I am delighted to have my friend from the Paranormal Romance Guild, Coral Moore, with me today to talk about her book, BROODS 
OF FENRIR. Author of one novel, Coral Moore has always been the kind of girl who makes up stories. Fortunately, she never quite grew out of that. She writes because she loves to invent characters and the desire to find out what happens to her creations drives the tales she tells. Prompted by a general interest in how life works, her undergraduate schooling was in biology. She follows science news and enjoys conversations about genetics and microbiology as much as those about vampires and werewolves. Coral writes speculative fiction and is pursuing a Master of Fine Arts in Writing at Albertus Magnus College. Currently she lives in Connecticut with the love of her life, who offers both encouragement and kicks in the tail when necessary. Also in residence are two mammals of the families Canidae and Felidae. Coral has generously agreed to provide a free e-copy of BROODS OF FENRIR for one commenter. All you have to do is comment or ask a question at the end of the interview to be entered to win.
Coral, what made you want to be an author? At what age did you start telling stories and then writing them down?
My decision to become an author came after quite a few years of writing for myself as a hobby. I’ve been writing on and off since high school. I waited around until a good idea hit and would spend a day or two playing with it, but I got bored quickly and didn’t finish anything. In 2010 I decided that I should give writing a try as a career. I’m not sure there was any one event that led to the revelation. I think it was just the accumulation of years of reading and dabbling.
What do you like best about being a writer? What do you like the least?
I love inventing characters. It’s always been my favorite thing about writing. Making up characters and putting them in strange situations is why I write. What I like least is the feeling that nothing is ever good enough. Broods had eight beta readers, an editor and two proofreaders and I still didn’t feel like it was ready. Even when I was uploading it for sale I was making notes on things I’d change and words I would replace. The process doesn’t have a firm ending point, and that lack of clarity bothers me.
How do you think your work biologist prepared you for writing a paranormal romance?
I think any scientific study is really a great place for writers of any genre to start. There’s an objectivity and rigor to the study of science that helps even when writing about things that don’t exist. You can write about a flying monkey, but you either better have the mechanics write or invent some clever magic that explains it, otherwise rather than a cool detail that immerses the reader in your world it becomes an irritation that takes the reader out of your world.
Have you ever felt as if you were being dictated to while you wrote a book–as if the words came of their own accord? If yes, which book did that happen with?
No. I wish someone dictated my stories, that seems so much easier than having to make them up! I do on occasion find characters behaving in a scene a way other than I want them to. Brand, the main character in Broods, is notorious for going his own way when I think the story should go another way.
You’ve written one novel and published two short stories. What’s your favorite time management tip?
I’m a terrible person to ask for time management tips, really! I keep my deadlines in Google calendar and hope that I set the reminders right, but mostly it’s all in my head.
Are you a plotter or a pantser, i.e., do you outline your books ahead of time or are you an “organic” writer?
Pantser for life. I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could write an awesome outline that would tell me which way to go as I’m writing. That would solve so many of my problems. My story changes as I write it, and I do a lot of rewriting between drafts because of that. I do think a pantser is part of what keeps writing interesting for me. If I knew from the first page where I was going to end up, I might not have any reason to write my way there.
If you had one take away piece of advice for authors, what would it be?
My favorite piece of advice is never to delete anything. You never know when some bit you’ve written that you took out could come in handy later. When I delete a sentence or a passage, I put it into a ‘spare parts’ file. Sometimes I never look back at the parts file aside from adding to it, but more often than not I find tidbits in there that I use later and I’m glad I saved.
Tell me more about BROODS OF FENRIR.
Shapeshifter Brand Geirson was raised to rule the Broods of Fenrir, but he refused his birthright. Instead, he killed their brutal leader–his own father–and walked away.
For hundreds of years he’s avoided brood society, until a werewolf kills an innocent human woman and Brand finds himself dragged back into the violent politics of the shapeshifters. When the two brood women who mean the most to him come under threat, he must take up the throne and risk becoming the kind of vicious bastard his father was, or let the broods descend further into chaos–taking the friend he swore to protect and his lover with them.
How about an excerpt from BROODS OF FENRIR?
Brand walked along the yellow crime scene tape that cordoned off the dilapidated building. His gaze wandered over the stained brick wall and broken windows. He remembered when the building was new, how modern it had seemed rising out of the barren landscape. The abandoned industrial complex south of downtown had deteriorated from a Denver landmark into a crumbling eyesore over the last several decades. Glare from the bright, early winter sun prevented him from seeing inside the dim structure.
The patrolman guarding the perimeter passed a long, appraising look over him. Brand nodded to the man and handed over his identification. The uniformed officer glanced at the badge. He gave Brand another once-over and frowned. “Private security? You’re not authorized to be in this area.”
