1.) Do you use pictures as inspiration at the start of a book?
I didn’t use to, but I do now. I create a Pinterest page for my story, and try to find pjctures to visualize all of the characters, and the setting. It really makes me feel like I have “begun” when I see all this coming together,
2.) What is your favourite period drama?
I have thoroughly enjoyed watching “The Crown,” regardless of if it 100% accurate historically, but my guilty pleasure would be the show “Harlots.” Definitely the other end of the spectrum from the former, but all the little conspiracies and manipulations as these women try to use their assets in the way that befits them best are intriguing.
3.) Are the titles of your books important?
I wouldn’t say I am attached to the working titles that I create, because more often than not, I’m told they will be changed at the publishing house. I’m much more interested in the cover and making sure that it’s more than just a naked torso.
4.) If you’re struggling with a scene or difficult character, what methods help you through it?
I am very lucky and grateful to have a wonderful critique group that meets once a week for critiques and another night a week to create together over Zoom. This started about the time COVID-19 really became an issue, and we were all a little afraid and socially cut off, but has grown into a place where we can take these issues and throw them out to the group. They’ve helped me solve a number of problems where I have gotten stuck and just need a little push.
5.) Are you an early bird or a night owl?
Sadly, neither! I used to be a night owl, able to focus and write until the wee hours, but I’ve developed a chronic fatigue disorder, I’m usually ready for bed by nine p.m. It definitely impacts on my writing time! At least I’m retired, so I can adjust my schedule accordingly,
6.) Who’s your favourite author? Why?
I’m not sure I have one favorite. I grew up loving Anne McCaffrey’s dragon stories, and I have read all of them many times. Then in the 70s, I discovered Stranger in a Strange Land, and I was off on a Heinlein kick for my teens. Now I read most things by Stephen King, and would call The Stand probably my most favorite book ever.
7.) Do you have a pet peeve?
Dealing with certain people regarding American politics. Enough said.
8.) Can you tell me a little about your next project?
Sure! It’s a domestic thriller about a Miami lawyer who wakes up in the Everglades after being drugged, and finding herself in a burnt car with a dead body in it. She has to determine who tried to kill her and why—and unfortunately there are too many possible suspects! This book is under contract with The Wild Rose Press and will be out sometime in the spring,
Looking
for a fresh start, Sara Woods takes a job as a news reporter in
a small town. Her first assignment for the
Ralston Courier is to
investigate of a string of deaths, all young
women, all her age. To deal
with chronic back pain, she seeks help at a
local healing center. She
soon becomes convinced that there is something
strange about the
Goldstone Clinic. Its doctors and nurses are all
the picture of perfect
beauty and health, while their patients at first
seem to improve and
then mysteriously deteriorate. Dr. Rick Paulsen,
a physician at the
local hospital, offers to teach Sara how to
access her internal power,
enhancing hidden skills and revealing secrets
from her past. Police
officer Brendon Zale also takes an interest in
Sara, watching her every
move and trying to get close to her. The deeper
she digs into the
Goldstone, the harder it is to deny links to the
paranormal. Can she
figure out what is going on and who to trust
before it’s too late?
Buy Links
Ebooks - Amazon ebook
SMASHWORDS EBOOK:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1435752:
Book Trailer https://youtu.be/pWjJT2upVlo
Author Bio
Alana Lorens has been a published writer for more than forty years, after working as a pizza maker, a floral designer, a journalist and a family law attorney. Currently a resident of Asheville, North Carolina, the aging hippie loves her time in the smoky blue mountains. She writes romance and suspense as Alana Lorens, and sci-fi, fantasy and paranormal mystery as Lyndi Alexander. One of her novellas, THAT GIRL’S THE ONE I LOVE, is set in the city of Asheville during the old Bele Chere festival. She lives with her daughter on the autism spectrum, who is the youngest of her seven children, and she is ruled by three crotchety old cats, and six kittens of various ages.
Author Links
Website http://Alana-lorens.com
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/AlanaLorens/
Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4829967.Alana_Lorens
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Alana-Lorens/e/B005GE0WBC/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/alana-lorens
Twitter: @AlexanderLyndi
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexander_lyndi/
https://lyndialexander.wordpress.com/2023/08/14/living-with-remnants-of-fire/
Excerpt
I asked Rick, “What makes you think this is the fault of someone at the clinic?”
“It’s a direct link. She was healthy enough before she went there, except for the migraines. Within a month after she started treating there, she’s on her deathbed.”
“Deathbed?” I bit my lip.
He studied me, still closed off. “She’s very sick. I don’t know if we’ll pull her through this. She might already be gone if...” His eyes narrowed.
“If what?”
“Ted told me you revived her in the ambulance, just by laying on hands.” “Well, I don’t know about that,” I said, embarrassed. “I held her hand, yeah. I wanted her to know she had a friend there.” I left out the part about wanting to share my own strength. Surely that wasn’t what had happened.
“Let’s get back to the room, and I want to see if you can do it again,” he said. He stopped short before he opened the door. “And not another word about the clinic. There are eyes and ears everywhere.”
Do what again? “I didn’t do anything.” It didn’t matter. He wasn’t listening.
When we got back to Dedra, he looked at the machines, and his face clouded with anger. “Whatever you did in the ambulance, try again. Don’t argue. Don’t think. Just do it,” he ordered.
“If you say so.” I took Dedra’s hand. Nothing happened.
He observed a moment. “You’re not trying.”
“How do you know?” I glared at him, then he pointed to Dedra. I took a deep breath, then concentrated on Dedra, picturing the girl as she’d been during my first days at the newspaper, bubbly and vivacious. The longer I thought about her, I felt a wave of heat, something like the way I’d heard a hot flash described. It came up from my feet, moved through my midsection with a little sizzle and up into my arms, hands, fingers. The beeping of the machines quickened, and I could swear Dedra’s cheeks turned a little pink.
The sound brought my attention back to the room, and I realized I felt weak. My hands slid away from Dedra’s and my knees gave way.
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