Author Interview - S. Cameron Roach

Please welcome S. Cameron Roach - Scott - as today's Wednesday's guest. As I said on Sunday, when I posted the review of his book,  I met Scott at the art festival in Killeen, Texas a couple of months ago. We were table buddies, meaning our book tables were next to each other. I enjoyed visiting with Scott when we weren't talking with other folks, and he has a good sense of humor. I asked him for a bio for his appearance today, and this is what he sent: 

(short version) I was born, I have lived for 47 years, the when of my death is yet to be determined.

(not as short version) S. Cameron Roach was born a U.S. Navy brat in Virginia but was moved when he was three to San Diego whereupon he endeavored to grow up as best he could. After 18 years, he found himself married to a wonderful woman named Kelli to whom he is still married, and will in fact celebrate their 26 anniversary on this very blogging day, 23 April. Shortly after getting married, he joined the U.S. Army and retired in Texas as a CW3 after 24 years of service, while in that span begetting two sons, Brandon and Christian .  Now he questions why he opened his own franchise business, Safe Ship, instead of taking to the open road to pursue his craft of writing.

Scott admitted to me that he doesn't blog and is not all that familiar with blogging, but he has done quite well at this, his maiden voyage. I do hope he doesn't mind the navel reference being Army and all that, but he did grow up with the Navy. So grab a glass of tea - it is finally warm enough for tea here in Texas - and enjoy the visit with Scott, author of the YA fantasy The Scrolls of Udanadar.

Image Courtesy of Kitchen Talks

I think another story is brewing.

Q.  What is your fondest childhood memory?
A. When I was in a junior high school choir, my choir competed in the high school division in both the Youth and Music Festival in Vienna, Austria, and the Vancouver World Expo. We won first place in both. The fun part, of course, was experiencing Europe and Canada as a teen.

Q.   How did you come to write in the genre you chose?
A.  When I was growing up there was no YA genre, we read what the adults read, which was not always appropriate or completely understandable. Then when the YA genre was nascent, it seemed lacking in any substantive meaning or any intellectual challenge to the young reader. In essence, it was bubblegum for the brain. So, at a time when my children were being homeschooled and reading the classics, I decided I needed to write fun fantasy that would not talk down them but challenge them with deep themes.

Q.  What are your favorite movies?
A.  Serenity, Dragonslayer, John Carter on Mars, Fifth Element, Stargate, and Brave, but I am sure the list isn't complete, just what I can recall.  I can watch them over and over again and still be amused, enjoy, or marvel.

Q.  What is the hardest thing about writing?
A.  Time, peace of mind, environment.

Q.  Where do your stories begin? With character or plot?
A.  One feeds the other.  A plot makes people interested but character keeps them reading. You can have a mediocre plot and survive only if you have engaging characters anchoring your story.  People care about people, especially if they can relate to the plight or situation, and if the dialogue and emotions are authentic. (For a book, not a movie, mind you, at least in my opinion.)

Q.  Do you have a pet?
A.  Yaahh!  Three awesome boxer dogs, the dogs that are closest to being human—Anja (9 ½ yo and acquired in Germany), Kaiser the reluctant pack leader, and Phineas Fogg, a rescue boxer whose rescue name was supposed to be named after the hero in "Around the World in 80 Days," which is actually Phileas Fogg, but we liked Phineas better, so we kept it.

Q.  What is the most interesting job you ever had?
A. The career is the U.S. Army, but what was most interesting about the job was being part of an office hunting down Afghani terrorists who were planting improvised explosive devices to kill U.S. Military personnel. I actually helped to uncover an Iranian intel network stealing US equipment.

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In The Scrolls of Udanadar, young Bartholomew Fix, who finds life mundane and meaningless, becomes infected with the spirit of adventure by the bite of the Wandering Bug. He is compelled to seek out an agent of the universe who transports him to another planet to seek his off-world energy and awakens in the home of a great urKa'uun.

