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****Linda Mooney’s THE TRUNK is #90 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.
Where did you do most of your writing for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. And can you please include a photo? My husband and I are empty-nesters. Ours was originally a four-bedroom home (but the fourth bedroom is very, very tiny.) Hubby is a remote staffer for a company out of Nashville, and his office is that fourth bedroom. I took son #2’s slightly larger bedroom for my own office, where I do 99.9% of my writing.
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
drink coffee most of the day. I also plug into my computer and listen to
orchestral music while I’m writing. I can’t listen to actual songs with words.
They distract me. Some of my favorite albums are those by Thomas Bergersen, Two
Steps from Hell (Trust me on this! These are some fantastic scores!),
Audiomachine, Trailerhead, and Future World.
My schedule usually runs like this: I edit the chapter I wrote
the previous day that morning. After lunch, I begin the next chapter. When I
take a break, I either record a chapter into an MP3 file—which will eventually
become an audiobook—or edit a previously recorded file (BELOW RIGHT). I finish the chapter
that evening.
What
is the summary of this specific fiction work? In the not too distant future, the human
population is nearly wiped out by an alien invasion. Six years after the
initial attack, Emlee Dow isn’t too worried about the continuing alien presence
any longer. It’s the few humans left who pose a greater threat. Food and
supplies are hard to come by, making survival an ever increasing struggle.
Luckily, she finds refuge in an undiscovered basement room, containing enough
supplies to last weeks.
Feeling full and relatively safe, Emlee decides to rest
while she can. She wasn’t expecting her world to be turned upside down when she
woke. Or for the already upside down world to be flipped right side up,
pre-destruction. Thrown into the past, she meets Mykail, and has only days to
convince him she’s not crazy before history repeats itself…or is it the future?
In these difficult and trying times, it’s hard to know who
to trust. Just when you find someone, they’re lost just as quickly.
Can
love be found again in the future? Or is it a thing of the past?
Warning! Contains several outfit changes, broom handle
self-defense, a spare key fob, expired food, freckles, the sound of thunder, a
never-ending search for sanity in a world gone insane, and two people forced to
wait years before love triumphs.
Can you give the reader just enough information for them to understand what is going on in the excerpt? Emlee has lived through an apocalyptic event caused by aliens. While on the run from some predators, she comes across an untouched basement that affords her protection. In this basement is a trunk of clothes, and she puts on some of those clean clothes since she hasn’t had a decent bath in weeks. But when she wakes up, she finds herself back in the past, just hours prior to the aliens attacking, and meets the man who lives in that basement. She then has to convince him of what’s about to come down, and find a way for them both to survive this second time around.
Hurrying over to the kitchen, she saw the
cases of water were gone. She threw open the pantry to find the lone bottle of
water and can of ravioli, as well as the envelope with his letter to her.
She stared at it, stunned. Mykail had already
left. She hadn’t reappeared before they’d met, as she’d halfway hoped. They’d
already had their day and night together, and he’d departed after she’d
disappeared.
“How long ago did he leave? He said he waited
all day for me to come back. What time is it? What day is it now?”
She thought back on what she’d told him. She
remembered when the initial scout ships came, one was blown out of the sky, and
that’s how the world came to see their first Tlok. That was Saturday night.
“The motherships arrived Sunday, and that’s
when they started firing at us.”
She glanced outside, at where the sunlight
was shining brightly. It couldn’t be Saturday, or else Mykail would be here.
Which meant it either had to be Sunday, or sometime after the attacks.
How much grace time did we have before the
aliens attacked us? Was it late morning or early afternoon? It was difficult to remember, but she thought
it was late morning. She’d been sleeping in and had been awakened by the sound
of loud explosions.
Emlee stopped to listen. So far she couldn’t
hear any explosions. Nor could she hear the sound of sirens, or people
screaming, or gunshots. It was a quiet and peaceful Sunday morning.
So far.
“I need to get out of here now before it all
comes down. My boots. Where are my boots?”
