AuThursday – Suzanne Jefferies

Watched banner26-IMG_0088Tell us a little about yourself and your background?

 I’m originally from a valley in Wales that rains sheep and folklore about dragons. But right now, I live in South Africa. I’ve done everything from writing press releases about powerboating to trading futures on the South African futures exchange. I love chocolate, rainy days, and jiu-jitsu.

How do you make time to write?

 A thousand words a day squeezed in between meetings or deadlines or waiting for the wash cycle to end.

Do you believe in writer’s block?

 I believe in story block. Sometimes, the story takes a while to show up. When it does, I can write. Until then, I read.

 Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.

 Contemporary and paranormal are my preferred genres, with varying heat levels in each. I love to write erotica, for me, it’s poetry about the body and soul.

 How are you publishing your recent book and why?

Wild Rose Press are my publishers. With every new book, I learn from the pros – that’s what traditional publishing offers, and it’s invaluable.

 Are you an Introvert or Extravert? How does this affect your work?

 Totally an introvert. It means my work is best suited to me; writing is lonely, it’s just you, your machine/notepad, and the story.

 What is your favorite motivational phrase?

 “Just do it.”

 What advice would you give to aspiring writers?

 The road is long, winding, with slopes and inclines. Sometimes it’s tough, and sometimes you’re freewheeling. Sometimes there are road bandits, other times a wise sage. But it’s a journey – keep one foot in front of the other.

 Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?

My website www.suzannejefferies.com, or Facebook SuzanneJefferiesAuthor or Twitter @suzannjefferies

Watched_w12142_med Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?

 “His gaze on me is like a caress on the back of my neck; my senses alert to the pleasure that’s to come. He likes to walk behind me. His shoes scrape against the tar—the sta-stop rhythm.

I know he’s there. Waiting.
I know he’s there. Watching.
His face flashes in the reflection of a car window. In the reflection of a paned-glass window. Distorted night lights, strangers, and him. Sometimes I try to give him the slip. Turn a different corner. Run up a different pathway. But, after a beat or two, he’s there. That same sta-stop rhythm.”

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