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: Sedonia Guillone wanted to be an author since the age of six when she first volunteered in the school library and the librarian had to put a limit on how many times she checked out her favorite books. Then at sixteen, a short story she wrote won honorable mention in a contest by the National League of American Pen Women and there was no stopping her. Since then, her first M/M mystery/suspense, His Beautiful Samurai, was nominated for a Gaylactic Spectrum Award and has been required reading in a college gay and lesbian literature course. Her M/M romance, Men of Tokyo: Sudden Bliss won a Rainbow Awards honorable mention in the Contemporary category and her historical romance, Lady of Two Lairds was a finalist for The Romance Studio’s Cupid and Psyche Awards and A Passionate Plume Ink Chapter of Romance Writers of America. When she’s not writing, she’s baking something, talking baby talk to her two cats, Iroh and Zuko and hiking in the woods of Maine with her partner.
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sedoniaguillone/
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Sedonia-Guillone/author/B002ES79VE
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/915705.Sedonia_Guillone
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sedonia-guillone
Thanks so much, Sedonia, for joining me!
J. Scott Coatsworth: How would you describe your writing style/genre?
Sedonia Guillone: My writing genre has evolved over the years. When I started writing M/M romance, my work fit strictly into the requirements of the romance genre and those titles are still in print. Since I’ve begun writing the Michael DiSanto, Profiler/Ghosthealer series, my work has become more of a blend of YA crossover, LGBT, suspense, paranormal/supernatural with romance elements. There is a romance between Michael and Kiku Fujimara from Tokyo that begins in Book 2 of the series, The Boy Who Loved Ghosts and is a thread wound through and evolving in the subsequent books but it’s part of Michael’s life and not the sole focus of the novels, and so isn’t strictly romance.
JSC: What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done in the name of research?
SG: Well, I suppose there are weirder things one could do in the name of research, but if the FBI ever confiscated my laptop, they would definitely find research on the dark Web for paid assassins and people who claim to have had romantic relationships with a series of incucbuses. So, yeah, I guess that falls well into the category of weird.
JSC: Do you ever base your characters on real people? If so, what are the pitfalls you’ve run into doing so?
SG: I most definitely base many of my characters on real people. Often, those characters are a mashup of the real person with fictional adjustments in appearance and with some added personality characteristics that make them not totally recognizable to anyone who might have known them. However, in my last release, there is a character in there based on someone who was for me, in life, very painful for the most part and who I sort of came for in the book. It was something I needed to do as a catharsis and I will do it again as needed. Mostly, however, I cull the the likenesses to real people in my books in people I admire and love. So if a reader finds a character admirable and lovable, I can pretty much guarantee, they’re being drawn to what’s real in a person in my life.
As far as pitfalls of basing characters on real life people, I can’t say I’ve encountered any. I do what feels needed and organic and it works out.
JSC: Are there underrepresented groups or ideas featured in The Boy on the Lawn?
SG: Yes. The main character, Michael DiSanto, as an Asian American gay teenager is an underrepresented group. Just for a little background: His character first bubbled up in my imagination as a side character in His Beautiful Samurai back in 2006. He doesn’t actually appear in the book but he had had a relationship with the main character, Inspector Toshiro Genjin with whom he still maintains a friendship and are occasionally colleagues. Then in 2010, I wrote Acts of Passion, giving Michael his own romance story. However, he was still incomplete, with a backstory of having miraculously found his missing brother. This plot marinated in my imagination for several years while I was distracted by needing to ghostwrite and do other freelancing projects for income. When I came back to it, I fell in love with Michael and have since devoted my writing to telling the complete arc of his whole life leading up to Acts of Passion.
I didn’t set out deliberately to create more representation because I was writing a character who, for me, was a complete labor of love. However, fleshing out his personality, his family and his world, set in 1985 in Berkeley, CA, and having made him the same age as me (Gen X), knowing how much less of a conversation on race, and being gay and having a mother and grandparents who’d been incarcerated in a Japanese American concentration camp back in World War Two, I knew there was a chance to discuss such things through this world and put my foot on the gas. Michael is brilliant, sensitive and observant and so through him as he discovers his supernatural powers and helps people, both living and dead, I can bring into focus all the crimes that have gone unpunished because of power imbalances: racism, child sexual abuse, war crimes, violence against women, Vietnam and the lack of resources for returning vets to name a few.
JSC: What is the most heartfelt thing a reader has said to you?