She knew she’d left them by the bed. Relief
washed through her when she spotted them sitting where she’d left them. Mykail
must have realized she might need them if and when she returned. Ignoring the
fact that it was necessary to wear socks with them, she quickly slid them on
and tightened the straps. She’d worry about socks later. Hopefully, she
wouldn’t suffer too many blisters in the meantime. It was imperative she get to
the marina, and as quickly as possible. With any luck, she’d arrive at Pier C
to find Mykail there, either waiting for her or not yet departed. Hopefully
both.
“I need to arm myself.” Hell may not have
erupted yet, but it wouldn’t be long before it did. Once the aliens started
firing on them, people would become hysterical. Their sense of
self-preservation would kick in to the point where they’d attack anyone whom
they deemed dangerous. They would try to flee, stealing anything that ran if
they didn’t have their own vehicle. They would kill without hesitation. Common sense
would be the first thing tossed out the window. But the few who managed to
retain their cool, who observed and acted when the right moment presented
itself, those people would become the last survivors. They would win the
ultimate lottery, and be the ones who’d live to see the result of their world
turned upside-down.
She knew because she’d been one of those
sober-minded people.
“Boots, check. Now I need a weapon. Poker,
poker. Where’d I leave the poker? Oh, yeah. Upstairs. I threw it away before
the police came.” It wouldn’t be too difficult to find. She vaguely recalled
where she’d been when she’d tossed it away. “I’ll take that with me.”
She checked the room a final time before
heading up the stairs. “Is there anything else I need to take with me? Am I
forgetting anything?” She patted her pocket to reassure herself that the thumb
drive was there.
Her eyes lit on the pantry, its doors left
wide open. The bottle of water and can of ravioli called to her, letting her
know she hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. Past experience had
taught her she needed to eat every chance she got. To never let an opportunity
to fill her belly go by, because it could be days before her next meal. Same
for safe-to-drink water.
As loud as her internal alarms were sounding,
urging her to get out of there, she reined them in. “No eat, no energy. Simple
as that,” she commented, going over and reaching for the can.
This time the tab opened as it was designed
to do. Within seconds, Emlee felt the container’s sides grow warm to the touch
as the internal heating elements did their job. Taking a fork from the utensil
drawer, she ate.
She leaned against the stove as she forced
herself to chew her food, rather than bolt it down. The continued silence
around her became unnerving, and curiosity made her wonder about the latest
news. “At least it’ll let me know what time of day it is. Television, on!”
The screen brightened, and the first thing
she saw was the definitive shape of a mothership. Shoveling another ravioli
into her mouth, she listened attentively to the newsman. She’d never heard this
part of history, as she hadn’t been watching the TV or listening to any
broadcasts when it all came down the first time.
“—these obviously bigger and more powerful
spaceships,” the man announced. The guy’s face was noticeably several shades
paler, and it was clear he was fighting to keep his voice from shaking.
“Repeated attempts by our military to establish communications with the aliens
have gone unanswered. President Cho of China, Prime Minister Sisslebean of the
UK, and President Chyevsky of Russia all confirm that their countries are
seeing many of these same space crafts, mostly the smaller and faster versions,
hovering over their major cities. Luckily, however, there have been no overt
hostile moves made by these creatures, which President McInerny says is
surprising, considering the fact that one of those smaller ships was shot down
late yesterday afternoon.”
“Don’t worry, fella. They’re going to hit us
back any minute now,” Emlee murmured.
A swooshing noise, followed by the words NEWS
ALERT, came on the screen. A different newsman appeared, looking just as scared
as the first guy.
“This just in! The president has declared
martial law for the entire United States! All citizens are advised to return to
their homes immediately, and all shops and stores close their doors. No
businesses will be allowed to be open after three p.m. eastern time. Martial
law will remain in effect until further notice. I repeat, the president has
declared martial law—”
The TV went dark. The central air shut off,
and the lights went out. At the same time, Emlee heard the first faint rumbles
in the distance. The ones that sounded like thunder, but which she knew had
nothing to do with the weather.
