by 
Today, I am so happy to have SR Mallery, the bestselling author of Unexpected Gifts on my blog.
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~Meet the Author~
S.R. Mallery has worn various hats in her life. First, a classical/pop singer/composer, she moved on to the professional world of production art and calligraphy. Next came a long career as an award winning quilt artist/teacher and an ESL/Reading instructor. Her short stories have been published in descant 2008, Snowy Egret, Transcendent Visions, The Storyteller, and Down In the Dirt.
Website/Blog: www.srmallery.com
Twitter: @SarahMallery1
Goodreads:
Pinterest: (I have some good history boards that are getting a lot of attention—history, vintage clothing, older films)
Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/S.-R.-Mallery/e/B00CIUW3W8/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
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Welcome to Njkinny’s World of Books & Stuff, Sarah!
Let’s start the Interview.
1) Tell us something about yourself.
Electic.
That’s my middle name! In fact, once, when I was applying for a marketing job,
the interviewer took one long, hard look at my work experience–– secretary,
classical and pop singer, educational film strip composer, production artist,
calligrapher, quilt designer/instructor, adult ESL/reading teacher, and writer––and
exclaimed, “Well, either you’re the most amazing, versatile person I’ve ever
met, or…you’re crazy!”
That’s my middle name! In fact, once, when I was applying for a marketing job,
the interviewer took one long, hard look at my work experience–– secretary,
classical and pop singer, educational film strip composer, production artist,
calligrapher, quilt designer/instructor, adult ESL/reading teacher, and writer––and
exclaimed, “Well, either you’re the most amazing, versatile person I’ve ever
met, or…you’re crazy!”
I
got the job, btw. I didn’t stay long,
though…
got the job, btw. I didn’t stay long,
though…
2) What genre are your books and why did
you choose this genre?
you choose this genre?
My
stories/books are primarily historical fiction. Because I also enjoy writing
more up-to-date stories who knows about the future, but for now, I get so much
pleasure researching past times, I have decided I am going to stick with
historical fiction.
stories/books are primarily historical fiction. Because I also enjoy writing
more up-to-date stories who knows about the future, but for now, I get so much
pleasure researching past times, I have decided I am going to stick with
historical fiction.
3) In one sentence what is your book,
“Unexpected Gifts” about?
“Unexpected Gifts” about?
A
‘lost’ college student, forever choosing the wrong man, learns to how to change
her life’s path by reading her ancestors’ diaries, journals, and letters.
‘lost’ college student, forever choosing the wrong man, learns to how to change
her life’s path by reading her ancestors’ diaries, journals, and letters.
4) How did you get the idea of writing this
book? What kind of research did you do?
book? What kind of research did you do?
One
night many years ago when I was visiting my father, my then two-year-old
daughter and I were in bed together. She
was nestled up against me, sleeping peacefully; I was reading a short story my
mother had written many years before. As I lay there, taking in my mother’s
words, a feeling of comfort and wonder overcame me. ‘There are three
generations in bed tonight,’ I remember thinking. That awareness catapulted me
into the idea of a confused modern woman retracing the lives of her ancestors
through their diaries, journals, and letters, and in the process of seeing
their mistakes, learning what not to
do in her own life.
night many years ago when I was visiting my father, my then two-year-old
daughter and I were in bed together. She
was nestled up against me, sleeping peacefully; I was reading a short story my
mother had written many years before. As I lay there, taking in my mother’s
words, a feeling of comfort and wonder overcame me. ‘There are three
generations in bed tonight,’ I remember thinking. That awareness catapulted me
into the idea of a confused modern woman retracing the lives of her ancestors
through their diaries, journals, and letters, and in the process of seeing
their mistakes, learning what not to
do in her own life.
As
for doing research it was a huge job. I immersed myself in books regarding various
20th century U. S. time periods so I could learn about their lingos,
fashion, and customs. I watched documentaries and listened to homemade and
commercial CD’s that included songs/music written during the 60’s, 50’s, 30’s,
and early 1900s, to help me live and breathe those eras. And always, always, I
scrutinized photographs—a practice that not only always sends me back in time, it
triggers plots, motivations, and character relationships.
for doing research it was a huge job. I immersed myself in books regarding various
20th century U. S. time periods so I could learn about their lingos,
fashion, and customs. I watched documentaries and listened to homemade and
commercial CD’s that included songs/music written during the 60’s, 50’s, 30’s,
and early 1900s, to help me live and breathe those eras. And always, always, I
scrutinized photographs—a practice that not only always sends me back in time, it
triggers plots, motivations, and character relationships.
