Today we've got something good for you, and it's been a while, so this should be fun.
Ready?
We have a CHARACTER INTERVIEW!
Woo Hoo! You know it's been a while, but Paul, our guest for today, rolled up his sleeves and threw himself into the daunting task of a character interview. Now you try to imagine pinning your character down long enough to get him to answer a few questions...not an easy task. You are in for a treat.
But first...lets talk about the book, Dropping Stones.
Tagline:
When you're young and successful, your
fiercest competition may just be yourself.
Summary:
A rising star in the world of politics, he
has a city at his feet and a beautiful fiance on his arm. With a power broker
behind him, he finds himself on the next rung of the ladder getting ready to
take down a sitting United States Senator. But is he equipped to recognize what
he has or to handle the power and the fallout when things don't go his way?
"Dropping Stones" is the story of
superficial love lost and true love found, set against the backdrop of the
brutal world of politics. To love someone, you must first let go of another. If
you don't, you could lose it all.
Excerpt:
I arrived at
the restaurant at 6:25 and sat down at the table. I looked around the room and at the bar to
see if there was a woman looking like she was waiting for someone, but I didn’t
notice any. The hostess knew who I was, so I wasn’t worried about any potential
confusion.
At 6:35, I
noticed the hostess walking toward my table with a woman behind her. As they
approached, I noticed the tips of this woman’s hair were blue and I looked
around to see if there was a blue light giving her hair that tinted glow. No
such luck. Her brunette hair was cut in
a bob style, about shoulder length, and the last inch of it all around was
blue. My date had blue hair. Mental note: kill Diane.
I stood up and
managed a smile as they approached.
Chelsea didn’t wait for the hostess to introduce us and put forth her
hand and said, “You must be the mayor.”
I took her
hand. “And you must be Chelsea. Very nice to meet you.” I turned toward the hostess, “Maria, thank
you so much.”
Chelsea sat
down in the booth and placed her purse next to her. In the better lighting of the booth, my
suspicions were confirmed. The tips of
my date’s hair were, indeed, blue.
The window at
our table provided a view of the street, which still glistened from the day’s
rain. A fairly steady stream of people
walked by, but the cars were few so it was relatively quiet.
“I’m so sorry
I’m late. I wish I had a good excuse. I
just don’t,” she said.
“That’s quite
alright. Just don’t let it happen again,” I joked.
“Awfully cocky
of you already thinking there’s going to be a next time, mister,” she shot
back.
Impressive, but her hair is still partially blue.
I chuckled.
“Touche’ ”
“Oooh, and he
speaks French,” she said, playfully.
“I’ve exhausted
my entire French vocabulary with that last sentence, I assure you.”
Chelsea
laughed, “Okay. Duly noted.”
The waitress
arrived, introduced herself as Megan and handed menus to us. “What can I get
you two to drink?”
“Can I just
have water with lemon, please?” Chelsea asked.
“Of course. And
you, sir?”
“Lemonade,
please,” I quickly replied.
“We only have
pink lemonade. Is that okay?”
I sighed.
“Megan, have you ever seen a pink lemon?”
Megan laughed,
“No, sir.”
“Then why would
anyone think pink lemonade is a good idea?” I said, only half-jokingly. She
continued to chuckle, but from the look on her face she wasn’t sure how she
should respond. “Now, you’ve forced me to drink heavily. Bring me whatever lager you have on tap,
okay?” I turned to Chelsea, “Do you mind?”
She seemed
surprised by the question. “Oh...no...not at all.”
“I’ll bring
those right out for you folks,” Megan said.
“Thank you,
Megan,” I said.
Chelsea seized
on the opportunity to bust me on the pink lemonade exchange. “OK, so mental
note: he is insecure about his manhood,” she joked.
“Oh, stop it. I
just don’t get pink lemonade. Just make
lemonade from lemons. What’s the big
deal?”
“You’re a
traditionalist, I guess.”
“Are you a
psychiatrist? That’s three quick
psychoanalysis sessions on me in less than two minutes.”
She laughed.
“Not even close. I’m much closer to
being the patient than the psychiatrist…no, I’m not. Sorry, didn’t mean to make
you uncomfortable.”
Chelsea and I
got down to the business of getting to know each other while we looked over the
menus.
