Author Interview: Evelyn M. Moores
Evelyn M. Moores
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When did you first realize you wanted to be an Author? I always felt like I had stories to tell and share. I decided to write this novel when I asked myself the question: “What will it be like in the future when we have depleted our resources to a point close to extinction.” From there, a solid group of characters and people living in a certain situation started to immerge in my imagination. I realized then I needed to tell this story.
What would you say is your interesting quirk that only happens when you are writing? I don’t think I have any interesting quirks. Or, I’m just too weird to know they are quirks. However, now that I am writing the sequel to this novel, I find myself thinking about these characters all the time. And I also find it soothing and therapeutic to delve into their story and start writing, whenever something disappoints me in the real world.
What was one of the most surprising things you learned in writing your books? I learned that you can mold the story in any way you like. You can delve into the darkest depths of despair or rise to elated heights all in a few pages. If you do it well you can bring the readers along with you.
Where did you get ideas for your books? As I mentioned before I asked myself the question: “What would it be like if?” about many things. I am a big post apocalyptic fan so I enjoy thinking about “What would it be like if” from that perspective.
Out of all the books you have written which is your favorite and why? I have only wrote one book and some poetry. I have written this book into a screenplay and I am currently writing a sequel to it.
What people do you think will love your book the most? People that have read the book thus far have said the following things in reviews: 1. T hey loved the imagination. 2. They liked that even though it is a dystopia novel, it is uplifting in the end. 3.They enjoyed the strong but real female character in the story. 4. They enjoyed the fact that it is a post apocalyptic story from a female perspective. 5.Once they got into the book, they looked forward to finding out more. ￼
What do you think makes a good story? It is imaginative, but it also has solid plot and character development.
￼Who are some of your favorite Authors? Margaret Atwood, Leo Tolstoy. These two authors that I seem to like everything they write (but so do most people). There are also many modern authors I enjoy too numerous to name. If you made me a list I would tell yes, love them or no, don’t know them. ￼
If you could pick one actor to play a character in your book in the movie version, who would it be? The Spanish actress, Claudia Bassols could probably play, Letsi the lead character in the book. I met her on the set of “The Returned”. She is really tall like Letsi but seemed to have a vulnerable side as well.
￼Who are some of the people that influenced your love of writing? I honestly can’t tell you who influenced my love of writing. I guess other authors that I have read and appreciated, like the ones I mentioned. Perhaps the fact that people like what I write influences me the most. I feel like I am doing something useful with this book when people tell me they like it. So I’m am motivated to keep writing to share stories with others.
Is this book considered a dark Sci-fi book such as aliens or other decimate the earth or something lighter like ET? Sci-fi doesn’t necessarily mean aliens but it is a good example of the genres extreme polarities. It is a post apocalyptic dystopia novel, so it is dark in that it is a time following the virtual demise of the earth. However, there are no aliens or creatures that have caused the decimation. We have done it too ourselves in this novel. And now the remaining people are left to struggle to make amends for their predecessors. There are no fantastical occurrences in this story. It just addresses the question of what it might be like if you or I lived in a post apocalyptic time. I would add that as dark as the theme might be, it is not just a negative downer. It explores the dark and the light of the human condition and it is hopeful in the end; because hope is our only folly to despair. ￼
What kind of TV shows do you like and do you find that as a Sci- Fi Writer that you gravitate toward Sci-Fi Movies and Television such as Lost in Space or Stargate? Stargate, Star Trek, V.
Sci-Fi is often grouped with the Fantasy and Paranormal genres; do you find a close connection between them? Sometimes there is a close connection. Stargate does a good job of bringing the two together. However, sometimes they are not connected at all. For instance, Poltergeist and The Hobbit have nothing in common. My book does not really have any fantasy or paranormal elements in it at all. Yet it qualifies as sci/fi because it is a post apocalyptic story.
If you had one piece of advice for an aspiring Author what would it be? Keep at it, don’t get discouraged. ￼
What would you like to say to friends and family of Authors (not just your own)? I hope you enjoy the book and it moves you in a positive way. ￼
What projects do you have up and coming? I am looking to pitch the screenplay of this novel. I’m told it would make a great movie. I am also writing the sequel as people have told me it is a cliff hanger.
Is there anything else you want to share with your readers? I hope I have made a positive impact by writing this story.
