About the Book
Title: Medusa’s Touch
Author: Emily L. Byrne
Publisher: Queen of Swords Press
Publication Date: May 27, 2018
Word Count: 79,500 words
Category: lesbian fiction, cyberpunk, erotic romance
Genre: Science Fiction, Romance
Purchase Links
Synopsis
Medusa Pilot TiCara X273 just signed on for more trouble than she ever bargained for. A beautiful corporate rep with a secret, her ailing boss, a covert mission to a hidden destination, an implacable foe with some unexpected allies and a sizzling attraction, seasoned with more than a touch of deceit and betrayal, make for a trip that some of them may not survive. Can TiCara learn to trust the woman she’s falling in love with before it’s too late?
Interview
Today Emily L. Byrne joins us to talk about life, writing, and her latest work. Welcome, and let’s dive right in. What cultural value do you see in storytelling?
What a great question! I think that storytelling is central to any culture. As human beings, we use stories to inform, to entertain, to preserve history and traditions, to convey information and/or to build connection and community. I think that as a writer, I have the opportunity to contribute in several of these categories. Particularly as a writer of lesbian, bi and queer fiction. We need to see ourselves on the page, imagine ourselves in the future and the past, see a whole universe of possibilities before us. At the same time, there’s nothing wrong with a good fun read. I’m hoping that Medusa’s Touch succeeds on both of those levels, helping folks envision some version of themselves in the far future while providing a few hours of entertaining reading.
Those are the best kinds of books. Obviously, you’re a storyteller yourself. But what are some of the jobs besides writer that you’ve held?
Like a lot of other writers and other folks in the arts, I’ve had a bunch of jobs. Currently, I work in IT and do arcane things with data, but I’ve also been a professional archeologist, a forklift driver/warehouse worker, bussed tables in the bar with the largest collection of Elvis memorabilia outside Memphis, scored standardized tests and been a domestic violence counselor, among other things. Some of these were part time gigs, some full time. I moved all over the country in my archeology days and got to see a lot of the Great Out of Doors, generally next to a construction site.
To one degree or another, I think all of these former gigs shape my writing, regardless of whether or not I write specifically about those experiences. You have to learn to be observant, adaptable and creative to work a wide range of jobs, and I think those are the same traits that you need to be able to keep writing and aspiring to get better at it. On a more mundane level, it’s occasionally handy to know what exactly goes into setting up an archeological dig, too.
Wow! Having such varied experiences surely informs your writing, then. How do you handle a story that doesn’t go as you planned?
It depends on why it’s stuck and whether or not I have a deadline to make. Generally, I put it aside for a little bit and try to do something else: read, go to a concert, work on another story or something else that distracts me from the original problem. Relaxing can sometimes trigger my imagination.
Another option is to write out a very brief description of all the possible outcomes to the tale, building from where I’m at in the plot. So, for example, Character A has had a falling out with Character B over who serves the best tea. Character B can concede, storm off to host their own tea or sabotage Character A. Alternatively, they could never see each other or drink tea again, but that’s a different kind of story. Once I’ve made that list, I play with the options until something clicks.
Sometimes, none of this works. When that happens, I save the story off in a folder of “Works in Progress” and only go back to it if there are ideas or characters in it that I want to use for a different project. I often rework those fragments into new stories so I’m always glad that I saved them! In fact, I just sold a short story that I had reworked from a previous early draft so this writing habit comes in handy. If nothing else, unsuccessful fragments help me learn to be a better writer, at least once I can look at them and see what went wrong in the first place.
That’s some great advice, and I hope it helps other writers to see options when they feel stuck.
Okay, ready for Word Sprints? Plotter or pantser?
Pantser, but I think a lot about it so I’m not very spontaneous in my pantsing.
Cats or dogs?
Cats! We have two Egyptian Mau rescues and they love people and enjoy playtime and lots of snuggles.
What’s the best vacation spot?
Hay-on-Wye, Wales, is an entire town whose tourist industry is bookstores, each one amazing in its own way.
Thank you for joining us, and please let us know when you have a new release.
