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****Deborah Riley-Magnus’s THE ORPHANS BOOK
ONE: THE LOST RACE TRILOGY is
#63 in the never-ending series called INSIDE THE EMOTION OF FICTION where
the Chris Rice Cooper Blog (CRC)
focuses on one specific excerpt from a fiction genre and how that fiction
writer wrote that specific excerpt. All INSIDE THE EMOTION OF FICTION links
are at the end of this piece.
Name of fiction work? And were there other names you considered that you would like to share with us? This is my newest fiction. THE ORPHANS, Book One of The Lost Race Trilogy. When I write, oddly the titles come to me first, even before I have a clear idea of the story attached. Book one was always going to be titled THE ORPHANS. Book two, scheduled for release in November of 2019 is entitled METARTRON’S DAUGHTERS, and book three will be called REBUILDING ATLANTIS.
Fiction genre? Ex science fiction, short
story, fantasy novella, romance, drama, crime, plays, flash fiction,
historical, comedy, movie script, screenplay, etc. And how many pages long?
THE ORPHANS, and
the entire Lost Race Trilogy is a dark paranormal urban fantasy. It is 100,000
words long, 353 pages and includes a sneak peek chapter one of METETRON’S
DAUGHTERS.
Has this been published? And it is
totally fine if the answer is no. If yes, what publisher and what publication
date? The book is published through my
publishing company, Little Pen Press, released on November 27, 2018,
What is the date you began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of fiction? I began writing this first book in the trilogy two and a half years before it was finally published. The book traveled through several publication options and two interested literary agent hands before I chose to publish through my own company. After that, cover design, professional editing, and finally book design. I had already begun book two and outlined book three before THE ORPHANS
was released.
Where did you do most of your writing
for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. My home office
is a delight for me, all year long. I live in beautiful Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania,
on Mount Washington in a renovated Victorian house. My third-floor office
overlooks the city of Pittsburgh with a sweeping view north, east, and west. I
watch the snow and rain storms roll in, the dawn brighten the city, and listen
to the trains and boats on the tracks and rivers below. I’ve attached a picture
of my office space, but unfortunately, photography isn’t my strong suit, so you
can’t see the lovely buildings outside the window. I am blessed with this
writing space, and parts of THE
ORPHANS takes place in the city of Pittsburgh.
What were your writing habits while writing this work- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day? I also own a business where I help authors market their books for sales success, so my writing time is very precious to me. Early morning is best, it’s quiet and I can focus without distractions. I open email in the late morning and then it’s off to the marketing, teaching, coaching, and paying the bills races. It seems like a scattered focus, but I’m used to it.
Years ago, I was a
chef. During that time, I took breaks outside near the dumpsters and thought. A
lot. On those breaks I wrote dialog, developed worldbuilding and story all
inside my head. These days my breaks are a trip downstairs to refill my glass
or sit on the porch swing for a few minutes. Then, like now, when I sat at the
keyboard after a break, it’s all there, just awaiting the clacking keys.
I drink water all day,
but I’m a ravenous snacker … nuts, nut bars, an occasional cookie. While writing
THE
ORPHANS and the rest of the trilogy, I like to listen to dark music,
quiet, and setting the mood. Counting Crows radio dominates my Pandora account.
What is the summary of this specific
fiction work? THE ORPHANS, Book One of The Lost
Race Trilogy.
Hope.
Magic. Balance. The true, holiest of causes. Eighteen-year-old Gracie Caine
wants to live a simple, normal life after leaving Ariel’s Gate Orphanage. All
she has is a photographic memory and a twisted club foot, but she feels good
about herself until a shocking set of unexpected wings and a deadly war turn
her hopeful future into something very different.
She
has awakened to a secret world of angels and demons, bloody war and
terror. It’s a world unseen by humans, veiled in magic, inhabited by
breathing archangels and ancient beings, and ruled by battle strategy, money,
and power.
Realizing
that normal will never happen for the only known surviving pure Nephilim,
Gracie is set on a precarious path burdened with the duty to
protect her entire race. A promise was made in the beginning and the
Nephilim are failing miserably. Their end is near, generating serious danger to
human beings and the planet. Gracie must deal with her own fears and
limitations, the diverse elements of her race, and those who wish to destroy it
in a desperate effort to regain balance between good and evil.
Can you give the reader just enough information for them to understand what is going on in the excerpt? In this excerpt, Gracie has no idea what “Acclimation” really is, or that when it happens, it will reveal a hidden truth about herself, and all the other orphans in Ariel’s Gate Orphanage. She thinks she’s human, and believes her freedom to live a normal life awaits in thirty short days. In a brief preface prior to chapter one, an Ariel’s Gate student was found dead not far from orphanage.
Please include just one excerpt and
include page numbers as reference. This one excerpt can be as short or as long
as you prefer. Chapter One, pages 5 through 9.
I was five when my
mother brought me here. It’s how I know I really don’t belong in this place.
