Showing posts with label Linda Bennett Pennell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Linda Bennett Pennell. Show all posts

Friday, December 4, 2015

Q&A with Linda Bennett Pennell, author of Casablanca: Appointment at Dawn


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Linda will be awarding $20 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

A special welcome to Linda Bennett Pennell for stopping by to answer our questions. Have you always been a writer? When did you really get into writing?

I haven’t always been a writer of fiction, but I have always been a writer. I spent many years writing to earn my degrees and certifications, then more writing on the job. When I retired, I was finally able to write for pleasure.

What do you enjoy about writing most?

The best thing about writing fiction is that it has allowed me to reinvent myself. We humans are truly multifaceted creatures, but unfortunately we tend to sort and categorize each other into neat, easily understood packages that rarely reveal the whole person. Through writing fiction, I am able to tap into a whole new side of myself that is a joy in my life. I love the act of creating something that has not existed before. I enjoy imagining a story and seeing it come to life on the page.

Did you encounter any challenges while publishing your book? How did you overcome them?

Rejection is a necessary part of the publishing process and I have had my share. Learn what you can from negative feedback. Give your rejected work an honest edit and move on. No one ever gets published by giving up or by dwelling on the negatives.

Tell us more about your book...

Casablanca: Appointment at Dawn is set in 1943 in the weeks leading up to the First Allied Conference. The story revolves around spies, double agents, a murder mystery, and a romance between two people who have no intention of falling in love.

Let me give you a little background on why I chose the Casablanca Conference for my setting.

In late 1942, the Allies were finally experiencing success in North Africa to the point that a policy meeting was needed. They set the conference for January 1943 at the Anfa Hotel in Casablanca. Roosevelt, Churchill, de Gaulle, and Henri Giraud would all be in attendance. Only serious difficulties on the Eastern Front kept Stalin from attending. Imagine the effect this must have had in Berlin when they learned about the coming conference through an intercepted Allied message.

Secret communications were intercepted and decoded by both sides throughout the war. But for a simple error, the success of the conference, perhaps outcome of the war itself, might have been quite different. The Germans knew about the conference through an intercepted message. Their translator, however, made one strategic error. He translated Casablanca, Spanish for white house, as the White House in Washington, D.C. The error was eventually caught, but too late for the Nazis to disrupt the conference. Like many authors of historical fiction, I played "what if" with some of the details of the historical event. The result is Casablanca: Appointment at Dawn.

Who inspires you as an author and why?

Since I write stories set in the American South and/or about Southerners traveling far from home, I admire Harper Lee, author of To Kill a Mockingbird, and Kathryn Stockett, author of the bestselling blockbuster The Help. Although set in different decades of the 20th Century, both authors deal with difficult topics honestly while offering hope for the future.

If you could travel anywhere, where would you go and why?

I am a complete Anglophile, so a complete tour of the UK would be right down my alley. Love those castles and cathedrals!

What is your advice to anyone working to achieve their goals (such as publishing a book or finishing college)?

Nothing worth having is achieved without hard work and the six P’s. The six P’s? Make this your mantra: proper planning prevents pitifully poor performance. Do not expect perfection of yourself or anyone else. There is no perfection in this life, but do expect your best effort. Working toward goal success, no matter the area, requires learning everything possible about that area and then pouring on the labor. Finally, be kind to yourself. Negative self-talk kills creativity!

Casablanca, 1943: a viper’s nest of double agents and spies where OSS Officer Kurt Heinz finds his skill in covert operations pushed to the limit. Allied success in North Africa and the fate of the First Allied Conference—perhaps the outcome of the war—hang on Kurt’s next mission. The nature of his work makes relationships impossible. Nonetheless, he is increasingly torn between duty and the beautiful girl who desperately needs his protection and help.

Sarah Barrett, U.S. Army R.N., is finished with wartime romance. Determined to protect her recently broken heart, she throws all of her time and energy into caring for her patients, but when she is given a coded message by a mysterious dying civilian, she is sucked into a vortex of danger and intrigue that threatens her very survival. The one person who can help Sarah is Kurt Heinz, a man with too many secrets to be trusted.

Enjoy an excerpt:

Kurt watched in dismay as the man in gray picked up his fedora and rose from the table next to the one recently vacated by the two women. This had to be his contact. The man had watched Kurt on the sly since he arrived at the restaurant. Moreover, the guy matched the description right down to the red pocket square in his suit breast pocket and the thin, pale scar running along his left jawline. Making a quick decision, Kurt pushed his chair back and tossed some cash on the table.

"It's been interesting guys, but I'm calling it a night. Use this to cover my tab."

"What's the rush, Heinz? We haven't even ordered dinner."

"I guess my sins are catching up with me. It's return to quarters and bed for me."

"You headed back with us on the return flight tomorrow?"

"Nope, I'm here with the Old Man for the duration. You boys have a good trip."

The street was nearly deserted when Kurt stepped out onto its glistening concrete surface. Misty rain created halos around the sparse street lamps and obscured most objects more than a few feet distant. Only the two women, Sarah and Agnes, stood under an umbrella waiting for a taxi. Kurt watched them from the restaurant's portico. Focused on their conversation, they seemed oblivious to anyone behind them.

Glancing to his right, Kurt saw his man in gray scurrying toward the cross street. He stepped onto the sidewalk and crept along a good twenty paces behind. When his quarry slowed at the corner and looked back over his shoulder, Kurt stepped into the shadow of a doorway behind the taxi stand and waited. If this guy didn't want to make contact, he wouldn't appreciate being followed.


About the Author:
I have been in love with the past for as long as I can remember. Anything with a history, whether shabby or majestic, recent or ancient, instantly draws me in. I suppose it comes from being part of a large extended family that spanned several generations. Long summer afternoons on my grandmother's porch or winter evenings gathered around her fireplace were filled with stories both entertaining and poignant. Of course being set in the American South, those stories were also peopled by some very interesting characters, some of whom have found their way into my work.

As for my venture in writing, it has allowed me to reinvent myself. We humans are truly multifaceted creatures, but unfortunately we tend to sort and categorize each other into neat, easily understood packages that rarely reveal the whole person. Perhaps you, too, want to step out of the box in which you find yourself. I encourage you to look at the possibilities and imagine. Be filled with childlike wonder in your mental wanderings. Envision what might be, not simply what is. Let us never forget, all good fiction begins when someone says to her or himself, "Let's pretend."

I reside in the Houston area with one sweet husband and one adorable German Shorthaired Pointer who is quite certain she’s a little girl.

"History is filled with the sound of silken slippers going downstairs and wooden shoes coming up." Voltaire

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLindaBennettPennell
Website: http://www.lindapennell.com
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/LindaPennell

Buy Al Capone at the Blanche Hotel, Confederado do Norte, When War Came Home, and Casablanca: Appointment at Dawn. a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Al Capone at the Blanche Hotel by Linda Bennett Pennell

http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/08/virtual-nbtm-tour-al-capone-at-blanche.html

Today we're visiting with Linda Bennett Pennell on her tour with Goddess Fish Promotions for Al Capone at the Blanche Hotel.  Click the banner for tour dates.
Linda will be awarding a $15 Amazon or BN GC to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour, and a $25 Amazon or BN GC to a randomly drawn host.

When people meet me for the first time, I imagine they see a reasonably well-preserved woman of a certain age who they believe has led a traditional, suburban life. And in many respects, they are right. Even so, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. They involve travel, animal husbandry, music, weather, and crime.

In our early-marriage, pre-children days, my husband got a hankering to travel. Money was scarce, but that didn’t dampen his burning desire to see . . . Alaska! It gave him no pause that we lived in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida at the time. “From sea to shining sea” took on new meaning. We bought a truck with camper, sans bathroom, and set out. Thank goodness it wasn’t Patagonia. Carlsbad Caverns, the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Grand Tetons, Yellowstone, Glacier, Banff, Canadian Rockies, Calgary, Dawson Creek to Fairbanks to Anchorage and back – the trip took over two months. Did you know that given 24 hours of daylight cabbages grow to the size of weather balloons? Moreover, Alaskan mosquitoes must be the biggest in the world, but I digress. At that time, the Al-Can highway was a two-lane gravel wilderness road – no motels, no grocery stores, no restaurants, no restrooms. Naturally, Canuck’s Revenge set in as soon as the tires hit the gravel. It was a very long seven days from Dawson Creek, BC to the first little Alaskan town. We are still married, but my husband hasn’t mentioned traveling rough again. He values his life.

Although I have been to Alaska, deep snow is something I’ve experienced only once. I got stranded in the north Georgia mountains by a freak snowstorm one spring break, but as for living with it? Nope. Sleet – check. Ice – check. Snow - nada. As a kid, I worried all fall. Everybody knew reindeer needed snow to be able to land on your roof. Didn’t have a chimney for Santa either. Christmas Eve was always a nail biter!

And what did I pine to find under the tree? A horse, of course. When my husband and I decided to breed Quarter Horses as a small side business, I was overjoyed. Horses are one of God’s most noble creations and one of His most needy. Owning a horse is like caring for a toddler. We gave our last two equine children to my first cousin once removed. They were his first. He thought free horses a wonderful gift. He was such an innocent.

My other passion from childhood is choral music. Singing with the Texas Master Chorale brings me great pleasure. We have sung in some wonderful venues including Lincoln Center, San Marco in Venice, and St. Peter’s in the Vatican. Knowing the rules, I did not partake, but at least one of my fellow Protestants took his First (Catholic) Communion that day. Hardily a crime, but I’m glad no one asked him to repeat his catechism.

As for crime, my debut novel, Al Capone at the Blanche Hotel, is filled with it - not exactly your traditional romance. While there are two love stories running throughout the plot, it also includes murder, lynching, moonshine, gambling, prostitution, and of course, gangsters. People, especially men, are somewhat taken aback that I write about such topics. In reality, however, I have had close relationships with real-life gangsters, primarily Crips and Latin Kings. Such is the life of a secondary public school administrator.

Scratch the surface and there’s no telling what you will find, which makes people infinitely fascinating. Don’t you think so?




Al Capone at the Blanche Hotel tells a story of lives unfolding in different centuries, but linked and irrevocably altered by a series of murders in 1930.

Lake City, Florida, June, 1930: Al Capone checks in for an unusually long stay at the Blanche Hotel, a nice enough joint for an insignificant little whistle stop. The following night, young Jack Blevins witnesses a body being dumped heralding the summer of violence to come. One-by- one, people controlling county vice activities swing from KKK ropes. No moonshine distributor, gaming operator, or brothel madam, black or white, is safe from the Klan's self-righteous vigilantism. Jack's older sister Meg, a waitress at the Blanche, and her fiancĂ©, a sheriff’s deputy, discover reasons to believe the lynchings are cover for a much larger ambition than simply ridding the county of vice. Someone, possibly backed by Capone, has secret plans for filling the voids created by the killings. But as the body count grows and crosses burn, they come to realize this knowledge may get all of them killed.

Gainesville, Florida, August, 2011: Liz Reams, an up and coming young academic specializing in the history of American crime, impulsively moves across the continent to follow a man who convinces her of his devotion yet refuses to say the three simple words I love you. Despite entreaties of friends and family, she is attracted to edginess and a certain type of glamour in her men, both living and historical. Her personal life is an emotional roller coaster, but her career options suddenly blossom beyond all expectation, creating a very different type of stress. To deal with it all, Liz loses herself in her professional passion, original research into the life and times of her favorite bad boy, Al Capone. What she discovers about 1930’s summer of violence, and herself in the process, leaves her reeling at first and then changed forever.



Enjoy an excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

Saturday

June 14, 1930

O’Leno, Florida


Jack jammed a finger into each ear and swallowed hard. Any other time, he wouldn’t even notice the stupid sound. The river always sorta slurped just before it pulled stuff underground. His stomach heaved again. Maybe he shouldn’t look either, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the circling current. When the head slipped under the water, the toe end lifted up. Slowly the tarpaulin wrapped body, at least that’s what it sure looked like, went completely vertical. It bobbed around a few times and finally gurgled its way down the sinkhole. Then everything went quiet . . . peaceful . . . crazily normal. Crickets sawed away again. An ole granddaddy bullfrog croaked his lonesomeness into the sultry midnight air.



About the Author:

I have been in love with the past for as long as I can remember. Anything with a history, whether shabby or majestic, recent or ancient, instantly draws me in. I suppose it comes from being part of a large extended family that spanned several generations. Long summer afternoons on my grandmother's porch or winter evenings gathered around her fireplace were filled with stories both entertaining and poignant. Of course being set in the South, those stories were also peopled by some very interesting characters, some of whom have found their way into my work.

As for my venture in writing, it has allowed me to reinvent myself. We humans are truly multifaceted creatures, but unfortunately we tend to sort and categorize each other into neat, easily understood packages that rarely reveal the whole person. Perhaps you, too, want to step out of the box in which you find yourself. I encourage you to look at the possibilities and imagine. Be filled with childlike wonder in your mental wanderings. Envision what might be, not simply what is. Let us never forget, all good fiction begins when someone says to herself or himself, "Let's pretend."

I reside in the Houston area with one sweet husband, one German Shorthaired Pointer who thinks she’s a little girl, and one striped yellow cat who knows she’s queen of the house. Favorite quote regarding my professional passion: "History is filled with the sound of silken slippers going downstairs and wooden shoes coming up." Voltaire

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLindaBennettPennell

Website: http://www.lindapennell.com/

Twitter: @LindaPennell

Buy link: http://amzn.to/16qq3k5