CLP Blog Tours Interview and Excerpt: Pulled Beneath by Marni Mann
**Interview**
When did you know writing was for you?
I was in middle school and, although my passion for writing already existed, I was exploring different creative outlets: music, drawing, singing, dance, and sports. Several of those found a place in my life, but they didn’t produce the intensity of emotions that I felt when I was writing. I quickly learned that despite how hard I tried to busy my brain or body, I was usually focused on the story that I was crafting in my head.
You’ve written in a variety of genres. How do you choose a genre to write in, or does it choose you? Do you have a favorite?
For the most part, all the genres in the past have chosen me. Pulled Beneath (New Adult) is the first novel that I had a specific one in mind before I began writing. It’s become my favorite genre and that’s because it allows me to explore the levels of chemistry, intimacy, and hardship within an age that’s vital for character development.
Why was Pulled Beneath a book you wanted to write?
I wanted to create a character who people could relate to and place her in a situation that was so dark, so painful that her chances of recovering were slim. We all have our breaking points. When we’re there, we just want to know there’s hope…within our grasp, in the future, buried somewhere deep within. Pulled Beneath shows the spectrum of emotions, the sparkle of hope that shines from the most unexpected places, and the internal struggle when one is fighting against their heart.
What is the hardest part of the writing process for you?
Editing is always the hardest part. It’s such a tedious process because each word holds so much value. It’s not just when the story is cleaned up, it’s when the foreshadowing gets inserted, when the loops are connected, when the characters truly reveal their identities. I’m magnifying each syllable and making sure they have a beat.
What are your favorite genres to read?
Literary, Erotica, and New Adult.
What do you want readers to take away from your story?
It’s always darkest before the dawn is a reoccurring theme in all my novels. I want readers to know they’re capable of finding that inner strength, that hope, that they’re able to recover from tragedy even if it feels impossible at the time.
How important do you think social media is for authors these days?
Social media is crucial. It’s a way to express yourself, to show the world your voice. Readers can also use the different mediums to find you, interact with you, stay up-to-date on your recent releases. It’s free advertising that directly hits your target audience.
What would be your advice to aspiring writers?
Read books in your genre, outside your genre, just read as much as you can. And while you’re reading, write. Write every day. Practice different styles and tones until one feels right. It all comes down to this: Write the book you would want to read.
**Excerpt**
I pulled into the entrance of my parents’ subdivision and rounded the first bend. I could smell smoke in the distance. Brush fires were common this time of year, and since the weather affected my parents business, I was constantly reminded of how little rain we had received this spring. The current fires were several miles east and largely contained. But a few years before, I’d witnessed how fast they could spread and how much damage they could cause. I had volunteered to help clean-up after one. They were serious danger. I hoped they wouldn’t be heading our way.
I took the second turn and noticed red and white lights flickering across the palm trees up ahead. Blue lights followed. I knew those colors came from emergency vehicles, but why were they in my neighborhood in the middle of the night? It couldn’t be the fires…the smell would be stronger, clouds of smoke would be filling the air. Maybe someone got sick. It couldn’t be for any other reason…not where I lived. Nothing ever happened here.
My fingers gripped the steering wheel even harder as I prepared to take the final corner. The road straightened as our block came into full view, and my foot hammered the brake. A crowd stood in the middle of the road. Faces I recognized. Neighbors….my neighbors. They were huddled together, dressed in their pajamas, their arms wrapped around each other. Their bodies were pointed toward the house at the end of the cul-de-sac.
My house.
A sharp pain began to stab at my stomach when I noticed the yellow tape. It bordered our lot, wrapping around each of the palms and disappearing into the darkness of the backyard. Our front door continuously opened and closed, strangers moving inside and out.
Strangers dressed in uniforms.
I knew my mouth was open. I knew my hands were squeezing the steering wheel so tightly that my fingers were cramping. I knew my feet were pushing so hard on the brake that my toenails were threatening to bend. But even as my mind bolted to the house, rushing between the crowds and tearing through the yellow tape, my body was unable to move.
“Drew,” a woman said. “Thank God you’re okay, honey. We all thought you were inside…with your parents.”
I turned my head and looked toward the voice.
“Drew’s here,” the woman yelled. It took a few seconds, but I finally realized it was Carol, a neighbor I’d known since middle school when my family bought this house. She pointed down to me and waved. “Drew’s here,” she repeated, “she’s safe.” She then glanced at me. “Drew…I…”
I concentrated on her face. She was trying to tell me something.
It suddenly became so clear… in her stare, in her mouth, in the way her shoulders drooped. In the way she had said my name.
Yellow tape.
It was surrounding my house, which everyone was staring at. They knew. But what exactly did they know?
“What happened?” I asked her. I felt the words come from my mouth, but they had slid through my lips on their own as if someone other than me was forcing them out. I had no control. It had been lost as soon as I’d passed the last turn in our neighborhood…as soon as I’d witnessed the people standing in the road. The same foreign strength that had pushed those words out of my mouth also put my car in park, opened the driver side door and compelled my feet onto the pavement.
I was moving, rushing, sprinting toward the house.
To my parents.
I didn’t feel the shoulders that bumped me as I passed. I didn’t feel my flip-flop fall off. I didn’t feel the rain trickle down on my forehead, burning my eyes as it softened my makeup.
“I can’t let you go in there,” a man said. His face was close to my ear.
I felt his breath spreading over my cheek, warming skin that felt frozen despite how sweltering it was outside. Then I felt his arms as he wrapped them around me from behind, lifting me off the ground and holding me against him. I couldn’t take another step. He wouldn’t let me.
“It’s a crime scene,” he said. “Only authorized personnel can go inside.”
Crime scene.
About Marni Mann
A New Englander at heart, Marni Mann is now a Floridian inspired by the sandy beaches and hot pink sunsets of
Sarasota. She taps mainstream appeal and shakes worldwide taboos, taking her readers on a dark and breathtaking
journey.
When she’s not nose deep in her laptop, she’s scouring for chocolate, traveling, reading, or walking her four-legged
children. Visit her at www.marnismann.com.
Buy the Book!
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1nNJgFa
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/pulled-beneath-marni-mann/1118927292?ean=2940149337309
Connect with Marni!
http://marnismann.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MarniMannAuthor
Twitter: @MarniMann
