Lou’s (Queerly) YA blog is happy to welcome E.L. Reedy and A.M. Wade, stopping by on their tour celebrating the release of Upon Broken Wings. A contemporary, Gay YA paranormal romance, it was released in April by Evernight Teen, and this impressive cover is by artist Jay Aheer. Read on for an author interview with some surprising (and delightful) questions and answers, an excerpt, and a giveaway.
Bound by a dark act of hate and despair, high school freshmen, Andrew and Kiernan, learn that their untimely deaths did not bring an end to their pain, but only began the suffering of those left behind. While his lost memories return, Andrew must master seemingly impossible feats, both spiritual and physical. As a dark spirit stalks Kiernan through the borderlands of life and death, he must also face the pain his actions have caused his loved ones. To save both their souls, Andrew must convince Kiernan to return to life and open his eyes to the love and beauty which had always been there.
ISBN: ISBN: 978-1-77339-634-7
Story Type: Novel
Word Count: 69,500
Genres: YA, LGBT, Fiction, Paranormal
Pairings: Two young adult males
Necessary to Read Previous Books: No
Warnings: Death, Suicide, Demons
What fictional speculative fiction character would you like to spend an evening with, and why?
A – Tanya Huff’s Staff Sergeant Torin Kerr. I want to know how she stays so strong and keeps pushing through to the other side, even when, especially when, everything seems hopeless.
E – Gandalf. I’d like to ask him if he really knew he was condemning Frodo and Sam to their dooms.
Would you visit the future or the past, and why?
A – I would like to visit four separate days in the past, the day each of my children came, so I could say hello and hold three of them for a while without interference from the world and have a little more time to say goodbye to one, and just hold her again.
E – The past, because it is real and set in stone. The future is fluid and I am a terrible swimmer.
How does the world end?
A – With a soft rain bringing water to the animals and plants that are left after we humans take ourselves out of the equation.
E – With a whistling wind scattering the last leaves of the last dying tree over a burning world that has long since lost its human inhabitants.
What was one of the most surprising things you’ve learned in writing your books?
A – How entire scenes that came so easily to mind are so hard to fit into the story because of timing or just not being able to make things fit that are needed. A conundrum.
E – I’d have to say how many words one has to write before he or she finds the ‘right words’ in the ‘right order.’
Where do you like to write?
A – At the table in the kitchen, where I can have my pen, tablet, and laptop all spread out and grabbed as needed.
E – Anywhere I can get comfortable and hold a tablet.
What do you do if you get a brilliant idea at a bad time?
A – Write it down, speak in to my phone’s tablet app, or even tell the person/s I’m with to help me remember something till I can get to an instrument of note-taking.
E – I always have a minimum of 3 pens on my person, but even so, sometimes when I can’t jot it down, I will repeat it to myself over and over.
What are you working on now, and when can we expect it?
Both – We’re working on a three or four book saga of fantasy that follows a group of druids from their initial creation to modern day wars with forces of darkness. The first book is done, or so we thought – as we expand our notes for the other books, we keep finding ourselves returning to the source and making a change here or there. When? One thing at a time, but the first book, probably sometime this year.
Andrew was at the graveyard that same morning, of course—every morning, windy or calm, snow or shine—he hadn’t missed a single day since the previous Halloween, when he said the final goodbye to the last of those dear to him.
Despite the sun’s half-hearted attempt to shine, the chill of autumn easily seeped through his black jacket, which he wore in turn over a black shirt and pants. He had not taken up an interest in the Goth Mythology, in truth, he did not even know the meaning of the word. He simply wore the only color that could accurately reflect the feelings tormenting a fourteen-year-old autistic boy who had found no other way to share with the world he felt no longer cared about him.
Andrew had placed his offering of white roses at four graves that morning, the fourth being that of his father, Matthew, whom he had never met. Michael’s final gift, the gold medallion, hung free from a chain around his neck and glittered in the morning sun.
The mysterious angel statues—there were two of them now—the woman, his mother, and a slightly shorter male, which could have represented a young teen—shone in the sparse daylight. The second statue, which held a book in both hands, had appeared within days of Michael’s funeral, but it never struck Andrew as odd and he never guessed its purpose, despite the resemblance and the timing of its appearance. As you might understand, he was rather wrapped up inside of himself, far more so than usual in those dark days of mourning, numbness, and irreparable regrets.
He glanced one last time at Judith’s grave. “Love you, Mom,” he half mumbled. He then sighed, resigned to a fate he lacked the strength to change and regarded Michael’s headstone. “When you left, you took my heart with you.” He sobbed quietly for the longest moment, before whispering, “and today—tonight—I want it back.”
A sudden gust of wind disrupted his reverie and reminded him that he still had to go to school. And that’s when he saw him—a sad-faced light-haired boy, right around his age, with his head down—who walked through the rows of tombstones. Something slipped free from the boy’s fingers and rode the wind, twirling high at first, then as if driven by destiny, it sailed the distance between them and landed at Andrew’s feet, coming to rest against one of his shoes.
While wringing the fingers of one hand—he had perfected that ability—he retrieved it, a business card with the name and number of a local suicide hotline. The irony of the situation escaped him. As I may have eluded to earlier, that was another part of his autism. Things made sense or they did not, there was no in between, no use of symbolism to make understanding easy.
He only shrugged and crumpled the card, before letting it go. He shot another curious glance back toward the sad boy, and he could swear that he vanished before his eyes. He shook his head and blinked rapidly, disregarding what he had seen, and put one foot in front of the other, and walked aimlessly with only the thought of reaching school on time.
Andrew paused when he came to the old rustic bridge, a decorative path across a small pond at the edge of the graveyard. He had a sudden flash of Michael’s face, and the memory of how he had died. He walked the long way around the pond and he never looked back.
About the authors:
E. L. Reedy—Was born and raised in Iowa, where he devoured tomes of fantasy, sci-fi, and young adult novels as a child. In his free time, he is an avid gamer (D&D and Pathfinder). He has traveled the world as a soldier in the U.S. Army, and now lives in Iowa, where with his writing partner, he continues to pen works in the realms of Fantasy and Horror in the Young Adult Universe.
A. M. Wade—As the only girl in a family with five boys, she readily escaped into fantasy, sci-fi, and other fiction novels. Having traveled through most of the US, she enjoys using scenery and characteristics of the different states in the story adventures she created for the little ones in her family. Now, she writes sci-fi, fantasy and horror with a lifelong co-conspirator.
Author Facebook (Author Page):
The authors are giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour via rafflecopter: