Monday, 24 August 2015

Getting to Know the Authors: Featuring Sherry D. Ficklin

     Sherry D. Ficklin is a full time writer from Colorado where she lives with her husband, four kids, two dogs, and a fluctuating number of chickens and house guests. A former military brat, she loves to travel and meet new people. She can often be found browsing her local bookstore with a large white hot chocolate in one hand and a towering stack of books in the other. That is, unless she’s on deadline at which time she, like the Loch Ness monster, is only seen in blurry photographs.
     She is the author of several YA novels and in her spare time she co-hosts the Pop Lit Divas Radio Show.
Check out her website: and check her out on

What has she written? 
She has written:
   Queen of Someday (Stolen Empire, #1), Queen of Tomorrow (Stolen Empire, #2), Queen of Always (Stolen Empire, #3), Losing Logan (Losing Logan, #1), Haunting Zoe (Losing Logan, #0.5), Extracted (The Lost Imperials, #1), Prodigal (The Lost Imperials, #2), Riven (The Lost Imperials, #3), Absolution (The Lost Imperials, #4), Foresight (The Gods of Fate, #1), Second Sight (The Gods of Fate, #2), Hindsight (The Gods of Fate, #3), After Burn (Military Brats, #1), Worlds Entwined, Worlds Between, Grave Secrets (Palmetto Moon, #2), Confederacy of Steam vs Zombies, Playing With Fire and Twists in Time.

Check out an awesome giveaway of Playing With Fire by Sherry D. Ficklin over on this link: 

Now on to the Interview!
1) How old were you when you started writing, in your opinion?
It was high school, really, though I didn't start writing with the intent to publish until 2007.

2) What do you want a reader to gain from reading your works?
I write for entertainment. I just want people to be able to open my book, and be transported.

3) What are your three top suggestions on becoming an author, or being a pleasure writer?
Being an author is hard. If you can imagine doing anything else and being really happy, then do that. But if not, then you are a writer. My best tips are, finish your story before you edit, be open to criticism, and never let the criticism get you down.

4) What is your favourite novel, why?
That's too tough. My favorite is always what I'm reading at the moment, so it changes all the time.

5) Who is your favourite author, why?
Same. I think I have many wonderful author friends. Picking one would be impossible.

6) What are your favorite pass times besides writing?
I love traveling. That's my big one.

7) Who in your life do you credit your imagination to the most?
My dad. I have a very dry, sarcastic sense of humor. that came from him.

8) What are the top five things on your bucket list?
Travel to Greece and Russia, Buy groceries for a stranger, Hit the NYT or USA Today Bestsellers list, Have a meal with my friends from High School, Leave the world a little better than I found it.

9) What is your funniest childhood memory?
Wow, nothing actually comes to mind. Which is not to say that I didn't have a fun childhood, but yeah, I've got nothing.

10) To the youth of today, if you could tell them one thing, what would it be?
It gets better.

Here is a special sneak peak of her novel Playing With Fire that will be coming out October 27th 2015: 

I get my schedule and map and head off to first period. I find the correct door, do a quick double check of my schedule and stuff the paper into my back pocket, opening the door as quietly as possible. Instantly all eyes swing my direction. Walking in, trying my best to look more comfortable than I feel, I hand my note to the teacher, Mr. Walker. 
“Class, we have a new student,” he announces as my stomach sinks into my shoes. Of course he’s going to be one of those teachers who makes a big deal about it. I shift my backpack onto my other shoulder and struggle to keep my chin up as he announces me. Best not to show any weakness. Teenagers, like sharks, can smell blood in the water.  
"This is Farris Barnett. I trust you will all make her feel welcome."  There are a few mutterings from the back, but I can’t make anything out. He makes a note on a clipboard on his desk and waves his hand in my direction.  
"Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself, Farris?" he says absently, lowering himself into his creaking chair.  
I glance to my right, at the open windows. Maybe I can make a break for it. A fall from a second-story window couldn’t possibly be more painful than this, I reason. But I’d probably end up in one of those full-body casts and be tortured by an unreachable itch for three weeks. The teacher clears his throat impatiently. Ah, the hell with it.  
“Right. I’m Farris. I spend my spare time trying to calculate the air speed velocity of the European swallow. My life’s ambition is to develop some sort of freeze ray, and I’m a firm believer that at some point, the world will be taken over by zombies.”  
Chirp, chirp, chirp. Either no one gets it, which wouldn’t surprise me, or no one cares, which also wouldn’t surprise me. To my left someone snickers, but I’m too busy glancing longingly at the windows to notice who it is.  
Traction is looking pretty good right now. 
“Yes, well, welcome to Cherry Point High. Please take a seat in the back there." The teacher points to an empty desk in the farthest row before launching into a forty-five-minute lecture on the infrastructure of post-Julius Caesar Rome. At some point I stop taking notes on my tablet and just allow myself to zone out, scrolling through the local news instead. When the bell finally rings I practically leap from my seat, gather my crap, and headed for my next class. 

