Author Interview - Francisco Rebollo #booksgs @flycisco

Let's give a warm welcome to Sci-Fi / Romance author, Francisco Rebollo who has happily agreed to an author interview today!!

 

First, let's take a look at his latest book...

  

ORB

'An aeronautical love story from an altered world’

 

All is about to be unveiled…

Oannes Jones is an airline pilot living in a much altered world where a pervasive technology seeps into every part of people’s lives in order to create a compliant, unthinking society.

He believes he has found his purpose in playing father to Riply, a young girl not his own. But he also feels hopelessly torn between two women, one of whom is Riply’s mother.

And then it happens: a dangerous mid-air encounter with a mysterious ball of light – the Orb.

The encounter awakens him to a new reality. Life, the world and even dreams begin to look and feel different. His friends begin to change as well. Clues are laid out for him to follow, most of them provided by Riply.

As dark forces begin to encircle, something happens that will change everything for many people, not least for the child whom Oannes loves.

The Orb nears…

Everyone changes…

Here goes the autopilot…

***

MY: Welcome to the blog! Could you tell us a little about your journey to becoming a published author.

FR: As a dystopian Sci-Fi author I couldn’t wait to publish. The world is becoming more dystopian than Sci-Fi, very quickly. So, I’m self-published. I really wanted my book to get out there with the minimum amount of obstacles. I knew that I would be sacrificing the possibility of having promotion behind my book but – on balance – I felt that getting my book out to where people can find it was more important. The possibility of years of rejection also turned me off the traditional publishing route.

I have the strange view that if my book is meant for you, it’ll find you.

MY: What does your average ‘writing day’ look like?

FR: It’s looks very dark because it normally happens between midnight and three AM. There is something special about the small hours, I seem to be able to tune into the mind frequency I’m looking for much better. The hassle of daily life is quiet and I push myself until it would be counterproductive to continue.

MY: Are there any authors that you particularly admire? And if so, why? 

FR: Margaret Atwood for the way she creates an atmosphere. Richard Bach for his originality and simplicity. John Fante for his beautiful imagery and language.

MY: What are you currently working on?

 

FR: A collection of poetry and prose and songs designed as an overarching journey. I’m still deciding on titles but ‘Fractals’ and ‘This is my Heart’ are in my short list. You can view my poetry on my blogspot: flycisco.blogspot.ie

MY: If you could give advice to an aspiring author, what would it be? 

 

FR: Go for it. If I can do it, anyone can do it. The best part of writing a book is the journey it takes you on. I love the state it gets me into, like a trance, like listening to a distant conversation, like watching a movie and having a say on who says what.

MY: Authors are often portrayed as being cat owners who drinks a lot of coffee. Is this true for you?

 

FR: I guess the answer is ‘yes.’ I own two dogs, but I once rescued a stray kitten, she had a virus and it was a sad story. I wrote a poem about her. I do drink coffee but not lots. As a pilot I have to limit my intake to stay healthy.

MY: What does your ‘perfect’ day look like?

 

FR: A day spent with my children. The night belongs to the muse.

MY: What is your biggest vice?

 

FR: Doing accents. I sometimes do it without realising it. Drives people at work crazy.

MY: If you could meet anyone from the past, who would it be and why?

 

FR: I’d like to meet twenty-year-old me. I’d tell him that in the future you can produce books, music, art and put it ‘out there’ for people to enjoy without having to be ‘discovered’ by a gate keeper like an agent, publisher etc. I’d tell him to smarten up a lot quicker and to prepare to be blown away by life.

 

MY: Where do you see yourself in five years?

 

FR: Happy, still writing and still flying. With my kids, my dogs, and maybe even with a stray kitten.   

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Where can I purchase a copy of ORB?

Amazon 

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About the author 

Hi, my name is Francisco Rebollo. I'm a writer and pilot.  I've been an airline pilot since 1998. I'm from Mexico. I've flown and lived across Europe and North America. In 2013, I suffered injuries and got grounded. During those 16 months on the ground, I turned to my writing as a way to get over what was a very difficult time. After a long journey, I am back flying again.

I have just finished my first novel: 'ORB' An Aeronautical Love Story from an Altered World. The novel deals with flying, love, migration, the paranormal, war, spirituality and the nature of the superstate. The book is fiction but is also based partly on my own experiences in the air. 'Fractals' (a poetry and prose collection) is also in production. I began my writing career as a songwriter. I attended music colleges in Mexico and USA. I began writing poetry while backpacking across Europe during the trip which eventually brought me to Ireland - where I now live permanently. My poem: 'MIND GAP (London Fireworks)' made the 'Word on the Waves' 2015 long list. My articles ‘Why Mexicans Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day in September’ and'The flower of Twenty and the Day of the Dead' have been featured in the ‘West Cork People’ (Mar 2014/Oct 2014.) My poetry has featured in e-publications like: 'Poetry24,' 'The Poetry Daily,' 'Democracia Real Ya!', and 'El Fugaz Ciberdiario;' as well as 'Zaytoun CIC's' website and newsletter. I perform regularly at 'pSoken Wrod' (a renowned 'spoken word' event in west Cork, Ireland.)