There is no magic, only Ka'uun—the energy of creation—and the urKa'uun are its users. Bartholomew becomes an apprentice and learns quickly how to use the energy. He is then sent out on an important mission with the urKa'uun's other ward, a skilled girl born of the wild-wise Duvar, for the Thousand-Year King is dying too soon. The two must bring back the Scrolls of Udanadar used in his creation as they may hold the answers; failure would bring all-out war between kingdoms of the Realm and with the Urilok, an ancient and fierce enemy.

A simple mission is never so simple so the two find themselves traveling the realm on an exciting quest where they discover danger, a budding romance and humor in the most unlikely places. Once a naïve, self-absorbed boy, Bartholomew grows into a brave hero by learning what it is to sacrifice in order to achieve a higher goal.

Pets, you gotta love 'em

The following is another excerpt from my humorous memoir, A Dead Tomato Plant and a Paycheck. I am almost finished with the second draft and have been sending out a couple of preliminary queries.

No family would be complete without their pets. We have had a number of them through the years, and they all have a story.

When Anjanette and David were young and Michael was just a baby, we had a cat, Nicky, who wasn’t too crazy about living with little people who pulled her hair and chased her. She had been my cat before I married Carl, and she just barely tolerated him before and after we got married. She would often get on the bed and insinuate herself between us, then push on him with her paws.

“Is she doing that on purpose?” he’d ask.

“Oh, I hardly think so,” I said.

Then a paw would hit a tickle spot and he’d go flying out of the bed. “That cat’s a menace,” he said. “She pushed me out of bed.”

“Honey, listen to yourself. You’re a grown man and she’s just a little cat. Besides, I’m sure she likes you.”

"Well maybe,” he conceded, giving her a sideways glance.

“Of course she does. Aren’t you the one who plays with her every day with the crazy ball? She loves that.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am. Now get back into bed.” I moved the cat and patted the bed.

“Okay.”

This nightly routine repeated itself often, and many years passed before Carl started to really like cats.

Responsibility Isn't Everything

Sometimes you just have to do it. Forget the alarm clock. Sleep in. Waste time, and otherwise be somewhat irresponsible.

So that's what I did this morning.

All last week I forced myself to try to get up at something close to my normal time so I could stay on my usual schedule, but this morning I decided to say the hell with it. I don't use a regular alarm clock; haven't in years. I set a mental alarm clock and can usually wake up at the time I decide the night before. Since we have lived out in the country these past eight years, my wake-up call is the sun rising and sending morning rays through our bedroom window.

This morning I told the sun to forget it, pulled a blanket over my head so I couldn't see the light. Sent a silent apology to my animals for making them wait for their breakfast, and went back to sleep.

When I got up I quickly got all the animals fed and had a sense of urgency to start my day in my office, but it was such a pretty morning, and the dog wanted to play ball, and one of the cats wanted to play, too, so I "wasted" a half hour with them.

But do I care? Not really.

What about you? When was the last time you threw your schedule out the window and just had some fun? You don't have to 'fess up if it was on company time and you don't want your boss to find out. I'm lucky in that I'm my own boss.

A Flea's Best Friend

One thing you’ve got to love about dogs, they are loyal. Even in those worst-case scenarios we sometimes read about where dogs are neglected, or mistreated, or even horribly abused, 99 percent of the time they keep loving the abuser.

I thought about that today as I tried for the millionth time to get our little dog, Misha, to stop licking and biting herself. This has gotten to be such a persistent habit with her that I have started giving her a little nudge with my foot when I see her going at it with full vigor. My husband accuses me of kicking the dog, but I am not kicking the dog. I just give her a nudge because she can no longer hear me tell her to quit and the constant biting and licking leaves her red and sore.

Misha, seen here in her younger days when we first moved to Grandma’s Ranch, is about 16 years old. She spent half of her life in Omaha, Nebraska where her yard was not even as big as our house, and adapted to being a farm dog quite well. Although she wasn’t sure about the horse at first.