Stuffing the last bite into her mouth, she
dropped the empty can and fork into the sink, and ran for the stairs. The first
blast came just as she reached the top step. It knocked her against the wall,
where she bounced off, lost her footing, and slipped down a couple of steps
before she managed to recover.
Another explosion, this one closer, made the
whole house shake. Getting to her feet, she grabbed the door knob and turned
it, when a third blast sent shockwaves through her. Stunned, she fell sideways
and tumbled to the foot of the stairs.
Outside, vehicle alarms went off, shrill and
penetrating. Emlee tried to get to her feet, but her knee gave her fits. Pain
shot up her leg and into her hip, and she cried out as she used the wall to get
back up on her feet.
Something detonated almost directly overhead,
above the subdivision. Or maybe it just sounded that way. But it acted like a
massive hammer, slamming down on the Earth. Emlee was thrown to the floor as
the backlash acted like a vise, squeezing her flat to the point where she
couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but gasp for air. A
tremendous crash came from above her, and she threw her arms up over her head
in case the ceiling gave way. Instead, she was showered with a fine blanket of
dust as the pressure suddenly eased.
Dazed, she gave herself a moment to come to
grips with herself. Grabbing the wall again, she was able to stand and slowly
limp up the stairs. Twisting the door knob, she tried to open the door, but
something was blocking it, preventing it from swinging outward.
She stared in shock at the doorframe as the
truth of her situation became clear. The ceiling and roof of the house had
caved in, exactly the way she’d found it six years later. But this time she was
trapped inside the basement apartment.
Leaving her with little or no option of
escape.
Why is this excerpt so emotional for you? And can you describe your own emotional experience of writing this specific excerpt? I’ve always loved time-travel stories and apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic stories. So any chance I get to come up with a unique and different twist on things are loads of fun to write. I wanted the story told from the heroine’s POV, and include how I might react if such an impossibility ever happened to me. Of course, I don’t think I’d have the same stamina and wherewithal to accomplish what Emlee does, but makes for a lot interesting “what ifs”.
Other works you have published? Oh, yes. So far I’ve published over 125 books. You can find them
all at my website https://linda
mooney.com/
mooney.com/
Anything you would like to add? THE TRUNK
is a standalone. I run about 50/50 between writing those and series. But I
learned a long time ago never to say never to never about doing a book 2 (or 3)
when it comes to any standalone. Sometimes a plot hits me from out of the blue,
or readers may beg for another book.
Linda Mooney loves to write sweet and sensuous
romance with a fantasy, paranormal, or science fiction flair. As the author of
over 100 books, her technique is often described as being as visual as a motion
picture or graphic novel.
She’s
a wife, mother, grandmother, and retired Kindergarten and music teacher who
lives in a small south Texas town near the Gulf coast, where she delves into
other worlds filled with daring exploits, adventure, and intense love.
She’s had numerous best sellers, including 10 consecutive #1s.
Also included in her achievements, she’s been named Author of the Year, and her
book Lord
of Thunder is an Epic Ebook "Eppie" Award Winner for
Best Erotic Sci-Fi Romance.
Linda also writes naughty humorous romances under
the name of Carolyn Gregg, horror under the pseudonym of Gail Smith, and
elementary teacher workbooks as L. G. Mooney.
In addition, she is an audiobook narrator for all genres, but
specializes in romance fiction.
