts. (But, truth be told, I’m sure if I experienced a haunting, I’d probably renege on that wish). Anyway…let’s get on to your assured debut, Kelegeen. Tell everyone what the book’s about. And make it an enthrallingly short, yet hooky description. Bonus points if you can do it in verse. (Beatboxing is encouraged as well).

EOF:  Verse or beatboxing…umm, no. 
Kelegeen is the story of a peasant village during the time of An Gorta Mór, the Great Hunger, (aka the Irish Potato Famine).  Father Brian O’Malley is pastor of Saint Mary’s Parish in the town of Kelegeen.  It is his job to shepherd his people through one of the most horrific times in Irish history.  One of his parishioners, Meg O’Connor, is eagerly awaiting her upcoming marriage to Rory Quinn when the blight hits destroying the food supply for the entire village (as well as the whole country, as it turned out).  Instead of marriage, their focus and that of their families, turns to survival.  At first they are able to help their families survive by using their skills of sewing and wood carving, but a costly mistake and a devastating accident end those means and they are forced to turn to more dangerous ventures.  As the Great Hunger continues to churn through Ireland, starvation and disease form a deadly combination.  In the end, Meg must make a choice that will either be their salvation or separate her forever from all she knows and loves.  Along with all that, there is some good old Irish paranormal activity such as Meg’s mother’s eerie premonitions and Father O’Malley’s visitations by his ghostly long lost love.

SRW: Thanks to my professional research assistant (Ms. Google), I discovered Kelegeen isn’t a true town in Ireland. Is it based on any particular place? Have you visited Ireland for research? 

EOF:  Ms. Google is correct.  Kelegeen is not a real town in Ireland.  In fact, I employed Ms. Google to make certain it wasn’t before going ahead with the name.  I didn’t want to have to stick to the true history of a real place, preferring some fictional leeway.  It is, however, loosely based on the real town of Skibbereen, which was one of the hardest hit towns during the Great Hunger.  

Oh, how I wish I could say that I’ve visited Ireland, but alas, I have not.  Not yet, anyway.  I sincerely hope to get there someday.  I am tremendously gratified whenever someone who’s read Kelegeen tells me how much it reminds them of Ireland, especially those whose parents or grandparents came from Ireland.  It’s good to know I got the feel of it right.  Phew!

SRW: Things are pretty grim going for the folks in Kelegeen. The starving residents are eating tree bark. Surely, this isn’t that nutritious. (I asked my wife—a medical professional—about the nutritional value of tree bark; she said it’d be nil and people would probably have a hard time digesting it; no wonder Euell Gibbons died at an early age). Did the starving Irish actually do this?

EOF:   Sadly, yes.  They also ate grass. And seaweed.  And whatever else they could get their hands on.  I suppose that when one is in that severe a state of starvation, they aren’t stopping to think about nutrition.  Just to have the feeling of something in the belly is a relief of a sort to the gnawing pain of starvation.

It’s my understanding that there aren’t many trees in Ireland today.  I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’ve heard it’s because of the bark that was stripped and eaten from them.  Stripping a tree of its bark kills the tree.  I guess the trees didn’t fare much better than the people.

SRW: There are a lot of words I’d never heard before, Irish terms, but now I’m an expert thanks to your book. That’s all it takes. For example, after watching a couple seasons of the Olympics, I can tell when a perfect Sowkow is landed. Anyone care to guess what a Scalpeen is? Eileen, please explain what that word means and if it’s specific to Ireland during the famine.

EOF:  A scalpeen is a three-sided structure (two walls and a roof) built by the Irish during the Great Hunger.  When the cottiers couldn’t pay their rent they were evicted and their homes torn down or burned.  With nowhere to live they built scalpeens, usually hidden in hillsides to escape notice.  Often they could use some of the scraps of their torn down homes.  It was the “lucky” ones who could build a scalpeen.  Many lived in a “scalp” which was simply a hole in the ground.

Here is an image of a scalpeen in Donegal:  
 (Image from Donegal Generations by Tom Gallen)
 
Not much, but a better option for living in than a scalp as seen here:  
 (Image from Donegal Generations by Tom Gallen)
 
SRW: Along the same line of query, what I couldn’t understand is these evil, Trumpian landlords would evict the suffering, starving families from the cottages they own, and then tear them down. Um, doesn’t that go against good ol’ fashioned capitalistic goals of constantly making money by renting to another family?

