Rae Carson and Girl of Fire and Thorns Giveaway:
Rae graciously agreed to an interview, so here it is. I’ve also got a snippet for you – Ilona.
Interview
Please tell us a little about yourself, Rae. Kids, pets, husbands?
I met my husband at the Online Writing Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror (OWW). Come to think of it, Ilona, you may have known him longer than I have! He’s the smartest and therefore sexiest man I know and the first reader for all my work. I have two awesomely smart-aleck stepsons, one of whom just went off to college. And I have a pair of naughty cats I rescued from Kitty Death Row many years ago.
In the life of every writer, there is that magic point when you start a play project, then things turn serious. Before you know it, you have finished your first novel, and a surprising thought hits you, “I wonder if I could get this published?” When was that magic point for you? What compelled you to finish your first novel? What was it about?
The Girl of Fire and Thorns is the first novel I ever completed—though by no means the first one I tried to write. I kept starting projects and outgrowing them. I would get 30K words or so in and realize I had improved as a writer, that my first words weren’t worthy of my recent words, and I ought to scrap the whole thing and rewrite from the ground up–so, might as well start a new project, right? But this book was different. The first chapter got an “editor’s choice” nod from the OWW. And then I workshopped it at a conference, and the editor requested the whole book! So those two events gave me the push I needed to finish the damn thing.
Please tell us about The Girl of Fire and Thorns?
Elisa is the “chosen one” of her generation, selected by God for an act of heroic service. Alas, she is unmotivated, coddled, overweight—nothing you’d expect from a hero. But when at sixteen years old she is married off to the king of a country in turmoil, she must find the greatness within herself to save the people she grows to love. Mostly, you should know that there are deserts, wild rebels, political machinations, and tons of food.
Why YA?
I love teens. They surprise me all the time. And all of my best work seems to have a coming-of-age theme.
But the truth is that my first agent did not feel this book was a young adult novel, and some of my foreign publishers will be marketing it as adult/teen crossover. I just keep writing stuff that I care about and letting my agent/publishers decide where it belongs.
Why did you choose monotheism for your fantasy religion? Does religion play a significant role in the life of your protagonists?
I live in a country where 83% of citizens claim affiliation with some religious denomination (thank you, Wikipedia), and the vast majority of those are monotheists. How do teens decide what to believe when they are surrounded by so many contradictory views and messages? I wanted to do justice to this struggle without condemning or condoning any particular faith.
So, yes, Elisa is very devout and prays a lot. Part of her growing-up process is realizing that not everyone believes the same thing, and it will be up to her to decide for herself. I’ll be honest, though, and say it was a tough balance, and I’m not sure I got it right. I may never be sure. I’m not religious myself, so I definitely didn’t want to preach at anyone. At the same time, I didn’t want to vilify or marginalize a people group.
Why did you choose to write about an overweight protagonist?
I was dating this guy. He was an “encourager” who said he wanted the best for me, but his encouragements tended to be things like, “Are you sure you want to eat that?” And, “Wow, Rae, if you lost another five pounds, you’d be reeeally hot.” And, “Did you get your run in today?” I was a size 6 at the time.
After a year, I came to my senses and broke up with his sorry ass. I spent the next day eating cookie dough ice cream and thinking about all the amazing women I knew and the qualities I admired in them. “Skinny” wasn’t on that list of admirable qualities.
So I jotted down the fictitious diary entry of an overweight princess named Elisa who was destined to save the world using smarts, courage, and determination—traits my real-life girlfriends have in abundance. The diary didn’t make it into the final book, but it was the seed of the idea that became The Girl of Fire and Thorns.
In the course of the novel Elisa loses weight. Apparently there is some controversy about it. Could you give us your take on this situation?
Elisa starts out with lousy self-esteem and an unhealthy relationship with food. When an arduous journey forces her to be active for the first time, she loses some weight. But she never becomes model-thin. She’s not a swan.
I think most of the controversy stems from the notion that Elisa must lose the weight to feel good about herself. That’s certainly not my intent, and I don’t think it’s a fair reflection of the book. Many important turning points happen before her weight loss, and Elisa comes to see her own value by accomplishing things, not by losing weight. That said, weight is a very sensitive issue, and I’m glad readers are talking about it.
So what did you hope to accomplish with this book? Is it simply an escape or did you hope to convey a specific message?
More than anything I wanted to play fast and loose with high fantasy tropes like The Chosen One, the Amulet of Power, the Epic Journey, the Beautiful Princess in Peril. What if the Chosen One kinda sucks? What if the Amulet of Power is totally ridiculous?
As for messages, I’m not a big fan. Teens have highly developed bullshit meters, and they’re busy figuring things out for themselves. But I do realize that my own worldview is going to leak out in my writing. On reflection, the thing that leaks out the most in this book is my belief that you don’t have to be perfect to be extraordinary.
Snippet
The drums beat faster now, louder. My shoulder crashes into a bench as the carriage heaves. I don’t dare lift myself to peer out the window, but I hope we’ve reached the clearing. I hear running footsteps and Lord Hector’s muffled orders, then the metal-scraping-metal sound of drawn steel.
Something thunks against the carriage. And again. Soon it’s like a rain of stones cracking against wooden walls. The shining black point of an arrowhead pokes through the wall, a mere handsbreadth from my nose. My skin burns. The air is too hot, too stifling to breathe. The Godstone in my navel flashes ice cold, and I gasp, astonished. It has never gone cold before.