For more information about her books, up-coming and new
releases, contests, and giveaways, and to sign up for her newsletter, please
visit her website:
http://www.LindaMooney.com
INSIDE THE EMOTION OF
FICTION links
001 11 15 2018 Nathaniel
Kaine’s
Thriller Novel
John
Hunter – The Veteran
002 11 18 2018 Ed
Protzzel’s
Futuristic/Mystery/Thriller
The
Antiquities Dealer
003 11 23 2018 Janice
Seagraves’s
Science
Fiction Romance
Exodus
Arcon
004 11 29 2018
Christian Fennell’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
The Fiddler
in the Night
005 12 02 2018 Jessica
Mathews’s
Adult
Paranormal Romance
Death
Adjacent
006 12 04 2018 Robin Jansen’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
Ruby the
Indomitable
007 12 12 2018 Adair Valerez’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
Scrim
008 12 17 218
Kit Frazier’s
Mystery Novel
Dead Copy
009 12 21 2019 Robert Craven’s
Noir/Spy Novel
The Road
of a Thousand Tigers
010 01 13 2019 Kristine Goodfellow’s
Contemporary
Romantic Fiction
The Other
Twin
011 01 17 2019 Nancy J Cohen’s
Cozy Mystery
Trimmed To
Death
012 01 20 2019 Charles Salzberg’s
Crime Novel
Second
Story Man
013 01 23 2019 Alexis Fancher’s
Flash Fiction
His Full
Attention
014 01 27 2019 Brian L Tucker’s
Young Adult/Historical
POKEWEED: AN ILLUSTRATED NOVELLA
015 01 31 2019 Robin Tidwell’s
Dystopian
Reduced
016 02 07 2019 J.D. Trafford’s
Legal
Fiction/Mystery
Little Boy
Lost
017 02 08 2019 Paula Shene’s
Young Adult
ScieFi/Fantasy/Romance/Adventure
My Quest
Begins
018 02 13 2019 Talia Carner’s
Mainstream
Fiction/ Suspense/ Historical
Hotel
Moscow
019 02 15 2019 Rick Robinson’s
Multidimensional
Fiction
Alligator
Alley
020 02 21 2019 LaVerne Thompson’s
Urban Fantasy
The Soul
Collectors
021 02 27 2019 Marlon L Fick’s
Post-Colonialist
Novel
The
Nowhere Man
022 03 02 2019 Carol Johnson’s
Mainstream
Novel
Silk And
Ashes
023 03 06 2019 Samuel Snoek-Brown’s
Short Story
Collection
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No Other Way to Worship Them
024 03 08 2019 Marlin Barton’s
Short Story
Collection
Pasture
Art
025 03 18 2019 Laura Hunter’s
Historical
Fiction
Beloved
Mother
026 03 21 2019 Maggie Rivers’s
Romance
Magical
Mistletoe
027 03 25 2019 Faith
Gibson’s
Paranormal
Romance
Rafael
028 03 27 2019 Valerie Nieman’s
Tall Tale
To The
Bones
029 04 04 2019 Betty Bolte’s
Paranormal
Romance
Veiled
Visions of Love
030 04 05 2019 Marianne
Maili’s
Tragicomedy
Lucy, go
see
031 04 10 2019 Gregory Erich Phillips’s
Mainstream
Fiction
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032 04 15 2019 Jason Ament’s
Speculative
Fiction
Rabid Dogs
033 04 24 2019 Stephen P. Keirnan’s
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Novel
The
Baker’s Secret
034 05 01 2019 George Kramer’s
Fantasy
Arcadis:
Prophecy Book
035 05 05 2019 Erika Sams’s
Adventure/Fantasy/Romance
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036 05 07 2019 Mark Wisniewski’s
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Fiction
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Go
037 05 08 2019 Marci Baun’s
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Fiction/Horror
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038 05 10 2019 Suzanne M. Wolfe’s
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Fiction
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Any Name
039 05 12 2019 Edward DeVito’s
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040 05 14 2019 Gytha Lodge’s
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BOOK ONE: THE LOST RACE
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THE MURDER
LIST
069 08 08 2019 Diana Y. Paul’s
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070 08 10 2019 Phyllis H. Moore’s
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& JUDE
071 08 11 2019 Sara Dahmen’s
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Fiction
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072 08 19 2019 Carolyn
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Matthew Goldberg’s
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P.I.
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#90 10 18 2019 Linda Mooney’s
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“THE TRUNK”