Between his height and the presence of the wolf inside him, most humans found Brand intimidating. They would never be able to define exactly what bothered them, only a vague sense of strangeness. The more sensitive they were to the energies of the natural world, the harder he had to try to put them at ease. If the man in front of Brand had been a wolf, his hackles would have been raised.
Brand pulled off his sunglasses and smiled without showing his overlong canine teeth. “Detective Grant asked me to stop by.” He kept his voice light, trying to convey that he was just another guy, there to do his job when he’d rather be anywhere else.
With a pensive creasing of his forehead, the officer seemed to come to the conclusion that Brand was no threat, and his expression eased. He turned to speak into the radio at his shoulder. “Tell Grant a guy named Brandon Geirson from Sword Security is here to see him.”
For Brand, dealing with humans was easier than interacting with his own kind. Aggression was counterproductive, rather than required. He appreciated that humans responded better to courtesy than intimidation, something that would never work in the brutal subculture into which he’d been born. The constant battle for rank among the Broods of Fenrir brought out unwelcome feral tendencies.
The crackling that answered was all but incomprehensible. The patrolman handed back Brand’s identification. “He’ll be here shortly.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Brand slid his sunglasses back into place.
“Sure thing.” The officer nodded and resumed his scan of the area.
Grant emerged from the building a few minutes later and jogged over to the edge of the cordoned-off area. He made a beckoning gesture with one thick-fingered hand.
Brand ducked under the yellow tape. “What’s going on, Grant?” They’d never met under what could be called pleasant circumstances, so Brand wasn’t surprised Grant seemed perturbed.
Grant led the way toward one of the oversized loading doors that had been propped open. Police personnel wandered in and out of the building. Snatches of conversation drifted over to them.
Grant paused several feet short of the entry. “We got a call about a body inside. Your company is the security outfit for this place?”
Brand swiped a hand down his face. He hoped some kid hadn’t thought to have an adventure exploring the empty derelict and instead had fallen down an open elevator shaft. It had happened before, and the guilt gnawed at him. “They don’t pay for anything but one guard doing occasional walks of the outside.”
Grant made a note, then fixed his astute eyes on Brand. “Must be frustrating for you.”
Brand sighed. “It is. I’ve tried to talk to the owners about it, but they aren’t interested in spending money to keep out trespassers.”
“Well, in this case, it’s not some adrenaline junkie looking for a new high.” Grant shook his head. “Wish it was. Lady in there is all slashed up.”
Brand froze in the act of scratching his jaw. “She was murdered?”
Grant looked over his notes and gestured toward the page with one finger. “The coroner’s hemming and hawing about bites that look canine, but there’s no animal I know of would do that kind of damage.”
Dread slithered up Brand’s back, raising the hairs on his neck. “Canine?”
Grant flipped a few pages in his notebook. “Maybe some coyotes came in after the guy was done with her and had a snack, who knows?” He shrugged. “All I know is, there’s no dog-like thing on Earth that would slice her up that way.”
Brand knew firsthand that wasn’t true. Bloody images bubbled up from the deep place he’d buried them. His stomach turned while he battled the painful memories. “Why’d you ask me to come here?”
“I need to know about anything unusual going on in the vicinity.”
He met Grant’s cool stare. “Kids come to get their kicks exploring the empty building. It’s been happening since they closed the factory down years ago.”
Grant scribbled some more notes. He pushed a few buttons on his phone and held it up for Brand to see. “You know her?”
Bruises and cuts covered the woman’s swollen face. Brand swallowed to alleviate the sudden tightening of his throat.
At the bottom of the frame, bloody gashes in her clothing made the pain she had endured before her death obvious. Teeth marks were visible along one side of her neck. Not canine, not at all, though Brand understood why someone who didn’t know about the existence of his kind might assume that. He closed his eyes briefly and searched for calm. His temper flared, but he regained control. “No, I’ve never seen her before.”
Grant harrumphed. “That’s all I’ve got for you right now. I’ll call your office when we clear out of here.”
“Thanks.” Brand offered his hand, and Grant shook it with a short nod.
While walking back to his motorcycle, Brand mulled over what do to next. Leaving the investigation up to the police was out of the question. Even if they could figure out who’d done it, they were ill-equipped to deal with one of the brood. The responsibility of seeking justice for the woman’s death fell to him.
The leader of the brood in the Denver area was a long-time friend and one of his biggest clients. In all likelihood, a member of Erik’s brood had murdered that woman. That placed Brand in a dangerous position since he wanted to put the wild animal down.
Where can readers find more about your stories, books and you on the Internet?
The best place to find more about me is on my website: http://www.chaosandinsanity.com/
To find information specific to Broods of Fenrir, you can go here: http://www.BroodsOfFenrir.com/
Coral, thanks you so much for being with us here today. I know my readers will enjoy your work and your interview.
