A SHIMMERING BLUE

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Haze covers the town,

but please do not frown.

Secrets are concealed.

The Dead are revealed.

We come in the fog.

The mist we don’t hog.

We’ll share it with you,

a shimmering blue.

The moon shines its glare

on those who come here.

Frolic in the night.

Just keep out of sight.

 

THE DEAD GAME

 

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HERE IS MY INTERVIEW WITH SUSANNE LEIST BY FIONA MCVIE

 

Let’s get you introduced to everyone, shall we? Tell us your name. What is your age?

Hello. My name is Susanne Leist. Do I have to give my age? Okay, I’m 59 years old.

Fiona: Where are you from?

I’m from Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn.

Fiona: A little about your self (ie,  your education, family life, etc.).

I have an M.B.A. in Finance. I worked as a financial analyst in the commodities markets and then as a budget analyst. Later in life, I turned to writing. I have two daughters, both married. I live on Long Island with my husband, Maltese dog, and dwarf bunny (who belongs to my younger daughter. Poor Thumper.)

Fiona: Tell us your latest news.

I’ve recently completed book two of The Dead Game series. The first book resolved the murder mystery, but at the same time, opened a Pandora box of new problems. Its surprise ending leads us to book two.

The second book takes the heroine, Linda, and her friends on a chase through Florida from a private club in Disney World to the swamps of Southern Florida. In its wake, a trail of dead bodies leaves their bloody signature.

Book two should be released this summer. That is if I can stop editing before I send it to the editor.

Fiona: When and why did you begin writing?

I’ve always loved to read books. I grew up reading all types of thrillers and mysteries, from Agatha Christie to Sherlock Holmes. Except for Agatha Christie’s novels, I’ve been able to figure out the endings. Then one day, I decided to write a book of my own, to play with clues like the famous authors, and create a surprise ending. I wanted to be like Jessica Fletcher, played by Angela Lansbury, in Murder She Wrote.

After I wrote The Dead Game, my fantasy came true. I wasn’t so concerned with profits as I was with having people read my words. After I sold the first book, I was on Cloud Nine thinking about someone somewhere reading my story.

Fiona: When did you first consider yourself a writer?

I still don’t know if I consider myself a writer. I’m a dabbler. I dabbled in Finance, then Marketing, and now writing prose and poetry. Once I published my book, I felt more like a writer than before.

Fiona: What inspired you to write your first book?

I wanted to write a book that combined paranormal with mystery. This type of literature is hard to find. I decided to write a paranormal, murder mystery of my own. My book, The Dead Game, has dead bodies and suspects like a traditional murder mystery. However, it also has humans, vampires, and vampire derivatives. And don’t forget the haunted house—we must have one of these.

Fiona: How did you come up with the title?

The Dead play an essential part in the book.  Since they enjoy playing evil games to the detriment of the residents of Oasis, I called it The Dead Game.

Fiona: Do you have a specific writing style? Is there anything about your style or genre that you find particularly challenging?

I write what I feel inside. I keep writing until my fingers hurt and my eyes get blurry. Then I edit and edit. Editing is challenging, and I don’t know when to stop.

Fiona: How much of the book is realistic and are experiences based on someone you know, or events in your own life?

The book isn’t based on reality in any way, shape, or form. The story and characters evolved from my overactive imagination.

Fiona: To craft your works, do you have to travel? Before or during the process?

I travel through the strange ideas in my mind. I use the computer to check up on places and events.

Fiona: Who designed the covers?

I designed it with Outskirts Press. I asked for a door with a hand holding it open, and blood dripping out. They didn’t have it in stock. So we agreed upon the door with fire around it.The door plays a significant role in my book.

Fiona: Do you see writing as a career?

I can now say I’m a full-time writer. I pen my poetry on my blogs and AuthorsDen.com. After I publish my second book, I’ll work on the third one in the series.

Fiona: If you had to do it all over again, would you change anything in your latest book?

I learned a lot from the reviews on my book. I wouldn’t have written in multiple points of view, which can confuse readers. My second book is written basically in one point of view with a few other points of view thrown in as needed along the way.

Fiona: Did you learn anything during the writing of your recent book?

I now know to have everything in place before my book is released. The Dead Game first sat on Amazon and Barnes & Noble without a by-line or an author bio. Outskirts Press didn’t prepare me. I had to hurry to compose descriptions and open blogs. I quickly learned about Facebook, Twitter, and Google as social sites to share my book. The first month was hectic. I know better this time around.

Fiona: If your book was made into a film, who would you like to play the lead?