I barely turn the first corner before I see it. Three tall boys, two of them in matching football jerseys and one in a black t-shirt have another boy backed up against the lockers. They are exchanging heated words when one of them reaches out, slapping the book from the one boy’s hand. The hallway is filled with people, but no one is even looking at them. It’s a genuine handicap, I realize. People are so willing to be blind when something like that is happening. Too often I’d been in his shoes, tormented by others as people around me just ignored us like we were invisible. Maybe that’s why I snap. Or maybe I’m just too, how did my dad put it? Abrasive. 
Either way, I move in quickly, catching the tail end of the taunting.
“Why are you even here?” the tallest boy demands. “Nobody wants you here.”
I pipe up. “Hey, leave him alone.”
The three boys turn, looking at me like I’ve just dome some kind of magic trick like pulling a rabbit out of my ass.
“What did you say?” one of them demands.
I speak very slowly. “I said, leave him alone you giant sack of dicks.”
The tall boy, he seems to be the leader of the group shakes his head. “You’re the new girl, right? This really doesn’t concern you.”
I cock my head to the side. “Maybe it’s not my business, but, call me crazy, I don’t get the warm fuzzies when I see three people ganging up on someone.”
The guy in black holds up his hands. “Hold up there, mighty mouse. You don’t even know us. We’re just chatting with our buddy, right?” He looks past me to the boy with his back against the locker. “Right?”
I turn, looking at him for the first time. His posture is stiff, but not scared. His face is stern. “It’s fine.”
I shrug. Hey, if he won’t stand up for himself, there’s not much I can do. “Fine,” I look back to the other guys, “but you guys are still jerks.”
The one in the middle chuckles, “I think you peaked with sack of dicks.”
I flip him off, because I’m pretty sure it’s the international symbol for go fuck yourself. Bending down, I retrieve the book they knocked away and hand it to locker boy who takes it without really looking at me, and I turn to walk away.
“Wait, new girl,” one of them calls after me. I pause, turning reluctantly. The tallest of them jogs up to me, “I heard your intro in class today. Funny stuff. Any other hobbies I should know about? Besides competitive name calling?”
He smiles crookedly and flips his shaggy blondish-brown hair out of his eyes. 
He’s easily 6 inches taller than the boys around him, which puts him just above my eye level. I’ve been five foot ten since I turned fifteen and it used to bug me, but the guys are finally catching up and it’s nice to be able to look them in the eyes. Especially when they’re being misogynistic ass monkeys. 
“I can kill a man with only a toothpick,” I retort, not smiling.
This guy's lopsided grin widens.
"A toothpick, huh? Sounds like quite a talent." 
"It’s not so much a matter of skill as one of persistence," I say with a shrug. 
He laughs and steps in front of me, halting my progress. I’m about to barrel through him—and hopefully plant him square on his butt—when he does the last thing I’m expecting. He sticks out his hand. 
"I’m Oliver, king of the dick sacks. It’s nice to meet you, new girl." 
I stare at his hand for a second like he’s joking. Was he really trying to make nice after all that? I’m not sure what prompts me to take it, but it seems impossible not to.
"I’m Farris. She who takes no shit." 

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