Welcome to my weekly Author Spotlight. I’ve asked a bunch of my author friends to answer a set of interview questions, and to share their latest work.
Today, Lina Langley – Lina Langley is a first-generation immigrant. She currently lives in sunny Florida and spends her time slashing hot strangers while getting coffee.
Join Lina’s mailing list and get five free stories: http://eepurl.com/b1RDK5
Thanks so much, Lina, for joining me!
J. Scott Coatsworth: As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Lina Langley: A writer. I always wanted to be a writer. Iām one-track minded.
JSC: When did you know you wanted to write, and when did you discover that you were good at it?
LL: I knew I wanted to write when I first could. I really like stories and I always knew I wanted to do that for a living. As far as whether Iām good at it, I donāt know. Still a work in progress?
JSC: If you could create a new holiday, what would it be?
LL: Mental Health Day. Every yearāideally every month but Iām trying to be practical hereāyou can just call your work one day and tell them youāre taking a mental health day. Then you can do whatever you want. Happy holidays!
JSC: How would you describe your writing style/genre?
LL: Technically, itās romance/spec fic, but a friend told me that my genre should be āangstā and that seems appropriate. Iām terrible at genre, I just write where the story takes me.
JSC:Ā Tell me one thing hardly anyone knows about you.
LL: I can put almost put my whole fist in my mouth.
JSC: What was your first published work? Tell me a little about it.
LL: The Whole Trying Thing, which was published by Ninestar Press, was my first traditionally published book. I wrote it as a way to process my grief after a few deaths in my family. Because of that, the story itself is very raw and angsty. I loved it, writing it was a great experience and it still remains one of my favourite stories.
JSC: If you were stuck on a desert island all alone with only three things, what would they be?
LL: My phone, Jeff Buckleyās Grace, and a water filter.
JSC: Whatās your writing process?
LL: Completely depends. Iām a ghostwriter for my day job and for that, I have to outline down to the word count to make sure to maximize my time. For my own work, Iām more of a plantserāI have an idea, I run with it, and then when I hit a roadblock, I start plotting. And by that, I mean I have a conversation with a critique partner or something like that. I never realized how social writing was before I became part of this community!
JSC: What action would your name be if it were a verb?
LL: To leanā¦ get it? Yeah, Iāve never heard that joke before either.
JSC: Would you visit the future or the past, and why?
LL: I would go like, two months into the future. Just to make sure that everything is still in order. But not too far into the future because then I wonāt have as much control as I would like.
JSC: What are you working on now, and when can we expect it?
LL: Right now Iām working on an enemies to lovers contemporary called Troubled Waters. Itās part of a longer series called Sunrise Sands and should be out some time next month!
And now for Lina’s new book: Welcome to Crash, coming out 9/12 (preorder now!):
At first, Damien feels lucky to land a job at an influential art studio, but it soon becomes obvious that somethingās not right. His gorgeous boss, John, is interested, and heād be the perfect man for Damienāif Damien wasnāt already in a relationship. It isnāt long before Damien is at the center of a love triangle, forced to choose between hot, punk John and his secret affair with his professor, Levi. And thatās just the tip of the iceberg, because something impossible is happening to Damienāand itās having a drastic effect on his health as well as his perception of reality.
Each time Damien goes to work, things grow more bizarre, starting with Samāan artist who has been dead for years and now somehowā¦ isnāt. Damienās unusual circumstances also free him from the restrictions of monogamyāor so he thinks. Levi, who cannot believe Damienās claims, fears for his sanity. John also has strong doubts when Damien reveals knowledge of a catastrophic event looming in Johnās future. Whether the men he loves believe his wild claims or not, neither can deny Damien is languishing, and if they cannot save him, heāll be lost. More importantly, they must convince Damien to save himself.
Preorder Links
Excerpt
āHELLO?ā
I donāt know why I thought speaking would be a good idea. Iām covered in sweat even though itās only five to nine and the day hasnāt even started. Iām not late, but Iām cutting it close for a first day. The officeāthe studio, itās hardly an officeāseems empty. Iām pleasantly surprised. I should be able to go to the bathroom and wash my face, maybe straighten up my hair. I just wish I had product on me.
āHello.ā
I turn around to see where the baritone voice is coming from. A man stands in front of me in the hallway. I canāt seem to stop staring at him. I donāt know whyāheās not even my type. Heās thin and tall, with sculptured cheekbones and pointy ears. His eyes are green and steely, incredibly intense. His arms are crossed over his chest. Heās wearing a denim vest and jeans, but he somehow manages to pull it off. I look up at his face again and this time notice his mohawk. Itās understated, for a mohawk, so thatās not saying much.
I guess it makes sense heās not dressed up. This is an art studio, not an office.
He lets me finish staring at him before he smirks. Then he looks down and takes a cigarette out of his jacket pocket.
No way, I tell myself. Your luck is never this good.
I need to say something. The silence is stretching out and he seems to be enjoying it. Iām not enjoying it at all. I can feel my cheeks starting to redden as I stand in front of him.
āIām Damien,ā I say.
āNice name,ā he replies. Heās holding the unlit cigarette between his fingers. He fumbles for his lighter and takes a long drag as he lights up.
