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Passionate about nature since she was young, Laurel Wanrow writes stories about living close to the land, falling in love, and the magic in both.
When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer? Really a writer? Not just someone who made up stories for fun? The third year of homeschooling my son. He’d become more independent and was taking classes. I was driving him to them and bored. I began writing one of my stories in a spiral notebook, and pretty soon I was hooked.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk? I have always been terrified I’d lose a whole slew of writing with one misplaced key stroke. I started off transcribing my handwritten story by placing each chapter in a separate Word doc, and still do that. I am a back-up fiend!
What do you like to do when you’re not writing? Garden, hike and take photos of nature.
How many books have you written? Which is your favorite? I’ve written 10, but doubt some of them will make it out into the world. My favorite is a sci-fi in which the people have been brought together from different times and places to save a dying world. I’ll be releasing it—Passages—next year.
What do you think makes a good story? Magic. I love magic and unique world-building and characters fighting to save a special way of life.
What are your favorite book genres in writing and reading? Fantasy and mystery, always with a romance.
Who are your favorite authors to read? I read a lot of YA: Maggie Stiefvater, Rainbow Rowell, J. K. Rowling, Sharon Cameron. For more grown-up fare, I can’t get enough of The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern.
As desperate farmworkers modify steam machinery to fight crop-eating pests, a proper Victorian girl discovers those eager to profit from the disaster prove even more dangerous.
Annmar scrunched back into her pillow. This wasn’t a cat. The face was too pointed, never mind the sleek body three times as long as it was tall. Yet when she looked into its face, the familiar eyes belonged to…
Eyes squinting, the animal’s ears pressed flat. Its head sank, giving a little jerk up and down.
Had he…nodded? “That is you.” Daeryn. This was a polecat. Her drawings had been correct, but not the same as seeing one uninjured, acting normal. Or as normal as a polecat in someone’s bed would act.
She pressed her fingertips to her temples. Oh, Lord, just stop thinking already. But her head didn’t hurt, her vision wasn’t cloudy, and neither were her thoughts. She lowered her hands and looked around to confirm they were alone before fixing her gaze on…him. “What are you doing in my room?”
His shoulders lifted.
That was a shrug. He half-crouched and jumped to the foot of the bed, then to the floor, all before she knew that’s what he had in mind. He disappeared behind the end of her bedstead.
She half-sat up, and as she started swinging her legs around, a hand pulled down the extra quilt that hung on the end of her bed. Annmar gasped and scooted under her covers. A moment later, Daeryn’s tousled brown hair came into view. The quilt swung through the air, and he stood, the fabric draped over his shoulders and held closed in the front.
He squinted at her, his expression the same as the polecat’s, looking very sleepy. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”
What was she supposed to say to that? He’d been in her room. Sleeping in her room. In her bed! Oh, Lord, what would Mother… Nothing. Mother wasn’t around to worry about anymore, as Mary Clare had pointed out. Annmar had no one to answer to, Blighted Basin society included. Their lack of rules completely befuddled her. How did these people function?
The Twisting is available for pre-order and will be released Nov 3rd on: Amazon