Mystery Thriller Week continues with D.M. Barr,
author of Expired Listings, a psychological thriller
with satiric, romantic and erotic elements.
I love being read. I love knowing I've entertained people, made them laugh and maybe changed their mind about something or helped them with their business (I used to be a marketing/business magazine writer.)
WHAT DID YOU DO WHEN YOU SOLD YOUR FIRST BOOK?
It was ironic because the first book to sell was the second one I wrote. The first one, I spent so much on editing, cover design, etc., and queried about 150 agents and 50 publications before I got my agent and some book deals. This second book? An erotic romance novella, no professional editing. I put together some short stories I'd written and sent it off to Loose Id for the hell of it. I received an answer in a week! I was in Atlantic City for the World Tavern Trivia National Finals and had just arrived at a restaurant for lunch when I opened the email. I shrieked and spent the rest of the lunch in a daze. I was going to be published—as a FICTION writer!
WHAT IS THE FIRST BOOK YOU REMEMBER READING?
I read the Honey Bunch books as a child (they were already old but I'm sure I'm dating myself.) I loved them. There was one where Honey Bunch wanders off and ends up in an orphanage and then they take the orphans to an amusement park where they had full access to the park and Belgian Waffles. At least that's how I remember it and this was way before all-access passes existed for amusement parks. It stayed with me.
"Glengarry Glen Ross"meets "50 Shades of Grey" with a body count.
Real Estate can be murder!
The first “What the fuck?!” is always the sweetest. The impassioned pleas and expletives that follow have their own particular charm—it’s true—but nothing beats that first moment when the chloroform wears off and prey senses predicament.
The makeshift dungeon is brightly lit for my viewing pleasure, but not my guest’s, whose blindfold ensures both darkness and disorientation. The closed-circuit camera captures the delicious onset of adrenalin dump: the tensing muscles, the primal struggle against the leather ankle and wrist restraints, the mounting desperation as the brain registers there is no give, no escape. Ah, yes.
I turn up the speakers, return to my overstuffed recliner, close my eyes and savor the serenade of screams, the verbal pageant of anguish that fills my cozy viewing chamber. It’s orgasmic, this frantic, intoxicating journey from indignation to resignation, marked by hoarsened throat and slackened struggle.
Dawn, your author photo features you wearing a mask. What is the mask for?
1 comment:
Erotica and mystery...an intriguing combination! Best wishes, D.M., and have a great weekend.
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