My guest today is author Diana Rubino. I met Diana through that fabulous group Authors Helping Authors.
Welcome, Diana, please tell
us about yourself.
My
passion for history and travel has taken me to every locale of my books, and
short stories, set in Medieval and Renaissance England, Egypt, the
Mediterranean, colonial Virginia, New England, and New York. My urban fantasy
romance, FAKIN’ IT, won a Top Pick award from Romantic Times. I’m a member of
Romance Writers of America, the Richard III Society and the Aaron Burr
Association. I live on Cape Cod with my husband Chris
Where can readers find you?
Let's learn a little about your writing. How
long does it take you to write a book?
Since
I write historicals, the research can take up to a year or longer. When I’m
writing, I set a daily goal of 2500 words, about 10 pages.
What
do you like to do when you're not writing?
I
bicycle, golf, play my piano and devour books of any genre. My husband and I
have a home on Cape Cod that we try to get to as much as possible.
What
do you enjoy most about life?
Having
something to look forward to—even something simple, like going to the beach on
the weekend.
Where
do you start when writing? Research, plotting, outline, or...?
I use
Donald Maass's THE BREAKOUT NOVEL WORKBOOK, which has many probing questions
about characters and the story. I then write a detailed outline, which I don't
always follow when writing. My daily goal is 2500 words a day.
I
do everything in Word on my computer, but sometimes I write in longhand; it
helps me connect to the characters more closely.
Are
your stories driven by plot or character?
Character,
in the genres I write in…the characters are who drive the plot; they make the
plot what it is. The plot happens because of who they are and what they do to
make things happen.
If
I was a first time reader of your books, which one would you recommend I start
with and why?
I
always ask readers what era they’re interested in—medieval, Renaissance
(Tudors), or what part of American history. Then I recommend whatever book is
set in that era—Richard IIIs time, Henry VIIIs time, colonial, Civil War, early
20th century…and I do have one about vampires on an Italian cruise
ship if anyone wants to go there!
What
do you hope readers take with them after reading your work?
My
mission is to make readers forget their troubles for a while, escape into
another time and place, and maybe get a few laughs along the way.
What
two authors would we find you reading when taking a break from your own writing?
I
read all of John Grisham’s books and for nonfiction, Ron Chernow writes the
best biographies.
Tell us about your latest release.
My
latest release is a time travel romance, DARK BREW.
This
story took 11 years from start to finish. In 2004, I read an article by Pamela
Butler in the Richard III Society's magazine The Ricardian, about Alice
Kyteler, who was accused of witchcraft in 1324. She then vanished into history.
I couldn't resist writing a book about her.
Accused of her husband’s murder, druid Kylah
McKinley travels back through time to her past life in 1324 Ireland and brings
the true killer to justice.
Two months of hell change Kylah’s life forever. On her many past
life regressions, she returns to 14th century Ireland as Alice
Kyteler, a druid moneylender falsely accused of murdering her husband. Kylah’s
life mirrors Alice’s in one tragic event after another—she finds her husband
sprawled on the floor, cold, blue, with no pulse. Evidence points to her, and
police arrest her for his murder. Kylah and Alice shared another twist of
fate—they fell in love with the man who believed in them. As Kylah prepares for
her trial and fights to maintain her innocence, she must learn from her past or
forever be doomed to repeat it.
Excerpt:
Kylah shut Ted’s den
door. She couldn’t bear to look at the spot where he gasped his last breath.
His presence, an imposing force, lingered. So did his scent, a blend of
tobacco, pine aftershave and manly sweat. Each reminder ripped into her heart
like a knife. Especially now with the funeral looming ahead, the eulogies, the
mournful organ hymns, the tolling bells . . .
These ceremonies should
bring closure, but they’d only prolong the agony of her grief. She wanted to
remember him alive for a while longer, wishing she could delay these morbid
customs until the hurt subsided.
Throughout the house,
his essence echoed his personality: the wine stain on the carpet, the heap of dirty
shirts, shorts and socks piled up in the laundry room, the spattered stove, his
fingerprints on the microwave. But she couldn’t bring herself to clean any of
it up. Painful as these remnants were, they offered a strange comfort. He still
lived here.
“I’ll find that
murderer, Teddy,” she promised him over and over, wandering from room to empty
room, traces of him lurking in every corner. “I’ll do everything in my power to
make sure justice is served. Another past life regression isn’t enough anymore.
I know what I have to do now. And I promise, it will never, ever happen again—in
any future life.”
She inhaled deeply and
breathed him in. “Go take a shower, Teddy.” She chuckled through her tears as the
doorbell rang. She cringed, breaking out in cold sweat when she saw the black
sedan at the curb.
“Not again.” No sense in
hiding, so she let the detectives in.
“Mrs. McKinley, we need
your permission to do a search and take some of your husband’s possessions from
the house,” Nolan said.
“What for?” She met his
steely stare. “I looked everywhere and found nothing.”
“Mrs. McKinley, the
cupboard door was open, four jars of herbs are missing, and the autopsy showed
he died of herb poisoning. Those
herbs,” Nolan added for emphasis, as if it had slipped her feeble mind.
“Foxglove, mandrake, hemlock—and an as-yet unidentified one,” he read from a
notebook. “The M.E. determined it was a lethal dose.”
Sherlock Holmes got nothin’ on him, she thought.
“Where’s this cupboard,
ma’am?” Egan spoke up.
“Right there.” She
pointed, its door gaping exactly the way she’d found it that night. Nolan went
over to it and peered inside.
“Ma’am, it would be
better if you left the house for a half hour or so. Please leave a number where
you can be reached,” Egan ordered.
Nolan glanced down the
hall. “Where is your bedroom?”
What could they want in
the bedroom? “It’s at the top of the stairs on the right. But we didn’t sleep
together,” she offered, as if that would faze them. It didn’t.
After giving him her
cell number, she got into her car and drove to the beach.
An hour later, she let
herself back in and looked around. They’d taken the computer, her case of CDs,
her thumb drive, her remaining herb jars, Ted’s notebooks, and left her alone
with one horrible fact: This was now a homicide case and she was the prime
suspect.
Purchase Dark Brew
Thanks for coming, Diana. It's a pleasure getting to know you better. Best wishes on your latest release.
