An interview with author Libby Heily.
Hi!
Welcome to Zigzag Timeline. Can you tell us about your background as an author?
Absolutely I can! I wrote really bad poems as a kid but mostly
I spent my time reading. In college, I
studied acting but it never felt quite right.
During my sophomore year I started tinkering with an idea I had for a
play. I completed my first play by the
end of that year and that’s where my writing career began. I wrote a lot of plays and then screenplays
and I finally turned to fiction in my late twenties.
What
got you into writing?
I grew up in a chaotic house full of
people. Reading and watching TV were my
two escapes. It didn’t take long for me
to start building my own worlds instead of just living in other people’s
creations.
What was the first
idea you had for your book, and how did the story grow from there?
My husband thought I was depressed
after he read my first book, Tough Girl.
I wanted to write something happy and uplifting and I immediately came
up with the name “Grape Merriweather”.
Everything else spiraled from there.
Among
your characters, who's your favorite? Could you please describe him/her?
Oh, you are not shy about asking the
tough questions! I really like them all
but one character who only crops up in one scene is Betty, the local community
theater actress. She takes her amateur
career very seriously, committing fully to each and every role. Her day job is waiting tables at Bill Buck’s
Steakhouse and she spends twenty minutes every night getting into
character. I just love her. She comes back in the second book. ;)
What's your favorite scene from your
novel? Could you please describe it?
There are so many I like. One that I particularly enjoy is a scene
between Grape and Graeson, a boy at school who has a crush on her and goes about
wooing her the exact wrong way. His
first attempt is to serenade her outside her house late at night. He thinks it’s romantic but it comes across
as creepy. Grape is not one to mess
around, so she threatens him with a lawn chair.
The scene is pretty funny and goofy and I just love it.
What's
your favorite part of writing? Plotting? Describing scenes? Dialogue?
Having finished. The process can be fun but painful and I am a
multi-drafter and hard to satisfy. Once
the project is complete and ready to go, that’s the best feeling in the world.
How
long does it take you to write a book? Do you have a writing process, or do you
wing it?
Between one and two years. I do a lot of pre-writing in a notebook. I go over ideas, plots, scenes, character
work, etc. I then create a plot outline
and go for it, but I leave a lot of room for creativity.
What is it about the
genre you chose that appeals to you?
I like writing for younger audiences
and in the spec fic realm because it unleashes the imagination. I enjoy contemporary fiction as well but
there is something freeing about embracing genres.
Are
there any books or writers that have had particular influence on you?
So many.
Short Answer: Virginia Woolfe, August Strindberg, Brocke Clarke,
Terry Pratchett, Muriel Spark, Harold Pinter and Eugene O’Neill.
Long Answer: Virginia Woolfe’s experimentation and exceptional
grasp of language constantly floors me. I first encountered August Strindberg
in college when I read his “A Dream Play.” I was immediately hooked. I delved
for a bit into other expressionist playwrights but Strindberg was always my
favorite. Brock Clarke is just fantastic. I haven’t read a book of his yet that
I haven’t loved. Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels are fun and sly. I love how
he mixes humor and satire while constantly world building. Muriel Spark is
devilishly dark in her work but also stark and honest. The Driver’s Seat is the
closest a book has ever come to changing my life. Harold Pinter was another
college encounter. My entire vision of theater changed when I watched “The Dumb
Waiter” my freshman year. Above all, perhaps, I respect Eugene O’Neill. I love
fearless writers who constantly experiment and I think O’Neill embraced that
fearlessness better than most. His plays run the gamut from natural to
exppressionistic. Did he fail? Sometimes, yes. But when he succeeded...damn.
Did you ever surprise
yourself when you were writing your book? Characters who took on lives of their
own? Plot elements that took unexpected turns?
Absolutely. That’s one of the best parts about
writing. In this book, I didn’t plan for
several characters, they kind of just happened.
One is named Milly. I think
you’ll find her intriguing.
Thanks for stopping
by!
Please
send a cover photo, author photo, and any website/purchase/social media links
along with your answers. Thank you!
Excerpt:
Excerpt:
This is where Grape first meets the
Models:
“What are you wearing?” a snotty voice
asked Grape.
