#TNTConfidential Author Interview with Angel Martinez ( @AngelMartinezrr ) & Gravitational Attraction

You know the kind of books where you read the blurb and you think, damn, this sounds like one hell of an adventure, and you just can’t walk away from it? Well, Angel Martinez brings in that type of novel today with Gravitational Attraction.

Now, I could have sworn Angel had come for a visit some other day, but since I can’t find the post *grumbles* and dreams do change, I’ll ask anyway:

Angel, what is your dream?

My dreams are small, modest things. Right now, I want to make an actual living writing. I’m not talking about being rich and buying a mansion outside Los Angeles. I’m older. I worked hard at icky corporate jobs for many years so our little house is paid for and so are the cars, the kid’s finished his Bachelor’s and our expenses aren’t that much. But if I can make enough as an author to pay the bills and put food on the table, I’ll call that a success.

When did you start writing? Why?

I started writing because of trauma caused by reaching for an ice cream cone and being stung by a wasp seventeen times. No, wait, it was when I was transported to an alien jelly-eel farm and made to work slopping the eels. They ate a strange mixture of graphite and kiwi-lime shampoo. Wait, no, that’s wrong, too. It was during a rare desert tsunami when the RV I was in was picked up and flung several miles into the Grand Canyon.

OK, fine. None of those things are true, but writers get asked this question so much, I wish I have something interesting as an answer. I’ve always written. Maybe it’s in the genetic coding, some mutant recessive allele. I started writing with publication in mind after 2001, after coworkers said I was an idiot not to.

Why male/male romance?

That’s a complicated and sometimes loaded question. I enjoy it and I think it’s important to have stories where the heroes are gay and don’t die horrible deaths and even *gasp* have happy endings.

What do you envision happening in the MM genre in the next five to ten years? Do you think it’s just a fashion?

LOL, no. If it were a fad, it would have died out years ago. No, M/M Romance fills an obvious need and just keeps growing every year. What I see happening, and what’s already happening are three things:

Men are becoming braver and finding encouragement in writing romance

Writers are becoming braver and tackling a wider variety of topics and issues, moving away from the same, well-trodden plot lines and character combos

The genre itself is expanding into more sub-genres all the time – and sometimes even leaning toward the literary side of fiction rather than romance.

Gravitational Attraction sounds like quite the sci-fi novel. Did you have to do any research for it? What was it like?

Research for science fiction can be a little odd. For this one, the “research” was all world building. I had a new universe to create, to populate, for which to build a history. Planets, tech, government structures – all the stuff you need.

But the big piece of research for this story was the GEM drive, one of the central thematic elements of the piece, which I worked out with my son (who had come up with the idea for an RPG that he never put in place. Me: Can I have it? Him: Sure.) There’s a whole document not included in the work that details the discovery of Lumanium and the development of GEM tech. I also drew a sketch of the Hermes, just to cement where things had to be for the drive to work. It was a terrible sketch. You don’t get to see it.

What was the hardest part about writing it? And the easiest?

The hardest part, and probably the most fun for me, was creating pieces of language for the Drak’tar. Non-human mouth. Big teeth. There are just some consonants that wouldn’t come naturally.

The easiest? Oh. Hmm. I’m not sure there is an easiest for me. Alien landscapes? That would probably be the easiest part for me.

Tell us a dirty secret about the novel that we won’t find on the blurb or an excerpt.

Um…the Corzin had some pretty kinky underwear.

Summer Loving…

Summer is here! What’s your best summer memory?

I really hate summer. Really. Hate it. But I think my best memories are from when I was a kid and we’d rent a house for a week at the beach. It’s a long time ago and the world is different now, but I’d go alone with some bread in the morning and feed the gulls. The fog, the crash of the waves, the crying of the sea birds, the feeling of being the only person around was magical.

Any recommendations to stave off this heat?

Stay the heck inside with the air on.

For women (or for yourself): bikini, trikini, full body bathing suit, other?

I like a tankini, personally. Something practical I can still swim in that doesn’t necessarily show all the, ah, wonders of the muffin top.

Favorite summer destination?

Canada. Someplace not as hot as here.

Any plans for this summer?

This looks to be a pretty quiet summer. We have a Nick Cave concert to go to, maybe a couple of day trips, but nothing big or extended. Otherwise? Write, write, write.

 

Gravitational Attraction

An ESTO Universe novel

Release date 7/21/14Preorder:

Dreamspinner Press || All Romance

 

A mysterious distress call draws the crew of courier ship Hermes to what appears to be an empty, drifting troop vessel--empty except for the blood and gore spattered corridors and a lone survivor locked in a holding cell. Drawn to the handsome, traumatized man, the crew’s comm officer, Isaac Ozawa, makes Turk his personal responsibility, offering him the kindness and warmth he needs after the horror he experienced.

Isaac knows firsthand what it’s like to be different and an outcast, and this cements their bond. Once a promising pilot, Isaac was left with a damaged body when his brain didn't meld with the high-tech implant needed to fly fighter ships. Turk’s brain is no better. The result of a military experiment gone wrong, his natural abilities have been augmented to a dangerous degree.