“So, what do
you do?” I asked her.
“I’m a curator
at the Schmidt Museum of Art.”
Ah, art museum…The hair makes a little more sense now.
“Oh, very nice.
How long have you been there?”
“Just started
my fifth year.”
“Congratulations. You must enjoy the work.”
“If I didn’t
have to pay my electric bill, I’d work for free.”
“I love hearing
that. It’s so important to enjoy what you do for a living.”
“It definitely
is. Do you enjoy what you do?”
“It is my
calling, I’m convinced,” I said, proudly.
“Good for
you.” She paused before continuing,
“Now, you’re really the mayor of the city,
right?”
I wasn’t sure
if she was joking or not. “Guilty as charged.”
“You may not
want to use that phrase from what I hear about politicians.”
I chuckled.
“Sadly, you’re right. I’m trying to be a different kind of politician, I
guess. At least, I hope.”
“Well, then,
good for you. Do you live in the city?”
Do I live in the city?!? Is she serious? How is it
possible that someone doesn’t know something that basic?
“Um,
yeah…that’s kind of a pre-requisite for the job.”
“Oh, is that
how it works? I didn’t realize that.”
For the love of all that is sacred and pure, what am I
doing here with this flake?
“Yes, you need
to be a resident of the town, city, school district, state, etcetera that you
want to lead.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry.
Politics has never been my thing.”
“Do you vote?”
“I voted once
when I turned eighteen. On my birthday,
my father made me sign up to vote in exchange for tuition money. I haven’t
voted since.”
Check, please
“May I ask why
you don’t vote?”
“I don’t know.
I watch the news and these politicians never seem to do anything right. They’re all just yelling at each other and
calling each other names. They’re all
just a bunch of buttheads, if you ask me.”
Thank you
“Well, I would
hope not all of us are buttheads,” I said sternly but not harshly.
She realized
what she implied and put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Then she tapped my hand and continued, “Not you.
I’m sure you’re wonderful.”
Yeah
We both just
concentrated on the menu for a while. I
knew what I wanted, but I continued to look at the menu to avoid more
uncomfortable conversation. Diane will pay for this.
The waitress
came back for our order. “Are you two
ready to order?”
“I believe we
are, Megan. Chelsea?”
“You guys have
the best seafood, so I’m going to have the scallops.”
“Very good. And
you sir?”
“The New York
strip, please. Rare. I want to hear it
‘moo’ when I cut it, okay?” Out of
the corner of
my eye, I watched for Chelsea’s reaction.
She recoiled a bit. Sarah would have had the steak, too.
I grabbed
Chelsea’s menu, placed it on top of mine and handed them to the waitress.
“Thank you,
Megan.”
The time
between our placing of our order and the arrival of dinner seemed like a
painful eternity. I really had no
interest in talking to this non-Sarah person.
I tried to be polite, but all the topics of conversation that Sarah and
I breezed through were just closed roads for Chelsea and me. And the detours
were awkward.
When our
dinners finally arrived, Chelsea and I continued talking about our backgrounds
and all the usual stuff. Nothing really
deep, though, since we didn’t have much in common.
There came a
lull in the conversation. I turned my
head and stared out the window. I
shouldn’t be here. I should be with Sarah. She’s out there somewhere and I
should be with her. Not here. This woman is keeping me from being with Sarah.
Every car that
passed by may have been carrying Sarah somewhere. People walked past the window and I looked
for Sarah in each group of them. I lost
track of time and how long I was staring out the window, but it was long enough
for Chelsea to notice.
“See anything
you like?” she asked.
Her voice
shocked me out of the stare.
“I’m sorry,
Sarah,” I said.
Uh-oh.
She was
playfully forgiving. “Oops. No, no. I’m Chelsea.”
I felt
terrible. I shut my eyes and shook my head, “I am so sorry, Chelsea.”
“That’s okay.
Is Sarah the ex-girlfriend?”
“Ex-fiance’,
yes.”
“Oh, I see,”
she said.
I shouldn’t have corrected her. It served no purpose. I should have let it
go.
There was
another uncomfortable pause in the conversation, probably for the need for her to
digest the ‘fiance’’ thing. I tried to
think of a way to make up for calling her Sarah, but my mind failed me.