EOF:  What you need to understand, Stuart, is that the British hated the Irish, mainly for reasons of religion.  It’s too long to go into here, but Ireland had been taken over by the British going all the way back to the 1600s.  The British had outlawed Roman Catholicism, the predominant religion of Ireland, taken the land and most of the rights from the Irish people (unless they converted to Protestantism, which most refused to do) and made them tenants on what was once their own land. All sorts of restrictions known as the Penal Laws had been inflicted on the Irish by their British overlords and had been in force for centuries.  By about 16 years prior to the famine some of the worst of the penal laws had been repealed and Catholicism was tolerated (barely), but the Irish people still didn’t own their own land.  Nor could they vote, carry a gun, own a horse, hold political office, etc.  They were considered by the British to be an indolent, lazy, filthy people who did not deserve any better.   This discrimination had been drilled into the British psyche over centuries.  Though the British did not cause the blight or the Great Hunger that ensued, they did see it as a blessing from God – a punishment on the Irish for the sin of Catholicism (or “popery” as they more often called it) and thought of it as a perfect way to rid the land of the Irish so that it could be re-inhabited by English and Scotch Protestants.  They also wanted the lands the Irish peasants lived on for pasturing their own livestock.

The Great Hunger lasted six years.  As it continued to worsen, many people tried to escape by leaving for other countries.  A small amount of British landlords paid for the passage of their tenants, more to get them off the land than to help them, though most were not that generous.  Proposals for government-assisted emigration from Ireland were denied by Sir Charles Trevelyan, the Director of the British government’s so-called “Irish Relief Measures.”  Trevelyan stated that, “the great evil with which we have to contend, is not the physical evil of the famine, but the moral evil of the selfish, perverse, and turbulent character of the Irish people.”

The London Times referred to the Famine as “a great blessing” and a “valuable opportunity for settling the vexed question of Irish discontent.” The Times advocated replacing evicted Irish by imported English and Scottish farmers who would, in their eyes, be thrifty, loyal, and Protestant.
Given all this, it would not have made sense from the British landlords’ point of view to replace one evicted Irish tenant family with another.

SRW: Alright, enough history blather! Let’s get into specifics. Eileen, I have to ask… Are you a closet sadist? You certainly put every character in the book through the ringer until few are left (barely) standing. Pretty much one small victorious step forward, three deaths back. Evil, I say, evil!

EOF:  LOL!!! No, I don’t think I’m a closet sadist.  I’m right out in the open.  (Just kidding).  You try writing a story about something like the Great Hunger and see how upbeat it is!  All joking aside, I’ve had some thoughts about that.  People do tell me that though they loved the book it was hard to read.  I get that, but what did they expect?  There are many books set in concentration camps during the Shoah (aka Holocaust).  (I’m reading one right now – The Tattooist of Auschwitcz).  These books can be brutal to read, but the reader expects that, don’t they?  Yet, Kelegeen sometimes gets castigated for being so grim.  What gives?  I think I might have figured it out.  If I’m right, it comes from the fact that people know a lot about the horrors of the Shoah, having learned about it in school and seen many movies and read many books about it.  I can’t count the times readers have said to me, “I’d heard of the Irish Potato Famine, but I had no idea what it was all about.  I didn’t know it was so awful.  I didn’t know how much people suffered, what they endured.  I learned so much from this book.” 
To me, that is very telling.  Why hasn’t An Gorta Mór been given a greater presence in American classrooms?  My suspicion is because it doesn’t reflect well on the British who are long-time American allies whereas the Germans were our enemies in two World Wars.  Also, when Irish immigrants began arriving in America, they weren’t exactly welcome.  Remember the “No Irish Need Apply” signs?  The Know-Nothing political party which was strongest at the time of the arrival of the Famine Irish was extremely anti-Catholic, anti-immigrant, and anti-Irish.  I think the lack of teaching about An Gorta Mór is a hold- over from times when Americans would prefer not to lay any blame at the doorstep of the British or their descendents.  I could be wrong, but that’s my suspicion.  

