Author: Today I’ve brought Claire Lawson, sheriff of Camp Chanute in the buffer zone of the United States territory and heroine of PRODIGAL, out of the back of my brain to chat with us today. Claire appeared briefly in ANGELI—
Claire: Where I was killing stuff.
Author: Yes, yes, killing monsters, and then more prominently in TRAITOR where she and her sister helped the hero and heroine of that novel stop the Shipborn from deserting Terra under false pretenses.
Claire: I killed a bunch of stuff in that book, too. It’s my thing.
Author: It’s not your only thing. You’re also devoted to your family, shrewd, and...tall. Anyway, hello, Claire! Glad you could be here today.
Claire: Like I have a choice?
Author: Um. Well. The readers at I Smell Sheep would like to know what it’s like being written by me.
Claire: Boring, because it takes you so long to finish.
Author: I have to make sure the story is solid and the characterization is believable. It’s no simple thing to construct the hypothesis of an alien invasion on our planet and how it affects all the people there.
Claire: Whatever. Look, I’m kind of busy. Saving the world, assigning people who annoy me to dig latrines, and trying to keep my toddler and Rainbow Sparkles from all-out war. How long is this gonna take?
Author: As long as it takes me to type what you say.
Claire: So readers want to know what my author is like? Well, she’d have been one of the first to go during the alien apocalypse. No physical training, not much common sense, can’t even shoot in a video game, definitely doesn’t have a green thumb, spends her time in a basement relying on modern conveniences...
Author: That’s not what they want to know. They want to know--
Claire: But it’s important. You’d be useless in an apocalypse.
Claire: Did you even take up that exercise regimen?
Author: I told you already. I tap dance, 2x a week. It’s not easy. I sweat like a hoss. And remembering the routine from class to class stimulates my brain and—
Claire: Are you going to tap dance your enemies into submission?
Claire: Or do you think you can write them into a corner, with mean words? Hell, if aliens actually confronted you, you’d clam up like a little punk. You’re a freakin’ introvert who can barely even call people on the phone to order pizza. You’re only good behind a keyboard, and there’s no more keyboards after the apocalypse. Plus, I’m effing sick of walnuts. We traded our neighbors for loads of walnuts in return for the loan of some of our mechanics, and the dairies cannot get the yogurt right.
Author: You were dissing me and then...walnuts? What?
Claire: I thought it might help readers envision what they’d be up against when aliens are all over the planet trying to eat them. Everything goes to hell, and you have to scrabble for food and supplies while not letting yourselves turn into total psychopaths like the warlords or drowning in your own offal. Hence those latrines I mentioned. It’s a balance between people who completely suck and people who don’t suck as much and are willing to cooperate.
It’s my job to keep my people safe from the monsters and the warlord scum. We beat up the warlords, kill the bad aliens, and plot and argue with the good aliens, who are actual people, incidentally. The bad aliens are just black, soul-sucking blobs and these red giant bat things. Daemons. I like to blow their heads off, but gotta be careful the ichor doesn’t get on you. That crap stings like a mother.
Author: It’s a tough world after the apocalypse. I did thorough research using—
Claire: They don’t care. They just want to read about me getting sh*t done and I guess about Adam Alsing. The guy. The love interest. I met him when he was completely naked. Idiot. Dead of winter. Love him anyway. Hey, he saved the world after I saved him. Props!
Author: I wrote the two of you to be very complementary and--
Claire: Mushy garbage, but the sex was great, so thanks for that. Are we done here?
Author: I did finish your book, so...
Author: Technically, I’m pretty near the eastern seaboard. I wouldn’t be first to die in my own apocalypse. That’s California. I’d still be here. I’m just saying. And dance-offs do happen. I’ll be ready, with jazz hands and a mean nifty.
by Jody Wallace
September 5th 2016
by Entangled Publishing LLC
Genre: Science Fiction Romance
Tagline: He nearly destroyed the world, but with her help, he can save it.
Adam Alsing—at least that’s what they tell him his name is—has no idea who he is or why he’s huddled naked in the snow next to a mysterious silver pod. When a gorgeous, no-nonsense sheriff by the name of Claire Lawson rescues him, she explains the planet’s under attack—and he’s been missing for over two years. The problem is, what he doesn’t remember can kill them.
Keeping the peace in her post-apocalyptic town is all the trouble Sheriff Claire Lawson can handle. Until the MIA Chosen One—the guy who could have prevented the apocalypse—interrupts her supply run. The Shipborn aliens want to study him, and what’s left of the Terran government wants to lock him up. But his charming demeanor and his desire to help, along with his sexy smile, has Claire fighting her better judgment to keep Adam around. For now.
Jody Wallace writes sf/f romance, paranormal romance, and contemporary romance. Her Maelstrom series with Entangled Publishing (ANGELI, TRAITOR, PRODIGAL) is post-apocalyptic science fiction romance about finding love during an alien invasion. After growing up in the South in a very rural area, she went to school a long time and ended up with a Master's Degree in Creative Writing. Her resume includes college English instructor, technical documents editor, market analyst, web designer, and general, all around pain in the butt. She resides in Tennessee with one husband, one Grandma, two children, six cats, much yarn, and a lot of junk.