“I love these
scallops. I don’t know what they do to them here, but they are the best,” she
said, trying to get away from the last topic.
“I guess I love just about all seafood.”
“I enjoy most
of it…except oysters,” I said, relieved.
“I just can’t do oysters. Do you
have a favorite?” I asked, only too happy to join her in her quest to put the
topic of ex’s behind us.
“That’s an easy
one: lobster. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I enjoy lobster. If I’m
ever on death row, I’m going to request lobster for my last meal.”
I laughed.
“Death row, huh? That’s for murderers.
Should I be worried?”
She looked me
in the eye, smiled and said, “As long as you never call me Sarah, again, I
think we’re good.”
Boy, she packed a lot into that response. She’s good.
Our
conversation improved a bit throughout the rest of the dinner and dessert and
coffee afterwards. It was still mostly
just polite conversation, though. We couldn’t talk politics and we couldn’t
talk art. We wandered aimlessly through
favorite music and movies, the weather for a third time, then hobbies and our
mutual friendship with Diane. At no stop
along the way did we find much common ground.
I went for the ‘Hail Mary’ and tried to liven things up with a little
bold humor.
“Okay, so
you’re one of those high-falutin art people. Help me understand something. Why
is Picasso thought to be so good? I mean all the people in his paintings have
these silly triangle noses. And in some
paintings, he put two eyes on the same side of a person’s face. I mean, it seems like he couldn’t even get
the basics down.”
Chelsea had
just taken a sip of water and had to fight to hold it in. She began laughing
hard, but had a mouth full of food and water. Tears started to form in her
eyes. She started waving her hand in front of her face, trying to tell me
something. Then she pointed to her mouth and waved again. I couldn’t help but
to start laughing with her. She then pointed at me and then covered her eyes
and I finally realized what she was trying to tell me. Before I could turn my head or get my hand
over my eyes, she took her napkin, covered her mouth with it and gently emptied
her mouth into the napkin.
It didn’t stop
her laughter, though, nor mine. In fact, we seemed to feed off each other and
our laughter intensified. She lied down on her side in the booth, still
laughing.
She finally
composed herself enough and sat back up, wiping tears from her eyes. She
reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I’m sorry.
I know this is like one of the ten rudest things a person can do, but I
have to text a girl I work with to remind me to tell her about this. I’m
sorry,” she said before bursting out laughing, again.
Okay, now I get the feeling I’m being laughed at.
“That was the
funniest assessment of Picasso and his work that I ever heard,” she said, her
laughter finally coming to an end.
“Well, that’s
just one of the services I provide,” I said.
The shared
laughter seemed to go a long way in breaking the ice that still remained.
Still nursing
our coffees, we talked a bit, but I wanted to get on with the evening. I asked her if she’d like to go for a drink
somewhere. She seemed completely uninterested in that and suggested just
staying at the restaurant and having one at our table. Yeah, I don’t feel it, either.
We’re being nice, but we both know this isn’t going anywhere. Hopefully,
we’ll go back to her place, have some fun and be on our merry, separate ways.
We stayed at
the restaurant until ten before getting up from the table and walking toward
the door. We got to the hostesses’ stand and I asked her to wait for a
moment. I saw the busboy, Oliver, and
approached him. I pulled a ten-dollar bill from my pocket and shook his hand
with it in my hand.
“I love your
work ethic, Oliver. Keep making your mom
proud, OK?”
He smiled and
said, “Thank you, Mayor, but you don’t have to…”
“That’s just
for you, ok?”
“Thank you,
sir.”
“Enjoy.”
I made my way
back to Chelsea and thanked her for waiting.
“Who was that?“
she asked.
“His mom works
at city hall. She comes here to work
three or four nights a week, too, to make ends meet. Her useless husband was a drug addict and
drained their life savings and destroyed her credit, before she finally kicked
him out. Oliver hands over just about
all of his paycheck to his mom. I feel
bad for him. He’s a good kid. He works hard, but doesn’t get to enjoy the
fruits of his labor, you know what I mean?”
“That was so
nice of you.”
“Well, I
started out as a busboy, too, so I have that whole ‘simpatico’ thing going with
him.”
We were making
our way through the lobby to the exit door when Chelsea burst out laughing
again, grabbing my arm to steady herself.
“What now?” I
asked.
