Tell us a little about yourself and your background?
Hello! I grew up in the small southern lake-town of Guntersville, AL, where I still reside today. I loved playing make-believe and pretend as a little girl, so I turned my favorite pastime into a career in writing. I am a wife and I have three daughters. Most of the time you will find me outside exploring, cooking a new recipe, or escaping the real world by reading a book.
How do you make time to write?
It’s something I force myself to do. Even if I would rather dive into a crime novel, or take a spontaneous road trip, I still make myself put my fingertips on the keyboard and write. My two older daughters are in school, and I stay home with our three-year-old. Her nap time allows me time to write a little during the day.
How do you relax?
On the rare occasion I allow myself to relax, I do so by reading a book from one of my favorite authors, hiking the trails on our farm, or sinking into a bubble bath.
Can you tell us your story of getting “the Call”?
I didn’t know I wanted to be a writer until later on in life. I knew there were stories brewing around in my head, but I have always had an overactive imagination. Until finally, my brain cooked up a plot line and characters that refused to stay trapped in my psyche. I decided to write my first novel during my two-year-old’s nap time, while waiting in car line to pick up my older daughters, and in the late hours of the night when the house was quiet. When I typed the words “the end,” I knew I wanted to type them over and over again. It was like a faucet that I couldn’t turn off.
What genre are your books?
Break The Line is a contemporary-romance set in the south. Writing southern novels comes natural to me. I love to give my characters a little twang in their voice and set them in a slow and easy backdrop. When It All Goes Still is a science-fiction romance, with a bit of a sinister side.
What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters from the opposite sex?
It’s easy to write a man exactly how you would want him to be. The perfect gentleman, with a sense of humor, and looks as if they were molded from the gods. But that isn’t realistic. I give my male characters flaws. I make them human. My male characters get jealous, they all say things they shouldn’t, and they don’t always get it right. So, I would say the most difficult thing on writing the opposite sex would be not making him too perfect. I have to remember to make room for character development, and not flawless from the beginning.
What is your writing Kryptonite?
Dialogue tags are the bane of my existence. It’s something I’ve really had to work on, and still have to double-check myself on during editing.
What advice would you give to aspiring writers?
Write! Every day! Sit in the chair and place your fingers on the keyboard and just write. Forget daily word-count, forget the rules, all you need to do is get words on a screen. Then you can go back and edit as needed.
Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?
My website is allisonmullinax.com.
My twitter handle is @allsnmllnx, and I have a facebook author page facebook/allisonnmullinaxauthor
Do you have a teaser you’d like to share with us?
Here is a small teaser from Chapter Five of Break The Line:
“No, Benson… you couldn’t possibly understand.” She’s looking down and picking a loose thread on the patchwork quilt. I watch her pull at the string, creating a crease along the edges of the material.
I let the silence linger for a moment. “What happened?” I risk asking. I’ll never get anywhere with her if I don’t try. I reach my hand out and place it over hers, stopping her nervous assault on the blanket. She doesn’t jerk away, she only looks down at my hand covering hers. And though the Alabama sun is warm against our skin, I see the chill bumps raise along her arms. She may think she’s hiding how she feels, but I’m honed-in to every breath, to every move she makes, and I know that I’m winning the war.
“I can’t fix something I don’t know anything about, Danni. Just try,” I say, aware that it sounds like I’m pleading with her. I don’t care, my pride never got me anywhere that I needed to be anyways.
I watch when she flips her hand underneath my touch, and twists her fingers into mine. There’s something about the way her hand fits into my palm. If a fishing rod ever felt like coming home, then her hand holding mine feels like going to heaven. She looks up, her eyes on mine, and my eyes fall to her lips.
“Someone I loved… very much… lost everything because of someone like you. And this,” she says, holding our entangled hands up, “no matter how good it feels, no matter how much I want it, feels like a betrayal,” she reveals, and the look on her face tells me that this battle can never be won in a day.