5) What was the hardest part of writing
“Unexpected Gifts”?
“Unexpected Gifts”?
Because
I had decided to have my main modern protagonist, Sonia, learn from her
ancestors, I had to figure out a helpful method to accomplish that. So I came
up with a two-columned sheet. On the left side was each ancestral chapter with
several flaws that each ancestor had. In the right column I wrote how those
particular flaws gave Sonia the insight into how to change her own behavior.
I had decided to have my main modern protagonist, Sonia, learn from her
ancestors, I had to figure out a helpful method to accomplish that. So I came
up with a two-columned sheet. On the left side was each ancestral chapter with
several flaws that each ancestor had. In the right column I wrote how those
particular flaws gave Sonia the insight into how to change her own behavior.
Although
time consuming, it grew into a back and forth, analytical process all of which
was incredibly helpful.
time consuming, it grew into a back and forth, analytical process all of which
was incredibly helpful.
6) How do you approach your writing so as
to make them relatable to readers?
to make them relatable to readers?
I
have come to realize that no matter the time period, no matter how different
the culture, people have always been people—with hurts, anger, ambition, shame,
joy, and love. That has never changed!
have come to realize that no matter the time period, no matter how different
the culture, people have always been people—with hurts, anger, ambition, shame,
joy, and love. That has never changed!
So
when I write a scene, or in particular, a dialogue, I really picture myself being
there, first asking the questions then answering them. I always ask myself, ‘What
kind of language would I use? If I were an immigrant coming over from another
country trying to speak English, how would I sound? If I were an educated
journalist from the Great Depression, wouldn’t my language reflect that? If I
were an Irish lass back in the 1920s, how would I talk? There, I not only
studied the slightly different grammar structure used by the early 20th
century Irish, each time I edited that chapter I read the words out loud with
an Irish accent!
when I write a scene, or in particular, a dialogue, I really picture myself being
there, first asking the questions then answering them. I always ask myself, ‘What
kind of language would I use? If I were an immigrant coming over from another
country trying to speak English, how would I sound? If I were an educated
journalist from the Great Depression, wouldn’t my language reflect that? If I
were an Irish lass back in the 1920s, how would I talk? There, I not only
studied the slightly different grammar structure used by the early 20th
century Irish, each time I edited that chapter I read the words out loud with
an Irish accent!
7) Tell us a fun moment you had while
writing “Unexpected Gifts”.
writing “Unexpected Gifts”.
I
would have to say in general, just listening to the various songs/music of each
era I was going to write about. As I
drove my car, danced around the living room, or did chores throughout the
house, I particularly enjoyed the music from the 60’s. It brought back SO many memories about
Woodstock, an ex-boyfriend’s experience with Timothy Leary, and how actually
seeing the Beatles at Carnegie Hall left an indelible mark in my memory bank
(even though at the time I could barely hear them through the girls’ screams!)
would have to say in general, just listening to the various songs/music of each
era I was going to write about. As I
drove my car, danced around the living room, or did chores throughout the
house, I particularly enjoyed the music from the 60’s. It brought back SO many memories about
Woodstock, an ex-boyfriend’s experience with Timothy Leary, and how actually
seeing the Beatles at Carnegie Hall left an indelible mark in my memory bank
(even though at the time I could barely hear them through the girls’ screams!)
8) When did you first realize that you had
the talent to be an author?
the talent to be an author?
My
father, who had been a television writer for many years (he began his career in
The Golden Age of Television), read my very first story, “Sewing Can Be
Dangerous,” and shook his head.
father, who had been a television writer for many years (he began his career in
The Golden Age of Television), read my very first story, “Sewing Can Be
Dangerous,” and shook his head.
“What?
What? No good? Am I terrible?” I
asked him, chewing on a fingernail.
What? No good? Am I terrible?” I
asked him, chewing on a fingernail.
“Well,
maybe your language is a tad simple…but your storytelling and your pacing is
amazing! Keep it up!” Boy, was THAT an
incentive to keep going!
maybe your language is a tad simple…but your storytelling and your pacing is
amazing! Keep it up!” Boy, was THAT an
incentive to keep going!
9) What were the steps you took to get your
book published?
book published?
My
SEWING CAN BE DANGEROUS AND OTHER SMALL THREADS came first. I had a lot of
interest from agents, although they were worried about marketing a newbie’s
collection of shorts. Then I got a New
York agent who flipped over them and wanted to represent me. But she had a condition. I had to finish the
novel I had begun (UNEXPECTED GIFTS) so she could present/sell both of them at
once.
