Interview Tani Hanes Author of Farraway Mist
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Tani Hanes and Farraway Mist!
Tell us what inspired this particular story?
I wanted to write a sort of homage to stories I admired, namely Daphne DuMaurier’s Rebecca, Stephen King’s Bag of Bones, and Richard Adams’ The Girl in a Swing. Of course, being able to read and admire works of that stature doesn’t mean you can reproduce anything similar! But I wanted to try.
What secret do you use to blast through writer’s block?
I’m really lucky, in that I don’t usually get blocked! I mean, I do struggle with plot points when I don’t have the requisite knowledge to get from one place to another, but I always know what I want my story to do. And I had a teacher once who gave me the best advice ever: Never stop writing when you don’t know what you’re going to write next. You should be on fire to get the next bit down when you stop. This will pretty much guarantee that you come back to write it, see? If you wait until you’ve ground down to just complete and total frustration, then you push everything away and stop for the day, well, you’re pretty unmotivated to come back, and you might even give up on the whole thing, which would be a shame.
Who is your favorite character of all of the books you’ve written and Why?
I like the children I’ve written, and the animals, believe it or not. In the book I’m promoting here, Farraway Mist, the dogs are actually a crucial part of the plot, and I like them. I love them. The animals and the kids are so pure. They have no filters, no ulterior motives, I love that about them.
Why do you write what you write? Contemporary, paranormal, suspense, etc.
I like romances the best. Even this one, which is my first try at a paranormal mystery, is really just a very sexy love story with paranormal elements added in. I love people meeting and falling in love, and having babies or whatever, if that’s a natural part of the story. I really enjoy dialogue, and expressing the characters’ personalities through
You’ve got a time machine, a cloak of invisibility, and one hour. Where would you go, and what eavesdropping would you do?
London in the late 1880s; I want to know who Jack the Ripper was!
Okay, you’re casting the movie version of your novel – who would you choose for the main characters? We’re talking dream cast.
This is pretty easy. For George Wilder, the male MC in Farraway Mist I’d have to go with Harry Styles. He’s always kind of my go to lead, anyway, but in this case, he’s English, he’s in his twenties, he’s a singer, he’s beautiful, with long hair…need I say more? Plus I think he could pull off that whole brooding, Mr. Rochester/Max de Winter thing, you know?
Scout is not as clear to me; possibly Shailene Woodley, or Saoirse Ronan?
What’s your favorite part of being an author?
Talking to readers!! Hands down. I suppose there might be a day, way out there, when I might get tired of this, but as of now, I love when readers want to talk about the characters, or they tell me a certain part made them smile or cry or whatever.
SPEED ROUND FOR A LITTLE ADDED FUN:
Speed Round (one word only answer): Yep, I know torture for a writer!<evil laugh>
Favorite movie: A Room With A View
Favorite book: To Kill A Mockingbird
Last book read: Lonesome Dove (re-read)
Favorite color: violet
Stilettos or flipflops: slippers!
Coffee or tea: both
Ebook or audiobook or paperback: paperback
Pencil or pen: fountain pen
Favorite song: Night Changes (One Direction forever!)
Streak or not: yeah
Favorite dessert:
Favorite junk food: chocolate covered cherries?
Favorite thing to do to relax: crochet or knit
Champagne or gin: I don’t drink!
Paranormal or Historical: paranormal
Wonder Woman or Top Model: Wonder Woman
Favorite TV show: Dexter?
Hot or cold: cold
POV: omniscient (I LOVE HEAD HOPPING)
I’d die if I don’t have: SUSHI
Thank you for putting up with the questions and playing our speed round!
as well. She exclaimed over how well balanced they were, and how well they swung, their heft. And how shiny they were, and how pretty the color was.
George just smiled, pleased with how well received his gift was.
whole links, while the dogs bounced back and forth, rambling along the
different scents. In golf, at least, they were well-matched, and had a good
game, with Scout having the weaker but more accurate stroke.
began to come up just as they reached the last few holes. “Maybe we should
stop,” George suggested, looking around.
on, this is all private, right?” Scout coaxed. “No one else is
around, there’s no danger of anyone up ahead getting hit by a ball or
anything.” She looked at him imploringly. “We can be quick, can’t we?
