Today I have the pleasure of hosting an interview with James Glass, author of the newly released The Dispossessed (Book 2 of the The Metatron Mysteries). Let’s take a moment and learn a little more about James…
James Glass enjoys his privacy, but frequently finds that he plays an unwilling host to Xircon. When not visiting red light districts of red light cities, he can frequently be found contemplating life in the seediest of libraries.
Welcome James, now let’s get to the questions. Using ten words or less, tell me about your book.
Demon possession: not all it’s cracked up to be.
Sounds very interesting. What song would you want to play during the opening credits of your book were it made into a movie? Why?
‘The Devil His Due’ by Chris Randall because it would set the perfect tone for The Dispossessed, and because it is very much a go-to song when I need inspiration while writing.
Who would you want to direct the story of your life? Is there anyone specific you’d like to play you?
Stanley Kubric. I know that wish may never be granted, but one can dream. No one in particular as far as actors go.
Yes Stanley Kubric could bring an element of the fantastical into anything… What is your writing process? Are you a planner or a pantser? Do you prefer to hand write your works or type them directly into your word processor?
For the Metatron Mysteries the process has been more planned out. If I fail to plan and plot I tend to lose the flow of the story. For once, I need a roadmap.
Oh a roadmap is an excellent way to describe it! What advice would you give to a younger version of yourself: something you wish you knew then that you know now?
The biggest piece of advice I could give my younger self? When Xircon knocks, don’t open the door, and most certainly do not drink more than ten shots of Jack Daniel’s in one sitting.
Great advice on both counts! What are the three books that really inspired you to become a writer?
I can’t say it was a book that inspired me to become a writer. I have just always been a writer, albeit one trapped in an artist’s body.
Fair answer. Now it’s time for the Rapid. Fire. Questions.
- Coffee or tea? Yes.
- Cats or dogs? Yes.
- Snow or sun? Snow.
- Print books or eReader? Yes.
- Nachos or potato chips? Chips.
- Baked or fried? Fried.
- Candy or chocolate? Chocolate, hands down.
- Comedy, Romance, or Horror? Horredy.
- Action, Science Fiction, or Animated? Yes.
- Classics or Modern? Classics.
- Old World or New World? Old World.
- Sweet or spicy? Yes.
- Comfort or Speed? Yes.
I’d like to thank James for taking the time out of his busy tour schedule to answer my questions. For those of you who would like to connect with James, you can find him on Facebook, or on Sekhmet Press’ website. You can learn more about The Metatron Murders on Sekhmet Press as well.
Now let’s take a closer look at The Dispossessed…
Don’t forget to click on the cover to be taken to Amazon!
And here’s an excerpt for your pleasure:
Smith kicked at small bits of gravel as they made their way to the bar. For such a small town, it felt endless to him now. Pieces of the case were falling into place, but there were holes in the stories worrying him. He reviewed the details in his head, trying to make sense of it all.
The devil is in the details, Metatron spoke from the back of his mind.
No kidding, really? Smith thought with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
You’re no help, you know that?
The angel seemed to shrug at him and Smith could almost feel its smugness. It was times like this he hated the angel in his head. He would have sworn at it, but somehow it felt like it would be a sin.
The quartet reached their destination and found Jack sitting alone in an empty bar, head down. His position and the eerie quiet was unnatural and the hair on the back of Smith’s neck stood on end as he paused in the door. Lily turned to look at him, a question in her eyes.
“Something’s not right,” he whispered.
The grim set of her mouth told him he had just confirmed her own suspicions. She gave a small nod and motioned for him to come in.
The two demons had clearly had the same feeling and stood a cautious several paces from the table where Jack was sitting with hands folded and head resting on them as if he had taken a nap.
“Oh crap, he’s dead isn’t he?” Smith muttered.
The napkin holder on the table where Jack sat launched itself across the room, missing Smith’s head by mere inches. The detective dove to the floor with a cry.
“What the hell?!”
The waiter’s head snapped up. The man was clearly terrified.
“It’s not what you think!” he cried as they rushed toward him.