SEWING CAN BE DANGEROUS AND OTHER SMALL THREADS came first. I had a lot of
interest from agents, although they were worried about marketing a newbie’s
collection of shorts. Then I got a New
York agent who flipped over them and wanted to represent me. But she had a condition. I had to finish the
novel I had begun (UNEXPECTED GIFTS) so she could present/sell both of them at
once.
I remember
killing myself at that point in time–teaching ESL classes morning and night
and scribbling furiously in between to finish my novel. I knew UNEXPECTED GIFTS
was far too long and was almost like a first draft but I handed it in. Although
she really liked it and told me what a good writer I was, etc, etc, she decided
she wasn’t going to represent me anymore. Period. Done.
killing myself at that point in time–teaching ESL classes morning and night
and scribbling furiously in between to finish my novel. I knew UNEXPECTED GIFTS
was far too long and was almost like a first draft but I handed it in. Although
she really liked it and told me what a good writer I was, etc, etc, she decided
she wasn’t going to represent me anymore. Period. Done.
Of
course I was devastated, but I picked myself up and started sending both books
to publishers. One small press loved them so much she immediately wanted to
sign me up. So my first foray into the
publishing world was through this press. They were lovely to me, but after a
while, I decided I preferred having more control, particularly since the
publishing business had been changing exponentially and being an Indie writer
was no longer looked down on.
course I was devastated, but I picked myself up and started sending both books
to publishers. One small press loved them so much she immediately wanted to
sign me up. So my first foray into the
publishing world was through this press. They were lovely to me, but after a
while, I decided I preferred having more control, particularly since the
publishing business had been changing exponentially and being an Indie writer
was no longer looked down on.
10) What is next for you, writing wise?
I’ve
been working on an historical fiction Wild West novel, entitled THE DOLAN
GIRLS. Here’s the synopsis:
been working on an historical fiction Wild West novel, entitled THE DOLAN
GIRLS. Here’s the synopsis:
THE DOLAN GIRLS
The Dolan
Girls by S. R. Mallery has it all. Set in Nebraska during the 1800s,
whorehouse madams, ladies of the night, a schoolmarm, a Pinkerton detective, a
Shakespeare-quoting old coot, brutal outlaws, and a horse-wrangler fill out the
cast of characters. Add to the mix are colorful descriptions of an 1856 land
rush, Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show, Annie Oakley, bank/train robberies,
small town local politics, and romance. Two,
in fact!!
Girls by S. R. Mallery has it all. Set in Nebraska during the 1800s,
whorehouse madams, ladies of the night, a schoolmarm, a Pinkerton detective, a
Shakespeare-quoting old coot, brutal outlaws, and a horse-wrangler fill out the
cast of characters. Add to the mix are colorful descriptions of an 1856 land
rush, Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show, Annie Oakley, bank/train robberies,
small town local politics, and romance. Two,
in fact!!
11) What is one quirk that, in your
opinion, makes you a writer?
opinion, makes you a writer?
Well,
much like my main character in UNEXPECTED GIFTS, I have OCD (Obsessive
Compulsive Disorder)—the ruminating kind, not the hand washing neat freak
kind! In other words, I can’t stop my
brain from working overtime and creating plots, scenes, and characters!
much like my main character in UNEXPECTED GIFTS, I have OCD (Obsessive
Compulsive Disorder)—the ruminating kind, not the hand washing neat freak
kind! In other words, I can’t stop my
brain from working overtime and creating plots, scenes, and characters!
For
example, I once happened to watch an ant make its way across my bathroom floor
and within the hour I was writing a flash fiction narrative from the point of
view of the lonely ant—VERY Kafka-esque!!
In addition, I have always liked to watch people and invent little
stories about their lives. As I watch them, I keep asking questions in my mind
like, ‘What if they…’; ‘Wouldn’t it be interesting if they…’; ‘What would
it be like if they…’
example, I once happened to watch an ant make its way across my bathroom floor
and within the hour I was writing a flash fiction narrative from the point of
view of the lonely ant—VERY Kafka-esque!!
In addition, I have always liked to watch people and invent little
stories about their lives. As I watch them, I keep asking questions in my mind
like, ‘What if they…’; ‘Wouldn’t it be interesting if they…’; ‘What would
it be like if they…’
12) Before you go, how about an excerpt
from your book to intrigue and tantalize us?
from your book to intrigue and tantalize us?
OK!
First, here’s the synopsis:
First, here’s the synopsis:
Can we learn from our ancestral
past? Do our relatives’ behaviors help mold our own?