I also think it’s time that changed.  I’m not out to make the British look bad.  In fact, I worried about that when I was writing Kelegeen.  Despite the reality of the situation, I didn’t want to make the British people look like monsters and was careful to include some balance in the good and bad to be found within both the British and the Irish.  However, when I brought up this dilemma to one of my writing mentors, she reminded me that the British did not build one of history’s biggest and greatest empires by being nice.  I guess no one does.  I don’t feel Kelegeen is a reflection on the British people of today or their descendents.  It’s just a piece of history.  American history certainly has its own share of misdeeds, to put it mildly.

SRW: As an author, personally I’m curious as to who you see as the main protagonist: Meg or Father O’Malley…

EOF:  Meg.  Definitely, Meg.  It’s funny because when I started I would have said Father O’Malley.  The genesis of this book began with an assignment given to me by my Irish history professor when I was working on my undergraduate degree in history.  He proposed that I keep a diary as if I were a parish priest during the time of the Great Hunger.  A priest was the perfect character for this because he would have known what was going on, had the confidence of his parishioners, was very involved in trying to alleviate their spiritual and physical struggles, and had a bigger picture of the overall workings of the parish territory which he shepherded.  I loved that assignment.  When I completed it, I realized I had the skeleton of a novel.  That’s when the idea to create a novel from the fictional diary was born.
However, as I wrote the novel, Meg grew into a powerful character who captivated me.  Somehow, I was able to put myself in her place more readily than that of any other character.  Father O’Malley is a great champion for his people, but Meg O’Connor, a simple peasant girl, is a force to be reckoned with for sure!

SRW: To me the highlight of the book hit at the midpoint; the wake for a lost loved one, done with love, care, religion, and bare means. The details are fascinating, the atmosphere riveting. Particularly how loved ones are supposed to rise above it and prepare a mangled body for a decent, God-shipped send-off. All truth?

EOF:  Yes indeed.  The Irish wake is the stuff of legends.  Of course, as the starving dragged on, it was more and more difficult to keep up with these customs and rituals.  People no longer had the strength for it so often had to reluctantly forego it.  The American wake was very real, though, and was held whenever possible.

SRW: Actually, it seems that more importance was put on giving proper Christian burials rather than feeding the living at times, at least in regard to little money spent.

EOF:  Yes.  The Irish of that time were a profoundly spiritual people.  They believed whole-heartedly in an afterlife – one that was far more important and better than the earthly life.  I don’t find this at all surprising for a people who spent centuries enduring unending cruelty, hardship and degradation.  What else had they to look forward to with great longing but a glorious eternal life?  So it was important to make the send off worthy of it.

SRW: SO… It’s nothing new, particularly with the state of the world right now, but there’s a lot of hatred between the imperialist invaders and natives. Sigh. Nothing seems to change, even though we should know better by now.

EOF:  You got that right!  As I work on the research for the sequel, most of which will take place in America (Worcester, Massachusetts to be exact), the more I find that history is once again repeating itself.  In the 1800s it was the Know-Nothing party causing the most trouble.  They referred to themselves as “nativists” or “native Americans” and they did not mean by that what we mean today by Native Americans. They meant people whose British ancestors colonized the northeastern part of this country.  They truly believed they were the only people entitled to live here.  (Apparently, they forgot all about the true Native Americans who were already here and who their forebears displaced or wiped out.)  Many of them wanted to send the Irish and other non-Protestant immigrants back to their home countries.  They spoke of being afraid of immigrants overrunning the country and of America being taking over by the Pope.  They also used the term “America First.”  They may have been the originators of that term, but I’m not sure.

SRW: Let’s talk about “magic realism,” a subgenre of fiction made popular particularly by Latin America’s most famous authors. It’s a realistic narrative touched by elements of magic. I would say Kelegeen falls into that category. Am I off-track, Eileen?

EOF:  No, you are not off-track.  I love magical realism.  Considering the “unusual” experiences I’ve had in my own life, some so-call “magic” seems quite real to me. I’m far from the only person who can say that. So it feels to me like it’s simply a part of life.  To quote the Bard, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”  I totally believe that to be true.

SRW: We have the ever-appearing comb and the spirit of Siobhan lingering over the entire proceedings. It’s kinda magical, don’t tell me it’s not! Don’t make me come over there!

