UFI welcomes Faberge Nostromo Author of The Song In the Silver. Thanks for Joining us!!
What can you tell my readers about yourself that they might not know from looking on your bio or reading in another interview?
On Amazon my author profile makes the proud boast that I can “genuinely claim to be a writer and musician”. That’s based on my definition of having received actual folding money for both endeavours – and I have; two books already published for one, and guitar, ukulele and singing for the other.
However… the things I also do that I haven’t yet been paid for are Indian head massage and Reiki healing. I’m professionally qualified in both of those but for now it’s a family and friends thing, but I’m always open to offers.
What do you enjoy doing on your down time?
Reading, of course. Can’t be a writer if you don’t read and I gather there’s a rough rule of one hour reading to three hours writing. Sounds good to me, anyway. But other than that my down time is spent with music. I play guitar, bass, ukulele and mandolin and sing. I also write my own songs and have been know to commit them to You Tube. I also enjoy putting together trailers for my books.
What is your Favorite part of writing?
The freedom to create worlds and to explore things that could have happened or even should have happened… and might happen. I like taking all the influences floating about in my head and let them percolate into characters and events that take on a life of their own. Which they invariably do just as you get to a point in the book where you want them to do something else.
Do you have any certain routines you must follow as you write?
Not really. I just need quiet and time, so that I can be in the situation I’m writing with the people I’m writing about but I write on trains, on my smartphone, or in coffee shops, on my kindle, and less often at home on my macbook.
What are some of your Favorite books or Authors in the Urban Fantasy/ Paranormal Genres?
At the moment I’m really enjoying D F Krieger’s Faxfire series. She’s exploring a mix of fantasy genres and I love how she slips mythological references into urban landscapes.
How would you pitch The Song In The Silver to someone who has not heard of it before?
His mortal life stolen by a vampire, his undead life saved by a werewolf, William walks now in darkness. Scarred by her silver on the night he was turned, he secretly protected Mary until the day she died.
And now the fading song of their daughter's life has called him back to the glen.
Will tonight be the night he can reveal to her the eternal love that has kept her safe, and that will now protect her son?
Can you tell us a little bit about the world that The Song In The Silver is set in?
Imagine if True Blood were set in Scotland in the 16th century. Werewolves and vampires at each others throats while unaware farmers and crofters bolt their doors at night.
Do you have a favorite scene in The Song In The Silver?
Well, without revealing any spoilers – the final scene where William says goodbye. I actually had tears in my eyes as I wrote it. Don’t tell anyone though because I’m a big hairy 6ft bloke.
Which character was your favorite to write about? What about the hardest to write about?
My favourite was the Baobhan Sith (pronounced baa-van shee), the vampire. In my first draft she had little more than a paragraph about who she was, and why, but my editor encouraged me to explain more about her. I realised that I had a fair bit of her back story in my head already so it was fun to be able to put more flesh on her evil bones.
I found Mary harder to write. I didn’t want her to be just a wet, helpless girl who falls in love with a hunk in a kilt. You’ll have to read TSITS and let me know if I got her right.
What Other Projects can we look forward to reading from you?
Right now I'm deep in my next full length novel, a sci-fi romance where the captain and first mate of a starship on a dangerous peace mission have their emotions and sexuality challenged by the mysterious alien empaths tasked with bringing about peace on a planet ravaged by a gender war. I’m exploring gender boundaries and preconceptions because I feel quite strongly that gender isn’t binary. It’s not 0 or 1, it’s a wide ranging spectrum of emotions and physicality. It’s what’s in your head, not what you’re packing down below.
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Find Faberge and his books
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The Song in the Silver Buy Link
A vampire's bite.__________________________________
A werewolf's love.
Burned by silver and called by its song, he walks the night forever, protecting those he loves.
His mortal life stolen by a vampire, his undead life saved by a werewolf, William walks now in darkness. Scarred by her silver on the night he was turned, he secretly protected Mary until the day she died.
And now the fading song of their daughter's life has called him back to the glen.
Will tonight be the night he can reveal to her the eternal love that has kept her safe, and that will now protect her son?
Excerpt
He sat on the side of the hill, beneath the wind-stunted oak, and looked down on the thin stream of smoke drifting from the croft into the star-littered sky. A faint wisp of the Northern Lights swept like a wraith across the inky black. The wind flicked his raven-black hair from his face and stung his eyes.
She was in there. The time was coming. The conflict in his heart hoped that it might not be tonight, but that if it was, it would be before the dawn broke over the hills opposite.
The howl of a wolf echoed across the valley. He recognized Aatu's cry. She had been here always, before him. She'd been here all the time he'd been far away, far from the pain. She would still be here after he left.
A bird splashed in the dark reeds along the side of the beck at the cry, protecting her young from the night, just as he'd protected the woman in the croft when he could. And when his presence had threatened her, he'd left to take the threat far away.
He wrapped his cloak tight around him, though he didn't need it against the cold. He felt neither cold nor warmth—only loss.
He touched the deerskin pouch that hung from the leather thong around his neck. The soft vibrations of the uisge, the life force, from the silver cross inside were fainter now. One pattern of vibrations, one of the harmonies within the song, was fading. The pattern had lived with him for nearly a century. It was what had brought him back, the realization that one part of the song was coming to an end.
The journey had been long and hard. The dark highways of his existence had made it so, but he had come. And he would leave again. After he had had one last moment with her, to tell her. So that she would, at the end, know. Just as he had with her mother.
He sat on the side of the hill, beneath the wind-stunted oak, and looked down on the thin stream of smoke drifting from the croft into the star-littered sky. A faint wisp of the Northern Lights swept like a wraith across the inky black. The wind flicked his raven-black hair from his face and stung his eyes.
She was in there. The time was coming. The conflict in his heart hoped that it might not be tonight, but that if it was, it would be before the dawn broke over the hills opposite.
The howl of a wolf echoed across the valley. He recognized Aatu's cry. She had been here always, before him. She'd been here all the time he'd been far away, far from the pain. She would still be here after he left.
A bird splashed in the dark reeds along the side of the beck at the cry, protecting her young from the night, just as he'd protected the woman in the croft when he could. And when his presence had threatened her, he'd left to take the threat far away.
He wrapped his cloak tight around him, though he didn't need it against the cold. He felt neither cold nor warmth—only loss.
He touched the deerskin pouch that hung from the leather thong around his neck. The soft vibrations of the uisge, the life force, from the silver cross inside were fainter now. One pattern of vibrations, one of the harmonies within the song, was fading. The pattern had lived with him for nearly a century. It was what had brought him back, the realization that one part of the song was coming to an end.
The journey had been long and hard. The dark highways of his existence had made it so, but he had come. And he would leave again. After he had had one last moment with her, to tell her. So that she would, at the end, know. Just as he had with her mother.
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I love Faberge's writing and this is, in my opinion a winner.
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