Interview with Elizabeth Sharp

Today is our last day with Elizabeth Sharp and she has provided us with a fantastic interview about her and her book Natural Selection. Don't forget to at least answer the question at the bottom to be apart of our giveaway!

What was the inspiration behind your story, Natural Selection?
Natural Selection was actually a perfect storm of ideas. Three separate ideas came together one day. The first was a young adult novel about a teenage girl discovering she was more than human. The second was about a teenage girl and her unique family structure that focused on issues teen dealt. Many of the people who read it felt it was too dark and depressing, but I loved the characters and their relationship. The final idea dealt with a society filled with hatred and mistrust, though this one isn’t quite as dominant in Natural Selection as it is in the sequels.

How did you go about deciding what age Amelia would be?
I can’t even begin to tell you how many times Amelia’s age changed I the course of writing this story. I had her as old as seventeen at one point and as young as twelve. In the end I decided to start her at fourteen simply because I liked showing her dealing with these deeper issues at the same time she is struggling with the very normal teen issue of starting high school. It just seemed like a good place to start.

I LOVED how you followed Amelia and her mother’s reading selections! (Who doesn’t love H.P. Mallory after all?) What gave you that idea to subtly bring up other books and authors instead of just saying that she was reading a book about a sparkly vampire?
It started off as my attempt to give some depth to Amelia, showing her tastes. I also liked the idea that if the reader liked the idea of something she is reading they can go look for it and actually find it.

Will there be more to Amelia’s story?
Oh, definitely. There is a second novel already being edited and a third being ploted. Some of the other characters introduced will also be getting their own stories. So you haven’t seen the last of Amelia.
Who is your greatest influence in the writing world?

When is the best time to write? Where is it that you do your magic?
First thing in the morning is the best time for me. I am most productive then. I usually start at my desk in my office, but often migrate to stretching out on my bed with either my Live Scribe pen or my laptop.

If you were one of the species you mention in your books, which would you be?
I’d want to be a djinn. At least the half-breed kind.

I feel like I’m constantly saying, “this book took unusual yet fascinating turn” when it comes to reading indie paranormal books, but its true! It seems like most of the traditionally published books I find end up being about faeries or vampires and occasionally witches, but indie books exceed those limitations, truly creating new worlds and characters never thought of before. Do you agree? Why do you think that is?
I think the traditional publishing world is limited by their constant market analysis and bureaucracies. They have a line of people to answer to and are so concerned with the bottom line that they can’t take the chances that independents can.

Thanks Elizabeth for coming by! It's been fantastic having you here this week!

Natural Selection Excerpt

The detective’s brow furrowed, and he glanced at the female officer. She shrugged picked up the folder in front of him, walking around the table towards me. “I want to show you a photo taken of the victim’s room. I'll warn you the image is graphic and might be alarming. If you don’t think you can handle it, we’ll understand. I know Garret can be kind of awkward, but I assure you he’s a good detective. He just wants to figure out what happened to your friend.” She gave the detective a hard glance, and he grimaced and looked away. “Once you see the pictures you’ll understand...” She paused, shooting a disapproving frown at the detective. “…unorthodox behavior.” She glanced at Mrs. Soberlo and waited for her nod, then turned back to me.

After that build up there was no way I could say no. I owed it to Mariah to give whatever help I could. I nodded, and she set a black and white 8x10 in front of me. A lump filled my throat, and I tried not to see the blood. The body wasn’t in the photo, but I could tell something horribly violent had been done to my friend. It could have been a still from a horror movie.  It took a moment before I was able to see past the blood. Lead settled in my stomach as I realized why they’d been asking about the occult. A strange symbol had been painted on the floor.

I recognized the ankh at the top, but the other symbols I didn’t know. There were remnants of a black candle in each point. I felt sick to my stomach and light headed. My hand shook as I shoved my hair out of my face. Officer Simms gripped my shoulder trying to comfort me, but I had to get out of that room. Iciness pulsed through me, and I tried to push the horrible picture away. When my hand got near it, it felt as if I was attempting to reach into a fire. I had no idea how a simple photograph was making me ill and weak, but it was. I looked away, however my eyes kept skittering back. I couldn’t understand what I was sensing. I tried to glance at other things in the picture, but my eyes were repeatedly drawn to the black lines. No matter how much I wanted to look away, that symbol was all I could focus on.  Whatever it was had power. I wondered if someone was harnessing that power for their own sick purposes.

             I licked my lips nervously, unable to meet the detective eyes. A thick, waxy feeling settled into my belly, and I struggled not to retch.  I placed my hand over my mouth and tried to breathe deeply. “That’s not the Mariah I knew.”  Mrs. Soberlo placed her hand over mine, and I tried to smile. I wanted out of that tiny room and away from the terrible picture. Instead, I fidgeted and pressed my lips tight, fighting the oily surge in my stomach.

“I don’t think Miss Hoffman has any information for you, do you Amelia?” Mrs. Soberlo met my eyes, her brown ones soft and kind giving me a little strength.

“We were kind of friends, but we rarely hung out except at school. I wish I could help you, but I really don’t know anything about this.”

“Thank you, Miss Hoffman,” the detective said, eyeing me oddly. I wasn’t certain he entirely believed me, but I think he was afraid to push me with Mrs. Soberlo there—which probably made him a smart man.

As I opened the door I turned back to him. “Should I be worried, Detective? Is there a psychopath out there stalking teenage girls or did Mariah get caught up in something awful?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, Miss Hoffman.”

-Elizabeth Sharpe