The Big-Name-Author Interview!

Well, it took an embassy's worth of adroit persuasion, bribery via some choice cookies, a bit of palm-greasing, and a whole lot of ego-stroking to get this diva on my blog. So y'all had better pay attention.

I'm honored to present . . .

MS. WREN BOUDREAU!

Hiya KZ! *looks around* Nice place you have here! When did you add a third column? How organizational of you.

[Snot.]

I’m (feeling silly introducing myself) Wren Boudreau. I am a relatively new author, with one book published -- Ice Cream on the Side -- and one due October 5th -- Back To Normal, both from Loose Id, both of the m/m persuasion. Some of your more astute readers may have noticed that I also prowl the web quite a bit. And occasionally natter about nonsense and little things, at http://wrenboudreau.blogspot.com/.

Let the interrogation begin!

Wren, whom did you dream of marrying when you were a little girl? How do you think it would've worked out?

How "little" are we talking here? From early days, I can recall having a certain yet still unnamable fondness for Little Joe, Heath Barkley and James West (respectively: Michael Landon, "Bonanza"; Lee Majors, "The Big Valley"; and Robert Conrad, "Wild Wild West"). Action! Adventure! Cowboys!

When I got to the preteen-early teen years, my big love was Bobby Sherman. I thought he was yummy, and I knew we’d be great together. I loved him stuttering his way through "Here Come the Brides." I listened to his records (yes, records) endlessly. The line in “Julie Do You Love Me," tossin’ and turnin’ and freezin’ and burnin', made me long for something, even if I didn’t know what it was yet. Now I do know and it still turns me on. TMI?

[Synchronicity! Bobby Sherman comes up in Electric Melty Tingles. I'll bet we're the only two people who've thought about him/mentioned his name in thirty years. Dude owes us.]

Tiger Beat magazine was my friend and kept me up to speed with all things Bobby. And when he made a guest appearance on "The Partridge Family," appearing briefly with my second favorite crush, David Cassidy, well, my teenybopper heart grew three sizes that day.

I had a lovely time walking down memory lane to pull up some images, and wondered if Bobby’s propensity for wearing the fashionable choker or artfully tied neck scarf reflected a shall we say certain disposition *winkwink* his fans didn’t know about. He did get married and had a couple kids and got divorced, but we all know that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Now he’s a county sheriff, specializing in training cadets in CPR, and let’s just not talk about his age. I saw a clip of him on the Rosie O’Donnell show from maybe 5 years ago and he was kind of dorky. So in the end, we probably would’ve gone our separate ways. Alas.

Have you ever coined an insulting term and flung it at somebody who pissed you off? (Doesn't matter what age you were.)

Yes. Just yesterday I called my husband a pee-head. What’s that you say? I didn’t coin that? Well, you’re just a burnt radish, then!

[Oh, ouch. That stung. You are one vicious bitch. *eye roll* Maybe we'll take up a collection and send you to the AS School of Insult Flinging.]

When you look out a window in your home, what do you see? When you look at the insides of your eyelids, what do you see? Which do you prefer?

Outside my home: Green, green, green. Grass, decorated with random dog poop piles. Evergreen trees and sassafras and river birch and other deciduous trees. Hostas and ivy. Unfortunately, I can also see my neighbors’ houses and yards. Inside my eyelids: it’s too damn dark to see anything! I don’t have a preference; it depends on my mood. I’m just glad I’m not rolled in a ball under my desk staring at the wall.

Do you have any fetishes sitting around your workspace? (You know, like a lucky cue ball or something.)

I have a dancing hula guy that used to be attached to my dashboard, and a Buffy action figure. While I was writing Back To Normal, I had a box of animal crackers and a vase of sunflowers. The flowers -- I just liked them. The crackers -- I use them in the story, so they became a token for me. Then I ate them.

[You ate your fetish? That's bad mojo!]

Did you ever reach the depths of author dorkiness and laugh or cry at something you wrote? If so, what was it?

It’s odd that you are asking this now. It happened once while I was writing Back To Normal. When Greg, our closeted hero, comes out to someone important in his life. I got so caught up in the scene -- I guess I was in “flow” -- I got to me with my own writing. When I later told my husb, I felt incredibly sheepish about it. But he was all, “That’s awesome. It must be good.” I decided not to remind him that I cry at almost everything and in response to any emotion. ‘Cause who knows? Maybe it’ll make some other sensitive fool person cry.

[Awwww.]

I also laughed a few times at the behavior of one of the secondary characters who took on a life of his own. He kilz me.

What do you usually say when you talk to yourself? (Come on, I know all creative individuals talk to themselves.)