When an amoral, power-hungry admiral kidnaps Isaac and uses him to convince Turk to become the cataclysmic weapon he’s hungered for, it will take Turk’s strength, the ingenuity of the Hermes crew, the help of the enigmatic Drak’tar, and Isaac’s own stubborn will to save them.

~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~

A terrible jolt yanked him from the dark. Shchfteru. Agonized screams. Rage coursing through every nerve. The white… blinding white… imploding suns… the terrible silence…

He had no wish to open his eyes again. There had been a face, a beautiful face, but he must have dreamt it in his madness. The silence remained. If he opened his eyes, he would see the cell again, the blood drenched walls, the gray horror of his floating tomb. No. Better to keep his eyes closed and see again those dark eyes set against flawless golden skin.

Wait. Sound. The soft sound of even breaths drawn. Not alone. Sweet spirits, I'm not alone.

His eyes flew open to find a miracle staring at him from across the room, the same lovely face from his vision. It must have been true. His body felt warmer and no longer as if he might go mad from thirst. Rescue… perhaps. But he needed to be cautious.

"Hey." The beautiful, golden-skinned man spoke, his smile reaching his raindrop-shaped eyes. "You recognize me?"

He could only stare, hesitant to believe the evidence of his senses. They had lied to him before in recent days.

"You have a name?" The voice rivaled the face in beauty, soft and warm, caressing his exhausted mind. "All right, we'll start with mine. I'm Isaac Ozawa. And I guess I could just call you the Marduk Rescuee, or maybe Ishmael—"

"Ishmael?" The word caught in his dry throat, barely a rasp.

"Yeah, you know, the sole survivor? And I alone survived to tell the tale? Oh, never mind. But it would be nicer to have a name."

He swallowed against the rawness, trying for more of a voice. "Turk."

"That's your name? Turk?"

He nodded and watched in fascination as Isaac shook his head, dark hair fanning his cheeks.

"Of course it is. No soft sibilants or lingual sounds for you. Oh, no. Nothing but hard, strong sounds. You probably have a last name that would hurt to say."

Turk drew a slow breath, trying to keep up with events. His head ached. "Always… talk so much?"

"Only when I'm nervous or pissed off."

"Which?"

"Which is it now? Oh, nervous, definitely." Isaac shifted, head cocked to one side. "Not that strange men usually make me this nervous."

"But… I do." He forced his attention away from the captivating face. Isaac was in uniform, burgundy with gold piping. He couldn't match the colors with any unit he knew. Whose hands had he fallen into? "Water?"

"Oh, shit." The beautiful smile fell. "Of course you want water. Damn. Hang on."

Turk eased his head back to the bed, waiting. Something pinned his hands and feet. In his weakened condition, he had little hope of breaking a magnetic or even a physical barrier. Isaac came back into view, water bottle in hand. A sharp, electric jolt ran down Turk's spine when an elegant, golden hand slipped behind his head to help him drink. He had no business thinking about those hands.

"Better?"

"Thank you." Why did he have to be so kind? It would make what he had to do so much harder. He closed his eyes on a sigh, gauging the remaining strength in his wasted body. "Back hurts. Need to…"

"Stupid restraints," Isaac muttered. "They should've at least left you one hand free so you could shift a little."

He chewed on a sensuously full lower lip, considering, as Turk watched in helpless fascination. Isaac's jaw clenched as he seemed to come to a decision. He reached over and pressed the pad to unlock Turk's left wrist.

The moment he regained movement, Turk lunged. He seized Isaac by the throat, applying enough pressure to constrict his airway.

"What unit? What battle group? Whom do you serve?"

Isaac's fingers scrabbled at his hand, his eyes wide and desperate. "Don't… please…"

"Who are you?"

"Not… military," Isaac choked out, his coloring edging up from pink to crimson.

"Liar," Turk growled. "Implant. Fighter pilot. Behind your ear."

"Ex-Altairian… fleet…" Isaac gasped, struggling to pull away. He was strong but not large enough to break Turk's grip. "Bad… implant. Discharged… this is… commercial ship… courier…"

His eyes rolled back and his body went limp as if someone had stolen his bones. Turk let him slide to the floor, his heart racing. With his free hand, he unlocked the rest of his restraints and rolled to peer over the edge of his bed. Isaac lay crumpled on the decking, the shadows of his thick, black lashes caressing his cheeks.

No insignia, no rank designation, a courier ship… what have I done?

 

About Angel:

Angel Martinez, the unlikely black sheep of an ivory tower intellectual family, has managed to make her way through life reasonably unscathed. Despite a wildly misspent youth, she snagged a degree in English Lit, married once and did it right the first time, (same husband for over twenty-five years) and gave birth to one amazing son (now in college.) While Angel has worked, in no particular order, as a state park employee, retail worker, medic, LPN, call center zombie, banker, and corporate drone, none of these occupations quite fit.

She now writes full time because she finally can, and has been happily astonished to have her work place consistently in the annual Rainbow Awards. Angel currently lives in Delaware in a drinking town with a college problem and writes Science Fiction and Fantasy centered around gay heroes.

 

Website: http://angelmartinezauthor.weebly.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/amartinez2
Facebook Author Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/495188947277007/
Twitter: @AngelMartinezrr
E-mail: ravenesperanza@yahoo.com