Getting to know Susan Roebuck

Tell us a bit about your latest book, and what inspired you to write such a story.

- That’s not an easy question to answer. Apparently I’m a pantser, not a plotter, and as a result this novel has twenty-seven versions! It all began after I spent time in the Catskills, upstate New York in a wooden lodge that was so eerie you felt that Herman Munster was going to open the creaking front door. It was the small townships nearby that started me off. These places were full of gift shops run by elderly hippies who I decided had got left behind after the famous Woodstock music festival in 1969. That has nothing to do with Perfect Score, does it? But I promise you, that’s how it started. Alex was the same character, but he was already successful and was playing at Woodstock. And Sam was a girl! Except I do tend to write characters with problems (as more than one critiquer has pointed out), and the more I thought about Sam, the more I imagined his character as male. So it became an M/M book, although I think you’ll agree that the emphasis is more on the suspense than the romance (although I’m not sure Alex would agree with that).

How much does reader reaction mean to you as an author? Do you read your own reviews?

-  Reader reaction is vital, even though I began writing this for myself rather than for publication. I have to absorb negative comments (although I haven’t had any yet) for learning purposes. Some people have told me they’re not going to read it simply because it’s classified M/M which is a shame because that doesn’t really give the book its due. In fact one reviewer summed it up better when she said: “While reading this story, I found myself wondering of the hardship the two main characters went through. Ms. Roebuck really spun quite a believable tale of the differences of the rich verses the poor and overall, it is a very well plotted out story that kept me reading until the end.” So there you have it: hardship and the differences of the rich versus the poor.

Yes, to the second question. Absolutely. If I’m going to learn anything, then of course I have to read reviews. I have a tendency to ramble (can’t you tell?) and I’m working on that.

What are you working on now? Anything you want to tell us about?

- I’m working on a book that’s called “The Deepest Secret”. It’s only on version # three or four, so there’s probably a way to go still, although I think I’ve got it captured. It will be romance/suspense again but set in the UK and, mostly, Portugal. Again there are already some flawed characters, but this time one of them, a young woman, has some rather strange powers. So far, it’s not M/M, but who knows how it’ll end up. There will even be a female bull-fighter – and she’ll stay female, although I haven’t got to her yet, except I know she’ll be beautiful and a baddie.

What books are currently on your nightstand/bedside? Anything coming you are dying to read?

- I’m quite capable of reading three books at a time. At the moment: Tapestry of Love by Rosy Thornton; The Help by Kathryn Stockett and The Other Hand by Chris Cleave. And all three are fabulous (lovely feeling).

If one of your books were to be made into a movie, which book would you choose and who do you see playing your characters and why?

- Golly, I’ve only got this one! Who’d play Alex? A young Robert Downey Jr.  Sam? A young Edward Norton.  They’re a bit old now, aren’t they? Or could they play kids of 14 until 21? It’s amazing what makeup will do.

If someone hasn't read any of your work, what book would you recommend that they start with and why?

- Perfect Score! What else?

If you could have been the servant to any famous person in history, who would that be and why?

- Nice question. A famous painter such as Monet, Cézanne or Leonardo di Vinci. Or a famous writer: Jane Austen, Hans Christian Anderson, Fernando Pessoa, Rudyard Kipling. Shakespeare! Just imagine the inspiration in their households.

Do you get along with your muse? What do you do to placate her/it/him when she/he/it refuses to inspire you?

- My muse, unfortunately, is no longer with us (my brother). I’m not sure I have a non-physical one. Perhaps my brother’s still within me because I have no idea where my ideas come from and when I look back at what I wrote, I’m often quite surprised.

Where can readers find you on the ‘net for more information on you, your books and other fun stuff?

- Oh they can find me – it’s me finding them that’s the problem! My blogspot: http://lauracea.blogspot.com. It’s called lauracea after the laurissilva forests which are in such danger. You’ll see how much I love nature which I hope is mirrored in “Perfect Score.”

I’m on Twitter @suemont and on Facebook Sue Monte.

Finally, I’d like to thank you so much Dawn for letting me take up space on your fabulous blog which is such a help to authors.

Title: Perfect Score
Author: Susan Roebuck
Publisher: Awe-Struck Publishing
Publisher URL: http://awe-struck.net/
ISBN: 978-1-58749-166-5
Genre: {M/M} Mystery, Suspense

BLURB:

It’s the 1960s and feckless, exasperating Alex Finch is a rich, handsome and talented singer/songwriter who longs for two things: a career as a professional rock singer, and to have his love for Sam Barrowdale reciprocated. But drifter Sam's two aims are simply to earn enough money to pay his sister's medical bills and to hide from the world his reading/writing and speech disability. At this time the word "dyslexia" is generally unknown so to most people he's just a "retard". From the severe knocks life's dealt him, Sam's developed a tough outer coating and he has no time for a spoilt, selfish guitar player.

Despite his defects, Alex's love for Sam never wavers and when Sam unexpectedly disappears, Alex begins a somewhat bungling quest to find him, only to discover that Sam has a fearful enemy: Alex's powerful and influential yet sociopathic uncle.

As Alex spirals downwards towards alcoholism, many questions need answering. Just why did Alex's evil uncle adopt him at age eleven yet deny him any affection? And what's the mystery behind Alex's father's death?

Both seem to face unbeatable odds. Are they doomed to follow separate paths forever?

 EXCERPT

Chapter One: Sam

Spring 1968

The wind blew straight off the frozen prairie and rattled the ill-fitting window panes in his hut. Sam opened one eye. Five am. Don't ask him how he knew. It wasn't the owl hoot, or the coyote yip, or the creek ice splitting, or even the cattle coughing that gave it away because these noises were constant throughout the night. He just knew it was time to get up.

He rolled out from under the warmth of an old moth-eaten wolf pelt and, without bothering to light his paraffin lamp, pulled on jeans and a stiff-with-wear plaid work-shirt. He laced up scruffy, ancient leather boots before finishing it all off with a green wool jacket.

I'll block those holes with creek mud, he thought as the wind whistled through the gaps in the raw-wood plank walls. He put his shoulder to the door. Oil for that too--maybe Josh Pike had some in the barn.

He'd hardly put his left foot outside when snow seeped through a hole in the boot sole. Standing on one leg, he broke the ice in his ceramic sink, splashed the small amount of water pooled there on his face and drank a handful.

Six hours of shoveling hay and muck, he thought as his boots rang on the iced-up alkali path leading to the main yard. A Canadian goose hooted a teasing honk. Laugh all you want, birdie, Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. At least I'm not up to my butt in freezing water. Just my left foot. His hair blown horizontal, he bent into the biting wind and squinted through stinging hail as three yellow cow dogs rushed up the path, their tails whirling, breath white and freezing on their whiskers.

"Can't find a darn cow dog when I want one," he'd heard Josh Pike complain the previous day.
"That's because they're always with the boy," Mrs. Pike responded. "Sam."

"But I feed 'em."

"Animals love Sam because he has such a kind face, and everyone knows amber eyes make the animals feel lucky."

"Never heard such a load of horse poop in all my life," Josh Pike muttered, his eyes skimming his land.

The Pike place had pretensions to be a ranch, but Sam didn't think it quite made it. Divided into three sections: a creek, steep terrain and some disordered pastures lying in a flood plain, the property bordered the much larger Raw Pines ranch next door. Josh Pike told Sam he'd worked the land for twenty years but, as far as Sam could see, with little to show for it except the old man's love for the place which was as rigid as the winter weather: driving stinging snowstorms that stank of rusty nails. And a wind that could blow a calf over.

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