Meet Author Anne Riley - Feature Friday

Today on our first "Feature Friday" we're meeting with author, Anne Riley, to talk about her debut YA novel, The Clearing.

RB: Thanks so much for stopping by, Anne. What can you tell us about your new book?

Anne: It’s about a girl named Natalie Watson who doesn't believe
the reports about the way her parents died. In fact, she’s not sure she believes in much of anything these days. But after moving from her home in Georgia to her aunt’s boarding school in Maine, solving the mystery of her parents’ deaths is just one of several things on her mind. When she’s not fending off attacks from the popular kids or taking refuge in the pages of a novel, she ponders the rumors circulating about a certain boy in her math class… a boy with fiery red hair who never speaks to anyone.


Despite suspicions that he may have murdered his sister a year earlier, Natalie finds it impossible to stay away from Liam Abernathy – especially when he confesses to knowing something about her parents. Soon she’s following him into the forest, where things happen she doesn’t understand… things that shouldn’t be possible….


As Liam’s story unfolds, Natalie realizes she’s more connected to him than she ever thought – and not everyone she counts as a friend can be trusted.

RB: Sounds exciting! Is there a character you’ve created that has special meaning for you?


Anne: The main character, Natalie, is so much like myself when I was a teenager! I was such a nerd and never felt like I shared the same interests as my classmates. Unfortunately, I don’t have nearly as good a reason as Natalie does for my weirdness. 


RB: So did your background as teenager who felt like this help you tell your main character's story?


Anne: My background totally helped because Natalie and I are both southern. This helped me identify with her point of view and it also made her southern dialect flawless.


RB: Now that you're a published author with all the experiences that come with that journey, do you have any advice for struggling writers out there?


Anne: Oh, man. It's tough, creating worlds and people out of thin air and then hoping someone else likes what you've created enough to publish it. I would say to always keep working, keep creating, and don't let the challenges of the industry stop you!


RB: That's encouraging advice, Anne. What do you have to say about those of us struggling with writer's block...any secrets?


Anne: I walk. I walk a lot. Always by myself. I've been known to break through a plot hole or two at our local gym too. Also, letting other people read helps. They can give you a fresh perspective on the story.


RB: What's coming up for you in terms of your career? Is there a sequel on its way?


Anne: Now that The Clearing is published, I am doing a couple of small, local author events. My agent has just sent me her comment on my second novel, Synthesis, and I'm trying to find an opportunity to dive into them!  After Synthesis goes out for submission, I hope to write a sequel to The Clearing.


RB: Wow, you sound super busy. We're so glad you came to visit. Congratulations on your new release!


Anne Riley is an author of young adult fiction disguised as a high school Spanish teacher. She lives in Birmingham, Alabama with her husband and their daughter. You can get to know her better at www.annerileybooks.com.

I is for "Its Gonna Be a Bloody One Folks..."

In keeping with my A-Z Blogging Challenge, I've entered a Blogfest hosted by Anne Riley. Today's theme is is "I" is for Its-gonna-be-a-bloody-one-folks-murder-scene-blogfest... try saying that three times fast.  So I was a little on the jittery side because...well, I don't write murder mysteries.  I write Christian Romance/Suspense.  I'm a little out of my element here. But I guess that is the point of the whole excercise, isn't it? To hone my craft by stretching my little trembly writer's wings. 

I've written a scene that actually goes into my book, Ruby Dawn. Its a flashback from my main character's past and it is her point of view.

Murder Scene:

Dresden Heights – Six Years Ago

It never rained this hard, not here anyway. But it was raining, and the noise was like a thousand marbles on a pie tin. I told myself this could be a good sign as I crawled on my hands and knees across the sheet metal roof of the abandoned bus station. I hoped the rain masked the sound of the metal bowing under my weight. Rust and dirt sloughed off the roof and I dug my fingers into the pitted metal, struggling to keep from slipping backwards. I looked over my shoulder, at the asphalt two stories below, and shuddered.

Heights are bad, really bad.

I crested the roof and peered over it to the empty lot where they used to park the buses. Defunct for nearly six years, the bus station now served as a graffiti magnet and crash pad for street kids in the area. The bottom doors and windows were barred, but I’d asked around and a girl in Biology told me to look for windows on the second floor that everyone would use to get inside. I scanned the roofline and found them. There was my way in; a row of vent windows with broken glass like jagged teeth in the rusty face of the building.

