A visit with author Casey Wyatt - Mystic Ink!

Happy Leap Day!

Welcome debut author Casey Wyatt - a great writer and a wonderful woman.

You Want to Know What?

Since I’ve started promoting Mystic Ink, I’ve learned a few things about myself.

One: I don’t like to answer the question, “Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?”

And two: my other least favorite question is, “What inspired you to write your book?”

When I get asked these questions, I stop and blink like a deer about to be run down by a Mack truck. In every interview so far I’ve saved the questions for last, avoiding them until I have no choice but to respond.

Crazy, huh? You’d think I would know how to answer these basic questions.

I’ve figured out why I struggle with question one. I live an ordinary life. I’m a mother, wife, employee, and Boy Scout merit badge counselor. Really, no different than anyone else. Yet . . . I’m also a writer. I’ve been a closet writer for a long time. In 2011, I finally came out of my writer shell and I’m still getting used to “owning” the identity. Plus, Casey is my pen name and, sometimes, we co-exist as two separate people.

Casey is a nice buffer to the real world. Example: Casey got rejected, not me. Or, Casey, you’ve been propositioned on Facebook today. See how that works?

And notice how I’m evading question two?

So, “Casey, what inspired you to write Mystic Ink?”

The short answer: a baby name book.

Mystic Ink popped into my head while researching character names for another story. While flipping through the aforementioned book, a single name jumped out off the page, Eudora: one of the fifty daughters of Nereus. Nereus is the Old Man of the Sea and his daughters are Nerieds or Sea Nymphs.

Excellent! The seed had been planted for a paranormal romance based on ancient gods living among modern humans.

Right away, Eudora insisted on being called by her middle name - Nix. I mean, who wants to be called Eudora? And the setting, Mystic, CT was there all along. Almost immediately after, I imagined the scene in the excerpt and it snowballed from there.

When the story begins, Nix keeps finding dead bodies in the alley behind her tattoo shop – Mystic Ink. Which led me to the next question – “why?”

Because there’s an entrance to the Underworld there, of course! Cal, the hero, is a supernatural police officer who comes to investigate. He’s a demi-god Son of Ares who wields fire. Nix is a water deity. What do you get when you mix fire and water? Steam!

The rest of the cast followed in short order. Nix’s distant cousin, the gorgeous God of the West Wind, Zephyr (the next book in the series is his). Her annoying parrot Basil, her capable assistant Jason Argos, and Satyr, Devlin Ward, rounded out the cast. They all have secrets, hopes, and dreams just like us mortals.

I guess the better question to ask is – “how could I not write Mystic Ink?”

Blurb:

The last thing Nix, a Sea Nymph, wants to see behind the dumpster near her tattoo shop is another dead mortal. She also doesn’t want to hear Hades piss and moan about how the souls of the dead aren’t making it to the Underworld. And Nix certainly doesn’t want to be attracted to supernatural police agent, Calder Quinne when he comes to investigate. All Nix really wants is to run her tattoo shop in peace and quiet. Hey, we don’t always get what we want, now do we?

Excerpt:

Nix, thoughts still swirling in her mind, headed toward the side door. After she unlocked the deadbolt, her eyes automatically went to the dumpster. Nothing. Thank the Gods. Her sigh of relief was quickly sucked back in. A dark shape further down the alley caught her eye. Maybe it was a heap of clothes or a bag of garbage. Whatever it was, it was lying near the entrance of the Underworld Gate. The Gate was invisible to all eyes, except Guardians—like her, Hades, and Charon. Whoever or whatever was back there couldn’t have known how close they were to the Underworld.

“Hell. Now what?” Please, be trash that some rude asshole left in my alley.

Rather than kick it with her foot, she decided to be more prudent and find something long to use as a poker. While grabbing a shop broom inside, she registered how quiet the place was. Of course, Basil wasn’t there. He was still with Jason.

Back in the alley, Nix slowly approached, straining for a better look. The pile was inside the building’s shadow. The closer she got, the more the lump resembled a body. She cursed. “Oh, come on! Why does this keep happening?”

Broom at the ready, she gave it jab. The mass was solid and there was no crinkle of plastic. So much for the garbage bag theory. Man, she did not want to have to call the police. At the rate she was going, they would probably arrest her just on principle.

Stupid mound.

She lifted the broom, ready to strike. An arm sprouted from the pile and shot up, stopping the handle from falling.

Nix barked, “What the hell?”

The broom clattered to the ground.

A dark figure rose up. The set of the shoulders, the short black hair . . . it was awfully familiar. “Cal?”

“Nix,” he said, his voice strained and tired. His arm extended, propping his body against the brick wall.

“If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not funny.” When he didn’t respond, Nix came up behind him and placed her hand on his back. “Are you—”

The words choked off. There was something wrong. Really wrong. His energy, the essence of his life, was out of whack. Like he was missing . . .

She put her hand up to her mouth, swallowing dread as he turned to face her. “Cal, where’s your soul?”

Visit Casey on the web: www.caseywyatt.com or at http://secretsof7scribes.wordpress.com/. You can also find Casey on Facebook and Twitter (@CaseyWyatt1). Mystic Ink can be found at www.soulmatepublishing.com and at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

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