She composed
herself and pointed to the far wall.
“That’s a Picasso reprint hanging on that wall.”
I stopped,
turned and looked at the painting. “See what I mean?” I said. She laughed again.
So I'm guessing you'd like that character interview about now, but I will ask you to hang on a little longer, and let's take a moment to find out a little about Paul.
Author Bio:
Born and raised in northeastern Pennsylvania,
Paul Cwalina is the grandson of immigrant coalminers. By day, he is a financial
advisor and an economics geek, who is also a committed political junkie.
Citing Ernest Hemingway's "Farewell to Arms" as
the spark that ignited his desire to write, the author is now turning his
long-dormant passion and hobby into a way to tell a story to the world.
Paul lives with his wife and children in Drums,
Pennsylvania.
We are going to move into our interview, and learn a little more about Paul Cwalina and his novel. (Now would be a good time to grab a cup of coco and throw another log on the fire. Go on, I'll wait.)
Could you share a little about yourself and what led you to become a
writer?
Ever since I was a kid, I seemed to
have a natural knack for writing. In
high school and college, teachers/professors were holding up my writing work as
examples of very good writing to the rest of the class. My parents always encouraged me to pursue
writing as a profession, but I was young and stupid and thought to myself, ‘You
can’t make money writing’. So I went to
college and got a degree in marketing and have been in the business world in
some form or another since.
My love of writing never left me and
I would write short stories, essays and long ‘letters to the editor’ in my
spare time. I kept them to myself, for the most part. It was more or less a self-serving hobby. There
were also times in my career when public relations was part of my
responsibilities, so I was writing press releases and marketing copy, thereby
getting my ‘fix’ of writing.
About ten years ago, I wrote a short
story that I shared with some friends and family and the reaction I got was
overwhelming. That was really the
beginning of thinking about actually earning money from writing. Then a couple years ago, I connected with a
childhood friend on Facebook who is a published Christian author, and I thought,
‘I wonder if I could write a full novel.’
My first thought was to try to expand the short story I had written into
a novel, but quickly abandoned that idea.
I moved on to another idea I had for a short story and decided to focus
on making it a novel rather than a short story.
That story became ‘Dropping Stones’. It always amazes me how authors have this love of writing shoved back behind an old clock on a shelf somewhere, and how it manifests itself over the years. The important thing is, you finally took it down, dusted it off and set it free for all to see. Good for you.
Do you write full time? How much of your life is set aside for writing?
No.
I am a full-time financial advisor, but as soon as my novel and its
sequel become major motion pictures, I will make writing my full-time
profession. Haha, OK, I'll go to your premier if you come to mine!
Most of my writing happens on
weekends, but I have learned to write as I am moved, whenever and wherever that
is. So, if I am in my office and a scene
comes to me, I will write it immediately.
I use the memo app on my phone when pen and paper aren’t handy, or call
myself and leave a voice mail with the thought/idea that I don’t want to lose
or forget.
Could you tell us a little about your novel?
Yes, but I would much prefer that
you read it. :) I am so going to borrow that one.
‘Dropping Stones’ follows a young,
big city mayor through the challenges of his first term in office, both
professional and personal. In the
beginning of the novel, he has the golden touch --- an overwhelming election
victory, the attention of a power broker that has big plans for his career, and
a beautiful finance that would be the ideal political wife as he climbed the
ladder.
His character flaws ---
self-absorption and an inability to forgive --- are exposed when his personal
life begins to unravel, which leads to his professional life unravelling, as
well.
There are three main characters and
there is a broader theme to each character.
There are Christian themes and symbolism throughout the novel, but I
don’t think it would qualify as a Christian novel.
It is written in first person in
order to put the reader into the mind of the main character/narrator.
Would you take us on a brief tour of your novel and the world you’ve
created?
The bulk of the novel takes place in
a fictional big city, with a couple chapters spent in St. Croix.
Where does the inspiration for you main character and story come from?
Ernest Hemingway said, “Write about
what you know.” I think that is one of
the simplest, yet best pieces of advice for which any writer could ask.
I have been a political junkie since
my 20’s and served a term on a school board, so I drew from my own experience
and personality for the main character.
What is the message behind the story? Was it something you specifically
wrote a story around or did it develop as your characters came to life?