It’s just that I haven’t played in so long.”
let’s be very quick,” George stressed, once again enticed by the lovely
sight of her hips as they twisted when she swung her club. “You’ve seen
how rapidly the mist can come up.”
through quickly, trying to see up ahead as the fog rose up the cliffs.
explain the topography a little to help out, and Scout did okay, calling on her
memory from her previous walk along the links. They kept the dogs close to
avoid hitting one of them with an errant ball.
got thick enough to block out the sun, and Scout pulled on her sweater, which
had been tied around her slender waist.
cold?” George asked. “We can head back if you like?” He stepped
close and rubbed her arm.
head.
the last hole, right?” she asked. “Let’s finish.” George nodded
and stepped up to the tee.
through, by which time their hair was wet from the mist and fog. They could
hear the waves, too, crashing into the rocks. They quickly shouldered their
clubs and began walking toward the house, which was shrouded in fog.
Slow down, please. Remember how slippery this bit here can be,” George
entreated.
slowed her steps. After a minute or two, she stopped and looked around.
“Where’s Jess?” she asked.
looked. “Fuck it all, where’s she gone off to now?” he asked,
irritated beyond all measure. For no reason he could fathom, he was uneasy. He
wanted to get back to the house, he wanted to get Scout back to the house. The
longer they stayed outside, the more nervous he felt.
going, Scout, carefully, though. I’ll call Jess and catch up in a mo,
okay?” he said.
to say she’d just wait with him, but she saw the look on his face and just
nodded, not wanting to worry him any more, and turned and kept walking. They
had to be pretty close to the house by now, anyway.
on, girl!” George called. Bandit, understanding that Jess’ absence was
gumming up the works, promptly went to look for her. George knew that he’d find
her and bring her back right away, and that she’d probably be contrite and
embarrassed.
if not polite.
how far ahead Scout was, and stopped dead in his tracks. Oh god.
something on the trail next to her, some amorphous shape, darker than the
surrounding fog. It was hovering about eight inches off the ground, hulking
over Scout, who didn’t seem aware of its presence.
Her name was torn from his mouth, a warning which she would never understand.
How could he convey what he needed from this distance with mere words? That she
needed to run, defend herself, be careful?
toward him, not understanding her danger, but hearing the terror in his voice.
As she turned, she slipped, dropping her clubs with a clatter. She grabbed for
the railing, which she knew she should’ve been holding all along.
footing, reaching desperately for the iron fencing. She saw George drop his own
clubs, coming toward her at a dead run, Bandit appearing out of the fog behind
him like a wraith. There was no way he’d reach her in time.
beneath her feet began to crumble, and Scout knew that she was going to fall,
and probably die. It was at least a couple hundred feet down to the beach
below,
soft, sandy beach, but rather a rocky, cove-like one, deep and beautiful for
taking photographs. The stairs were cut sharply into the cliffs, and she would
probably hit most of them on the way down.
brief moment when she thought she could save herself, when she managed to grab
the edge.
inexplicably, she felt something else, and it pushed her, pushed her body and
hands, peeling her fingers off and shoving her over the edge.
just as she was sure she was going to fall, George was there, throwing himself into
the breech, literally throwing himself behind her somehow, grabbing her around
the waist, changing her trajectory, so she fell, not into the chasm underneath,
but onto a tiny ledge, a V-shaped opening between two rocks carved into the
stairs.
with a hard thump, hitting the rock wall hard. Scout carried the momentum for
both of them, being so much lighter, and kept going, nearly over the edge.
George kept his hold around her waist, hauling her back just in time. He pulled
her close, his heart beating like a triphammer in his chest.
each other, knowing how close their escape had been, both breathing like they’d
just run a marathon.
George, thank you,” Scout gasped through chattering teeth. They looked
around at their tiny, wet surroundings.
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged England, Farraway Mist, Paranormal Romance, Tani Hanes by Tena Stetler with comments disabled.
