Interview and Excerpt: Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons by Denise Grover Swank
Thank you to Denise Grover Swank for stopping by with a Q&A and an excerpt from her latest novel, Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons! Please check out her tour page at CLP Blog Tours for more details!
**Interview**
When did you know writing was for you? When I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to write. No, not write, tell stories. The desire to put words together in profound ways came later. First was the love of creating a story.
You write in many different genres. How hard is to go back and forth?Actually, yes. Particularly between The Chosen series and the Rose Gardner Mysteries. The voices are so completely different. I usually have to back and read part of the last book to recapture the voice.
What is the hardest part of the writing process for you?It depends on the book. For The Chosen series, it's putting my characters through so much pain when writing the first draft. For Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons, the hardest part was getting back into Rose's head. But once I did, the story just poured out. Her stories always do.
What are your favorite genres to read?My favorite genre changes all the time. LOL My last one was paranormal YA. Currently, I find myself drawn to adult contemporary romance. It will probably change to something else next month. ;)
What do you want readers to take away from your story?I want readers to see that we need to trust our instincts and not do what other people tell us we should do. And, of course, I hope readers love Rose as much as I do.
How important do you think social media is for authors these days?Social media is VERY important. I don't care if you're self-published or traditionally published. Authors need to connect with their readers to let them know when their next book is coming out. But I take social media to a deeper level. I used Facebook and Twitter to actually connect and interact with my readers. I love being able to talk to them about what they loved about my books. And I think they like getting a little insight into my everyday life, which is FAR from glamorous. I like that they can see I'm a real person.
You started off self-published and had a ton of success! You recently landed an agent – how was that news, and how did you celebrate?I was THRILLED when Amanda Luedeke of MacGregor Literary sent me an email telling me that she wanted to talk to me on the phone about offering representation. She'd read my book Chosen, had checked me out online, and offered to help me with secondary rights such as negotiating foreign rights offers. I'll admit, after the initial excitement wore off, I asked myself "Why do I NEED an agent?" I interviewed several of her clients and talked to several authors I know, both traditionally and self-published. I ultimately decided that I couldn't do EVERYTHING. There are only so many hours in the day. So it's nice to turn something I know nothing about over to someone who does. Also, Amanda and I are both thinking long term. I would love a traditional book deal but not until a traditional publisher has something to offer me that is worth taking. She's helping me think about what I need to do to get there.
What would be your advice to aspiring writers? Writing a book is HARD. Every book I write, I ask myself "why did I think writing a book was a good idea?" But that's just the labor pains. Also, writing takes practice, practice, practice and more practice. Write every single day until you get into the habit of writing. Get to the point that if you have a day when you don't write or edit, you feel like something big is missing. Authors are expected to produce more books at a faster pace. You might as well start getting used to it now. I tell people that I've never worked harder in my life. I work seven days a week, sometimes 12-14 hours a day. Even so, I've never been happier in my whole life.
**Excerpt - Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons** Half running and half jogging, by the time I reached the majestic steps to the old stone courthouse, I was a sweaty mess. The reflection in the window told me my hair had fallen from the stifling humid air, and the sweat on my forehead plastered the strands onto my face.After passing through the massive wooden front doors, I stopped at security. An elderly security guard lifted a hand in warning. “You can’t come in without shoes, ma’am.”I waved my heels. “I have shoes.”“You have to be wearin’ shoes.” He raised his bushy eyebrows.“Don’t I have to send them through an x-ray machine?”The man leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “This ain’t the airport, ma’am.”“But my shoe’s broken.” I demonstrated the floppiness of the heel.“No shoes, no entrance.”“But I’m due for jury duty at nine!”“Then you’re in a heap o’trouble. You don’t show and they’ll issue a warrant for your arrest. As it is, you’re already late.”I bet Officer Barney Fife would volunteer to carry that warrant out. Once a lawbreaker, always a lawbreaker echoed in my head. “Fine,” I muttered, bending down and slipping my feet into my shoes. I limped past the guard.“Hold up there! You can’t just go in. We need to examine your purse.”I handed it over with an exaggerated sigh.The guard looked me up and down before putting it on the conveyor belt. “Come around this way.” He waved to the end of the machine.I walked over and waited as he ran the belt back and forth, back and forth, until he finally rolled my purse out and examined the contents.“If you could just hurry a bit.” I said. “As you already know, I’m late for jury duty.”His face lifted from studying my purse and he watched me for a second. “Security can’t be rushed, ma’am. Are you wanting me to hurry ’cause you’re tryin’ to hide something?”