SG: I’ve been fortunate to have a number of instances where readers have given me the most encouraging warm praise, shown themselves to be superfans, ride or die readers and for them, I keep going in times I feel discouraged. But the one thing that jumps out at that question is a letter I got in my email many years ago from a woman who told me my books helped get her through a total collapse of her life after a bad accident got her addicted to pain pills. I couldn’t believe that my work had touched someone so deeply as to bring them comfort to a degree like that. I felt like my purpose has been fulfilled as an author and I keep writing because I know that no matter what, there are people out there whose lives are touched by words I’ve written and if it reduced their suffering, even a little, there’s nothing better than that.
JSC: What tools do you feel are must-haves for writers?
SG: Coffee, quiet time, and music that evokes the emotions needed for any particular scene.
JSC: Tell us one thing about them that we don’t learn from The Boy on the Lawn, the secret in their past.
SG: Ha, I like this question. I deal a lot with secrets in the past with characters. This series has a healthy supply of them and the series releases those secrets like a trail of delicious little Easter eggs and so to name any of them here would be a spoiler. <evil grin>
JSC: What inspired you to write this particular story? What were the challenges in bringing it to life?
SG: So, I mentioned in another question, that Michael began as a side character in my first M/M romantic suspense. However, the original inspiration for Michael was Tony Hill, the genius, strange profiler from Val McDermid’s series, Wire in the Blood. I just was nuts for Tony Hill’s brilliance and quirkiness, portrayed in the TV series version by Robson Green, and had to base a character off of him. However, over the years, as my own emotional world grew and changed, I found that Michael, too, was not the person I’d written back in 2010. The Michael that was real is much more emotionally open and loving. So when I began writing The Boy on the Lawn, Michael’s nature and personality began to present itself to me. He is bold, brash, stubborn, super smart, kind-hearted, rude when he needs to be, and unapologetic about his orientation and his ethnicity in the face of racism. The challenges of bringing Michael to life has basically been one of patience with my own process, allowing the time to dig as deep as I could and do LOTS and LOTS of revising as the story and character evolved. Now, this series has become my writing commitment for as long as it takes. I finished writing this book back in 2021, originally released it in 2022 and am working on Book 4 as we speak in this spotlight.
JSC: What secondary character would you like to explore more? Tell me about them.
SG: In writing Book 4, a character has emerged, a relative of Michael’s (I can’t say too much about that part since it’s one of the secrets of a character’s past), Sebastien, who’s a powerful exorcist, a secret agent, gorgeous and strange, a mash up of characters I love, Sebastian from the famous anime, Black Butler, and Constantine, with a dash of James Bond thrown in. He’s proving to need his own book, and the plotting is already marinating in my brain pan.
JSC: Let’s talk to your characters for a minute – what’s it like to work for such a demanding writer?
SG: Michael – Sedonia puts me through a lot of shit. What does she want from me? How much pain and loss can I take? And how many superpowers is she going to imbue me with so that I’m guaranteed never to lead a normal life? At least she’s giving me an awesome family, good looks and the most gorgeous sweet boyfriend I could ever ask for, but damn, she’s messing with us there too, throwing every manner of obstacle between us. She’s going to make us really work and get over our egos in order to earn our HEA. Damn her. Damn her. But. I guess, I wouldn’t want it to be different, either.
JSC: What’s your core motivation in this book?
SG: Love. The love of wanting to expose issues, confront them through a character who’s sensitive and willing to do whatever it takes to help people who are suffering.
And now for Sedonia’s latest book: The Boy on the Lawn:
When his younger brother disappears off their lawn during an innocent game of catch and no one believes Stevie didn’t just run off, sixteen-year-old Michael DiSanto is forced to take on the search himself. No one, neither his parents nor the police officer who answers the dispatch call can fathom that Stevie could have been kidnapped in the mere few seconds Michael took to grab change for the oncoming ice cream truck. But they don’t know Stevie or have faith in him as Michael does, seeing beneath the label of “special” that society has branded Stevie with, a label that covers a depth of power. A power, as Michael will soon find out, is shared between brothers.
When more Asian boys go missing in surrounding Berkeley, California neighborhoods, Michael finds he can slip into cracks and crevices of the investigation that the police can’t, making himself the boys’ only real hope for survival. Yet, he soon finds that his relentless search is drawing him into the orbit of a deadly enemy, one that will stop at nothing to keep secrets, for whom nothing is sacred, not even the lives of children, including Michael’s.