In Unexpected Gifts, that
is precisely what happens to Sonia, a confused college student, heading for
addictions and forever choosing the wrong man. Searching for answers, she
begins to read her family’s diaries and journals from America’s past: the
Vietnam War, Woodstock, and Timothy Leary era; Tupperware parties, McCarthyism,
and Black Power; the Great Depression, dance marathons, and Eleanor Roosevelt;
the immigrant experience and the Suffragists. Back and forth the book journeys,
linking yesteryear with modern life until finally, by understanding her
ancestors’ hardships and faults, she gains enough clarity to make some right
choices.
past? Do our relatives’ behaviors help mold our own?
In Unexpected Gifts, that
is precisely what happens to Sonia, a confused college student, heading for
addictions and forever choosing the wrong man. Searching for answers, she
begins to read her family’s diaries and journals from America’s past: the
Vietnam War, Woodstock, and Timothy Leary era; Tupperware parties, McCarthyism,
and Black Power; the Great Depression, dance marathons, and Eleanor Roosevelt;
the immigrant experience and the Suffragists. Back and forth the book journeys,
linking yesteryear with modern life until finally, by understanding her
ancestors’ hardships and faults, she gains enough clarity to make some right
choices.
Here’s an excerpt:
SONIA’S paraplegic Father –CHAPTER 2: Sam––Living With
Fear
Fear
“First
thing I killed was no kind of thing at all. It was an enemy
thing I killed was no kind of thing at all. It was an enemy
soldier,
which was a hell of a lot easier to say than the first thing I ever killed was
a man.”
which was a hell of a lot easier to say than the first thing I ever killed was
a man.”
—Steve Mason
“…Nearing the
village, we passed women in their beige tunics, black pants, and Sampan hats,
shouldering thick bamboo rods weighted down by buckets of water. Most kept
their heads lowered as they walked, but the few who didn’t, stared up at us
with dead, black-brown eyes and pressed lips. The afternoon was drawing to a
close by the time we reached a village compound that reeked of nuoc maum rotten
fish sauce and animal dung. An old, leathery woman, squatting by her hooch was
our welcoming committee, but once she saw us shuffle by, she scurried back into
her hut, clacking loudly in Vietnamese as chickens pecked at rice granules,
bobbing their heads up and down in 2/4 time.
village, we passed women in their beige tunics, black pants, and Sampan hats,
shouldering thick bamboo rods weighted down by buckets of water. Most kept
their heads lowered as they walked, but the few who didn’t, stared up at us
with dead, black-brown eyes and pressed lips. The afternoon was drawing to a
close by the time we reached a village compound that reeked of nuoc maum rotten
fish sauce and animal dung. An old, leathery woman, squatting by her hooch was
our welcoming committee, but once she saw us shuffle by, she scurried back into
her hut, clacking loudly in Vietnamese as chickens pecked at rice granules,
bobbing their heads up and down in 2/4 time.
Carbini
cut to the chase. “First, pull every one of those gooks outta their hooches,
then line them up here,” he barked.
cut to the chase. “First, pull every one of those gooks outta their hooches,
then line them up here,” he barked.
I
watched my troop comb each thatched home, rounding up families of all ages and
herding them out into the open like a cattle drive in
Oklahoma. I, too, started the mission and stooping into one of
the huts, saw a young woman sitting on a straw mat, eating some rice in a black
bowl, a young child at her side.
watched my troop comb each thatched home, rounding up families of all ages and
herding them out into the open like a cattle drive in
Oklahoma. I, too, started the mission and stooping into one of
the huts, saw a young woman sitting on a straw mat, eating some rice in a black
bowl, a young child at her side.
She
was exquisite—the best possible combination of French and Chinese ancestry,
with such delicate features, she made my heart ache. My immediate instincts
were to protect her and her son from Carbini and this horrendous war, but she
just gazed up at me, emotionless.
was exquisite—the best possible combination of French and Chinese ancestry,
with such delicate features, she made my heart ache. My immediate instincts
were to protect her and her son from Carbini and this horrendous war, but she
just gazed up at me, emotionless.
I
could hear Carbini yelling orders to get a move-on, and I signaled this girl,
this treasure, to follow me. She shook her head vehemently, and curled her legs
around her son. I motioned again, but still, she refused. I froze, unable to
think, but when Carbini popped his head in the doorway and snarled, “Weylan!”
she got the message and followed me out.
could hear Carbini yelling orders to get a move-on, and I signaled this girl,
this treasure, to follow me. She shook her head vehemently, and curled her legs
around her son. I motioned again, but still, she refused. I froze, unable to
think, but when Carbini popped his head in the doorway and snarled, “Weylan!”
she got the message and followed me out.