“No! No! I swear, I’m just so late—”He closed my purse and pushed a button on his radio strapped to his shoulder. “Ernie, I’m gonna need some assistance. Gotta 10-66. Over.”“Copy that. I’ll be there in five. Over.” The radio crackled.“Ma’am, if you could have a seat.” He waved to a plastic chair against the wall.“What? I can’t go?”“No, I need to do a patdown and I need another officer present to ensure that you’re not sexually harassed.”“What?”“Ma’am, take a seat or I’ll be forced to inform the judge that you’re obstructin’ justice.”I flopped in the chair, indignation rising. He was discriminating against me because of my shoes. After sitting for several minutes, I realized I hadn’t been to the bathroom since I’d gotten up, and I’d had two cups of coffee. “Do you think I could go to the bathroom really quick?”He shook his head. “Nope. The restrooms are located in a secure area.”The entryway was hot and I waved my hand to try to cool off with little success while I crossed my legs back and forth. Thinking about having to go only made it worse. I watched the minute hand on the industrial wall clock move slowly around the face. Over ten minutes had passed and no Ernie. I stood. “Look, I really need to go report for jury duty. If you could just let me go—”“Sit.”“You can even pat me down, I swear I won’t sue you.”“Sit.”I was about to protest when I heard a familiar voice. “Well, well, well. It didn’t take you long to get into more trouble.” The police officer who’d given me the ticket hooked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back on his heels with a smug smile. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”The security guard pointed toward me. “You know this one, Ernie?” His voice rose.“Oh yeah, I just gave her a ticket for illegally parking.”“I was gettin’ change,” I huffed.“Then last month, there was the whole business with her mother’s murder.” He half-whispered the last word.The security guard raised his eyebrows and appraised me with the new information. His hand rested on the butt of his gun.“I was innocent! Daniel Crocker killed Momma.”“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to stand and spread your feet and hold your arms out, away from your body.”I considered protesting. This was unfair, but I figured if I put up a fuss Officer Ernie would be only too happy to haul me down to the police station, a place I had no intention of going back to. “Hey,” I said as the guard started patting my sides. “This is the county courthouse and you’re a city police officer. What are you doin’ here?”Ernie shifted his weight. “Robbie is off with gout so I’m dropping in to help Ol’ Matt when he needs assistance. Not that it’s any of your business.”The guard moved down my legs and finally dropped his hands. “She’s clear.”“You sure?” Officer Ernie asked. “She’s a sneaky one.”“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”Ernie stuck out two fingers in the shape of a V and moved them from his eyes to me and back again. “I’m watchin’ you.”
**Interview**
When did you know writing was for you? When I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to write. No, not write, tell stories. The desire to put words together in profound ways came later. First was the love of creating a story.
You write in many different genres. How hard is to go back and forth?Actually, yes. Particularly between The Chosen series and the Rose Gardner Mysteries. The voices are so completely different. I usually have to back and read part of the last book to recapture the voice.
What is the hardest part of the writing process for you?It depends on the book. For The Chosen series, it's putting my characters through so much pain when writing the first draft. For Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons, the hardest part was getting back into Rose's head. But once I did, the story just poured out. Her stories always do.
What are your favorite genres to read?My favorite genre changes all the time. LOL My last one was paranormal YA. Currently, I find myself drawn to adult contemporary romance. It will probably change to something else next month. ;)
What do you want readers to take away from your story?I want readers to see that we need to trust our instincts and not do what other people tell us we should do. And, of course, I hope readers love Rose as much as I do.
How important do you think social media is for authors these days?Social media is VERY important. I don't care if you're self-published or traditionally published. Authors need to connect with their readers to let them know when their next book is coming out. But I take social media to a deeper level. I used Facebook and Twitter to actually connect and interact with my readers. I love being able to talk to them about what they loved about my books. And I think they like getting a little insight into my everyday life, which is FAR from glamorous. I like that they can see I'm a real person.
You started off self-published and had a ton of success! You recently landed an agent – how was that news, and how did you celebrate?I was THRILLED when Amanda Luedeke of MacGregor Literary sent me an email telling me that she wanted to talk to me on the phone about offering representation. She'd read my book Chosen, had checked me out online, and offered to help me with secondary rights such as negotiating foreign rights offers. I'll admit, after the initial excitement wore off, I asked myself "Why do I NEED an agent?" I interviewed several of her clients and talked to several authors I know, both traditionally and self-published. I ultimately decided that I couldn't do EVERYTHING. There are only so many hours in the day. So it's nice to turn something I know nothing about over to someone who does. Also, Amanda and I are both thinking long term. I would love a traditional book deal but not until a traditional publisher has something to offer me that is worth taking. She's helping me think about what I need to do to get there.