Ariel’s Gate is an orphanage and I’m not an orphan. At least at five, I wasn’t.
Until I turned twelve, I believed I’d get sprung, that my mom would show up at
the door and demand her daughter. I know, pretty lame, just like this place—a
boarding school for orphans, far from anything remotely normal. Yeah, that’s
the way to prepare us for the world.
Seven forty-five in the
morning. I grabbed my journal, tossed a few books over it, and slammed my
locker door closed just in time to get a prime-time view of Jenny Perkins
letting Ryan Sutcliff slip his fat fingers up her plaid wool skirt. She had
that look of rapture on her face, like she knows what ecstasy feels like. He
gave me a stupid glare. Jenny’s my roommate. I could reveal that the supermodel
pretty girl in his arms looks like a deranged woodland creature in the
mornings, but it’s not worth it. He probably likes that kinda thing. I pushed
past.
I was almost late for
class but that wasn’t my destination. I’m a pro at finding the best ways to cut
algebra and disappear into nothingness. It’s easy here. There are angels, and
probably a whole mess of devils, watching over me wherever I go. Ariel’s Gate
is not a state-run home, not a welfare facility, not sad or dilapidated. This
place is eerily spic and span and as modern as possible for such an old
building. It has a big staff of instructors, cooks, cleaning people, and
maintenance men. I guess it could have been worse.
I once saw a document on
the headmaster’s desk. He was standing outside his office door talking with his
secretary, so I read it. I read pretty fast. Remember everything I see and
hear, too. The paper said that Ariel’s Gate’s financial support comes from
unnamed patrons. Well, actually it was a bank document stating that funding to
the tune of a million dollars had been anonymously deposited into the
orphanage’s account less than a week earlier. Anonymous? I’m guessing that
means people who don’t want to be connected to the place. I asked Headmaster
Allerton why none of us ever got a shot at living with foster parents. All he
said was that we were better off here. I know two hundred student residents who
wouldn’t agree.
This orphanage has been
standing for more than a century and a half, but the most ancient thing about
this place is the name, Ariel’s Gate. Ariel is an Archangel, the patron angel
of wild animals. I think the name was chosen because someone thought Ariel was
female, motherly, and nurturing. From everything I read in the library and on
the internet, high-level Archangels were warriors. Life was great for celestial
beings back then, before humans came along and made a mess of everything. Those
fancy-named soldiers of God don’t do battle anymore. I’m pretty sure they hold
down desk jobs these days.
There are angels all
over this place. They peek over the railings and gaze down from the pillars in
the main quad. We have granite gargoyle angels and brass relief angels. There
are work rooms, lecture halls, and chapels named after archangels. They’re part
of the architecture and carved into the landscape. Their stories are etched
into the marble walls. They are stony watchers the instructors teach us about,
but most of us pay little attention to that stuff. Especially those of us so
close to leaving.
The magic number is
eighteen. Survive the boredom and limitations that long and we’re free. Yeah,
there are Acclimation courses, but those don’t even happen here so bring it on.
No more worrying about earning good-kid points for computer privileges, dealing
with limited cable and internet access, or keeping our grades high enough to
compete in or attend inter-league football or basketball games with normal
parented kids. The nearest town is ten miles away and we always lose anyway. A
little over a month, thirty-five days, and I’m free. I’m actually crossing off
the days on a stupid calendar.
I zigged and zagged, cut
through the cafeteria dedicated to Zadkial, and past Jophiel’s Hall, named for
the patron angel of the arts. None of the kids in my class can draw or paint,
but some really cool art gets created. A monster black and silver dragon made
of chicken wire and papier mâché lives there. Its massive belly is covered with
a billion folded foil liners from sticks of gum and cigarette packs. The thing
is twice as tall as me and cool as hell. It was actually shown at the tri-state
art show last year. Won second prize. Now it graces the art hall to mock us
all. Nobody wins first prize at Ariel’s Gate.
Staring at the dragon, I
almost tripped turning a corner too tightly. I’m a little creeped out. The
police have been in the Gate all morning. I never liked Tony Ibanescu but I am
sorry he’s dead. Granted, there aren’t a lot of people around here I do like,
but he was, well, just an oversized, obnoxious kid. The cops found him on a
nearby farmer’s property. I heard one of the cafeteria workers whisper that the
body was chewed up and slashed to ribbons. It made me sick enough to pass on
breakfast. We do have a few wild animals here in the wild hills of West
Virginia, but nothing I know of that could slash a big kid to shreds. Maybe a
black bear but when unthreatened, most times they just walk away. Leave it to
Tony Ibanescu it tick off a bear, or maybe the bear was rabid. We all wander
too far sometimes. I really wanted to take a walk along the stream later, just
to think alone and maybe see what I could see. Doesn’t look like that’s in the
cards. This time I’ll be following the lockdown rules. I like my skin the way
it is.
My head swung left and right, took a quick
glance behind then slipped into the Makha’el Lecture Hall. The place is
humungous, seldom used and except for special occasions, off limits to students.
