Blog Tour: Interview with David Pereda & Giveaway!!
Welcome to my blog, David. How long have you been writing with the hopes of publication?
I've been writing for publication since I was in college. I published my first short story in the USF literary magazine when I was a sophomore; my English teacher submitted it for me. The following year I submitted to the magazine myself, and I had my second published short story. Since then I have published dozens of articles, several poems and seven novels (one under a pen name), but I have never published another short story.
How did you get started?
I guess I always wanted to be a writer. I wrote my first novel, a western, when I was ten years old. My proud uncle Antonio typed it for me. I titled it bombastically, Dave Patterson, The Temerarious. After that I wrote a few short stories that I never published, or even tried to, until I got to college.
Do you have any recent or upcoming releases?
My latest mainstream novel, However Long the Night, was just published by Eternal Press on February 7th. It's a romantic tale with a major dose of suspense, a tense love triangle, buried family secrets, corporate shenanigans and a historical background. It's part of a trilogy I am writing from the perspectives of three different characters, one of them a woman.
What are you working on now?
I'm working on the third installment of my Havana Series of thrillers. It's called Twin Powers. The first two novels of the series are Top Secret and Killing Castro, both also published by Eternal Press. Twin Powers is a deviation of the first two novels in the series in that two of the main characters are 7-year old twin girls, one of which gets kidnapped by Arabs in the middle of downtown Havana.
Are you a plotter or a pantser?
I'm definitely a plotter, although I turn into a pantser from time to time. I like to plot my books in detail and then change a big portion of them when I sit down to write them. It's called poetic license, I believe.
What genres do you enjoy reading? Writing?
I enjoy reading and writing thrillers and mainstream novels.
What author(s) have influenced your writing style?
So many authors have influenced my style that I don't know where to begin. Hemingway, Konrad, Shakespeare, all the Russian writers, especially Dostoyevsky and Chekov, were great influences in my life. When I was a kid I read everything written by Max Brand and Zane Grey. During recent years, the greatest influence on my writing has probably been Harlan Coben. Someone once wrote a review of one of my books and called me the Latino Harlan Coben. I was very proud of the comparison to Harlan Coben whom I consider the best thriller writer today, but the latino reference left me a little cold. Do you know the definition of a latin lover? I won't answer that here because your readers might object, so let's move on to something else.
Who is your favorite character from any of your books?
My favorite character is Marcela, a lesbian assassin who won't take any crap from anyone. She has amber eyes and looks like Halle Berry on steroids. Here's a little passage for your readers:
Marcela saw the silver Mercedes parked on her driveway when she returned from swimming, the bright noon sun reflecting off the car's hood like a star burst. She knew the car. A neckless black man with corn-rows down to his shoulders and marbled biceps sat behind the wheel with the windows rolled down and the radio cranked at full blast, listening to the music of Compay Segundo. She knew the man too: Horacio, El Jefe's driver.
"Buenos dias," Marcela said as she strode naked past him toward the front door.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Horacio's mouth fall open, his chin nearly hitting his chest.
Enjoy the view, Marcela thought.
Every morning Marcela followed the same routine: a brief prayer at her altar, two hours of training and a swim in the ocean. In the evening, she repeated the routine, except she substituted the swim for a five-mile jog. She lived on a secluded beach, so she usually trained, swam, and jogged naked.
Inside, she found El Jefe in the back of the house standing with curiosity in front of her altar. His right hand clutched a large orange envelope. Marcela inspected him from behind as she approached: purple madras shorts reaching down to plump calves, tank top the same non-descript color as his high-top tennis shoes and a yellow floppy hat. Not really the image of sartorial splendor. El Jefe turned…and jammed his dark aviator sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to stare at her over the metal frame. His button eyes flitted over Marcela's body like flies on a piece of raw meat.
Marcela cocked her head and stared back at him.
El Jefe cleared his throat. "You live on a nudist beach?"
"In Cuba? What planet are you from?"
Marcela strutted to her room, snatched the white terry robe she kept behind the door on a hook in case of unexpected visitors, slipped it on, and sauntered back. She stopped in front of El Jefe, hands on hips, and arched one eyebrow.
El Jefe pushed his glasses up his nose again.
"Try secluded beach," Marcela said. "But obviously not today."
El Jefe's lips curled around his salt-and-pepper mustache into something resembling a grin. "Nice altar."
Yes, Marcela thought. Nice indeed. It had taken her fifteen years to build that altar. Every piece in it was special to her. The two-foot-tall statue of Chango in the middle she had commissioned from Cuba's finest sculptor and paid for with contraband dollars. She had spent three years carving the huge figures of Oshe and Shere, Chango's bodyguards, from the hardest and darkest mahogany. The antelope horns, symbolizing Oya, Chango's wife, she had brought from Africa. The jade miniature of twin little girls at Chango's feet, she had bought in Mexico at the Teotihuacan pyramids. Yes, Jefe, it's a nice altar. It annoyed Marcela to have people barge into her house and look at her altar pieces as if they were items for sale at an airport store.
Marcela took a deep breath. "How did you get in?"