I turned on the roof, swung my feet down toward the ledge, and let go. I slid down, flailed frantically with both hands, and caught hold of the vent window’s frame. Panting, I spit rainwater from my mouth and teetered along the building’s outside ledge on my tip-toes.

You can do this, Ruby. The strength will come, it’ll come.

I took a deep breath and side-shuffled passed the first window. My knees trembled as I forced myself to look down into the hollow maintenance garage below.

The vague, block-like shapes of toppled lockers made huddled forms in the darkness below. Lightning streaked overhead and gave me a flash of the torn girly magazines and trash littering the floor. I flinched when the thunder rumbled over me, and I gripped the window frame with aching fingers.

Two windows down, I lowered my legs in through the roof and poked around with the toe of my tennis shoe for the one locker section still standing upright. Tongue out, concentrating, I started when I heard Tom yelling from somewhere inside the building.

Frantic, I aimed where I thought I saw the lockers, closed my eyes, and jumped down. Slick with the rain overhead, I pawed and scratched for a handhold on the slippery surface of the lockers.

Another desperate echo bounced along the fallen lockers and empty halls towards me. My pulse shot prickles down through my fingertips and I lost my grip. I hit the filthy tile floor with a wet smack.

Gasping for breath, I called out. “Where are you?”

I scrambled to my feet and squinted into the darkness. My name floated back to me from the bowels of the dark building. I stumbled towards Tom’s voice. Slipping on the wet trash and magazines, I tripped over something solid and went sprawling to my stomach. Hitting the edge of an overturned table, the breath whooshed out of me again.

Tom shouted from far away. “Don’t do this! Stop!”

My side on fire, I pulled myself back upright and lurched forward. Panic exploded in my chest. I yelled again. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

I hoped my voice would stop what was happening, that the thought of a witness would stop Griffin. Tom’s pain-filled howl stabbed through me. I ran blindly bouncing off walls to get to him. Up ahead, the weak light from the street lamps glowed through the hallway door’s broken window.

Almost there!

Griffin shouted angrily and I sprinted, heart tumbling in my chest, toward the sound. I nearly lost my footing and staggered out into the maintenance building’s open courtyard. A few yards ahead, Tom and Griffin tangled with each other against the chain-link fence.

I screamed.

Griffin’s head snapped towards me and he snarled with wild eyes. “You stay out of this! This isn’t about you anymore!”

Tom stood pinned against the fence with a knife to his throat. His busted lip dripped blood onto his torn white t-shirt.

Tom strained in Griffin’s grasp. “Ruby, get out of here!”

“Griffin, stop!” I pled.

Griffin ignored me and turned back to face Tom. He grabbed a wad of Tom’s t-shirt and shook him like a rag doll. Rain poured down from the sky and splashed around their feet.

“Griffin! What are you doing?” I screamed. I edged closer, my mind reeling.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to stop this.

Griffin didn’t look at me when he answered. His eyes, transfixed on the knife at Tom’s throat, narrowed with rage.

“He has to pay,” Griffin yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth. “He needs to pay, don’t try to stop me!”

Rain dripped off their noses and matted hair. I couldn’t make out Tom’s face, but his hands shook as he pushed against Griffin’s knife hand.

I inched forward. If I could just get close enough to distract Griffin, then Tom might have a chance. “Please, you don’t need to do this,” I said evenly.

“No, this is exactly what I have to do!” Griffin snarled.

Closer now, I caught Tom’s eye, tried to tell him what I was doing, but Griffin was already moving. He lunged with the knife. Tom twisted in his grip, and I screamed as my hands barely brushed Griffin’s arm.

And then everything went silent. I remembered later that the rain fell without sound for those few frozen seconds.

Griffin’s eyes went wide, lit up with the lightning flash, and crimson spray fanned across my white t-shirt. The blood started to run as the rain poured down on us. My heart rammed in my chest, and I staggered against the fence.

Then everything sped back up, the noise hit me like a physical blow, and I heard the knife clang onto the asphalt. Terrified, I locked eyes with Tom. His face already going white, he reached out to me.

My eyes went to the gash in his side and my heart stopped.

Tom’s eyes swam as he looked at me. “Ruby?”

Photograph by FranUlloa, Uploaded on January 5, 2007.

Dont forget to sign up for the Primal Scream Blogfest - Your Most Heart Pumping Scene, here on April 19th. The Blogfest will take place on May 5th...can't wait!