Please Post an Excerpt
Parasites of the Universe
Alexandra looked so beautiful when she was sleeping. Her hair glistened like the gold on the southwest side of the mountains that we had excavated on one of our salvaging expeditions. When her soft eyelids were lowered, they emitted tiny lines of blue and red, exposing her miniature veins and arteries through her translucent membrane. With her eyes closed, her light skin seemed natural and tranquil. She reminded me of a delicate blossom on one of the fruit trees in the orchard: the soft pallid pedals that we paid homage to in hopes they would bring forth fruit for our consumption. Even in the dark, with limited exposure to the sun, the colour of Alexandra’s hair illuminated our dwelling. We were never able to marvel over Alexandra’s beauty for long though. We knew that the rays shining on her, even when they were only a reflection from a wall, were lethal. They were more malignant to her than the rest of us. We would have to move her throughout the day when she slumbered, dodging the sun’s rays which were in constant pursuit. Still, as she slept in the dark, she looked beautiful. Suddenly her eyes opened and she cried, “Mommy!” It was completely dark around her except for her face, yet, through the pitch, I could see distinct figures scurrying about. There were noises uncomfortably audible. The sound was hard to describe, but it seemed similar to an amplified masticating, slurping, and chomping clamor that one might make chewing down a pine nut paste for medicine. The consumption sounds were echoing off a wall or two, and they were followed by gurgling and clicking noises that appeared to be some type of communication.
The sounds were coming from figures in the shadows. The occasional long spidery arm was raised to the limited light, just enough to show a figurine with a large head bent forward over the neck as though it had been mounted directly on the shoulders of the beasts. It was the ghouls! I had to protect Alexandra.
I reached for her but the distance between us had grown. Her presence slowly faded into the darkness. But her voice did not. Her cries for help grew louder, deafening, and haunting. I felt the pain of vulnerability deep within my spirit and I loathed myself for even considering my feelings when Alexandra was in such dire need.
“Mommy!” she cried. “Help me!”
I wanted to rip open my chest and expose the flesh that these creatures sought in an attempt to divert them from Alexandra to me. But I could not. I did not possess the power in this alternative world, the world that existed in the shadows of my darkest memories. In this world, all I could do was feel the pain of loss and no control.
Then I heard another quieter, more distinct voice saying, “She looks dead?”
I turned and looked toward the voice as I opened my eyes. I had made it to the landing. I was in a treatment facility at Moraine Edge, more dead than alive I gathered from the comments of the Moraines.
“You never know with those mountain people,” another retorted in response to my apparent resurrection.
“How long have I been here?” I questioned in the groggiest of voices. I am sure I must have been slurring my words. Why that was of such concern to me as I lay immersed in my own diarrhea with fumes clearly noxious to the Moraines was certainly a mystery.
“A day,” one responded. “We’re going to try and get you to stand while we clean you.”
They hoisted me up from the mattress, and slowly we made our way out of the compound to the creek that centred most of the dwellings of Moraine Edge. It was not the best conditions for observing a new village, a new region, or a new Peoples’ habitat. Yet I was still able to study the Moraine territory.
Their huts appeared to be composed mainly of clay and they were situated on relatively flat terrain. In contrast, houses of the mountain people were constructed from trees and other foliage and were erected on ledges and small plateaus elevated in the regal crags of the mountains. One other dissimilarity was the way the homes were located so closely to this small creek that meandered down towards the Poison Sea. Unlike the Moraines, the mountain people distanced themselves from the streams flowing from the mountain tops for this area was considered volatile with a less stable foundation for building homes. We only went close to the streams to retrieve the precious fluid that it contained. This Moraine creek was filthy in comparison to the purity of the mountain springs.
The Moraines doused me with the semi-clean liquid that was sometimes intolerable at best for drinking. Nothing was comparable to the mountain water of my people. T he mountain water was the Moraines’ lust. Why hadn’t they attempted a hostile takeover of our land in order to gain unlimited access to the cleaner water? They were far more robust and known to be aggressive. They could easily overpower us.
Luckily, for the mountain people, these light-skinned inhabitants could not tolerate the sun’s rays that permeated the mountains. Here in Moraine, the sun was far less intense, which became clear to me when I began to shiver uncontrollably in response to the shock of dirty cold water hitting my torso. That and the fact that I was still quite ill, malnourished, and dehydrated, from my venture across the Poison Sea encouraged the Moraines to escort me back to the complex.
Another mattress had been placed in my sleeping spot in the dwelling.Another salvaged piece of cloth was placed on dead vegetation. It was hard to assess how comfortable it was as I lay in my discomfort. I longed for my own mattress made of salvage cloth and sand. I longed for my home. I m
issed my children and grandchild dreadfully. I even missed their father. That, in itself, made it clear to me that I must be deathly ill. I drifted frightfully back into sleep and prayed not to witness another nightmare involving Alexandra.