Ask the Author: Virginia McKevitt
Answered Questions (8)
Virginia McKevitt
I would have to visit the Kingdom of Patwain, the fictional place where my story is shared with our world. To see what I envision as an actual place and visit the people I have created would be an experience I would never forget. Here is a glimpse into that world:
The sun began to crawl over the mountains pushing the shadows aside like old rags. They were riding through farm land that almost reminded Kristina of home. She was glad she was a country girl. She would be comfortable here.
Tegrin turned the stallion down a winding drive. Apple trees lined both sides of the road. Their bent and twisted branches were full of apples that would be left to rot. The grass was high in the fields and grew over the drive in several places. No one has been here in a while, she thought.
The drive opened into a garden that still had roses fighting for their rightful place among the weeds and overgrown shrubs. A small house with a brightly painted terra cotta roof seemed oddly out of place here.
Tegrin patted Maketi on the neck and reached for her arm. “We will stay here until the next night fall. We can rest and there is food.”
“Where are we?”
She let herself be lowered to the ground. Tegrin’s jaw tightened. He dropped to the ground and slapped Maketi on the rump. “Stay close my friend.”
Tegrin lifted the heavy iron bar that held the door shut and pushed against the door. “This was my father’s house before he died. He would come here to rest and heal. His sanctuary.”
Kristina stepped through the doorway. She was surprised with the room that greeted her. No walls. Just a big open space. A huge fireplace covered one wall. Pots and pans hung from hooks on one side while split logs filled a large iron rack on the other. A table and chairs sat under the front window overlooking the garden. Four overstuffed chairs separated the living space from the sleeping area.
The bed was beautiful. Made from thick saplings twisted like braids and knotted together over the center of the bed. Kristina had never seen anything like it before.
She smiled. “Your dad had style.”
“What does that mean?”
She had to think for a minute. “It makes you feel at home.”
Tegrin looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time. He lived in luxury compared to the simple farm house of his father.
It makes you feel like home. Is that why I still come here? The Palace is my home, he thought. This is just a memory.
The sun began to crawl over the mountains pushing the shadows aside like old rags. They were riding through farm land that almost reminded Kristina of home. She was glad she was a country girl. She would be comfortable here.
Tegrin turned the stallion down a winding drive. Apple trees lined both sides of the road. Their bent and twisted branches were full of apples that would be left to rot. The grass was high in the fields and grew over the drive in several places. No one has been here in a while, she thought.
The drive opened into a garden that still had roses fighting for their rightful place among the weeds and overgrown shrubs. A small house with a brightly painted terra cotta roof seemed oddly out of place here.
Tegrin patted Maketi on the neck and reached for her arm. “We will stay here until the next night fall. We can rest and there is food.”
“Where are we?”
She let herself be lowered to the ground. Tegrin’s jaw tightened. He dropped to the ground and slapped Maketi on the rump. “Stay close my friend.”
Tegrin lifted the heavy iron bar that held the door shut and pushed against the door. “This was my father’s house before he died. He would come here to rest and heal. His sanctuary.”
Kristina stepped through the doorway. She was surprised with the room that greeted her. No walls. Just a big open space. A huge fireplace covered one wall. Pots and pans hung from hooks on one side while split logs filled a large iron rack on the other. A table and chairs sat under the front window overlooking the garden. Four overstuffed chairs separated the living space from the sleeping area.
The bed was beautiful. Made from thick saplings twisted like braids and knotted together over the center of the bed. Kristina had never seen anything like it before.
She smiled. “Your dad had style.”
“What does that mean?”
She had to think for a minute. “It makes you feel at home.”
Tegrin looked around the room like he was seeing it for the first time. He lived in luxury compared to the simple farm house of his father.
It makes you feel like home. Is that why I still come here? The Palace is my home, he thought. This is just a memory.
Virginia McKevitt
That's a good question. I'm a big fan of genealogy and have been researching my family heritage for a long time, especially my mother's side. I have a few missing holes and it would be fantastic if I could fill them. Those "holes" are a mystery to me and creating a story from them would be a neat idea.
Virginia McKevitt
Do I have to answer this one, lol? Writers block, to me, is when the characters refuse to come out and play. You know they are in there somewhere but no amount of stomping your feet or tapping that pencil will change a thing, you just have to wait them out. Sooner or later they get bored and want to play again.
Virginia McKevitt
The people who enjoy your work. When someone tells you how much they enjoyed your writing or love your characters and can't wait until the next book comes out, it changes you in ways you never imagined.
Virginia McKevitt
Never give up. I started this journey in my twenties and life put my writing on the back burner. I'm now in my fifties and have a lot of catching up to do.
Virginia McKevitt
I am currently working on the third book of series, Fracture The Secret Enemy Saga, which has been the most challenging. It is at the point in the story where life changing events throughout the story start revealing themselves. I am always amazed at what my eyes are opened too.
Virginia McKevitt
Sometimes it takes more than inspiration, it takes dedication. Spend time with your characters. If you do they will spend time with you. They will move you to action, and that action creates inspiration.
Some people listen to music for inspiration, some read. I like quiet. When it's quiet around me it is loud within me.
Some people listen to music for inspiration, some read. I like quiet. When it's quiet around me it is loud within me.
Virginia McKevitt
I have a high maintenance brain and when it gets bored it makes up things, lol, so an idea formed. The story is fantasy so it's not based on normal circumstances or events. It is purely a conceived idea that wandered around inside my head until I put it to paper.
FRACTURE, is a fantasy that is set in two worlds, one similar in ways to medieval times, the other in present day America. Fracture not only represents the separation of two worlds but a deeper look into the lives of a man who kills for a living and a young woman who realizes her life has a different path, one that entangles them both in a destiny neither will be able to walk away from.
FRACTURE, is a fantasy that is set in two worlds, one similar in ways to medieval times, the other in present day America. Fracture not only represents the separation of two worlds but a deeper look into the lives of a man who kills for a living and a young woman who realizes her life has a different path, one that entangles them both in a destiny neither will be able to walk away from.
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