EOF:  Stuart, you can come over anytime you want, but I’ll never tell you those elements aren’t magical.  With all the grimness of the famine, those things brought in some lighter moments – what my awesome editor and fellow BWL author, Eileen Charbonneau, referred to as “the grace notes” of the novel.

SRW: Alright, are you continuing Meg’s adventures in America (belated spoiler alert!) and her trials to reconnect with her family? Damn well better, that’s all I’m sayin’.

EOF:  Absolutely!  I was always planning a sequel to Kelegeen, though I had thought of writing a different story first.  However, so many readers have been after me for a sequel, I realized it would have to be my next novel.  Everyone wants to know what happens to the characters that survived.  I am currently deeply immersed in the research for the sequel and have begun the first draft.  I’m on Chapter 3 as of this writing.  I am greatly enjoying researching and writing the sequel.  I promise it will be much more upbeat than Kelegeen.  The focus will be on the characters that come to America, but readers will get to find out what happens to those who stayed behind as well.  

I’m having a blast writing this novel.  It gives me such pleasure to improve the lives of my beloved characters who have been through such horror and devastation.  Not that everything is perfect for them.  After all, if there’s no conflict, there’s no story.  But it’s a different kind of conflict and they have better resources at their disposal.  There are plenty of new characters in the sequel, too.  I’m enjoying getting to know them and I hope readers will, too.

SRW: Can you dance an Irish jig?

EOF: I don’t think I’ve ever tried.  I was a gymnast and I took ballet, tap, and jazz when I was in middle school and high school.  Had I tried then, I probably could have done it.  Now, not likely or at least not well.

SRW: Do you like Lucky Charms? (Sorry, sorry, a thousand sorries…)

EOF:  You should be!  But you’re forgiven.  I did when I was a kid.  Nowadays, I’m into the organic scene.

SRW: After your Kelegeen sequel, what’s up next for you, Eilleen?

EOF:  Hopefully, I’ll get to that book I was going to write next, but had to put aside to work on the sequel.  It will be set in 1830s Vermont with the New England Vampire Panic as the backdrop.  So that there’s no confusion or dashed hopes, I’ll say right now that there will not be any vampires in it.  But it will be dark, eerie, and historically accurate.  For those who wonder what on earth the New England Vampire Panic was I encourage you to check out this Smithsonian article: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-great-new-england-vampire-panic-36482878/
Since I was in middle school, I’ve been fascinated with the Salem Witch Hysteria so I’d also like to write a novel set during that time. 

I have a plethora of historical fiction novel ideas swimming around in my mind.  I just hope I live long enough to write all of them!

By the way, I also have ideas for contemporary fiction, so that may come at some point.  Historical fiction is my favorite, though, so I’ll be focusing on that for the foreseeable future with one exception.  I have been working for a few years on a story featuring my two cats, Smokey and Autumn Amelia.  In this story, there are no humans at all, but all the animals are highly anthropomorphized.  Smokey is an architect with Fluffington ArCATechture and Autumn is a savant baker and chef.  I amuse the heck out of myself writing this story as well as the few people who I’ve let read early drafts.  It’s got a serious theme, but is written in what I hope is a hysterically funny manner.  My biggest problem is I have no idea what genre this story falls into.  It’s kind of Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit meets Orwell’s Animal Farm.  Someone told me it might be a modern day fable.  Maybe, but that doesn’t sound very exciting to me.  And I’m telling you, anyone who likes animals (think crazy cat ladies, here) will get the biggest charge out of it so I hope it will eventually find a publishing home.

SRW: Finally, where can interested readers/fans/stalkers find you on the world-wide introwebs?

EOF:  My website is at:  https://www.eileenofinlan.com/  If you scroll down on the homepage you can sign up for my monthly newsletter to be kept up-to-date on everything going on with Kelegeen, the sequel and, everybody’s favorite section “The Cats’ Corner” written by those two wacky felines of mine.

You can also find me on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/eileenofinlanauthor/
Purchase of Kelegeen can be made on:
Amazon              BarnesandNoble.com    Kobo    
You can also go to the buypages on my website or BWL Publishing, Inc. page listed above for places to purchase.

SRW: Hey! There you have it, folks! If you’re a fan of historical fiction, I encourage you to get on Kelegeen stat. That’s an order. Thanks so much for being a good sport and guest, Eileen.

EOF:  My pleasure, Stuart!