What she has never adapted to are the fleas. She has been allergic to them all her life and when she was the only pet we could keep them under control. Not so out in the country with so many animals. In addition to the horse, we have two goats – that don’t have fleas as far as I know – three cats and another dog, all of which do have fleas. Trying to keep them all free of fleas is quite a challenge, and I never seem to win the battle even though I do put flea deterrents on them regularly. Our veterinarian is a strong believer in using Revolution, but we need something stronger. I’m thinking something along the line of an artillery strike.

The sensitivity Misha has to fleas seems to have increased along with her age, although I suspect all the licking isn’t just due to the fleas. Old dogs do develop some pretty annoying habits. And this is big-time annoying.

It’s a good thing this loyalty business goes both ways.

Cat Pornography

Some writers work to the sweet sound of their favorite music. I get to work to the sweet sound of my dogs bathing. They come into my office and decide it is time to take care of those personal hygiene needs, and the constant slurping can drive me nuts. Not to mention the fact that Poppy has to "talk" to her fleas while she is biting them.

I don't know what it is about my office that attracts all the animals, but they all love it. The cats are especially annoying when they decide they MUST be right in front of my computer, with paws and tails draped over the keyboard. I'm a terrible typist without that kind of interference, so working around furry appendages is really a challenge.

John, will usually just sleep when he gets to the favorite spot in front of my computer and keeps his feet to himself, but recently Orca has started claiming that spot. Not only does he nap here, he also bathes, which means he is moving around in front of the monitor. But that is not even the worst part.

After he has slept for a while, he decides he has to air out the family jewels, of which he has none, but he doesn't seem to realize that.

So I look down to type something and, well, there he is.

Writers and Their Pets

What is it about writers and their pets? I don't know a single author who doesn't have a dog or a cat or some other animal friend who is almost as important in their lives as their people friends. You'll note I said, "almost."

We do keep a distinct line drawn there, although that line sometimes gets a little fuzzy.

While I have not gone to the same extremes as some celebs who carry little dogs in fancy purses and bequeath millions to them in wills, I do love and enjoy my animals.

So do all the authors who are guests on a wonderful blog Pets and Their Authors. The blog is hosted by Amigo, a delightful golden retriever who owns author Mayra Calvani.

My cat, John, is the guest blogger today, so if you are interested he'd love for you to stop by.

The Miracle Cat

We have this cat named Orca -- for obvious reasons -- and he has had a tough life for only being three years old. Of course, out here in the country the lifespan of a cat is much shorter than that of their city cousins. But we try to give them as much help as we can.

When Orca was just a kitten, he got into the engine of my husband's truck to take a nap and got caught up in the fan belt when my husband started the truck. Orca survived that, to the amazement of the farmer next door who came to help us get the cat out and to the vet who repaired the broken leg.

Last week, Orca disappeared late Monday afternoon. Well, actually we didn't know he had disappeared for sure until late Tuesday when he still had not come back to eat. He likes to go outside - preferring that to a litter box - and then there are all the moles and gophers and mice to hunt. But he doesn't often miss the feeding times with the other cats, so we started to worry that he met up with a coyote or a truck speeding down the road.

For three days we tried to keep the worry at bay and hold out a small hope that he might come back, but, by Friday, had to admit that probably wasn't going to happen.

Then late Sunday, we heard a mewing on the front porch, went to the door, and there was Orca. He sauntered in - as best he could saunter with a broken leg - went right to his food dish and asked for supper. He ate, then went to take a nap on our bed, as if nothing had happened.

We were in a state of shock for an hour or so, taking turns looking at him on the bed to make sure we weren't dreaming.

We weren't dreaming. Somehow he managed to suvive six days out there and didn't even look too malnourished. We couldn't see any other injuries, either, and he didn't seem to be in much pain so we didn't do an emergency vet visit, opting to take him in this morning.

Orca has a nasty, splintered break below the knee and a dislocated knee, so it is going to cost a lot to repair all that. We briefly considered not repairing it, but then we figured if this cat could survive a truck engine, another car accdent, and then being out in the wild for 6 days and avoiding coyotes and other predatory animals, he deserves the other seven lives he's got left.

That may not be practical, but sometimes it feels good not to be practical.