Author! Author!

Crimson Ice by A.J. Alise
ISBN: 0-9763083-2-0
Publisher: PulpBytes
Year Published: 2005
$8.95

Following the disappearance of her sister, Rocky is hurled into a life changing adventure. The responsibility of caring for her own son, and her sister’s two children complicates everything and raises the stakes of this already tension-filled story.

With nods to the genre-gumshoe beset by insurmountable challenges, really bad bad guys, and great cliché bits that never get old-this maintains the good old detective form, while adding a new dimension - a strong, maternal woman as the hero.

ON WRITING
By A.J. Alise

I got an email from a stranger the other day, and for just a moment, I felt like a real, genuine, honest-to-God author. The correspondent had seen my interview in a small Pocono Mountain newspaper, ordered my suspense novel CRIMSON ICE, (published under my pen name A. J. Alise) read it, chased down my email address and sent me an effusive, highly complimentary letter. My euphoria lasted all day. The next day, however, my inner critic had already returned, asking me where were all of the other letters and emails, and why was this writer the only one who had responded to tell me about her enjoyment of my novel.

This is one constant of the writing life, that nagging voice that says your writing will never measure up, an opinion reinforced on the bad days by the seemingly endless rejections from agents and publishers, the days when the computer screen remains blank, and all of your ideas seem about as exciting as a bowl of cold oatmeal.

So what keeps a “writer” writing? I can’t speak for the others sitting before their blank computer screens, leather-bound notebooks or yellow legal pads, but I can speak for this one.

My mother planted the seed that grew into the belief that “writer” was an honorable, even elevated calling, not unlike the religious life. As the mother of a quickly growing family that finally peaked at ten, she nonetheless dedicated an hour each day to gathering her children around her, rocking the latest baby on her lap, while declaiming in a rich expressive voice all of the poems she had memorized during her own brief education. These ranged from nursery rhymes to Shakespearean sonnets, and this ritual was the highlight of my summer afternoons.

When I was about 6, I announced that I had written my own poem for inclusion in her repertory and presented my creation in my best imitation of her style, six lines of doggerel celebrating my love for a newly acquired kitten. My mother’s reaction made me feel as though I had sprouted wings and taken a swift flight around the room. It hooked me for the rest of my life. “You’re a writer!” she declared, hugging me, her face glowing with joyous awe. “You’ve got the gift!”

From that moment on I knew that writing was my calling. I became the class poet, the class playwright, a contributor and editor of high school and college literary journals. I got a job as writer and editor for several magazines and spent my days writing plays, articles, and stories.

But then I got distracted by the necessity of making a living and abandoned the writing life for a career that allowed me to support my son. Still the itch remained. I wrote in my “spare” time and managed to have my plays performed in local theaters. I kept my “gift” alive and percolating.

Now, finally, I can dedicate my life wholeheartedly to my writing. In the last three years I have written three novels, a bundle of short stories, revived and revised plays and other abandoned projects and perused bundles of saved letters and journals for fresh material. I work in my pajamas if I wish, sitting down at my computer with my morning coffee and going into a trance that may last all day. Some days it is as pleasurable and indulgent as eating chocolate for breakfast. Some days it is as painful as sticking needles into my eyes. But it is a passion, an obsession, an addiction that only grows stronger as it is indulged.

So, if the pain and pleasure is in the process why suffer the rejection, why not just write, why pursue the elusive goal of publication? It is not about being famous or rich (although I believe I could deal with such an unexpected fate) but is, I believe, the pursuit of validation. Yes, you have something to contribute; no, you are not spinning your wheels in a vacuum; yes, someone out there appreciates your unique vision. The spirit demands to express its own vision but also requires some nourishment and some feedback in order to survive and continue to create.

Alise grew up in rural Peennsylvania. She spends much of her time at her cabin in Pennsylvania’s Pocono Mountains, where Crimson Ice is set. She is a novelist, actor, teacher, and playwright. Her plays have been produced in various New Jersey theatres. Alise’s other writing credits include the video productions: “World Hunger Project” and “Looking at Union, New Jersey.”

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