El Jefe gave a vague shrug. "Horacio. He's good opening doors."
"Doesn't surprise me. He looks like he belongs behind doors."
El Jefe pointed toward the altar. "What's this figure here?"
"Chango."
"Impressive. It's an ax with double steel blades." He switched the envelope to his left hand and reached with his right to grab the two-foot tall wooden statue. "You can kill someone with this."
"Don't touch my altar!" Marcela's voice growled like a truck engine laboring up a steep incline. "Nobody touches my altar but me."
El Jefe flinched and threw his hands up in the air, the orange envelope flapping over his head like a warning traffic light.
"Chango doesn't like it," Marcela said in a softer tone.
El Jefe lowered his hands and said, "How's your shoulder?"
"Fine. Nothing that three stitches and a band-aid couldn't cure. What can I do for you?"
"Remember the people I told you about?"
Marcela nodded.
"They are arriving tomorrow."
"And?"
He extended the orange envelope toward her. "And I brought you photographs and a dossier on each of them."
Marcela took the envelope, opened it, and searched inside. There were three 8×10 black and white head shots and a two-page typed report attached to each with a paper clip. She scanned the material quickly.
"Has anyone ever told you you have a great body?" El Jefe said, his voice thick.
Marcela shifted her glance to him. "You hittin' on me, Jefe? I don't mean to offend you, but unless you grow tits and an ass and trade-in your thimble-sized penis for a vagina, I don't think I'd be interested."
"You hurt my feelings."
"Is that a new fad with you, feelings?" She turned her attention back to the pictures. "How many people did you say were coming?"
"Two."
"There are three photographs here."
El Jefe gave a brief nod.
"I know this man here," Marcela said. "He's –"
"I know."
Marcela pursed her lips and waited a beat. "Trouble in paradise, Jefe?"
"You could say suspicion. Not the same thing. Don't let it affect your work."
"Never happen."
"Know any of the others?"
Marcela inspected the other photographs. "No, but this man here with silver hair is very handsome. Is he an actor?"
"He's a doctor."
"That's the kind of doctor I need."
"I thought you didn't like men."
"Hey, I try to keep an open mind."
El Jefe shook his head and waddled toward the front door. Marcela accompanied him. Each of her steps was two of his, forcing her to walk in slow motion. She turned the knob and opened the door. A blast of humidity rushed in from outside. The sea water was drying on Marcela's body, and she felt sticky and uncomfortable. She longed to go back inside and take a long, hot shower.
"Come back anytime, Jefe," she said.
El Jefe didn't move. Instead he leaned closer to her.
"There's one more thing," he said. "X had two brothers in Oriente. I've heard rumors that they have sworn to settle matters with you."
Marcela scratched her matted hair, which was beginning to itch. "I'm shaking."
"They are big and mean and two."
"Poor me."
Marcela let out a long, fake sigh and glanced outside. The day had grown hotter and brighter, and she had to squint. The beach was flat and blue, just a shade darker than the sky beyond. Horacio watched her intently from the car.
Trying to get a peek of my tits or my ass, no doubt, Marcela thought.
She shot him a bird. Horacio laughed wildly and banged the steering wheel with his hands.
El Jefe stepped out of the house into the sun and turned to face her. "You must be careful, Marcela."
"I hear you."
El Jefe grimaced and shook his head.
"Thanks for the warning," Marcela said.
She gave El Jefe a small smile, closed the door and locked it, and rushed inside to shower and scrub herself clean.
Where can my readers find you?
I'm easy to find. Google my name, and I'll show up. They can also visit my website: www.davidpereda.com or my publisher's website: www.eternalpress.biz or look for me on Amazon: www.amazon.com
Where can my readers find your books?
I don't know exactly where all my books are offered but definitely on Amazon, the Eternal Press website, my website, the Fictionwise website, the Goodreads website, and a few other online retailers including Ingram and Baker & Taylor. They are also available at several bookstores in North Carolina and Florida.
Thank you, David!
David Pereda is an award-winning author who enjoys crafting political thrillers and mainstream novels. His books have won the Lighthouse Book Awards twice, the Royal Palm Awards, the National Indie Excellence Awards, and the Readers Favorite Awards. He has traveled extensively around the world and speaks several languages. Before devoting his time solely to writing and teaching college-level courses, Pereda had a rich and successful international consulting career with global giant Booz Allen Hamilton, where he worked with the governments of Mexico, Venezuela, Peru, and Qatar, among others.
A member of MENSA, Pereda is the regional director of the Florida Writers Association and the co-founder of AWE (Asheville Writing Enthusiasts). He loves sports and has won many prizes competing in track and show-jumping equestrian events.
Pereda lives with his family in Asheville, North Carolina.
Please visit him at…
www.davidpereda.com
www.twitter.com/DavidPeredaAVL
www.facebook.com
ISBN: However Long the Night
978-1-61572-598-4 E-Book
978-1-61572-599-1 Print Book
AUTHOR GIVEAWAY: Leave a comment with your email address for your chance to WIN a $20 Amazon Gift Certificate. Be sure to follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2012/01/virtual-book-tour-however-long-night.html.
