Win a copy of Out in Blue and meet author Sarah Gilman today at the Book Boost!
Here's what she had to say...
It’s August. Where I live in northern New England, that means summer is almost over. Cold weather often sets in during September (though I admit the climate has been unusual the last few years, so you never know). Around here, it is not uncommon to trick-or-treat in the first snowfall of the year. My husband’s home town sits at an elevation that can see snow in early October, less than two months from now!
My debut novel, Out in Blue, is set locally in my home state of Vermont during autumn. Judging from the tourist influx during the fall, Vermont is well known throughout the country for fall foliage. Even though I see it every year, I love the annual color display, which reaches its peak in my hometown around my birthday.
“Please come in, both of you. It’s friggin’ northern Vermont out here.” —Jac, Out in Blue
Autumn in Vermont can get chilly, and Out in Blue is set during a cold snap. The foliage colors are at peak, but the weather has been cold enough for ice to form on ponds and streams. Prolonged time in the water is a hypothermia hazard that one of my characters has to deal with.
While crafting the novel, I was careful to not bog down the pace with excessive description, but I made of a point of highlighting the autumn foliage season in several scenes. When writing, authors use all the senses to bring the world to life. I loved how the vibrant colors of the autumn foliage added life to the some key scenes in my novel.
Sunlight backlit the deep red leaves that surrounded them. —Out in Blue
Readers, tell us, has the time of year played a large role in any of your favorite books?
A Note from the Book Boost: An interesting thought here, Sarah. In our real lives, weather often pays an integral part in things we do during each day. So why shouldn't it play the same role in our books? All I can tell you is that in the books I write, it is typically very hot. I live in the deep south after all where we have 4 seasons but they are fall, spring, summer, and HELL! Thanks for joining us, please share more about your book.
In a violent world where fallen archangels are hunted for their valuable plumage, Wren knows one thing for certain: the human woman who saved him from a poacher attack will die if she stays with him. The demon responsible for his parents’ gruesome deaths two decades ago pines for the chance to rip apart any woman who stands under Wren’s wing.
Wren doesn’t expect Ginger to stay by his side once she discovers his ability to drain life with a mere touch, yet she lingers. When an unusual talent of her own reveals the location of Wren’s father, Wren’s isolated world implodes. With the help of the demon protectors he’s sworn never to trust again, Wren risks everything to rescue his father, confront the demon who stalks his and Ginger’s every step, and claim his eternity with the most courageous woman he’s ever known.
Ginger Magellan glanced up when a man entered the café. His arm was marred by a tattoo of a bloody knife and scattered feathers, the insignia of the archangel poachers. After ordering an espresso at the bar, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed. Ginger wrapped her hands around her coffee and stared into the dark brew, but she listened to the poacher’s conversation.
“The house has been abandoned for years, but it’s the right place. I saw him fly in the fog this morning. Devil has a balcony entrance on the third floor.”
Devil. Ginger hid a snort of disgust under a fake cough.
The poacher continued after a moment. “Yeah, white wings, black markings. It’s Wren, for certain. And not a Guardian in sight. He’s all ours.”
Ginger tensed. No Guardians? Why would an archangel be without his demon bodyguards?
“Meet you there in thirty? He’ll be back before the fog clears.” The poacher accepted his espresso from the barista with a charming grin. She refused his payment and wished him luck. He blew her a kiss and left the café.
Clenching her teeth, Ginger tucked a twenty under her untouched coffee and rushed for the exit without waiting for change. She stepped into the foggy autumn morning, shivered, and buried her hands in her pockets. Two police officers chatted next to their cruiser, but she turned and hurried in the other direction. Archangel poaching, though technically illegal, was applauded and encouraged by most of the human population. She couldn’t trust the police.
She’d warn this “Wren” herself.
Ginger couldn’t let the poachers hunt and kill Wren like an animal. Neither the demons nor the fallen archangels were the Lucifer-like monsters most humans feared them to be—even though she’d never seen an archangel, they were so rare after centuries of poaching. A demon had raised her as his own and remained her best friend as much as her “father,” twenty-eight years later. She needed to call him; he’d know what to do.
Ginger jumped into her little Chevy, shut the door, and pulled out her cell phone. Why would an archangel be living around here? And without Guardians? Even Vermont was too populated for a being with a twenty-foot wingspan to hide. Was this archangel out of his damned mind?
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