What would be your advice to aspiring writers? Writing a book is HARD. Every book I write, I ask myself "why did I think writing a book was a good idea?" But that's just the labor pains. Also, writing takes practice, practice, practice and more practice. Write every single day until you get into the habit of writing. Get to the point that if you have a day when you don't write or edit, you feel like something big is missing. Authors are expected to produce more books at a faster pace. You might as well start getting used to it now. I tell people that I've never worked harder in my life. I work seven days a week, sometimes 12-14 hours a day. Even so, I've never been happier in my whole life.
**Excerpt - Twenty-Nine and a Half Reasons** Half running and half jogging, by the time I reached the majestic steps to the old stone courthouse, I was a sweaty mess. The reflection in the window told me my hair had fallen from the stifling humid air, and the sweat on my forehead plastered the strands onto my face.After passing through the massive wooden front doors, I stopped at security. An elderly security guard lifted a hand in warning. “You can’t come in without shoes, ma’am.”I waved my heels. “I have shoes.”“You have to be wearin’ shoes.” He raised his bushy eyebrows.“Don’t I have to send them through an x-ray machine?”The man leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “This ain’t the airport, ma’am.”“But my shoe’s broken.” I demonstrated the floppiness of the heel.“No shoes, no entrance.”“But I’m due for jury duty at nine!”“Then you’re in a heap o’trouble. You don’t show and they’ll issue a warrant for your arrest. As it is, you’re already late.”I bet Officer Barney Fife would volunteer to carry that warrant out. Once a lawbreaker, always a lawbreaker echoed in my head. “Fine,” I muttered, bending down and slipping my feet into my shoes. I limped past the guard.“Hold up there! You can’t just go in. We need to examine your purse.”I handed it over with an exaggerated sigh.The guard looked me up and down before putting it on the conveyor belt. “Come around this way.” He waved to the end of the machine.I walked over and waited as he ran the belt back and forth, back and forth, until he finally rolled my purse out and examined the contents.“If you could just hurry a bit.” I said. “As you already know, I’m late for jury duty.”His face lifted from studying my purse and he watched me for a second. “Security can’t be rushed, ma’am. Are you wanting me to hurry ’cause you’re tryin’ to hide something?”“No! No! I swear, I’m just so late—”He closed my purse and pushed a button on his radio strapped to his shoulder. “Ernie, I’m gonna need some assistance. Gotta 10-66. Over.”“Copy that. I’ll be there in five. Over.” The radio crackled.“Ma’am, if you could have a seat.” He waved to a plastic chair against the wall.“What? I can’t go?”“No, I need to do a patdown and I need another officer present to ensure that you’re not sexually harassed.”“What?”“Ma’am, take a seat or I’ll be forced to inform the judge that you’re obstructin’ justice.”I flopped in the chair, indignation rising. He was discriminating against me because of my shoes. After sitting for several minutes, I realized I hadn’t been to the bathroom since I’d gotten up, and I’d had two cups of coffee. “Do you think I could go to the bathroom really quick?”He shook his head. “Nope. The restrooms are located in a secure area.”The entryway was hot and I waved my hand to try to cool off with little success while I crossed my legs back and forth. Thinking about having to go only made it worse. I watched the minute hand on the industrial wall clock move slowly around the face. Over ten minutes had passed and no Ernie. I stood. “Look, I really need to go report for jury duty. If you could just let me go—”“Sit.”“You can even pat me down, I swear I won’t sue you.”“Sit.”I was about to protest when I heard a familiar voice. “Well, well, well. It didn’t take you long to get into more trouble.” The police officer who’d given me the ticket hooked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back on his heels with a smug smile. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”The security guard pointed toward me. “You know this one, Ernie?” His voice rose.“Oh yeah, I just gave her a ticket for illegally parking.”“I was gettin’ change,” I huffed.“Then last month, there was the whole business with her mother’s murder.” He half-whispered the last word.The security guard raised his eyebrows and appraised me with the new information. His hand rested on the butt of his gun.“I was innocent! Daniel Crocker killed Momma.”“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to stand and spread your feet and hold your arms out, away from your body.”I considered protesting. This was unfair, but I figured if I put up a fuss Officer Ernie would be only too happy to haul me down to the police station, a place I had no intention of going back to. “Hey,” I said as the guard started patting my sides. “This is the county courthouse and you’re a city police officer. What are you doin’ here?”Ernie shifted his weight. “Robbie is off with gout so I’m dropping in to help Ol’ Matt when he needs assistance. Not that it’s any of your business.”The guard moved down my legs and finally dropped his hands. “She’s clear.”“You sure?” Officer Ernie asked. “She’s a sneaky one.”“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”Ernie stuck out two fingers in the shape of a V and moved them from his eyes to me and back again. “I’m watchin’ you.”
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