Wednesday, April 10, 2013

RRRoze, author of So it Ends

Author Bio:

Roze is an enigmatic writer; his world tantalizing, giving new breath to the post-apocalypse; full of angst, tensions, and questions of truth. It's a tease to the reader's mind, engulfing you more with every passing word.

Title: So It Ends
Author: RRRoze
ISBN: 978-1612961279
Page count: 284
Genre: Bizarro Fantasy 
Price: 18.95

Tell us about your book:
Tobias, a traumatized orphan, is being raised- unbeknownst- by an earthbound deity, Olivia, who, posing as his foster mother, is conditioning him to one day accept his fate as the chosen one. Tobias and a cast of heavenly teenagers are strategically positioned to survive the cataclysms; edging ever closer that fated day, 12/21/2012, when their true purpose will be revealed. So It Ends is an extravaganza of earthly mysticism, extraterrestrial intervention, mass extinction, and raging hormones. 

How long did it take to write the book?
Long time. It was my first. Over a year.

What inspired you to write the book?
An attempt to emulate prime time news. The news just so happened to closely resemble Armageddon, and that is how my 2012 book came together. They say to write your times and that's all I was doing. I was playing into the hype.

Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?
I was 21, had been writing for three years and was shedding my skin, so to speak. I have routines now, but did not back then. I just knew I was ready to outgrow short stories. Although, there are two short stories within the book, so I wasn't totally ready, really.

My characters are fortune tellers, essentially, and I was a student of divination to begin with. Any research I did corresponded to research I would have been doing regardless. 'Write what you know' is sound advise. I put out a novelette when I was 19 about the ancient Inca. That was a miserable story to write because I had no idea what I was talking about. 

What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?
A desire to read the sequel? The sequel is very much the second half of the story. This should have been one fat book, but that wasn't my decision. Hmm... I want readers to feel connected to my books. My style is undoubtedly unparalleled and unmatched. My voice can only be heard through open, unassuming, ears. When people truly listen then society changes. & That's the goal. I hope my readers- like I do- will see my work as a means to create a better world. That is why I expose the darkest aspects of the human realm. So we can transcend them.

