Author Max E. Stone joins me
today to chat about the new romantic suspense novel, Hollow Fissure.
Bio:
Max doesn’t remember ever not creating a
story.
A writer and lover of books since the age of nine, Max first set
pen to page as a hobby, constructing stories that were anything but fit
for children. Entertaining classmates while simultaneously concerning surrounding
adults with blood-ridden tales of gory mysteries and heavy suspense that
“just came to mind,” Max, with the help of family and the encouraging
words of an inspiring teacher, continued to develop this gift.
Little was it known at the time that said gift would become
a lifeline. From horrific trauma in Max’s teen years, the Warrens,
Bennetts, and Johnsons, three interconnected families all with
issues, mysteries, and secrets that threaten their livelihood and lives,
were born.
Max reads everything and everyone; relishing the journey of
authorhood and learning something new each day.
Welcome, Max. Please tell us about your
current release.
Hollow Fissure is a story surrounding three families
based between the USA and Italy that are dealing with the affects and aftermath
of an abduction and near-murder concerning their loved ones.
What inspired you to write this book?
I wanted to
explore a couple of older characters anew, Hannah and Melissa, one of which I
previously gave a passing glance in previous work. I wanted to see how she,
Hannah, was doing and what had come of her between ages 6, when I first
mentioned her, to 19. Also, these two are an almagamation of some strong women
that I know so that was a big inspiration as well.
Excerpt from Hollow Fissure:
“She should
be at home with her family."
The critical
bite in Mom’s strong Somali inflection cut through the flat's bedroom door.
Beneath heavy blankets, Hannah hugged a bed pillow tight to her ears, blocking
out the confrontation Faduma Aden’s words would bring. For weeks, she said
little, but her care for her daughter remained evident. That was when she
assumed Hannah would transfer to a university near the family home in Abruzzo.
An hour ago,
her sole child shattered that reality and pleaded to stay in Trieste. She and
Dad said they would discuss it.
Not long
after that, Hannah left the room to take a nap and woke to their tension-laden
debate on the matter.
“Maybe our
Hannah is right. Our girl is strong.”
Unruffled
reassurance in Dad’s UK-born cadence warmed her heart.
Alfred Aden
had taken on the role of ‘father’ when her own was killed by the brutes who’d
stolen her in Somalia years ago. He witnessed her ruptured rage, soothed her
back to sleep when past horrors took hold of her dreams, and, still, he called
her ‘strong.’
So did the
Polizia, Detectives Bennett and Councill, and her friend Gabriel. She didn’t see
what they saw.
Not after
hers and Melissa’s confrontation with Derek Warren.
A single
bullet to the chest—courtesy of Melissa—sent their assailant to his end. And
hell…
A month
passed since the hospital released them.
Hannah’s
physical bruises healed well but she hadn’t seen her savior since and phone
calls between the two were kind but curt.
Dark pictures
of the old hotel’s underbelly and all that happened there sent bile ripping its
way up her insides.
Hannah’s
vision swam. Her temples pounded.
The bathroom
was just outside of her room. She could run there, empty her stomach’s
contents, and return to the protective bubble of shelter under soft cushions
and plush covers.
No. Better to
wait out the fight than chance being dragged into it.
“Strong? You
think she’s strong?” Mom’s voice sliced deep again.
Breathe
in…Breathe out…Breathe in…one…two…three…
“She is a
naïve girl. She insists on doing everything herself. Like she has no parents
who care for her. If she had just stayed with us, just listened to us,
this…this man would have never come back to hurt her again.”
A quiet sob
escaped Hannah. Fat tears slid down deep brown cheeks as the “man” invaded her
memories.
Hands of the
past pulled and hauled amid terrified, muddled screams and cries that hadn’t
stopped; only altered to and from several voices, none of which she recognized.
Then, Derek’s
clean-cut face, his strange smile; him telling her that everything would be all
right.
Not even a
day into her arrival in America, he’d been the first one to hurt her.
What exciting story are you working on
next?
I’m working on a couple of
short stories—one of which is titled ‘BloodShot’—as well as two novels, Black
Cradle and Black Roses. Black Cradle will discuss more on how these mentioned
characters came to be and Black Roses deals with another case involving another
family, which I haven’t formally formulated yet. I’m excited about what’s to
come.
When did you first consider yourself a
writer?
It was a long
while before I did consider myself a writer. I would say it was maybe around my
mid 20s when I published my first book, August
to Life.
Do you write full-time? If so, what's
your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find
time to write?
I don’t write
full time but, thankfully, I shape my day overall so I can write pretty much at
any point. When I’m not able to write during the day, I write at the end of the
day when there’s nothing else on my self-made enormous task list. That way, my
mind is only occupied with my favorite tunes and the ideas that I’m drafting at
the moment.
What would you say is your interesting
writing quirk?
I don’t know
how interesting it is, but I have to act out the lines and story scenes,
especially with the voices. So, for instance, if the character has a
high-pitched nasal sounding type voice, I have to act it out to hear how it
would sound with the lines I’m writing up.
As a child, what did you want to be when
you grew up?
Fairy,
fireman, police officer, business person, you name it, I wanted to be it. I
actually wrote since 9 years old and my stories weren’t for kids at all. They
were all the hardcore thrilling type reads that I write now. Writing was just a
hobby until I became a teenager and I started doing it more. Then, I knew I
wanted to be a writer.
Links:
Buy links:
Amazon
| Smashwords | KOBO
| BLIO
Thanks for being here today, Max.
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