“A well-done book of suspense with a paranormal edge and a gay protagonist, it’s what the reading world needs right now!” – Neil S. Plakcy, Lambda Award winning author of mystery and MM Romance
Amazon
Excerpt
As I’d guessed, the person at the door was Asano-san a member of Jiji’s personal business and social network of he’d built up over the decades and which often proved a very reliable source of breaking news in the Asian communities around Berkeley, often before it even reached the local papers. From what I overheard, an eight-year old boy named Johnny Chang disappeared from the playground in a public park at the end of his street after a small fire someone had described as “sounding like fireworks” had erupted in one of the park’s trash cans. In the ensuing chaos, Johnny vanished, right from under the nose of his babysitter.
I heard Jiji thank Asano-san for the swift update and close the door. I dipped out of sight as Jiji entered the house from the porch, so he wouldn’t know I’d been eavesdropping. I waited until he returned to the kitchen to go in. However, as soon as he saw me, he looked guilty. “I didn’t mean for you to hear my conversation with Frank,” he said.
I sighed. There was no point trying to hide it. He had always read my face with eerie accuracy, like he’d just done. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have listened.”
“It’s okay. It’s just that with what you and Stevie have just been through, I didn’t want you to be distressed again.”
I came up to the counter and stood with him. “Maybe he’ll be returned later today too, like Stevie was.”
Jiji nodded and turned back to the pot of noodles he’d been stirring and turned off the stove. “Perhaps.”
I spent the time until dinner, painstakingly writing down every detail of Stevie’s disappearance, as if I were making a statement for the police, and then put that next to a written record that I would keep of Johnny’s disappearance as the details became available. It could not be a coincidence that both boys had disappeared within twenty-four hours of each other and I prayed that Johnny, too, would reappear the way Stevie had, unharmed, if groggy from drugs.
After dinner, Stevie asked me to watch Spiderman with him. I couldn’t refuse even though next to him on the sofa, I found my foot tapping, restless because I wanted to be making my notes and thinking.
Finally, I was able to urge him off to bed so I could pace. The space between my desk and the end of our two platform beds became the outlet to the panicked, fervent energy swirling in me. After what I’d experienced while Stevie was gone, I had only sympathy for Johnny Chang’s parents. The child’s own terror was unimaginable to me and I felt only a driving need to find him should he not be returned tonight the way Stevie had been the night before.
Jiji checked in on us, encouraging me to try and get some sleep. He promised to get me up if he heard any new development concerning the little boy. I told him I would try to sleep soon, though I didn’t see how I’d be able to. I sat down again at my desk, reading and re-reading what I’d written, checking it for anything I may have missed. I even added my two exchanges with Officer Petersen, down to every detail, including his expression as I’d explained why I was so sure someone had grabbed Stevie. The same blank, suspicious look people wore when they couldn’t fathom my explanations about Stevie’s dependence on me.
I must have fallen asleep at some point after sitting back down at my desk, because a pressure on my shoulder caused my eyes to open. My head was resting on my arm and my shoulders practically groaned from having slept with both arms folded on the hard desk. When I sat up, Jiji was standing beside me with a cup of tea, which he set down on the desk.
I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock. It was nearly eleven. “I slept so late!” I lamented. “I needed to get up hours ago to keep an eye on the news.”
“I’m sorry, Michael. You needed your rest.” Jiji patted my shoulder. “Have this tea and then come in. I made you an omelet. There is something to tell you, but take care of yourself first.” Before I could say anything, he turned and left.
Stevie was sitting on his bed. “Hi, sleepyhead,” he said.
I looked at him. Since when did he know that expression, much less use it? “Hi. Did you have breakfast already?”
He smiled. “Of course I did. Hours ago! Jiji made me an omelet too.”
I scratched my head and stood up, stretching. “Since when do you like omelets instead of Cap’n Crunch?”
“Since today. I’m going to be more like you and I know you don’t like that cereal anymore. I see your face when you eat it. Like it’s worms.” He giggled.
“True enough. I don’t like it anymore,” I said. I went up to him and peered down into his eyes. They did look clearer even though his skin was paler than usual. “We’ll go sit in the yard today for a while, Stevie,” I told him. “Some fresh air would be good.”
“Whatever you say, Mikey.”
I sipped the tea Jiji had left me and ran a brush through my hair so I’d look like I’d made a bit of effort. My hair was shorter around the sides and the top was thick and naturally curved itself into a quiff so it always looked a bit unruly anyway. That was as good as it would get. “Stevie, did you pick your color for today? What color is today?”
He looked at me. “I don’t need that anymore, Mikey. I’ve outgrown it. I want to be smart and brave now, like you.”