Excerpt from book:
Face down on her Grateful Dead pillow case she lay in a dark room; wearing only panties and an extra-large benefit t-shirt. Golden and unwelcome light from the street outside infiltrated the blinds but she could hardly consider it. Lights on or lights off; the nausea inside her would not stop.
On top of the covers was where she had been since Danielle and she had parted ways. The psychic Olivia had done a fairly good job of cheering them both up. She told them about other lives they had already lived and about their favorite memories. The consoled smiles and the goodness seemed to dissolve when she left.
They spent the evening at Danielle’s house a few blocks over; crying and trying to make sense of it. Finally Arianna had had enough and wanted to be alone. Her mother watched the news downstairs and her father was working in Burlington. And her older sister was off who knew where. Why couldn’t they survive?
Who else could she save? Anybody she wanted, probably. Olivia didn’t say not to. Why hadn’t she asked? Olivia said not to alter destiny. Was she to let the others die?
It didn’t make any sense until it occurred to her what the issue was. A mass extinction. They’re already dead. It’s their destiny. And she was not supposed to warn them? She was not supposed to help them? It didn’t make any sense.
Tell no one. Tell no one. It rang in her head until she began repeating it aloud.
“Tell no one. Tell no one.” She clenched her eyelids to hold back the tears and spoke those words into the pillow desperately through gritted teeth. “Tell no one. Tell no one. Tell no one.” She held her breath; felt the tightening in her chest as it rose through her throat and back to her lungs more terribly. The pressure building inside her. She held more. It became consuming. Her ears, skull, screaming in agony. Until she could hold her breath no more. She exhaled and rolled onto her back. Her vision was blurred.
Arianna put her hands to her throat and clenched them. A warmth immediately coursed in the nerves throughout her; reminiscent of the body high from earlier. She squeezed her neck harder. Her head cocked back and her vision receded; first turning purple at the edges and then black and it repeated this all the way to the center until she could see nothing. She held her throat tight until her fists became too weak to hold on any longer and she released. Nearly unconscious she gasped for air; hyperventilating.
When her strength returned to her she immediately put her hands right back to her throat. Squeezing harder this time. The sensations returning quicker. Blackness. Almost nothingness. And then she felt a fall. A great endless fall. As though it would never end. Falling for a lifetime- she thought of worldly things. Every childhood memory seemed to be present although indistinguishable from one another; Who-Ville at Forest Park and the time she watched televised wrestling with her grandpa. The transitional periods seemed overly represented. Moving and starting school. Arguments with her mother as a younger teenager. Becoming comfortable among peers. Finding her clique of friends. Those stupid memories she was for no reason in love with; driving past the drive thru window. The places she hated going; grocery stores and the cracker barrel. The obscure things she enjoyed doing; hanging out and staring awkwardly at strangers. Marijuana. Drinking. Family; their faces changing from what they looked like when she was a little girl to ten or fifteen years later and back again. Her ex-boyfriend when he used to make her happy, and an instantaneous montage of the slide downward into ugliness. The beatings in locked basements. The happy memories with Danielle. Cliff faces they’d scaled together. The drama of being two young ladies in an alcoholic’s world; boys always getting into fights. Back to being a young girl. So small and finding a lifetime's worth of enjoyment from a pinwheel. She loved that pinwheel. Blowing at it; it spun and spun; slowed, and she blew more, huffing, puffing, blowing, watching it spin. It spun slower and slower, so she blew more and more until the pinwheel stopped spinning completely. Upset by this she kept blowing until she couldn’t blow. She wasn’t getting any air.
Gasping for breaths it came rushing back. Her vision returned only enough to remind her that she was in her bedroom and had choked herself half to death.
Lying there gagging on air she began to recover. She sat up and clicked alive her bedside lamp. The hardwood floors welcomed her coldly. Every object about her seemed only half real. As if it were a movie she knew was going to end. Posters of dreamboat rock stars had lost appeal and meaning, they were hardly real. Marijuana leaf figurines were a lot of bullshit. She was awed by the insignificance of it. Artifacts of childhood meant nothing. The kind of small blankets from childhood folded in corners, with the accompanying teddy bears resting upon them.
She went to the desk on the far side of her bedroom and dug through a drawer of old notes and school supplies until she found a razorblade. And from those teddy bears she chose Ted-E; a bear with falling out button eyes and made of something like white silk.
In the middle of her room she stepped on his face, plunged the razor deep into her ankle, and pushed the steel down through the flesh. The pain struck her predictably enough but she let it hurt. Blood drained from the split tissue and she watched it flow over her foot and onto the bear.
She made another incision beside the original and watched the blood flow. It puddled on the little teddy bear. It ran over the bear and onto the floor. She ran her finger up the wound and licked away what had collected on it; tasting the salt; she knelt down beside the bear and cut into it with the razor. A slit from throat to crotch.
With the edge of the blade she pushed her blood into the cotton. And cut another slice into the bear’s side. And again in its other side. She put the bear’s bloody chest underfoot and clutched its head. She cut in slicing motions where the head met the body and removed it inch by inch. Decapitating her childhood because it didn’t matter anymore.
The head was thrown into the corner and she picked it up by the legs and slashed downward. Bits of cotton fell to the bloody floor below her. And she kept cutting. Not with some passionate anger or hate. More with a methodical despair.
The bear was headless and in shards; she dropped the Ted-E’s carcass, walked to her bed, and sat with her head slumped over; letting her curls create a curtain around her face. She put the razor to her wrist and became unsure of what to do next.
To die in a living world or to live in a dying world. She didn’t know. She pushed the razor in and spun it around; guiding the edge up through her palm and up to the tip of her middle finger. As the blood leaked out she ran the cut down her tongue over and over for minutes until the flow slowed.
How was Danielle handling it? That girl would cry when she didn’t get her way in class. It took Arianna hours to calm her down after Olivia dropped them off at her house. Even then she didn’t calm, she mostly went catatonic. Her parents told them about the birds and they listened with tears in their eyes; knowing more and saying nothing.
The television had advised tennis rackets for protection if one had to move about outdoors. But the general recommendation was to stay indoors.
The news was having a field day over the event because once again they had something to report on. Every business that was closing their doors because of the birds was an airtime topic in itself. And the brave field reporters reported absolutely nothing long enough to show Dick Cockface fending off a bird on television. And the cameras that recorded intersections and parking lots had caught more footage than they could ever air of bird attacks. Goddamn it if they didn’t try their best.
But what about Danielle? How was she getting by alone? The phone rang and Arianna looked at the caller ID. It was Danielle’s phone number.

Where can we go to buy your book?
Indie retailer:
Commercial retailer:

Any other links or info you'd like to share?
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