Friday, 20 June 2014

Interview With An Author - M.S. Kaye

Tell us a bit about your writing – How long have you been writing? How many books have you written and in what genres? 
I’ve been writing for 5 years. I have 5 books published or about to be released. In the genres of Romantic Suspense, Inspirational Romance, Young Adult (usually paranormal).

When did you know you wanted to be a writer? 
It was a lightning kind of thing. I was watching an interview of an author, and she was talking about how she came up with the idea for her book. And, bam, I realized I had an idea and that I wanted to try to capture it on paper. I pulled out a notebook and started scribbling words down. Went for hours, and I haven’t spent a day not writing since (5 years now).

Where is your favourite spot in which to write? Garden? Study? Kitchen table? In bed? 
Wherever I happen to be, often at my dining table.

Do you prefer to write with pen and paper or straight to the computer? 
Pencil and paper

Do you plan a plot out in great detail before writing or start with the basics and let the book evolve that way? 
I have a good, strong skeleton and let the flesh grow in as I go.

What is your favourite book of all time? 
Jane Eyre

Advice to aspiring novelists? 
Work. Have a good attitude. Work. Believe in your stories. Work. Write for yourself, no one else. Work. Have fun.

Strong as Death

Book one of the Born from Death series

by M.S. Kaye

Ilona runs from her sheltering mother in order to find the truth, why she’s seeing people who are invisible to everyone else. A mysterious boy named Archer guides her through Brooklyn and introduces her to Hendrick, the man who claims to be her father—though he died in 1890. Ilona must discover not only what she must do to rid the city of Soll, a sadistic and powerful spirit, but also what it means to be half ghost. She proves what her mother told her—love is stronger than death.

Buy Links:

Author Bio:
M.S. Kaye has several published books under her black belt. A transplant from Ohio, she resides with her husband Corey in Jacksonville, Florida, where she tries not to melt in the sun. Find suspense and the unusual at
Contact M. S. Kaye at:

Another twenty yards and she’d be out of the darkness of the trees and almost to the sidewalk, within reach of the light from the streetlamps.
A figure stepped out from behind a large oak, directly into Ilona’s path.
Ilona stopped and searched for a way around.
“What are you doing?” a rough voice growled.
Ilona recognized it immediately, even before she registered Archer’s face.
“It’s none of your business what I’m doing,” she said.
He moved closer. “You’re making it goddamned impossible to protect you.”
“You can’t protect me.”
His jaw tightened, and he glared. “What in the hell do you think I’ve been doing?”
“I’m honestly not sure.”
His voice rose. “You’d be lying frozen dead in a gutter right now if it wasn’t for me. You saw what happened in the shelter—you’d have been attacked by now if I hadn’t been around.”
Her tone was quiet, calm. “I know how you scared them away.”
“I told you I have a talent for creating fear. It comes in useful.”
“But you don’t like it.”
He said nothing.
“And I know you’ve been around,” she said.
He raised his eyebrows as if she was being slow.
“Before you asked me if I was lost,” she said. “You were there—when the car hit me.”
His expression sobered.
She waited for a response.
Finally, he said, “I’ve been around.”
“Will you answer one question? And be honest?”
“I give as much honesty as I can.”
Her lips curved a little. That was perhaps the most honest response he had yet given.
She moved closer, and he backed away.
“No,” she said.
He stopped.
“When you turned the corner and asked if I was lost,” she said, “you leaned your shoulder on the wall. How did you do that?”
His eyebrows pulled together.
“You’re really good at it,” she said. “It took me awhile to realize you never actually touch anything, that you stay out of the light, that you don’t get cold, your breath doesn’t come out in puffs in the cold like everyone else’s, you never let anyone close, near enough to realize you have no scent, to feel the static when you get too close.”
He took a step back, as if in self-defense.

“Don’t try to lie anymore,” she said. “I know what you are.”

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