I look around, wondering who he is. Is this a test? Am I supposed to be telling him he canāt smoke inside?
He turns his face so he blows the smoke away from mine. āIām sorry,ā he says, his smile widening. āItās my last one.ā
Itās probably impolite to tell him I didnāt want a cigarette in the first place. āThatās okay.ā
He narrows his eyes. āYouāre new here, right?ā
āYes,ā I reply. āToday is my first day.ā
āIām meant to show you around,ā he says. āIām John.ā
āNice to meet you.ā
āAlright.ā He finishes his cigarette, stubs it out with his fingers, and throws it in the bin in the hallway. āThis is the hallway. Thatās the main room, youāre not really allowed in there, and the bathroom is on the other end of the building.ā
That was a terrible tour. And I want to ask where everyone is, but Iām not going to. John may be my boss, for all I know, and I donāt want him to think Iām incompetent. āThanks.ā
āYeah,ā he says. He hasnāt stopped looking at me, right at my face, at all, ever since he started to speak, and I feel a little uncomfortable. āPeople come in and out of here all the time. Get used to that.ā
āOkay.ā I donāt know what else Iām supposed to say.
He looks me up and down for the first time. I feel a little breathless when his gaze falls from my face, like Iāve just been released from something. āWhat are you wearing?ā
āUm,ā I say and look down at my outfit. Iām sure itās office appropriate, but heās making me doubt myself. I canāt place his tone either. Itās half-amused, half-baffled, all snide. āBusiness casual?ā
āYou look like an Italian prostitute,ā he says.
āIāwhat?ā
āYou look like an Italian prostitute,ā he repeats. He knows Iāve heard him, and heās smirking now, though his tone has changed. I wouldnāt go as far as to say that it softened, but itās less jagged. More like the kind of ribbing Iād expect from a friend, instead of an insult from the person who could be my boss.
I donāt know what heās talking about. Iām wearing a blue button-up shirt, dark trousers, a brown belt, and boots to match. I know this outfit looks good. Well, I knew the outfit looked good until about a second ago.
Iām offended. I know that heās enjoying that I am, so I canāt let him see it. āLike a very expensive Italian prostitute,ā I correct him.
Iām trying to make sure my voice doesnāt waver, but I still sound younger than I intend. I feel very small compared to this person, even though heās seems to be only a few years older than me.
Five, at a push.
Heās got nothing on Levi.
His smile widens. His teeth are thin and long, and his canines especially are mismatched with the rest of his mouth. They make him look feral. So fucking sexy.
I tell myself to stop being ridiculous.
He crosses his arms and leans back on the wall. I didnāt even realize that there was a wall next to him. It seems to have appeared specifically for the purpose of having him lean on it, looking all James Dean and punk, and making me feel like an idiot. āDid your girlfriend buy those clothes for you?ā
āNo.ā I swallow. I need to get a grip on myself. This isnāt going anywhere. If itās his idea of flirting, itās pretty bad, and I donāt understand how or why it seems to be working on me. Iām blushing and I hate myself for it. I need to get a grip, reel the situation in. āMy boyfriend helped, though.ā
He knits his eyebrows, looking slightly taken aback by that. Maybe he is interested, but it doesnāt matter. It doesnāt matter how good he looks, heās too much of a dick for me to want anything to do with him. Totally. Yes, thatās it. Heās too much of a dick and I can do so much better than him. He looks so much like a character from a John Hughes production, all mismatched and hot in a weird, uncomfortable way. And of course thereās Levi.
Of course thereās Levi. Whom I seem to have forgotten about until now.
āYou have a boyfriend?ā
āYes. Well, kind of. Itās complicated,ā I say. I think I see a twinge of jealousy in his expression, but I canāt be sure. Mostly he just seems surprised, his mouth still half-open, his eyes shining. Thereās something else there, but I canāt place it. Whatever it is, itās making me blush. A lot. I can feel how hot my cheeks are, again, even redder that they were before.
āWhat about you? Anyone special in your life?ā
He laughs at that. His laughter isnāt what I was expecting at allāitās lilted and it sounds sincere. His eyes close. He throws his head back and his mohawk, his ridiculous understated mohawk, moves just a little bit. I wonder how he gets it to stay like that. I want to ask him if I can touch it. If I can touch him.
āNo,ā he replies, and for a second I think he can read my mind. He stops laughing then and sets his gaze on me again, on my face. āIām not cut out for relationships.ā
I can see that, I think. I almost say it, but I donāt. Instead I watch him until he speaks. āRight. Better get back to work.ā
Author Bio
Lina Langley is a first-generation immigrant. She currently lives in sunny Florida and spends her time slashing hot strangers while getting coffee.
Her past is haunted by spies, thieves, tyrants, and murderers. A resident of the world, sheās lived on three different continents. She first saw a radiator when she was twenty-two years old, and one time she followed a cat instead of going to a house party.
She likes to read, watch TV, and play video games when sheās not developing them. The rest of her free time is spent recreating her own characters in The Sims and hoping that people donāt look at the back end of her games.
WEBSITE: http://linalangley.com
MAILING LIST (FREE STORY) : http://eepurl.com/b1RDK5