The words were like a psychic slap. There was no physical sensation yet I couldn’t respond. I blinked several times and took a deep breath before I could say anything. “Seriously?”
He nodded, once, a resolute downward tilt and then folded his arms across his chest. “Seriously.”
My eyes suddenly stung and felt hot. I fought the sensation back. I didn’t want him to see the effect his declaration was having on me. “Okay. Let’s go then.”
Stevie followed me into the kitchen and sat across from me. I wasn’t really hungry but Jiji seemed to be using the giving of updates in exchange for me taking care of myself. Jiji had already put the plate on the table for me and I had to admit, the scent did tempt me. He sat down with me, poured us each some tea and waited until I’d finished a few bites of food first before letting me ask him anything.
“So Johnny Chang is still missing?”
Jiji nodded, sadly. “Yes. But this morning, a set of child’s clothing was found on one of the benches in the park that the child disappeared from.”
“Oh my God.”
“There’s more. The clothes were laundered and neatly folded with Johnny Chang’s name on a piece of paper safety-pinned to the shirt. Everything was there, down to the socks and underwear, shoes, and some items that had been in Johnny’s pockets, a handful of pennies and a seashell.”
I stared at him. “What the hell?”
Jiji nodded. “That was my first thought as well when Ito-kun told me this.”
Jiji was referring to Detective Kenneth Ito, his former student. Jiji mentioned him over the years, updating me on Ito’s life. Ito-kun got married. Ito’s wife gave birth to twin daughters. Ito was the youngest officer to make detective at the Berkeley Police Department. Always with great pride in his voice.
“This is a nightmare,” I said.
He nodded. “Yes. A child missing is a nightmare beyond all others.”
“Mikey, I’m going to go read my comics, okay?”
I looked at Stevie. “Of course, I’ll see you soon.”
He scooted his chair back and hurried out.
My stomach clenched. “Oh god, I probably should have asked him to go out before we started talking about it. I’m so careless and stupid.”
“It’s all right, Michael,” Jiji said. “He’ll be fine.” He cleared his throat and took another sip of his tea. “Don’t forget to eat more.”
I obliged him by taking a few more bites while I reflected on this development. ‟Why return the clothes?” I asked him.
He shook his head, mystified.
“Was there any clue in the note that would lead them to the kidnappers?”
“Not as yet that I’ve heard.”
“And nothing else from the crime scene itself?”
“It’s still under examination.”
“Okay.” That emotionally itchy feeling that was fast becoming a steady companion was gnawing at me now. Like a whisper in the base of my skull, telling me the criminals were teasing me, their trail daring me to follow them. To find them. And I was powerless not to grasp at their bait. “Why neatly fold the clothes and return them? And how did no one see that happen?”
Jiji sighed. “It’s strange,” he said softly, the pad of his index finger tracing the rim of his tea cup. “I remember back in Tule Lake. Your baba would wash our clothes when there was enough water and then hang them to a dry on a line I’d strung across our little cubby hole of a room. Something about the clothes hanging to dry, the order of washing them and then taking them down to fold brought a certain comfort. In the madness and cruelty there was something to touch on, a taste of normalcy.”
I was quiet, listening. Jiji did not like speaking about that period and aside from the day he’d explained the details behind Stevie’s outburst years ago, he preferred not to. Nor did he speak but only occasionally of our grandmother, pained as he still felt for causing her to suffer.
“A woman,” I said after he fell quiet. “A woman washed and folded the clothes. And she might just blend in with her surroundings in a way no one noticed her. So she could very well have just left the pile of clothes on the bench and walked away in the early hours, before there were people in the park.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Jiji answered.
“But why leave the paper with his name on it? It’s as if they want to be caught.”
Jiji nodded. “Or want to taunt the police, as if they’re too smart to get caught. That is often a characteristic of certain crimes.”
I sat up straighter and faced him. “Or, they’re having a crisis of conscience and that’s their way of getting caught somehow.”
Jiji looked at me, his tea cup halfway to his lips. “That could be.”
“Jiji, do you think we could go to the park and look at the crime scene?”
“Really?” He set his cup down. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“Yes.” The emotional itch was too strong now and I knew I’d go crazy trying to stay in the house, useless. I also knew Jiji would feel better if I wasn’t alone. And maybe I would too. “Of course, I know we can’t get up really close, but I…”
“It’s all right. Finish breakfast and then we can go.”
“Okay.” I thought then of telling Jiji about Stevie’s having abandoned his candy ritual, but found I couldn’t say the words, so I worked on finishing my food so we could get onto the park.