Grape’s
entire body stiffened as she looked up from her phone. Five of the most
beautiful people to ever walk the earth stood scattered around two
Porsches. Did I
walk into a photo shoot?
“I mean, gross.”
The words came from an impossibly beautiful girl. Loose,
raven-black locks fell over her shoulders, the tips lingering above her full
bosom. Grape could almost hear the sizzle and static of her electric blue eyes.
The sun had kissed the girl’s skin lightly, leaving a glow that made the air
around her shimmer. Her pouty, pink, full lips begged to be kissed, though the
guy standing behind her, his arm draped over her shoulder protectively, warned
off all who would be so bold.
The boy behind her, if anything, was even more handsome than she
was beautiful. Muscle stacked upon muscle until his clothes had no choice but
to hug every inch of his body. His dark eyebrows and strong jaw lent him a
tough look, one that was backed up by the playful anger in his eyes.
The raven-haired goddess turned and embraced her beau, her face
tucked away into the heat of his chest. He sat propped up on the hood of a
yellow Porsche, the sleek lines of the car offset by the disdain on his face.
They were so incredibly, delightfully gorgeous that even though he looked as if
he had seen a cockroach instead of a human being, Grape’s heart still melted at
the sight of them.
“I think she’s in love.”
Grape snapped her gaze away from the Adonis with the nasty
temperament and turned toward the twin boys standing in front of a black
Porsche. Her eyes bounced between the two, taking in every perfect feature.
Flawless, rich, dark brown skin. Sparkling hazel eyes. Muscles so tight that
you could bounce a quarter off their abs, or arms, or anywhere on their bodies,
really. They looked as perfectly engineered as the cars they stood by. But it
was their lusciously long eyelashes that sent Grape swooning. Men were not
meant to be this pretty.
“Leave her alone, guys.”
Grape’s head spun. Each person she saw was more beautiful than the
last, and the redheaded girl standing off to the side was no exception. The
baggy jeans and generic T-shirt she wore did not detract from her creamy skin
and full lips. Her large brown eyes fascinated Grape—red flakes glimmered from
inside each caramel-colored orb.
The air felt charged with a million volts. Her thinking grew
cloudy. Were these angels? Was she daydreaming? How did anyone get to be this
beautiful? She could sense their hostility, but something inside her felt warm
and gooey. Snap to,
Grape, she told herself. They want to hurt you.
“Awww, look. It likes us,” the twin with the goatee said. The
clean-shaven twin’s face softened. Was that pity she saw in his hazel eyes?
“Stop being mean,” the redhead said, sounding more bored than
angry.
“I’m not being mean. Where’d you buy that shirt?” Goatee asked.
His quiet tone was laced with thorny edges.
Grape swallowed hard. The fuzz inside her head abated. Focus, she told herself, feeling
like an idiot. “I don’t know. Kohl’s maybe.” She glanced down at her blouse.
The shirt was a birthday present from her mother, and she wasn’t sure where it
came from, but since her mother did most of her own shopping at Kohl’s, it
seemed like a pretty safe guess.
Goatee turned toward his brother and smiled. “Pay up.”
Clean-Shaven shook his head at her as if she’d named the wrong
store on purpose. He pulled a thick wad of cash from his pocket, peeled off a
twenty, and handed it to Goatee. “I was sure it
came from Kmart.”
“Why does it matter where I bought my shirt?”
The raven-haired girl glanced out from her hiding place in her
boyfriend’s embrace. “It just looked familiar. I wore the same shirt. Three
years ago.” She smiled, but there was no kindness when she bared her teeth. “Before
it was a knockoff.” The girl hid her face against her boyfriend’s pecs. Their
chests rose and fell at the same time, breathing as one.
“Okay. Well, I don’t really buy designer clothes.” Grape wanted to
have a witty comeback, but she still wasn’t sure where the insult lay. Did they
or did they not like the shirt?
What the hell is wrong with me? Of course they’re making fun of
me. Why aren’t I angrier?
“She means she modeled the design,” the redheaded girl said,
cutting her eyes to the couple.
“You’re a model?”
The brothers snickered. “Pretending she doesn’t know who we are,
that’s so cute. Is that the new fad amongst the Normals?” Clean-Shaven asked.
“I don’t understand anything you just said.” Grape felt completely
out of her depth. This was the school parking lot, but she might as well have
been on Jupiter.