Whimpering slightly, she joined her fellow villagers, gripping her child’s hand and wiping off a tear that had
slid halfway down her cheek. I suddenly pictured slave owners in pre-Civil War
days and felt my lunch rise up in my throat.
slid halfway down her cheek. I suddenly pictured slave owners in pre-Civil War
days and felt my lunch rise up in my throat.
“Now,
get your Zippos ready, men.” As Carbini’s face flushed red, I sucked in my breath. He caught sight of my reaction
and came over. “Weylan here doesn’t like my orders. Anyone else here who doesn’t like my orders?” Nobody spoke up.
get your Zippos ready, men.” As Carbini’s face flushed red, I sucked in my breath. He caught sight of my reaction
and came over. “Weylan here doesn’t like my orders. Anyone else here who doesn’t like my orders?” Nobody spoke up.
He
opened up one of my backpack pockets, yanked out my Zippo lighter, and shoved
it into my face. Immediately, you could hear the snap of pockets opening and
boots shifting. We were getting ready to Rock ‘n Roll.
opened up one of my backpack pockets, yanked out my Zippo lighter, and shoved
it into my face. Immediately, you could hear the snap of pockets opening and
boots shifting. We were getting ready to Rock ‘n Roll.
Carbini
was first. He marched over to a hooch, flipped on his Zippo, and carefully lit
the underbelly of its thatched roof. It smoldered for a few seconds, a thin,
rising wisp of smoke twisting in the tropical air. From that, a flame grew,
nibbling at the straw with a low, blue heat before suddenly bursting into a
torch, arcing up towards the sky in a yellow-hot blaze.
was first. He marched over to a hooch, flipped on his Zippo, and carefully lit
the underbelly of its thatched roof. It smoldered for a few seconds, a thin,
rising wisp of smoke twisting in the tropical air. From that, a flame grew,
nibbling at the straw with a low, blue heat before suddenly bursting into a
torch, arcing up towards the sky in a yellow-hot blaze.
Carbini
turned to us and nodded, his eyes glazed. This was our cue, yet I spun around
to search for the girl, who was at the back of the pack, crying softly as she
hugged her son. I glanced over at some of the other men, their hands jammed
deep into their pockets, and decided to follow their lead. The fire was raging
full force on each hooch now, the thatch and bamboo crackling like a 4th
of July fireworks display, leaving its reflections in the villagers’ eyes and
turning the sky dark with thick, bulbous smoke.
turned to us and nodded, his eyes glazed. This was our cue, yet I spun around
to search for the girl, who was at the back of the pack, crying softly as she
hugged her son. I glanced over at some of the other men, their hands jammed
deep into their pockets, and decided to follow their lead. The fire was raging
full force on each hooch now, the thatch and bamboo crackling like a 4th
of July fireworks display, leaving its reflections in the villagers’ eyes and
turning the sky dark with thick, bulbous smoke.
“Weylan!
You son-of-a-bitch coward! You’re no better than the rest of us, you hear me?” Carbini started to charge over, then stopped
mid-stride.
You son-of-a-bitch coward! You’re no better than the rest of us, you hear me?” Carbini started to charge over, then stopped
mid-stride.
In the distance, a large formation
of F4’s was headed our way, torpedoing fireballs of napalm every several
hundred yards and scattering screaming villagers down the main road. We were
ordered to take cover, but followed the fleeing Vietnamese instead, charging
after them and trying not to show our own fear…”
of F4’s was headed our way, torpedoing fireballs of napalm every several
hundred yards and scattering screaming villagers down the main road. We were
ordered to take cover, but followed the fleeing Vietnamese instead, charging
after them and trying not to show our own fear…”
Thanks for taking out time to talk to me, Sarah.
Wish you the very best for the future and hope we get to read more from you in the future! 🙂
I loved reading Unexpected Gifts by SR Mallery. Read my Review: Click Here
~Buying Links~
Grab the book for just 99c or Rs 63 on Amazon and Kobo!
~Giveaway~
Prize: 10 Ebooks of Unexpected Gifts by SR Mallery
Ends 13th September
Open Worldwide.
Open only to those who can legally enter and receive the prize. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded.No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Nikita (Njkinny) from Njkinny Tours & Promotions and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Ends 13th September
Open Worldwide.
Open only to those who can legally enter and receive the prize. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded.No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Nikita (Njkinny) from Njkinny Tours & Promotions and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
~Organized by~
