Interview Kwen D. Griffeth, Author of Shadow of the Moon!
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about Kwen D. Griffeth and Shadow of the Moon.
What defines you as an author? As a person? Are they one in the same?
As a writer/storyteller, I have two foundations I build every book on. First, I think of myself as a rollercoaster operator. I want the reader to take a ride that blocks out the rest of their life for a short period of time. You have never heard of a person worrying about their taxes in the middle of a good coaster drop. I write for the entertainment of my readers. I want to give them a break from the responsibilities of real life, for a short time.
My second foundation is my characters tell their own stories. I try to never describe a setting, but let the character tell the reader about it. Doing so, allows the reader to not only know what the place looks like, but how it smells, and the emotions it generates in the character. I’m often complimented or criticized on my characters, as they are never perfect.
As a person, I no longer want to change the entire world. My youth, at least, drove me to attempt that and I failed. I still however want to make my corner of it a little better. Portions of money raised by my books have gone to breast cancer research, and currently I’m setting up a way to financially support rescue dogs. When Christ told us to help the “least of you,” I don’t think he was species specific.
Got to agree with you there.
You’ve got a time machine, a cloak of invisibility, and one hour. Where would you go, and what eavesdropping would you do?
Without hesitation, I would walk with Picket’s army during the last day of the battle of Gettysburg. I am a history nerd and the study of courage displayed by warriors, when they knew the cause was lost has always amazed and humbled me. How would it have been to stand in the pass with the Spartans at Thermopylae? Or be on the wall with Crocket and the defenders of the Alamo? But if I could only visit one, it would have to be Picket’s Charge. Shoulder to shoulder, the army marched just over a mile on a slight uphill grade of July 4th. They wore woolen uniforms and many had not bathed in weeks. They marched into aimed rifle and cannon fire. At times, as many as a dozen went down together. The reaction was to dress left and close the ranks. To me, it is not a question of Blue or Grey, Union or Confederate. It is a question of the individual soldier determined to face odds so against him, that many wrote goodbye letters prior to the order to march.
Interesting.
A peek between the pages of Shadow of the Moon, First book of the Shadow Series.
“I’m Professor Lloyd’s assistant. Is he expecting you?” Her smile never wavered, though the hand dropped to her side.
“No, as I said, I’m with the FBI, and we don’t normally make appointments.”
Miranda, with smile still in place, walked to the door leading to the professor’s office as she said, “Let me check with him, but I’m sure he will be able to meet with you. I keep his appointment calendar, so I know he’s not overly busy.”
“Hey, I was here first, and I’ve waited thirty minutes.”
Trakes turned back to the office and noticed a blonde had stood to announce her displeasure. She tried to show her indignation with the agent, but her glare fell short.
Trakes smiled at the student and held out her FBI credentials for the blonde to see.
“I’m with the FBI, sweetie. We get cuts.”
Behind her, she heard Miranda say, “Sit down, Shelly, you know as well as I do the professor won’t change your grade.”
Trakes turned back to Miranda and waved the credentials one more time.
“These are really the only announcement I need, but thank you. I’ll just pop in. Then the professor and I will get acquainted.”
Before Miranda could object, the agent turned and stepped through the door.
Her first impression of the office was the desk. It was large, made of wood and appeared antique. The floor was wood, with a large rug that covered most of it. Like the outer office, this one was also wainscoted with dark wood paneling. Opposed to the other space, this one was painted an off-white the rest of the way to the 10-foot ceiling. Again, keeping with the theme set by the outer office, this one also had pictures and paintings on every wall. Bookcases, shelves and glass cases flanked the desk, with two chairs centered in front of it. A two-person sofa along the wall to the left and a coffee table finished the décor. Professor Lloyd sat behind the desk.
He studied papers with his head lowered, and her first glimpse of him took in the breadth of his shoulders and his hair. It was thick and dark, almost black down the center of the head, but shaded to grey by the time it reached the man’s ears. It was combed back, but a natural part down the center caused it to fall to each side. She wondered what it felt like, then forced herself to refocus.
As she stepped through the door, Trakes announced, “Good afternoon, I’m…”
He looked up from his papers.
The eyes were a pale blue. Ice blue. The shade of blue used to sell breath mints, and her intake of air seemed fresher as it travelled to her lungs. The eyes were hard and unwelcoming. Andee wished she had waited to be announced. She stepped into the room and tripped on the edge of the rug. She whispered a curse, caught her balance, held her blush to a minimum and muttered an apology.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
Those eyes, still focused on her, softened enough to indicate his irritation at the interruption had grown into a mild curiosity. As he studied her, he allowed an eyebrow to raise and his head to cant to one side. She suddenly felt exposed, and her blush from the ungainly entry deepened. Her heart paused, and then quickened. Her stomach tickled, then settled into nervousness. Her underarms damped and a question about deodorant flashed through her mind. She tried again to introduce herself, but discovered she had forgotten her name.
“Professor, I’m…a…I’m…”
Her words came in a small squeak. It may have been the squeak a mouse makes when she sees the hawk dive, but it was certainly the squeak of prey. She froze. The corners of his mouth turned.
“Uncle Alwyn, you stop this. Stop it, right now.”
The commands came from Miranda, and the professor looked past Trakes to his niece, who was standing in the doorway. As he broke eye contact, Andee gulped air. She realized she’d forgotten to breathe.
“Uncle Alwyn, I’m ashamed of you,” Miranda continued, and she took Andee’s arm and assisted her to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Andee smiled her gratitude as she felt dizzy. She looked up at the assistant, who smiled down at her.
“Don’t mind my uncle. He does that sometimes. It’s because he is an Alpha.”
“He’s a what?”
Andee felt as if she was clearing a fog.
“He’s an Alpha, and sometimes he takes advantage.”
“An Alpha? Is that a fraternity?”
https://www.linkedin.com/in/kwen-griffeth-3b146084/
It was wonderful having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Shadow of the Moon!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Fantasy/Murder/Romance, Kwen D. Griffeth, Shadow of the Moon by Tena Stetler with comments disabled.