The redhead took a step toward Grape, shooting a nasty glance to
the others crowded around the cars. “Don’t worry about it. They’re just
teasing.”
“I thought about modeling.” Grape hadn’t meant to say that, but no
one else spoke, and she felt like she had to say something. Her skin grew hot.
She knew she was blushing beyond red and into crimson mode. She’d practiced
runway shows off and on in her bedroom since she was twelve, but she had never
told anyone she wanted to be a model. Ever.
“Ow,” Grape cried, only then noticing that she had twisted her
ring so hard it was actually cutting into her finger. A tiny drop of blood
oozed out and fell to the pavement below.
“Aren’t you a little fat to be a model?” the boyfriend asked. His
voice sounded like pure honey even when he spoke acid.
“You think I’m fat?” Grape stared down at her flat tummy. No one
had ever called her fat before. There was still a bit of room in the waistband
of her size four skirt.
“I’m just saying you could stand to lose a few pounds, unless you
want the runway to collapse.”
“Ouch, Adam.” Clean-Shaven punched the boyfriend playfully on the
arm.
Goatee winked at Adam. “My boy calls it like he sees it, and he
sees a chunky monkey.”
“I’m well within my weight range.” She could feel her voice
growing high-pitched. Damn nerves. These people were jerks.
“Of course you are, you look great,” the redhead told her. “These
guys just don’t how to joke around without being completely mean.”
“We aren’t joking,” Adam said, giving his girlfriend a quick kiss
on the top of her head.
Goatee pulled out his car keys. He turned his back on Grape, tired
of their new toy.
“Whatever. Class is about to start. Are we skipping or staying?”
“Skipping,” the raven-haired girl peeked out to say.
Adam looked Grape over and made a face as if he’d smelled
something terrible. “Yeah, I think I’m done for the day, too. I feel the need
to hit the gym.”
She rubbed her hands over her stomach but it still felt flat like
normal. What were they seeing that she wasn’t?
“The shirt looks nice on you,” Clean-Shaven said before climbing
into the driver’s seat of the black Porsche.
“Like a muumuu on a water buffalo,” Goatee added and hopped into
the driver’s seat of the yellow Porsche. The couple got into the back of his
car and huddled close together.
“Mandy, you coming?” Goatee asked.
“No, I have a test,” Mandy, the redhead, said. “I’ll see you
later.”
“Suit yourself.”
Grape waved stupidly at the drivers as the engines revved. You look like a goober, she
told herself, but she could not stop waving.
“Move.” Mandy grabbed Grape by the arm and pulled her toward the
sidewalk.
Grape tried to shake her arm free, but Mandy’s grip was
surprisingly strong. “Let go of me.”
Mandy stared at her with an I-told-you-so look as the Porsches
sped off, right through where Grape had been standing.
“Oh my God, were they going to run me over?”
“Not on purpose. I’m sure they just forgot you were there once
they started their cars.”
“How?”
Mandy shook her head. She stared after the Porsches as they pulled
into traffic and sped away. Finally, she turned back to Grape and offered her
an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”
“Which part?”
“All of it, I guess.”
ABOUT THE BOOK
Sixteen-year-old Grape Merriweather has just moved to
Sortilege Falls and already she knows something isn't right. A small pack of
teenage models, too beautiful for words, holds the town in their sway. The
models have no plans on making Grape's life easy. But no matter how cruel they
are to Grape and the other “Normals”, no one can stay angry with them for long.
Grape's life changes for the better, or so she thinks,
when Mandy, the only “nice” model, befriends her. But that’s when the trouble
truly begins. Mandy's friendship places Grape smack in the middle of a medical
mystery that has the entire town on edge. One by one, the models fall ill from
an incurable disease. Grape quickly realizes that the models' parents are
hiding a secret, even as they watch their children die. To save her only friend,
Grape will have to find the truth–and that means putting her life in danger.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Libby Heily began writing after spending years as an obsessive
reader. She's written plays, screenplays, flash fiction, short stories, and
novels. Libby studied Acting and Playwriting at Longwood College and Film
Production at the Seattle Film Institute. When not spending time in made up
places with invisible friends, she enjoys reading, running, hiking and
performing improv in Raleigh, NC.
Libby on the Web:
libbyheily.com
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