Excerpt
Sherin looked away, her half-closed eyes and the rapid rise and fall of her chest betraying her agitation. Was it desire? Or was TiCara letting the want that burned through blackhole her brain? TiCara studied Sherin for a long moment, waiting for her to look up and meet her stare, to say something that would tell her what might happen next and what, if anything, the rep wanted from her.
But the rep stayed silent and closed her eyes and there was a client waiting and credits to be made and cred was too important to lose. At least for now. TiCara smoothed her features into the sobriety appropriate for an important meeting and gestured toward the door behind Sherin.
Sherin spun away and hit the door’s old-fashioned secur button with a grimace. She ushered TiCara through, still not making eye contact, then trailed after her to stand in front of the now closed door. Her stance shifted subtly into guard mode, a change that TiCara could sense without turning her head. It surprised her, even hurt her a little. Did Sherin truly think that she was a danger to Vahn?
But now she was letting herself get distracted and she recognized that for the danger it was. Shadow trade pilots had bigger worries than chasing the nearest handsome face. She stepped forward, walking slowly with hands clasped before her, through the long white room toward the man she had come to see. Not for the first time, she wondered what the two cloth wall hangings with their depictions of odd creatures and plant life on each side of his desk cost the old man; a good replica of Old Earth embroidered silk was worth more than her entire ship. Originals were more creds than she could imagine.
Ser Trin Vahn, CEO of Vahn Corp, sat behind his big gray desk looking even more like an Old Earth tortoise than he had at their last meeting, only a half cycle ago. Word from the Eyes was that Eternayouth didn’t work for him anymore, that he would die a wizened old man while his seemingly younger rivals outlived him. Or so they all hoped, ghouls that they were.
TiCara was hoping that he outlasted them all, mostly because his credit had always been good. Besides, she liked him better than her other clients, which meant better than not at all. Trusting him was another matter, but then, she was hard pressed to think of any employer she thought she could trust.
She stopped before the desk and gave him the formal United Systems greeting: hand to heart to lips to forehead, followed by a bow. It was more formal than she needed with an established client but she knew it would sweeten up the old man. He was as notorious for formality as for his devotion to the ancient ways that their ancestors had brought to the stars from their home planet. She looked up and he nodded in acknowledgment before he spoke, his voice rasping against her ears, “I have need of your services again, Pilot-Captain TiCara. I apologize for the short notice but this is important.”
It must be. Vahn had never gone straight to business when she’d dealt with him before. Nor had he ever mentioned anything that approached urgency. Urgency was expensive, and they both knew it. Normally, he spoke first of interstellar trade, then asked shrewd questions that tried to make her reveal too much about her own operations. Then and only then would he tell her why he had summoned her.
This time was clearly different. He didn’t mention Sirius Transport, the shipping corp she currently subcontracted for, only her. Which meant this was an independent deal, risky for both of them. Sirius could cut her contract if they found out. They could do nothing to the old man, of course, not directly. But there were other forms of vengeance for interfering with another corp’s contractors while they were under contract: missing licenses, refusals to allow a ship to make port, minor sabotage.
TiCara weighed the risks as she sized up Vahn. Her latest delivery for Sirius had been a success and their rep had let her know that they would like her to make another drop soon, but they had not finalized any details. Sirius might ignore a side job, as long as it was fast and quiet and her ship was available when they were ready.
Vahn gestured for her to sit and a roboserver emerged from a wall panel to place a tea tray with a steaming teapot and small ceramic cups on the desk between them. They each took a cup and sipped. TiCara blinked in pleased surprise: this was greenhouse-grown tea, not the usual imitation made from processed protein. The old man was trying to sweeten her up too.a
About the Author
Emily L. Byrne’s stories have appeared in such venues as Bossier, Candy Lovers, Forbidden Fruit, First, Summer Love, Best Lesbian Erotica 20th Anniversary Edition, Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year Vol. 2, First, Witches, Princesses and Women at Arms, Blood in the Rain 3 and The Nobilis Erotica Podcast. Her collections, Knife’s Edge: Kinky Lesbian Erotica and Desire: Sensual Lesbian Erotica, are available from Queen of Swords Press.
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