May is I :::heart::: the short story month at my blog. During these next thirty-one days, I’ll be featuring authors of the short story, besides the usual blog posts. Today, I have author D.S. Dehel in the interview chair. We’re discussing her short story Real Magic, a paranormal romance. Be sure to check out the excerpt.
1. What drew you to writing the short story?
D.S.: I spent two weeks on the Isle of Man. The place is remote and magical in itself. It’s the perfect setting for a riff on A Midsummer Night’s Dream.
2. What do you like most about writing short stories?
D.S.: It’s a challenge for me to be concise. It’s also a venue for creating characters that might appear elsewhere later.
3. What do you like least about writing short stories?
D.S.: The word count. I like to add lush detail, and it’s tough to do in a constrained piece.
4. Why did you write this short story you are featuring?
D.S.: There was a call for stories about summer and magic. The idea appeared in my head, and I went with it. The irony is that I’m actually not a fan of that particular Shakespeare play.
5. Why do you think readers should invest their time in reading the short story?
D.S.: It’s sexy good fun, and it might tempt you to visit a new place (which I highly recommend.) Readers will also get to see a new spin on a play they might have had to read in school.
Music. Desire. Sex. Magic. Romance.
Blurb: To Ana, these are what life should be. Will her dreams come true?
Real Magic. That’s all Ana Kallisti wants in her life, and when she meets Oren, she thinks her dream might come true. But Rob Goodfellow, has his eye on her, too, and he’s willing to use a little magic of his own, if it means he gets his way.
Real Magic is an homage to the Bard’s best known comedy with a sexy twist he could never have imagined.
It’s not your average Shakespeare story.
“Drink me.” She laughed at herself. “Bottom’s up.” The water was colder in her mouth than in her hands, and bitter, like grapefruit cut too close to the pith. Weird. But the fire inside abated somewhat. She dipped her hands again and raised them to her mouth.
“I wouldn’t drink that.”
Ana turned her head. There he was. She’d waited most of the night for his presence, and the first thing he does is tell her what not to do. She snorted and raised her hands again.
“Ana, it’s Contrariwise. Don’t—”
She’d be damned if some man was going to boss her around. She slurped down the water louder than was necessary, then backed off the rocks, grabbed the jacket, and marched over to where he stood.
“Here.” She shoved the vest at him. “Thanks for letting me use it. Nice to see you…finally.”
Oren looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry I took so long.”
She shrugged. “Whatever.”
Why was she being such a bitch? He was trying to apologize.
The sounds of Rob and Randi going at it drifted down from above. Ana growled, but Oren cocked his head and smiled. At least someone was amused. He dug into a pocket of his vest and pulled out an antique looking tin. When opened, it revealed milky circles. He held them out to her. “Take one. You’ll feel more like yourself.”
Ana frowned, then threw up her hands. “Maybe I am myself. Did you ever think of that? What is this place? Eat me. Drink me. Fuck me.”
Oren sucked in his bottom lip in an apparent effort not to laugh. His complete assurance irked her. She waved a hand up and down indicating his stark white hair. “And you-are-late-for-a-very-important-date?”
Okay, that was so not like her.
He raised an eyebrow that chided her more than words ever could. Ana snatched mint from the tin. “Thanks.” Then she turned her back on him and stomped away.
“Where are you going?”
She ignored him, largely because she didn’t know. It was a shame that fairy door wasn’t real. A shimmer caught her eye as she passed the faux exit. A faint beam of light issued from the keyhole.
Ana grabbed the knob, and it turned. Her heart began to race. This was not possible.
“Ana?” Oren sounded concerned. “Where are you going?”
“Through the looking glass.” She threw a grin over her shoulder to see him standing wide-eyed. She shoved hard with her shoulder, and the hinges groaned in protest as she swung the door open.
DS. Dehel is a lover of literature, good food, and the Oxford comma. When she is not immersed in a book, she is mom to her kids and spoiling her rather pampered feline, Mr. Darcy or her equally pampered puppy, Jameson, and her slightly psychotic Australian Shepherd, Piper. Having finally retire, she spends her days dreaming up new plotlines. She adores literary allusions, writing sex scenes, and British men. Actually, make that hot men in general. Her devoted husband is still convinced she writes children’s books. Please don’t enlighten him.