June 23, 2014

Interview with Peiri Ann, author of BURDENED {Plus Excerpt}

*What would you be doing right now if you were not an author?
Oh, great question. If I were not an author I would be completing my Masters in psychology to pursue a career as a child psychologist. I love kids and the brain. But my love for writing over powered understanding the brain complexity of a child's brain. Now I read to them and give them lots of hugs.

*5 years ago: what were you doing?
Toughest time of my life but on a lighter note, I was half way through my BA in psychology and trying to find out what to do with the little being that popped out of my belly and wouldn't stop pooping, eating, and crying. Prior to this point I was a light reader. During reading became my way of coping with life and from then in I've always had a book in my face. All the time, everyday.

*Do you have a certain writing ritual?
Um, no, not really. But if I do not have noise in the background my writers mind bombards me with scenes and new characters and I start typing too fast which results in a lot of typos. Which sometimes makes a lot of work for my editors.

*What has been the toughest criticism given to you as an author?
An instructor from my English lit class said to me a long time ago "Your detail is flimsy. (Referring to the details of a short story I'd written) Writing isn't just something you do because you think you can. Writing is who you are, if there is no feeling in you, and you cannot relate to the joined letters of crap you refers to as words that formulate a weakly constructed sentence that you expect me to read and become infatuated by, this is not your niche." He tore up my nicely thought out typed words and said "Try it again, and this time bleed."
I was so upset he tore up my story, but it worked and I understood. He just could have been less insulting about it.
*Is there an author you'd like to meet? 
Yes, two. Shakespeare (that will never happen) and Steven King. He only has to say "hello" and I would be over joyed.

*Biggest writing pet peeve?
My biggest writing pet peeve is punctuations. I hate them, but their important.

* Do you read other's reviews of your books?
 Yes, I like to see what other people think of my work, their likes and dislikes, and their rating. I like knowing my readers and connecting with them.m, even if they don't like my books. They might inspire me to write something they will like.

Fun Five:
Let's see, painting and writing with my daughter (really everything I do with her is fun, she's a joy. Expect Chuck-E-Cheese. I hate that place.)  Zuma (the game with the frog), rock climbing (indoor), paint balling (as long as I don't get hit in the face-it hurts), and reading to the "hubbs" and we both are deeply into the book.

Fav Color
Orange (All oranges, just not like Effie's hair.)

Fictional Character you'd like to spend the day with?
Hands down, Thor (Oh how I would spend a day with Thor, and then be angry with time when the day ends.)

Fav food
Peanut Butter is my favorite food. I don't know why, it just taste delicious, on a spoon and out of the Jiff jar.

Fav song and/or singer
I have a million favorite songs, but I'm going to go with one that's currently out today that I've been keeping on repeat Latch (feat Sam Smith). My favorite singer out right now is Bruno Mars, he's suave.

Guilty pleasure
My guilty pleasure is consuming an entire box of Twinkies. (I was so angry when hostess went out of business. And was the first in line for a box when they came back.) Shh, tell no one.

