Dominique Goodall is the author of the soon to be released Echoes of Winter, book one in the “Seasons of the Wolf” series and a self-confessed wolf addict. She has currently been published in two anthologies by Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing and is currently working on getting herself better known by sending in manuscripts for as many different anthologies as she possibly can.
As much as she loves to admit it, she never will be able to count her wolf stuff- there’s nothing left for her to be truly able to collect without her own home. She can be found on Facebook
, Friended on Facebook
, at her Blog
, Twitter @DomGoodall, You can also like “Echoes of Winter”here
, or check out the youtube video
. You can purchase DarkLight
, both are Horror anthologies.
When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer? I was 7-8 and asked to do a storyboard in English. When I get the Headmaster’s award for it, my love affair with writing was born- though I didn’t start until I was 13/14 properly and that was fun.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk? I have to have either the absence of music or just one song playing on repeat. There are only so many times you can listen to one song before you want to wring someone’s neck.
What was one of the most surprising things you learned in creating your books? I have a devious mind. I like hidden traitors and so much drama that in real-life I’d be called a drama queen.
Where did you get ideas for your books? Where does any writer? In my dreams and in pictures I see. Sometimes it can be something I’ve heard or just…a niggle to sit and write and that’s when I’m able to do so; I let my fingers do the work.
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? I’ve written three books, five short stories and a poem; my favorite book is Echoes of Winter (but Torn comes REALLY close); favorite short story is Phoenix which will possibly be due release late next year.
Who is your target audience? People who love wolves for Echoes of Winter; horror lovers and fans of mythology. I have a knack for appealing to multiple age groups with what I’m working with.
What do you think makes a good story? A strong hook at the beginning, a decent conflict and characters which are ‘alive’. A storyline should draw you in and make you live in the world for as long as the book goes on.
What projects do you have up and coming? Echoes of Winter will be published in December, Torn is currently with the first of three publishers I’m querying it with. More details will be able to be found on my Facebook pages. I’m also working on the sequel for Echoes of Winter, Spring Surrender.
Who are some of your favorite Authors? Currently? Cameo Ranae, Jess Owen and Laurell K.Hamilton. Of all time is Laurell K.Hamilton, David Clement-Davies and William Horwood.
Who are some of the people that influenced your love of writing? David Clement-Davies was the first one, Jennifer Don was the second one. She has encouraged me with everything I’ve done as have all the wonderful folks in MasterKoda.
What hobbies do you have? I’m a reader, writer, singer and dancer. I live to talk to people from different countries and…I am a major collector of all things wolf-based. I am also training my Malamute as a service dog for myself.
What kind of TV shows do you like and do you find that as a PN Writer that you gravitate toward True Blood, Vampire Diaries, Lost Girl and others that center around Preternatural or Supernatural Creatures? Grimm, Once Upon A Time and True Blood are the only real shows I enjoy with supernatural characters; though Buffy was a firm favorite while I was younger.
If you could pick a celebrity to play one character in the movie version, who would it be? Maggie Smith would voice Sage; the elderly lynx in Echoes of Winter or Steam, the she-wolf teacher, as she has a voice that teaches the younger ones.
How are your Supernaturals different from the traditional mythology? I’ve mixed hell-hounds with Norse Mythology – they are traditional in their black coats, large size and fiery breath (and temperature). The way they differ is that they have a culture, a language which comprises of three parts and their bodies map their achievements.
What is your view on the Paranormal “Craze” that’s going on, do you feel that it is a fad that people will look back on and laugh or a lasting interest that will birth classics to come? Paranormal stories have always interested people and I think they always will. Look at one of the most widely known classics; Dracula. The tale of a vampire who can shift shape, turn to fog and confuse people. Retold many times, every single tale has to hold the basic side of it – he is hard to kill; powerful and he has an amazing talent for escaping danger.
What other genres do you write?Fantasy/fiction and supernatural romance.
If you had one piece of advice for an aspiring Author, what would it be? Never let anyone tell you that you are wasting your time. You aren’t wasting your time if you are doing what you love. Rejections are part of the process; learn to take all advice that comes your way but remember; you are telling your tale in YOUR voice, not anyone else’s.
What would you like to say to friends and family of writers (not just your own)? Be supportive. Your [writer] is showing their heart – they need you to keep their spirits high when they are doubting things. Be understanding – writers are a forgetful, occasionally selfish breed; we get caught up in our own written worlds.
Any other questions you would like to answer? Why I write? I enjoy it. I find it a good escape from everything life tries to throw at me. Get depressed? Write something happy. Angry at someone? Kill them off violently! That’s the best way to work with things I’ve found.
Excerpt Torn – Norse Hell-hounds:
He was bowled from his feet the instant the sound stopped ringing from his chest. Pain seared around his scruff as he was partly dragged and partly carried onwards, his body held between two shortly furred legs. He could just see the black fur which gleamed as wet as his own had. The thick muscles held him captivated for a moment before he heard a bellow almost identical to the one he had roared into the air.
The creature that held him was checked for a moment, hesitating before carrying on, the bite not even loosening as his legs and hips were torn and tugged across the ground which was rough, covered with rocks and sharp debris. He occasionally let out a low growl that ceased the instant he was shaken back and forth like a rabbit.
He whimpered whenever that happened, his ears splaying as he again fell silent. He felt like a naughty pup, being punished by the mother that haunted him. Every so often he was dragged through streams and rivers of cold water which sluiced the blood from his coat. Whatever it was that had captured him wasn’t even checked by the deeper water, continuing onwards relentlessly. He was left to ache, left to burn and complain every so often when the stones or bushes dragged a particularly long or deep tear into his skin, shedding his blood.
He began to twist and turn in its grasp, unable to snap but, through some thankful movement, managed to trip his attacker. His body twisted in its legs, his scruff torn from its grasp as he rolled out from underneath the heavier body which threatened to crush him. He almost instantly rolled up, his teeth bared as he took his position; prepared to defend himself from whatever it was before it took him places he didn’t know.
He stepped back in shock when all he saw was an almighty, gaunt rump, springing away from him as though unaware that its cargo, its unwilling passenger was left behind. He let out perhaps the most ferocious growl he had ever heard before hesitating and staring at the trees which appeared just in front of his nose. The scent of them drew him back in time, back to that moment when he had hungered for longer than he could ever imagine.
He trembled, flattened to the ground tightly enough that he merely appeared a large, somewhat damp, roughly-hewn rock. This was, perhaps, what saved him.
As he watched, trembling but silent, first two, then four more immense black beasts swept past him, the smallest half the size of him again. He closed his eyes, fearing what creatures that size could do to him. As soon as the last one had gone, and the sound of their pursuit had faded, he stood up cautiously.
They had swept past the woods, running along the side of them and making it easier for him to slip into the woods with his smaller body and more agile frame. He was freed from their presence easily, his eyes now able to perceive where every step had gone. As soon as he stepped from the forest again, he put his paw into one of those that those beasts had left. He only tilted his head to the side when he realized that his paw was only the slightest bit smaller than the smallest of the tracks and something within his chest eased, was soothed, by the thought that he wouldn’t be left without his own way of defense.