Linda is sensitive and loves to read. She is a good and loyal friend. KatharineMcPhee, Natalie Portman or Emily Blunt would be great leading women.

Fiona: Any advice for other writers?

Have all your social media, blogs, descriptions, and everything else in place before you release your book. Announce the arrival of your book in advance to raise readers’ expectations before the big event.

Fiona: Anything specific you want to tell your readers?

The most important thing I want for you is to enjoy my story and let it take you away from the mundane to a world of adventure and where the impossible becomes possible.

Fiona: What book are you reading now?

I just finished Lisa Unger’s book, Crazy Love You. It’s a psychological thriller like Gone Girl. I expected more from Gone Girl after all the hype. Crazy Love You also delivers a story that is slow and predictable.

Fiona: Do you remember the first book you read?

My first grown-up book was the Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie. My brother was an avid reader, and I read what he did.

Fiona: What makes you laugh/cry?

The TV show, Mom, makes me laugh. If anything happens to an animal in a movie, on TV, or on social media, I’m a crying mess.

Fiona: Is there one person, past or present, you would love to meet? Why?

I would love to meet Angela Lansbury. Need I say more?

Fiona: Do you have any hobbies?

Shopping and swimming in that order.

Fiona: What TV shows/films do you enjoy watching?

I enjoy Supernatural, The Originals, Deception, Riverdale, Mom, and Timeless.

Fiona: Favorite foods, colors,  music?

Pizza. Purple. Soft music.

Fiona: Imagine a future where you no longer write. What would you do?

I can’t imagine that. How much shopping and swimming can I do?

Fiona: You only have 24 hours to live how would you spend that time?

Travelling as much of the world as I can.

Fiona: What do you want written on your head stone?

She tried her best. I just made this up.

Fiona: Do you have a blog or website readers can visit for updates, events and special offers?

Website   https://susanneleist.com

Blog https://susanneleist.wordpress.com

Amazon authors page https://www.amazon.com/Susanne-Leist/e/B00F253FE6/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1525078784&sr=1-2-ent

 

authorsinterviews

Hello and welcome to my blog, Author Interviews. My name is Fiona Mcvie.

 

Let’s get you introduced to everyone, shall we? Tell us your name. What is your age?

Hello. My name is Susanne Leist. Do I have to give my age? Okay, I’m 59 years old.

Fiona: Where are you from?

I’m from Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn.

Fiona: A little about your self (ie,  your education, family life, etc.).

I have an M.B.A. in Finance. I worked as a financial analyst in the commodities markets and then as a budget analyst. Later in life, I turned to writing. I have two daughters, both married. I live on Long Island with my husband, Maltese dog, and dwarf bunny (who belongs to my younger daughter. Poor Thumper.)

Fiona: Tell us your latest news.

I’ve recently completed book two of The Dead Game series. The first book resolved the murder mystery, but…

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WE OPEN AT SUNSET

1 we open at sunset

“we open at sunset.”

 

Why open at sunset?

Why wait until your flowers are dried out 

from being in the sun all day?

Is the store an after work hobby?

In my mind’s eye, I can see the owner.

The sun is low in the deepening blue sky.

The young man pedals quickly on his bicycle

and parks below the red and white striped awning.

The dark-haired man rushes to his plants 

who lie before him wilting.

He grabs them and brings them inside.

I cross the street and peek into the window.

The man tends to the leaves with a fine mister,

then soaks their dirt with a yellow watering can.

He lines them up on the table beneath the window,

rearranging them by size from smallest to tallest.

Before my shocked eyes, the plants stand straighter.

The leaves spread out to hold each other’s hands.

The man steps back with a happy expression on his face.

Our eyes meet through the glass.

He holds my gaze before turning away.

He’s seen me.

His eyes seek mine.

I hold my breath.

A slow smile wings across his face,

dimpling his plump cheeks.

His hand waves for me to enter.

I pull open the glass door as the bell chimes.

The fragrant scent of flowers wafts to my nose

from the shelves of plants around the small room.

I stand beside the tall and handsome man.

Together we watch the plants as they stretch their stems

to the sun streaming through the window.

I whisper, “Why did you wait a whole day to water them?”

He faces me. “That is the way.”

I scrunch my nose as I glance up. “What way?”

He smiles, and his dimples reappear. “The way of the prior owner who told

me to water them only at sunset, and that I should never forget.”

I shrugged. “What would happen if you forgot?”

His stare takes on a faraway look. “These are special plants that must be

watered the same time every day or else they will die.”

“Amazing,” I murmur.

