It is with great pleasure that I welcome speculative fiction author Misa Buckley to my blog, author of the very-soon-to-be-released Ironhaven.
Please tell us a bit about yourself.
I’m a mum of five, living in the UK with my husband, two budgies and a Bull dog called Harley (like the motorcycle).
Tell us about Ironhaven. Is it a stand-alone story or do you foresee a series from it?
Ironhaven is a stand-alone novella. It’s a sci fi romance set in the far-flung future – the sun is burning out and Earth is in another ice age. The action starts with Lucian, the MMC, being refused access to the last shuttle to leave the planet. The story then follows his attempts to save himself, which throws him together with his ex-fiancée. If you want to know more, you’ll have to read the book, heh.
You have a couple of free reads up on your website - Paradigm Shift and Vigil. What kind of feedback have you had on those?
Vigil’s not had very much, to be honest. I don’t mind – it was a flash fiction that I’d nothing else to do with. Paradigm Shift has had a few good reviews. It’s a web series and I think I’ll probably get more as it progresses.
What inspires/inspired you to write?
Gosh, lots of things. The odd song lyric, the eternal “what if”, TV shows, Cliff Simon… :D
Which comes first for you – a character's looks, personality or name?
Looks and name tend to come first. Personality and backstory tends to come as I write.
Any tips for aspiring authors?
Write, write and write some more. Read up on the technical side of writing, but the best way to learn is to write and get critic on it. Join a writers’ group (I highly recommend Absolute Write), make friends and pick up tips. Writing can be a very lonely business, so make sure you have a good circle of fellows to call on.
If you had the power of time travel, is there anything you would go back and change? Why/why not?
The one thing I wish I’d done is art at college, but considering I met my husband on the course I did do, I think I can live with my choice J
Questions for fun:
What super-power would you choose?
The ability to transport myself from one place to another, so I could attend sci fi conventions, heh.
Which group would you most like to be a team member of? SG-1, Sanctuary or a Star Trek away team of your choice?
If it means getting my hands on Ba’al, I’ll take SG1 :D
Coffee or tea?
Pimms!
What is your favourite book?
Tigana, by Guy Gavriel Kay.
Favourite genre and why?
Epic fantasy and sci fi romance. Yes, I know that’s two.
Favourite colour?
Blue.
Upcoming news and plans for the future?
More of Paradigm Shift and an erotic Steampunk release in 2012
Thank you so much for taking the time to talk to us!
Thank you for having me!
ABOUT MISA BUCKLEY
AUTHOR BIO:
Misa Buckley is a sci fi geek who escapes the crazy of raising five children by creating imaginary worlds. She loves character-driven stories that have romance, adventure and really hot sex.
When she's not writing, you'll find her watching Stargate SG1 and lusting over Ba'al. She has a thing for bad boys in black leather.
Website: misabuckley.com
Twitter: twitter.com/MisaBuckley
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/misa.buckley
ABOUT IRONHAVEN:
The Earth is dying, and Lucian Hoyt is going to die with it thanks to his parents cancelling his pass aboard the last shuttle off the planet. There is hope, though – a brilliant inventor has come up with a plan to build a ship to evacuate those who’ve been left behind.
That inventor turns out to be Genevieve Scott, Lucian’s bitter ex-fiancée. If they’re going to work together to get off this planet, they need to put their past aside, but even melting the ice between them can’t erase all the scars.
Decadent Publishing
Amazon
Good Reads
EXCERPT:
The run-down laboratory on Fifth Avenue didn’t so much sit next to the building beside it as lean against it for support.
Lucian stared at the corrugated iron roof and the boarded-up windows in some disgust. He’d not expected this when Drew had explained about the female inventor who, with the government gone and her usual work dried up, now repaired heaters in between designing a starship that ran on alternative fuels. He couldn’t imagine how she did anything in the hovel in front of him.
I wouldn’t house a dog in such a place. He walked over to the ill-fitting door. His knock echoed hollowly. He waited…and waited.
Did he have the right address, or was the woman just was not awake? It was early morning, but not so much that anyone should still be in bed. At least, not in his opinion, but he supposed the inventor might have a different one. He knocked again with as little result. He sighed and glanced around. A passing couple spared him a quick look but didn’t say anything. Still he felt oddly conspicuous, as if he was doing something he shouldn’t be.
He tried the handle. It turned easily. Okay, then. Pulling it open, and wincing at the screech of the hinges, Lucian poked his head through the gap. “Hello? Is anyone home?”