I usually say things like, “I’ll just play “Word Bubbles” one more time.” Or “I wonder what’s on Eyre’s and Tam’s tumblr today?” Or “Well shit. What happens next?”

Who are your favorite debauched people?

Eric Northman, Lady Gaga, and Kris of Kris ‘n’ Good Books.

[Heh-heh.]

What makes you laugh when you're in an adult toystore? What makes you cringe?

What doesn’t make me laugh? I mean in that what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here way. I suppose things like the male masturbator that looks like an ice cream cone, or the one made from a mold of Katie Morgan’s…um…nether lips. The gigantic (anal) dildos make me grit my teeth together imagining the stretch involved. I have to be honest here. With the Internet at my fingertips, I haven’t actually stepped into a “real” toy store in ages. (No, I’m not including pictures. Do your own Googling.)

Which pairs of books do you think should breed? (Because if the stories were somehow blended, they would be, like, so AWESOME, dude!)

You’ll notice I seem to gravitate toward series rather than single books. I hope that’s okay in regards to your question. If it isn’t oh too bad.

Jim Butcher’s Harry Dresden books with Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. Because reading about a kick-ass wizard and a hot Scottish warrior fighting paranormal evildoers and the British would be spectacularly stupendous.

Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum books combined with Ilona Andrew’s Kate Daniels books -- Kate could kick Stephanie’s ass, punch out Joe Morelli and take Ranger back to Atlanta, where she’d hook him up with Curran and the three of them could fight paranormal evildoers and have sex. Lots and lots of hot, sweaty sex.

Josh Lanyon’s Adrien English books with Charlie Cochrane’s Cambridge Fellows Mysteries. Because: Adrien and Jake and Jonty and Orlando. Bwahahahahaha!! (Maybe they could hook up with Adin and Jackson?)

[Uh . . . no. Besides, those guys wouldn't want anything to do with Adin and Jackson. None of 'em. Trust me.]

I tried to avoid the Jane Eyre/Zombie concoctions. The very idea makes my brain bleed a little bit.

What's something you do, or try or have tried to do, that, if we saw you doing it, would make us pee our pants 'cause we'd be hooting like banshees?

Singing “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” on karaoke, followed by “Julie Do You Love Me”.

What's the strangest thing you've ever thrown?

Underwear. I know what you’re thinking and get your mind out of the gutter. Not my underwear. When my son was just a li’l tyke, we used to have underwear and sock fights while we put away the laundry. It was fun.

[I got you beat on this one, Wrenboo. I once threw a raw beef roast onto the driveway. It was a perfectly good beef roast, too. At least it was still wrapped.]

Finally, what's with the bird name?

“Wren” was part of a nickname I had in prehistoric days.

[Nuts. I was hoping for something juicier than that.]

Thank you, Wren! It's been a slice.

Now here's a tasty little niblet from Back to Normal:

In that moment, it was as if a window had been thrown wide open, bringing a wave of clean, fresh air into a stuffy room. There was nothing more important than that kiss and the tendril of emotion that pulled on Greg’s heart. He pressed in to taste more.

A clap of thunder accompanied a brilliant flash of lightning; the store lights winked out and on again in the space of a second, and Greg jerked away from Finn. “Shit.” He dropped the book he’d been holding. “What am I doing? I can’t do this.” He took another step back, looking around for the quickest way out.
Finn touched his shoulder, but Greg shook it off. “It’s okay. We got drawn into the moment.”

Greg clutched his hair and closed his eyes. “It is not okay. I don’t do…that.” He looked at Finn. “I can’t do that.”

Finn crossed his arms over his chest. “You mean you won’t.”

“You don’t understand.” Greg struggled to keep his voice to a harsh whisper.

“I’m a good listener.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“I didn’t say it was. But in my opinion, you’re making the wrong choice.”

“Choice? What choice? You think I have options?”

“There are always options and consequences. You have to decide which are acceptable. Who do you want to be? What price are you willing to pay?”

Greg didn’t want to get into this, especially not with Finn Sparks. What were his options? “If I walk away now, is it going to affect my job at the pub?”

Finn looked affronted. “No. Of course not.”

“Good. I’ll see you at the training session next week then.” Greg spun on his heel and strode down the aisle. He maneuvered through the remains of the book-signing crowd and shoved open the door. Beyond the little awning, rain fell in a strong downpour. He got drenched on the short walk to his car and sat shivering behind the wheel for a minute. As he waited for the heat to kick in, he felt the familiar pressure in his temple signaling the start of another headache. He downed a couple of the pills he kept in the car and felt a slight burn as they hit his stomach.

*

Back To Normal by Wren Boudreau
Release date: October 5, Loose Id, http://www.loose-id.com/Back-to-Normal.aspx