The setting sun lights the plants with an orange glow.

The sun retreats to its bed for the night.

The plants follow suit and drop hands, their leaves standing up straight.

“What happens now?” I ask.

He smiles. “They go to sleep.”

“Sweet.”

His dark blue gaze falls on me. “Would you like to accompany me 

to dinner this evening?”

My head pops up. “Will you explain more about the plants?”

His dimples deepen. “Of course. And we can share our names.”

I giggled. “That’s right. I don’t know yours.”

“But I know yours, Amy.”

“How–?”

He takes my arm and places it in the crook of his. “All will be explained.”

To be continued

MY STORY

All stories have an end.
This is mine.
I live behind this door.
No one visits.
As footsteps draw near,
I look out the peephole.
I never answer the bell.
I slink away into my dungeon
of lost hopes and dreams.
Neighbors stay away.
Family doesn’t...

(Source: melisica)

 

 

 

All stories have an end.

This is mine.

I live behind this door.

No one visits.

As footsteps draw near,

I look out the peephole.

I never answer the bell.

I slink away into my dungeon

of lost hopes and dreams.

Neighbors stay away.

My family doesn’t care.

Would you?

 

 

DARE TO DREAM

I want to look at the night,
Gaze out into the unknown.
Dare to dream of flight,
A dream of being unknown.

When night comes softly
On feet as light as air,
I can see more clearly
Of what I can dare.

Alone on this hilltop
With the embracing cold,
I will leap past boundaries
That I have created of my own.

Darkness hides all secrets
Beneath its cloak of despair.
Secrets that lie safe and secure
Under the cloak of my hair.

At night I can roam free
Without the hindrance of others.
I can leap over castle walls,
Past the slombering mothers.

Looking down at all below me,
Sleeping in their beds of down,
I can see how I am different
As my eyes sweep the town.

DOES CURIOSITY ALWAYS KILL THE CAT?

1 Curiosity

DOES CURIOSITY ALWAYS KILL THE CAT?

My heart pumps fear through my veins,

bringing me anguish and pains.

Why must I be the curious one?

The one who can’t let the deed be done.

I must follow the noises to the basement,

where something is making an awful statement.

A voice called to me from my rumpled bed.

The sound echoed endlessly in my head.

I descend the stairs to the darkness below.

The noises combine to form a loud bellow.

A hiss hits my ear as claws rake my arm.

​My silly cat thinks I mean him some harm.

I offer soothing words but he wants to flee

just as the door shuts and locks behind me.

The light bulb goes out leaving me in the dark.

Do I now hear a dog’s whimper and shrill bark?

Chills taunt me as I go down the dark stairs,

following the whimpering and stray hairs.

Feathers float in front of me.

I don’t know what this can be.

I step on something squishy and soft.

I find a light and hold it aloft.

I lift my foot and the tail retreats

to the chair where it has hidden treats.

With the bright lantern held high,

I search for the source of a sigh.

My neighbor sits with her panting pals

of the furry sort in guys and gals.

“Am I also welcome to the party?”

I ask the pig-tailed girl, laughing hearty.

She replies, “Of course, you are, my dear neighbor,”

A point she refuses to belabor.

I join the circle on the floor,

as the cats and dogs eat some more.

Cake and cookies for all the guests,

even ones who have been great pests.

My black cat joins in with tail held high,

sniffing at the desserts and brown pie.

At least this story has a happy ending.

No one wants another tale to be pending.

HAMMOCK

No automatic alt text available.

 

Calming blue waters.

Soft white sand.

Reclining on a hammock.

Enjoying the sunshine.

The bright blue sky.

The quiet.

Until—

Darkness descends upon us.

The trade winds turn violent.

Sand flies in our faces.

Rooftops fly above our heads.

We make a mad dash to town.

The sun hides her face.

Lightning joins the winds.

Where to hide?

The Town Hall waits.

Its front door stands open.

Inside is dark and quiet.

What awaits us now?

Windows shatter.

Shrieks fill the rooms.

Shadows fly by the tall windows.

We’re doomed.

 

THE DEAD GAME

THE SEARCH

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THE SEARCH

In the quiet summer night,

Light shining from a great height,

A search until morning light.

We hold strong with all our might

That we find what we’re searching for,

Before night ends and shuts the door.

We need to find her before it’s too late.

We refuse to leave this up to mere fate.

A shout, a cry is heard in the dark.

It must be her alone in the park.

The light shines on her pretty face.

She sees us and picks up her pace.

She is crying and laughing at the same time.

A perfect ending to this story of mine.

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