I have two shorts released: When Walls Can Talk, which is a YA fantasy novella, and Last Chance Jack, which is a fantasy short story. My paranormal novel, Rest For The Wicked, will be released in April.
2.) You are an indie author, but do you have dreams of working with a traditional publisher or do you prefer to remain independent?
Right now, I’m going to stay independent. I tend to write shorter novels, which do not sell well in the traditional publishing arena. Plus, I’m a bit of a control freak, so being in control make me happy.
3.) Why are you a writer?
I have stories I want to tell, stories I have to get out of my head – and, of course, I’m a little crazy. It comes with the territory – staring at a blank screen for hours on end, writing about things that only exist in your head. I love every crazy minute of it. :-)
4.) Jelly or jam? Why?
Jam! It’s easier to spread, and has delicious bits of fruit. Jelly just comes out in a fruit colored lump. Ugh.
5.) What's your favorite brand of peanut butter?
Laura Scudder’s All Natural – the kind you have to stir. Love that stuff! I always left the last little bit in the jar and put it back in the fridge, so someone else would have to mix up the next jar. Sorry, Mom.
Okay – you all know I’m a bit crazy already. I am really sensitive to emotions, and – other things. I posted this experience on my blog a while back, along with a photo. I was in the necropolis in Glasgow, Scotland, on a hill above the cathedral. On the way up that hill, I took a single picture, of an interesting headstone set into the hill. It was a cold, windless, overcast, May morning, and I was alone with the huge Victorian monuments to the dead. After wandering for a bit, I stopped near one of the monuments to look out at the view of the city. It was then I felt a chill, and a female voice whispered in my ear. A second later a murder of crows flew into the air from the bushes right behind me. To say I was spooked would be an understatement. I left rather quickly, and spent a good half hour in the cathedral, until I stopped shaking. When I returned home, and got my photos developed (this was pre-digital, at least for the average person), there was something in the photo of that headstone – something that wasn’t there when I took it. How’s that for an experience?
Okay – another one? This is less spooky, but just as unnerving. I was walking through the local cemetery in Virginia City, Nevada. (What can I say – I love cemeteries.) It sits on a stretch of land just outside the city, and is just how you picture an Old West cemetery would be: graves scattered here and there, with all types of markers, from plain wood crosses with the name and date carved in, to elaborate graves with fancy headstones and wrought iron fences. I didn’t stay long here – it felt like I was being watched, though I was alone, and the air felt oppressive. I stopped at one of the older graves on my way out, and I hadn’t been there more than a few seconds when ants just poured out of the side of the grave marker, like a wave of black, and spread across the top of the grave. Yep, I left in a hurry after that. And I still visit cemeteries whenever I run across them. Someday, I’ll go back to the necropolis in Glasgow, and see what happens.
Thanks for doing this Ty – and great questions! I had a blast answering them.
Thank you, Cate!
To find out more about author Cate Dean, visit her online at her ...
Website: Cate Dean