It’s reserved for big lectures when people from all over the world come to hear
powerful guest speakers. The minute I discovered it, I knew it would be my safe
place, my silent place to think and write in my journal. Almost there, the
second bell hadn’t rung yet. I’d make it all the way to the pillars lining the
back of the enormous amphitheater just in time. No one would find me. The
pillars are pink carved marble, at least thirty feet high and wider than my
outstretched arms. I felt like a cat weaving through a heavenly forest of
sequoias, but my favorite pillar was just ahead.
Sweat made the hair at
the back of my neck stick to my skin but this was no time to seek comfort. I
was in the danger zone. Discovery would dump me right where I didn’t want to
be, sitting next to smelly Lenny and doing algebraic polynomial equations.
“Gracious Caine?”
Headmaster Allerton.
Busted. No point in making up a lie to get out of this one. There was no
justifiable reason on the planet for me to be there. “Uh…I…I just needed…”
The headmaster’s a big
man, usually stern, his face as hard as the statues all around me. He stepped
forward, not like he was pissed off or anything, but like someone had broken
something inside him. His steady grey eyes were rimmed red and he reached out
his hand. Patting me lightly on the shoulder, he sighed. “I know, I know. We’re
all seeking a little peaceful solace today. Don’t miss any more classes,
though, Gracie. Lord knows you need no help with algebra, but your phys-ed
skills leave a lot to be desired.”
I hate gym class.
Cutting gym is the only reason I ever end up in Headmaster’s office.
He turned and left, his
broad shoulders shifting with his determined steps. He looked like a man on a
mission.
Letting out a long
breath, I ran a hand across my sweaty face and stepped behind the pillar.
Sliding to sit on the cool floor, I blinked and swallowed hard. Something was
really different, and my gut sensed it was bigger than poor Tony’s death. The
second bell rang loud, echoing and bouncing along the pillars around me. Eight
o’clock. First period had officially begun.
Why is this excerpt so emotional for you
as a writer to write? And can you describe your own emotional experience of
writing this specific excerpt? When I started telling Gracie’s story, I let
myself drift to the times in my own life when I knew, without doubt, something
was about to change. Big time. There’s that gong inside one’s heart that starts
the warning. In Gracie’s case, the death of a student and her coming
Acclimation herald a massive shift in her self-knowledge. What would she be
after it all was over? What will I be after this book touches people? What will
my grandson (Left: Jarod on his graduation day) be when he discovers his calling in life? We all wonder, and that
wondering starts with a gong. It takes courage to acknowledge that sound and
step forward, whether one is eighteen, or sixty-five.
I will be re-releasing book one of the
Celestial Watch Saga, LUCIFER’S GUIDE, in June of this
year. The previous publisher went under last year.
Deborah
Riley-Magnus is an author and an Author Success Coach with forty-plus years
professional background in marketing, advertising, and public relations. She
has been a writer for print, television, and radio. She writes fiction and
nonfiction and has been a ghostwriter for several clients.
For over a
decade Deborah has been working with authors to help them find sales success.
She produces several pieces monthly for various websites and online publications.
She teaches online and live workshops, clinics, and boot camps. She writes an
author marketing industry blog and coaches authors, one-on-one, for sales
success.
Her
fiction is creative and mystical. COLD IN CALIFORNIA and MONKEY
JUMP are books one and two of THE TWICE BAKED VAMPIRE SERIES, and
take a lighthearted look at one vampire’s struggle to find his path to heaven.
In November of 2018, THE ORPHANS, book one of THE
LOST RACE TRILOGY was released. This trilogy explores the battle between
good and evil through the eyes of Nephilim, half-angel/half-human beings, as
they struggle to survive and protect all of humanity.
Deborah
belongs to several writing and professional organizations. She has lived on
both the east and west coast of the United States and has traveled the country
widely. She is a native of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and returned in 2011 after
living in Los Angeles, California for several years.
Blog – http://rileymagnus.wordpress.com/
Teach – http://theauthorsuccesscoach.com/
Fiction – http://drmagnusfantasy.com/
Tweet – http://twitter.com/rileymagnus
Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/deborah.rileymagnus
Teach – http://theauthorsuccesscoach.com/
Fiction – http://drmagnusfantasy.com/
Tweet – http://twitter.com/rileymagnus
Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/deborah.rileymagnus
Facebook Coach Page – https://www.facebook.com/authorsuccesscoach/
LinkedIn – https://www.linkedin.com/in/deborah-riley-magnus-4ba15a1a/
I should be sooo tired!he Oh
LinkedIn – https://www.linkedin.com/in/deborah-riley-magnus-4ba15a1a/
I should be sooo tired!he Oh
THE ORPHANS, Book One of the Lost Race Trilogy
INSIDE THE EMOTION OF
FICTION links
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Hunter – The Veteran
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THE ORPHANS
BOOK ONE: THE LOST RACE
