Tena StetlerAuthor of Paranormal Romance/Suspense & Cozy Mysteries With Magic Spark!

What inspired you to write EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN?

Daryl and Beth on the television show The Walking Dead – If Beth had been just a little older, a relationship between them, forced by survival and the post-apocalyptic world they lived in, would have been sweet. But because that could never happen, I made it my duty to tell the love story inspired by them, that grew in my heart.

It seems EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN isn’t a standalone; tell us about WINDS OF THE IRON FEATHER. Is this going to be a series?

It was going to be a standalone when I started, but there is way too much to tell in only one book – but it will definitely not be a series. EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN by itself is like two books in one. There was no possible way to split it up into two books, and there definitely wasn’t a way to wrap everything up by the end. So, halfway through I realized it was going to be at least two enormous books long. It will end up either as a duology or a trilogy, but there certainly shouldn’t be more than three. I’m hoping I can end it in the second book, WINDS OF THE IRON FEATHER. In that book, Thais will become a great figure, and a leader, who through everything she has learned and everything she stands for will begin to change the world. This story as a whole is ambitious, I admit, but it’s in my heart and I desperately need to tell it.

How do you plot your novels? Do you outline?

 I never outline because I like to let the story and the characters take me where they want to go. Some authors can outline very well and it works for them, but I can’t do it. It has always felt more natural to me to just go along for the ride and see where it takes me, kind of like in real life, I guess. Some scenes in my books were figured out ahead of time, but not ‘planned out’ ahead of time, and there’s a big difference. The only exception to this method is that I do always know my ending before I begin. (Except with my book DIRTY EDEN)

When did you first realize that you wanted to become a writer?

 I started my first novel at the age of thirteen and I’ve been writing ever since. Writing has been the one consistent thing throughout my life and I can’t imagine life without it.

Do you find it easier to write from a male or female point of view? Why? Strangely enough, I feel like the character’s personality flows better through me writing in a male’s POV. I have no idea why!

Why do you write what you write?  Contemporary, paranormal,  YA, NA, suspense, etc. – I can’t stick to one genre. I love writing all types of stories. Does it work for me? Yes and no. Yes, because I’d start to feel claustrophobic if I had to write in the same genre all the time. No, because I think it confuses my readers that I write everything under the same author name. I regret that decision to this day. My advice to authors considering it: Don’t make this mistake! I’m in the process now of correcting that error.

What would you say is your most interesting writing quirk?

I never stop writing for the day at the end of a scene or sentence, but instead right in the middle of them. This helps me prevent writer’s block and keeps my mind fresh.

Which do you prefer: ebook, hardback or paperback?

 Definitely paperback, hands down. I have a Kindle and it’s just not the same. Hardbacks can’t be held comfortably (yes, I bend the spines! I’m totally guilty!). I can’t imagine a world without physical books. It’s depressing to imagine, actually.

Besides writing, what do you like to do in your free time?

Of course, I love to read. I also love the outdoors (hiking, swimming, biking, tennis, etc.), and binge-watching television series’.

If you could only give advise to other writers or aspiring writers, what would it be?

I’d like to point out two things that I believe contributed to my success: kindness and professionalism. I’ve read a lot of horror stories from book reviewers who were verbally attacked by authors because they turned away a review request or gave a bad review, and similar stories about authors and agents. Know in advance that no matter how hard you worked to write your book that it’s not the next bestseller (until it is), that it isn’t better than J.K. Rowling or Stephen King and that you have absolutely no right to make these statements out loud to anyone. Period. And lastly, no matter how much it hurts your feelings or angers you, never reply to a bad review. Ever. Not even if something the reviewer said was 100% wrong. Just don’t do it.

I couldn’t agree more.  It’s been great talking with you, I hope you’ll stop by again.  

  

A peak between the pages of Everything Under the Sun.

“One more night,” I said, not looking at her. “Give me one more night and I’ll get
you out of this city.” All I could see in front of me was the scenario: I’d
wait until very late, after most of the city was sleeping, and then I’d dress
her in my military clothes, make her pin up her hair underneath a cap, strap a
rifle to her shoulder, a backpack full of goods on her back, and set her atop
the mare waiting at the stables.

“But
there’s nothing for me anymore,” Thais said, wiping away the lingering tears on
her cheeks. “There’s nowhere for me to go, and no one waiting for me there if
by some miracle I make it alive. My mother and father are dead. My sister”—she
looked up at me, and although I didn’t meet her gaze, I could feel her eyes on
me—“my whole family is dead, and this world is dead and my soul is dead and
everything that was once good and beautiful and right, is dead.”

I looked
at her then, her words stirring me.

“That’s
not true,” I said, and got up from the chair and crouched in front of her. “You
may be the only good thing left in this world, and I’ll be goddamned if I let
your light fade.”

Tears
tumbled down Thais’ cheeks.

I took
the gun that had fallen from her hand, tucked it into the back of my pants.

“Promise
me you won’t try anything,” I said as I went toward the door. “Promise me on
your sister’s soul, that you’ll stay in this room and wait for me.”

“Where
are you going?”

“To get
your supplies.” I placed my hand on the doorknob. “Don’t open this door for
anyone.” I opened it to blackness; the candles that had been lit in the hallway
had burned down.

“Wait,”
Thais called out, and I stopped.

She
stood up on wobbly legs.

“You
said to get my supplies—are you
sending me away alone?”

I
thought on it for a moment. I’d never had any intention of going with her. I
couldn’t. Not if I was going to keep others from following her.

“No,” I
finally said. “You’re not going alone. I’ll go with you, at least until I can
get you somewhere safe.”

“Is
there anywhere safe, Atticus?” Her
voice was soft, hopeless, and hearing her say my name like that did something
to my heart. “Do you know where you’re taking me?”

I
sighed. And I looked at the wall.

“Yes,” I
lied, and then stepped out into the hallway.

Just
before I closed the door I added, “Promise me.”

Thais
nodded.

“I
promise,” she said. “I’ll wait for you.”