Her day is filled as an Author, Playwright, Story Editor, Wife, Mother, Grandmother, and child of God. She wears many titles allowing twenty-four hours a day to meet the challenge.
Her goal in writing is to engage readers and provide them with golden nuggets of wisdom that feed and titillate. Her biggest lesson is that it takes a village to raise a dream. She loves and appreciates her village.
She prays everything God has for you manifests in your life. And that you stretch and reach for it!
Colette’s latest book is the historical/interracial/supernatural/paranormal Later.
You can visit her website at Coletteharrell.com or connect with her on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads or Instagram.
Thanks for this interview, Colette. Congratulations on your new book! Would you say it’s been a rocky road for you in regards to getting your book written and published or pretty much smooth sailing?
I begin my journey as a traditional author. Moving to self-publishing gave me an extensive view of everything I didn’t know! Talking about taking one step forward and two steps back? That was my experience in a nutshell. Can you tell us about your journey? Yes. I attended workshops and spoke with more experienced authors, yet I still fell into pot-holes of issues. I think sometimes you have to do it to achieve it. I’m looking at this as an ultimate learning experience.
When not writing, what do you like to do for relaxation and/or fun?
I love to read, of course! I enjoy spending time with family, too. Both are my favorite things in the world.
What makes your book stand out from the rest?
I write in layers. Yes, there’s the relationship aspect, but then I add the suspense, the adventure, and unpredictable twists and turns. When it all comes together, I hug myself.
Can you give us the very first page of your book so that we can get a glimpse inside?
Later
Prologue
We’ve been here a long time, me and the other shacks. We started out long ago as log cabins. The occupants spoke prayers of hope over shallow grunts as they flexed hardened muscles to build us strong. Then after backbreaking days in the tobacco fields, they made our dirt floors and grass-mixed-mud walls. Our wooden chimneys and brick hearths were the heart of our homes. It was a one-size-fits-all room, where they nursed their aches and caressed their wounds.
It wasn’t all bad. We could sometimes smile as they made babies in a fevered pitch, good groans of satisfaction rolling through the air and out the window. Then we would rejoice, whispering up and down the quarters that it was a good night.
That’s how we used to talk to each other, back and forth through the howling of the winds or the gentle flow of a breeze. There were days we’d moan with the pain of our inhabitants, who were too tired from the grueling work to tend to our needs. Took us a while to decide what to call them . . . inhabitants, occupants, residents? We never could decide. Inconsistency was a malevolent characteristic we all endured. They never owned us. Just stayed a bit while they could. And, to be fair, they tried to keep us up. Oh, we got a hit and a lick of mud before the winter winds blew, but it was meager labor. Neglect was easy when profits were the owner’s goal, and the fields were a harsh partner.
Years later, our dilapidated wooden logs would be eaten, digested by termites with fat bellies. Laid out in a row like coffins after the war. No hero’s welcome for all we had endured. We whisper about it even now through broken windows that no longer hold our secrets. Others may think it’s the wind howling, but those are our screams, held captive for years while we watched, waited, and hungered for habitation. Hungered while generations of slaves and sharecroppers had nothing to share . . . No more to give. Watched as Big Mama, who carried large pots of water to an iron tub, whittled down to nothing but bones as she lay on my dirt floor every evening, moaning in pain . . . waiting for change.
If your book was put in the holiday section of the store, what holiday would that be and why?
Christmas, because that is the day my family, the Benson’s, begin their new journey.
Would you consider turning your book into a series or has that already been done?
If the response is strong (Hands together praying.), I would love to do a sequel. I hear Legend calling for his own storyline.
When you were young, did you ever see writing as a career or full-time profession?
No, I didn’t. And I did write when I was young, and I wrote stories with friends and alone. But, I lacked the vision to move beyond my dreams back in those days. If I could go back, I’d tell myself to take a chance.
What’s next for you?
I’m writing a romantic comedy with a pretty big unpredictable twist. It’s titled, A Life Kissing Frogs. I want to keep changing it up and provide enduring and engaging entertainment for readers who like a dash of hope and angel dust on their pages.
Everybody with the good sense God had given them knew even her dream was forbidden.
In the present, three things troubled ex-Special Forces Lt. Colonel Zachary Trumble . . . his new job as director of security for Burstein Labs, his loveless marriage, and the green-eyed siren who won’t let him sleep in peace.
Then time’s fickle hand brewed a recipe for a miracle . . . Stir in three runaway slaves, an avalanche, one mad scientist, and an unhappy, in-love hero to create a dish for revenge best served . . . Later.
Release Date: September 1, 2022
Publisher: Intentional Entertainment LLC
Soft Cover: 204 pages
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3CarIUi
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