Welcome to Stephanie Collier, the gifted author of the Gothic Romance, The Blood of the Black Rose.
Stephanie Collier has always
immersed herself in other worlds created by talented minds, and her love of
beautifully crafted words made her branch out at a young age, dreaming up new
characters and worlds of her own. Stephanie currently resides in Missouri with
her loving, supportive husband and amazingly talented four children.
Stephanie
is an author of Gothic Romance stories with endings that tend to be
bittersweet. Her debut novel, The Blood
of the Black Rose, released in February, 2014.
How did you come up with the
title for The Blood of the Black Rose?
-My
mother and I used to walk every park in the area every morning and we were
tossing around different ideas for my novel (I wanted to make sure that this
book just wasn’t another vampire story). All of the sudden, I had this
brilliant thought. (If you haven’t read the novel yet, this is a little bit of
a spoiler.) My thought, which I shared with my mother instantly, was about the
virgin white rose and how its scent is that of a virgin’s blood, thereby luring
the vampire to it. I threw around many ideas that day, but the one that I
absolutely fell in love with was that if a vampire touched it, the rose would
begin to open and turn red as it sucked the blood of the vampire’s victims from
them. If the vampire stayed connected to the rose, it would begin to suck out
the vampire’s very essence and turn black as it opened further until their soul
was trapped within the now black rose. Essentially, every black rose is a
“dead” vampire. I loved the concept so much that I wanted that to reflect in my
title.
Who is your favorite character
and why?
-Honestly,
it’s Alhena. I know that it should be Demyan, considering I wrote Part One in
first person POV from his perspective, but it is Alhena. The reason being is
because in the second half, after being born to him over and over through the
loops of time, she shows such strength even though her soul is connected to him
through the Gypsy curse. This time she doesn’t just blindly follow her heart;
she questions her feelings, she questions him, she questions the curse. And the
utmost reason why is because of the ending, but I don’t want to ruin that for
anyone!
Tell us a little bit about your
cover art. Who designed it? What made you fall in love with this particular
design?
-The
main image is a stock image that I bought the rights to and from there, I
designed the rest myself. I took away some things in the image that I
particularly didn’t love and added things that I did. I have always loved
creating things in Photoshop and I knew that I wanted to design my own cover
before I even finished the novel. There was a certain impression I wanted to
convey and what I came up with did exactly that. I had quite a few that I
designed, and ended up bouncing between two. One was a very lovely image of a
man with snow falling around him and his hair was frozen, he was holding a rose
and looking down at it. I thought that it represented Demyan wonderfully.
However, I was worried that it would be misconstrued as a young adult book, so
ultimately I decided against it.
Who is your intended audience?
-17
and up. I think more women will gravitate towards it than men, but I have been
pleasantly surprised with the response from the male gender - other than that,
anyone who loves dark gothic stories that have sexual content. And of course,
anyone who wants more vampires!
What can we expect from you in
the future?
-Oh my
goodness! Lots of stuff!!! I am working on the 2nd book in The Immortal Darkness Chronicles which is dedicated to Erzsébet’s
life up until The Blood of the Black Rose.
Every book within the series will also be a stand-alone, so it will not be
necessary to read every book in order to follow each characters story.
I am
also almost finished with the first book in what is meant to be a trilogy for a
YA Fantasy. I think that I will probably finish it up and then put it on the
backburner for a while yet. I started writing that in my early 20’s, so I want
to make sure that it flows. My writing has evolved so much over the years that
I am worried the first three-fourths will not match the last part.
I have a NA WIP about an overweight
young woman who turns to drugs in order to lose her weight. As the story
unfolds, she realizes that not only is she losing her weight, but other things
about herself that she once loved, and that her self-esteem issues have completely
consumed her. It has a little bit of romance, but ultimately it is a story
about self- discovery, awareness, finding happiness within yourself no matter
your outer shell and making peace with yourself. It does keep true to the
darker themes that I seem to gravitate to and isn’t as cut and dry as it
sounds. I wish I could reveal more, but it’s still a little too early.
There is one other that I am devoting
my time to, but it’s too early to see if I am going to stick with it or not, so
I’d rather not disclose anything about that one at this time.
What can readers who enjoy your
book do to help make it successful?
-Spread
the word! Please, please, please! And if you enjoyed it, please take the time
to leave a review, they really help us out!
Is there anything else you would
like to say?
-Thank
you very very much for having me on your blog, Susanne, I really appreciate it.
I would also like to add that The Blood
of the Black Rose is on sale on
Amazon for $0.99 as a limited time offer and that beginning Sunday, March 23rd
there is a contest for an autographed print copy on the Express Reviews
website, link to follow. http://xpressreviews.weebly.com/giveaways.html
Before you go, can we get an
excerpt from your debut novel?
1
Screaming Echoes
Spring 1943
Bombs burst through the air, gray
smoke cutting across the purple-orange sky, raining shards of ruin and debris
all around us. I dragged my mother along
by her elbow, ducking and scrambling along the broken uneven streets, her eyes
wide in fear and loss. My baby sister
clung to her skirt, scurrying beside her as she dragged a tattered doll behind
by its threadbare arm. Her tear-stained
face made rivulets of red puffy flesh peek through the dirt and dust that caked
us. She pressed her chubby cheek into my
mother’s thigh and I could swear I heard her whimpers and sobs above the
eruptions and screams of those massed around us.
A building on our left exploded into
flame, the blast sprawling us to the ground.
A shower of brick and plaster poured over us, threatening to bury us
where we had fallen. My ears rang
loudly, a thunder of following missiles whistling past, erupting with fury as
they hit their targets. For a moment I
dare not move, terror forming a hard knot in my chest demanding tears of
outrage, hatred and most of all unbridled dread. I swallowed the bubbling emotions that would
render me incomprehensible and slowly rose to my feet, the still air humming
around me as if a storm were coming. I
could feel the electricity crackling as goose bumps lined my flesh, every hair
on my body trying to stand on end.
Frantically my eyes scanned the rubble, searching for my mother and
sister. They were smaller than I and the
blast had pried my aching fingers from my mother’s arm instantly.
The dust billowed around me, spiraling
into small swirling formations before settling around my feet. My eyes locked on an outstretched arm, the
aftermath casting a sickening yellowish tint upon the pallid skin. My stomach convulsed as I crouched down. Small fragile fingers were tightly wrapped
around a piece of torn brown wool in an upturned palm, gripping firmly to a
doll’s arm. “Please,” I mumbled, “God,
please.”
Time seemed to slow as I moved pieces
of wall and glass, brick, rock, plaster and pipe from her helpless unmoving
body. Screams, cries, shouts and
explosions whirled around me yet sounded distant; my ears were filled with the
loud quick beat of my heart. It could
not be my little Allandré, please Lord, please.
I removed the last piece of plaster covering her face, her
unblinking emerald eyes staring into the gray-lined sky. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth,
her gaze already filmed over with death.
My mournful howl of tragedy filled the
silence that surrounded me as I sank to my knees amongst the destruction. I cradled her small form to my chest barely
noticing the glass slicing into my skin, embedding itself into my knees. My heart screamed in torment, the pain wanting
to rip me into shreds. The only good
thing in my life - so precious, so innocent and so beautiful was taken from
me. My
little Allandré.
Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.co/dp/B00I6BT6UA
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