A faint shout came from somewhere within the tangle of machinery and littered benches. Taking it as an invitation, Lucian stepped in out of the cold and wandered around the laboratory. Most of the benches groaned under the weight of a variety of heaters, all in various stages of assembly or disassembly—Lucian wasn’t sure which—but there was one given over to an intricate, clockwork-driven device that he could not make head nor tail of. He picked up a roll of paper and unwound it to find a blueprint. That made no sense either.
He shook his head: he’d been to university and had education in every science and theory going, but the level of intelligence indicated by the blueprint was still far beyond him.
Putting the roll down, he called again. “Hello?”
“One moment.”
Her voice was husky; mid-range feminine with a hint of smoke. It also carried a note that Lucian thought he recognised yet couldn’t quite place. A shadow shifted on the opposite wall, shortening as she came into the laboratory, nose buried in a thick book.
She wore leather trousers spotted with burn marks and grease, and a tightly-fitted blouse under a heavy apron. Her hair was swept up and gathered into a loose bun atop of her head, and the hands that held the book wore gauntlets. She looked up and her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in shocked recognition.
“Lucian?” she said in barely more than a whisper.
He could only stare. It had been so very long since he’d last seen this woman. Long enough that it had taken seeing her face to identify her fully. Five years too long.
AUTHOR BIO:
Misa Buckley is a sci fi geek who escapes the crazy of raising five children by creating imaginary worlds. She loves character-driven stories that have romance, adventure and really hot sex.
When she's not writing, you'll find her watching Stargate SG1 and lusting over Ba'al. She has a thing for bad boys in black leather.
Website: misabuckley.com
Twitter: twitter.com/MisaBuckley
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/misa.buckley
ABOUT IRONHAVEN:
The Earth is dying, and Lucian Hoyt is going to die with it thanks to his parents cancelling his pass aboard the last shuttle off the planet. There is hope, though – a brilliant inventor has come up with a plan to build a ship to evacuate those who’ve been left behind.
That inventor turns out to be Genevieve Scott, Lucian’s bitter ex-fiancée. If they’re going to work together to get off this planet, they need to put their past aside, but even melting the ice between them can’t erase all the scars.
Decadent Publishing
Amazon
Good Reads
EXCERPT:
The run-down laboratory on Fifth Avenue didn’t so much sit next to the building beside it as lean against it for support.
Lucian stared at the corrugated iron roof and the boarded-up windows in some disgust. He’d not expected this when Drew had explained about the female inventor who, with the government gone and her usual work dried up, now repaired heaters in between designing a starship that ran on alternative fuels. He couldn’t imagine how she did anything in the hovel in front of him.
I wouldn’t house a dog in such a place. He walked over to the ill-fitting door. His knock echoed hollowly. He waited…and waited.
Did he have the right address, or was the woman just was not awake? It was early morning, but not so much that anyone should still be in bed. At least, not in his opinion, but he supposed the inventor might have a different one. He knocked again with as little result. He sighed and glanced around. A passing couple spared him a quick look but didn’t say anything. Still he felt oddly conspicuous, as if he was doing something he shouldn’t be.
He tried the handle. It turned easily. Okay, then. Pulling it open, and wincing at the screech of the hinges, Lucian poked his head through the gap. “Hello? Is anyone home?”
A faint shout came from somewhere within the tangle of machinery and littered benches. Taking it as an invitation, Lucian stepped in out of the cold and wandered around the laboratory. Most of the benches groaned under the weight of a variety of heaters, all in various stages of assembly or disassembly—Lucian wasn’t sure which—but there was one given over to an intricate, clockwork-driven device that he could not make head nor tail of. He picked up a roll of paper and unwound it to find a blueprint. That made no sense either.
He shook his head: he’d been to university and had education in every science and theory going, but the level of intelligence indicated by the blueprint was still far beyond him.
Putting the roll down, he called again. “Hello?”
“One moment.”
Her voice was husky; mid-range feminine with a hint of smoke. It also carried a note that Lucian thought he recognised yet couldn’t quite place. A shadow shifted on the opposite wall, shortening as she came into the laboratory, nose buried in a thick book.
She wore leather trousers spotted with burn marks and grease, and a tightly-fitted blouse under a heavy apron. Her hair was swept up and gathered into a loose bun atop of her head, and the hands that held the book wore gauntlets. She looked up and her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening in shocked recognition.
“Lucian?” she said in barely more than a whisper.
He could only stare. It had been so very long since he’d last seen this woman. Long enough that it had taken seeing her face to identify her fully. Five years too long.
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