 

Book Spotlight - Thumbs @SamDallas #booksgs

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Hitchhiking Home

Thumbs

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Thumbs is coming of age adventure that takes place on a 3,000-mile hitchhiking journey from Portland, Oregon to Dallas, Texas. Lessons learned along treks of this nature are often learned the hard way, not because we are dumb, but because we are not as smart as we think we are. And, there is a difference. There are many examples of this miscalculation. As a matter of fact, most of this story is a miscalculation of one sort or another.

It’s funny, scary and everything in between, but most of all it’s funny.

 ***

Book Extract 

Even though I was fully clothed, I felt as naked as Lucy Ball. As I watched her chase Dewayne down the road, it occurred to me that I had never seen a woman completely naked like this, head to toe. I had panted through plenty of magazines; I had even seen a stag film, and on limited occasions had caught glimpses of soft white flesh in the back seat of a car. But face-to-face full-frame nakedness—this definitely was a new experience.

About twenty-five yards down the road, Lucy ended her chase. Dewayne had fired the afterburners, and the '57 Chevy and Lucy's clothes were headed out of sight, still gaining speed. She put her hands on her knees and dropped her head, trying to catch her breath. I walked slowly towards her, not knowing exactly what to say. Without raising up, she turned her head and said, “You know, Dewayne probably thinks we're still in the car." Now she started to giggle; then I started to giggle. It was a great relief to know I didn't have a hysterical naked woman on my hands.

"I guess this means you guys are divorced," I said. Now in a full guffaw, it really was a silly-looking scene, and the fact that we were falling down laughing made it even more so. Slowly, we gained control.

"Would you like some clothes to put on?"

We walked back to where I had dropped my shoulder bag.  Lucy was brushing dirt off her behind as I dug through my wardrobe, trying my best not to look directly at her nakedness. "All I have are jeans."

Lucy slipped one leg and then the other into my jeans. My eyes followed the material closely as it slid over her upper leg, paused briefly, covered her round bottom, then zipped up and snapped shut. Next came the shirt, and I watched her breasts disappear behind each button. Since I only wore size 8 1/2 shoes, the white basketball shoes I gave her weren't too awkward. Maybe it was the road, or seeing her in the raw, or the pull of the moon, or a combination of all this and more, but she looked kind of cute in a Mickey Rooney-Boy's Town sort of way.

Through all of this strangeness, it struck me that she had never been embarrassed; that's O.K., because I had been embarrassed enough for the both of us. Maybe she never quite understood what was going on, or maybe I didn't.

I picked up my bag and said, "What now?"

She looked up with a smile that almost instantly turned to disgust. "Don't worry; I'm not moving in."

She had seen a familiar look on my face. The old "It ain't my job to take care of you" look. I had learned the look and tone of voice only recently from my brother when he suggested that somewhere else might be a better place for me to be—anywhere else. Lucy had decoded the message almost before I realized I had sent it.

She stood at the edge of the road and looked both ways. There were no tears. She gathered herself, then turned and walked south. I followed, desperately searching for an emotional band-aid. “You want to go to Texas?" I blurted. Obviously, this was more of an emotional tourniquet than a band-aid, but overcompensating had always been my downfall.

"Screw you," she said without turning to face me.

"No, really, you're welcome to come along. I don't have any place to stay yet, and I've only got about thirty-five dollars, but I've got lots of friends," I said, now speaking in a tone that begged for forgiveness. "Where are you going?"

"Seattle," she snapped.

"You're going the wrong way," I said, pleading for a smile.

"Then I'm going to California."

"Maybe I'll just tag along, O.K.?" I said, still looking for relief.

Suddenly, she stopped and turned to face me. The hardness in her voice had eased just a bit. "Listen, down this road is a town. In that town is a bar. I will have a job in that bar before the sun goes down. I don't have a problem; at least I don't have a problem I can't handle." She wheeled away and continued to walk and talk. "We've known each other for an hour. I don't expect you to marry me. Hey, I knew I wasn't going anywhere when I got in Dewayne's car last night.   Nothing changed except you, and you ain't going nowhere either." She paused and looked at me. Now she looked twice her age. "When a person's going nowhere, they don't need someone like you hanging around and pointing out the shortcuts. I know the way."

Where can I buy this fabulous book?

Amazon

About the author

My name is Sam Johnson and I am a retired advertising man, and a fifth generation Texan. I have two very successful grown children (who never ask me for money) and a wife who is the love of my life (who has all my money). I live on a small ranch in the hill country of Texas, southwest of Austin. I eat too much barbeque and Mexican food and drink a little red wine, mostly pinot noir, on occasion. All-in-all, life is pretty good.

When I was an Ad Guy I use to write about soap, cereal and the likes. Now I write just for fun. I write the way I talk, which is not always an asset. I try to write about real things disguised as fiction, but I guess that’s what everyone tries to do. In any case, I hope you find it interesting.

     As time goes by I'll tell you more about myself, but for now all you need to know is that one day I was fifty and at the top of my game and the next I was 65 and wondering where the time went, and as stupid as that sounds, that’s pretty much how I became a novelist. 

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