Twitter - @peiriann
Facebook like page - @peiriann
Google+ - peiriann

Getting in my Mazda 6, there is a flyer on my window. They are really planning on advertising this party everywhere. Really, flyers? And on my car of all places. I hate shit on my car. Throwing the flyer to the backseat, I turn up the radio. There are little-to-no cars left, and I am so ready to be at home, on a couch, watching something not relevant to life.
Maybe there will be something on MTV, no, E, no… Maybe there will be a good movie on HBO, no, maybe on FX. Yeah, FX always has a good movie on. I’ll sit back in the family room and      wa—
There’s a loud screech and a hard bang. I jolt forward and back—my body slams against the seat. Blinking, trying to get my eyes to focus, I’m dazed; my vision fades out then back in. I think—I think I just got hit waiting at a stop sign. Panic kicks in as I look myself over. Am I okay? Oh my goodness, am I hurt?
What the hell! Somebody just hit my damn car! I grab my head, feeling it starting to throb. I think I hit my head on the—
A tap pulls me from my self-examination.
No, the idiot who just hit me is not tapping on my damn window!
I open the door, pissed. “What? What the hell? You just hit me!” I yell, still trying to get my eyesight to focus.
“Um, yeah, I know.” I look at him. “I am so sorry.” The apologetic voice comes from a perfectly chiseled face that responds to my anger subtly.
He looks at me with slanted, brown, prominent eyes. When he turns a little away from the sun, they turn a slight hazel. His strong nose ends in a rounded point, and his hair—maybe black or brown, depending on how the sun hits it. Very attractive lips that say ‘Hey, I am here, kiss me.’ He is tall-enough to block the sun and that adds to his presence in a way that is equally hypnotizing. And his shoulders are broad-enough to block a tackle from a football player.
“I know this is probably the worst thing that could happen right before your break. I am truly sorry. I can get the car fixed for you.” His exposed arms show off his tanned skin tone, which somewhat glistens from the rays of the sun, and it’s as if I’m watching it soak up every ray.
I swing my legs from the car and step out. The world seems to shift. I grab my head, feeling dizzy. The earth feels like it’s moving beneath my feet, and I lose my balance.
He catches me with a quick grab of my arm and cuff of my waist. There is a tingle, slight burning feeling, where his hand touches my bare arm.
He makes sure I’m standing on my own, then quickly pulls his hand away. The earth shakes again and I become a little wobbly. He touches my shoulder, holding me in place, and makes sure not to let his hand touch my bare skin.
“Um, are you okay? You look a little out of it.” His voice is lyrical and smooth, with a base sound that adds a manly tone. Faultless. “Can you hear me? Are you okay?”
Damn, he’s talking to me. Remember words, Tracey, say something. “Um.” Better words. “Yeah, I think so. How did you hit me?” My voice sounds distant to me, and too calm.
“Completely not paying attention. I came here to pick up my cousin from school and didn’t see him. While searching the parking lot and texting him, I kind of lost focus on the important part of driving.”
“You do know you are not supposed to text and drive, right?” Holding my head, I walk around to the back of my car, checking for damages.
He follows. “Again, I apologize for any damages. I will get everything fixed.” His voice, now factual, has lost the apologetic tone.
Examining the back of my car, there are no real damages, besides some scratches and a ding by my license plate. But as my mom would say, ‘the damages can be under the car and not noticeable, honey.’ “Well, looks like the only real damage was to my head.” I lightly let my palm touch my head, feeling a knot start to protrude from the side of my forehead.
“Can I take you to the hospital? You do seem a little dazed.” He moves to look at the car. “And after we leave the hospital, we can take your car to the body shop, because even though it doesn’t seem like there are any damages, doesn’t mean there aren’t any under the car.” Really, Mom?
“That’s true, but I don’t think I need to go to the hospital. My head just hurts. I think I will be okay once I get something to eat and a Tylenol.” Each of my words comes out slowly. “I am just going to head home and maybe go to the body shop later.” I scrunch my nose, feeling disoriented. “I think I need a nap.” My thought process is off. I put my hands out to my sides when the earth starts shaking again.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says in a concerning tone. “You may have a concussion and it’s never good to go to sleep. You could slip into a coma.”
“Humph, maybe.” A striking pain shoots through my head. I reach up to touch it, seeing him do the same. His thumb grazes my hairline next to my temple, and that’s it. Everything goes black, and my body hits something hard. Maybe the car or…the ground.
I have never felt anything like this. I have been touched by many guys. Well, not touched but touched—brushed by them in the hall, held hands, given a hug. I have kissed a few guys, and not even with my first. Yes, that first. None of them ever had that type of effect on me, where I was knocked unconscious. This cannot be good. My dad is so going to kill me

Thank you again. I think I got everything.


  1. Hi Mandy, thank your for the interview on your blog!!

  2. Nice answers! Loved the interview