The paneling beneath my palms feels sunwarmed. Too warm. The acrid scent of burning wood tingles in my nose as the Godstone continues to throb its icy warning.
Aneaxi whimpers, “Fire!” as our carriage fills with smoky haze and the shouting outside becomes frenzied.
“The princess!” someone yells. “To the princess!” But the voice is far off.
I search across the paneling for the latch to the trapdoor. It opens downward, and we tumble through into the cooler, cleaner air beneath the carriage. I land on something that cracks beneath my weight. Aneaxi screams.
I don’t have time to worry about how badly I’ve hurt her. The horses catch the scent of smoke and dance in their harnesses. We could be pinned beneath the wheels at any moment. I yearn for a knife to cut the horses free, to feel some kind of power in my hand. The carriage lurches forward. Behind me and to my left, I see Aneaxi’s leg, cricked unnaturally, lying in the path of the wheel.
I feel sick. “Aneaxi, you must pull your leg in.”
“I can’t!” she sobs.
I hook her armpit and pull. Ximena does the same on the other side, but Aneaxi is large and I have never been strong. A horse rears. The carriage jerks. Panicked, Ximena and I wrench Aneaxi toward us, but we are at such an awkward angle, pressed against the ground, and oh, it is not enough.
Steel rings, and the carriage shudders. Someone has sliced through the harnesses, and tears of relief prick my eyes.
I’m not sure what to do next. The carriage provides cover, but it burns. Even now, smoke licks the floor above, curling around the panels like white snakes. Feet patter by at eye level. Our enemies are barefooted demons, nearly naked and painted in black-and-white swirls. Anklets of tiny bones clatter as one darts in and out of the jungle. Lunge, sidestep, disappear; then another takes his place. Their attack has no pattern. It is random, constant, indefensible.
A few paces away from our burning carriage gapes the opening of an enormous buttress, a cavern formed by the roots of a silk-cotton tree. I could reach it quickly, and Ximena, but I worry for Aneaxi and her broken leg.
I flip over to face my ladies. “We must get away before the carriage collapses.”
They nod; Aneaxi’s round cheeks are smeared with dirt made muddy by tears. My heart swells for a moment, for I’m not willing to lose either of them.
“Ximena and I will go first,” I say to Aneaxi. “Then we will pull you out by the arms.” I hope that by standing, we’ll have the leverage to do what could not be done beneath the carriage. “Aneaxi, you must not scream, no matter how much it hurts.”
She takes a few ragged breaths. Then she rips a strip of fabric from the hem of her traveling gown. My chest burns with pride when she wads it up and shoves it in her mouth. I’m ready, her eyes tell me.
Still we wait. The fighting is too close. From where we lie we see pairings of naked, painted calves with boots and stiff hide. A man tumbles to the ground before me, and I scramble backward. His eyes are open and blinding white against the black paint of his face. His hair is as long as mine but twisted into thick clumps. He lies unmoving. Gingerly, heart pounding, I pry a stone knife from his still-warm hand and stuff it into my bodice.
At last I see a break in the fighting, and I gesture frantically to Ximena. We scramble from beneath the carriage on all fours. My foot tangles in my slip as I rise, but I rip right through it. Once clear, we turn and grasp Aneaxi’s arms. She groans around the wad in her mouth as we pull. Her eyes clench tight; her face is bright red. Then she goes limp as unconsciousness takes her. As we pull her toward the dark cavity of the buttress, I expect to see an arrow impale her chest at any moment. Sweat slides down my back and across my stomach. Beside me, Ximena’s gray bun has come loose and her hair swings below her shoulders. Little by little, we reach the line of the jungle. The ground slopes downward as we step beneath the roots. It’s cooler here, and comfortingly dark. There is just enough room for the three of us in the little cavern. I catch my breath, holding tight to Aneaxi’s shoulders, so relieved to have made it this far.
I have a better view of the battle now. My husband’s guard seems to have found its footing against these strange savages. They fight back to back against the random attacks, shield arms at ready for incoming arrows. Bodies from both sides litter the ground, and my stomach roils at the scent of burning flesh. Our carriage is an inferno. Next to me, Ximena flinches when the flaming structure collapses to the ground, sending sparks in all directions. A few moments more, and we would have burned.
Beyond the ruined carriage, two savages have trapped one of our own against a tree. I cannot see his face, but his body is frozen in panic.
One of the savages leaps forward with a shriek, plunges a stone knife toward the man’s chest. He lurches away just in time, and the knife jams into his forearm instead.
He fights weakly then, with left-handed strokes. When he hesitates yet again, I know he cannot last. The painted bodies sense the kill. They begin an odd movement, like a dance. Squat, pivot, creep. They are like jungle cats, all wild grace and hunting fury. Then I catch a glimpse of the doomed man’s face.
Alejandro.
“No!” I clamber from our shelter. Ximena yells something indecipherable. She grasps my arm, but I wrench away. I feel so slow as I run toward my husband, my belly and breasts bouncing painfully with each step. As I pass the collapsed carriage, I pull the knife from my bodice…
Read the first 80 pages…
Giveaway
Rae is giving away a signed hardcover.
To enter, leave a comment on this post. You must enter on the blog. Comments made by email or through Goodreads will not be eligible. Winner, as always, will be chosen randomly.
Contest ends: Monday, October 3rd.
US and Canada residents only.
. A while back, author Kat Holmes scheduled me on her Blog Talk Radio show, Kat’s Writing Pen, for a chat. Due to some conflicts, Kat won’t be moderating the chat tonight, but her friend Delilah Stephans graciously agreed to.