The underlying themes of the story
are forgiveness and redemption. Both of
those themes were in my mind as I began writing the story, but the way they
developed in the story was quite organic.
Do you work from an outline or just go with the flow? If you use an
outline, how detailed is it?
With ‘Dropping Stones’ I used no
outline. It was very organic. Each
chapter and scene was a bit of a surprise to me as I wrote them.
With the sequel, however, which I am
writing now, I am working from a very high-level outline that has very little
detail, just a simple sentence that tells me how the story will progress and
what each chapter must accomplish.
What is the time span in your novel, weeks, months, years?
Roughly four years.
Could you tell us how you go about your research, how you ‘catalogue’
information to make it all work?
For ‘Dropping Stones’ there was no
real need for research. The sequel,
however, will have some scenes set in Washington DC, so I am using Google and
Google Maps, as well as contacts/friends that live in or near DC.
How does this book differ from what you have written in the past?
Well, since I had only written short
stories in the past, I’d say the main difference is its length. :)
Seriously, the biggest difference is
the content. The short stories I had
written in the past were comedies, while ‘Dropping Stones’ is a drama with some
humor throughout.
How have the changes in present day publishing impacted your schedule as
a writer?
As I was writing the novel, my hope
was to get it published by a local Christian publisher for which my friend
served as acquisition editor. Too much
of the novel is secular for their taste, though, and too much of it is
Christian for secular publishers. So, I
discovered self-publishing and had the book on Amazon in about an hour of
deciding to go that route.
With the sequel I plan to go
straight to Amazon ebook once it is complete.
How do you handle marketing? Do you have a plan, a publicist or just
take one day at a time?
I only published my book three
months ago, so I’ve been learning some of the best practices slowly from fellow
authors who have enjoyed various levels of success. I’ve learned the following so far: a) keep
writing because readers like book series b) Ereader News Today and BookBub seem
to be the best places to advertise, c) you have to accept selling at ‘giveaway’
prices until you are established.
 |
| Ebook Cover |
Just write something...anything. Get a sentence onto paper and go from there.
Keep writing and stay true to the
story you are writing. Don’t try to
change it to fit in somewhere or because someone tells you they don’t like
it. You have one shot at the novel/story
and only you know how it should be written.
Could you tell us what you’re working on now?
I am about forty percent done with
the sequel to ‘Dropping Stones’. The
working title is ‘Kingmaker’ and it will pick up the story where ‘Stones’
leaves off. I am planning to release it
in the Spring.
Thank you, Paul. That was very interesting. AS for you, beloved readers, NOW, we can get on with the character interview. Enjoy...
CHARACTER
INTERVIEW:
Interviewer: We just read about your first date with
Chelsea. Tell us what your impressions
of that evening were.
Mayor: Oh, man, all I wanted to do was to get it
over with and get out of there. Diane,
my assistant, set us up on this blind date, and I honestly don’t know what she
was thinking. We were complete
opposites. She didn’t even vote or
participate in the political process and politics is my life.
Interviewer: Were you not attracted to Chelsea?
Mayor: I was...very much so. She was beautiful, but she was an artistic
type and had the tips of her hair dyed blue.
If you’re in politics, you can’t be seen hanging around someone like
that, let alone dating a woman like that.
If you want to advance and get elected to higher offices, you need a
good political wife. That was
Sarah. Sarah was the woman that could
help me get elected. Simply dating her
probably helped me get elected mayor.
Interviewer: But you continued to date Chelsea...
Mayor: Yeah, but I kept her at a distance. I was killing time, really, until Sarah came
to her senses.
Interviewer: Chelsea didn’t see it that way, though, did
she? She fell in love with you.
Mayor: Yeah, she did. Further and harder than I even
realized. Worse, I guess I never realized how much I loved her, either. (pauses) You know, I’m getting a little
uncomfortable with these questions about Chelsea. Can we please change subjects?
Interviewer: Oh, I’m sorry. Are you okay?
Mayor: Yeah.
I’ll be fine.
Interviewer: Would you like a tissue?
Mayor: No, thank you. I’ll be fine.
Interviewer: Okay, let’s move on, then. Let’s talk about Sarah. You had quite a confrontation with her in
your office. Can you tell us about that?
(Stands to applaud) Thank you once again, Paul. That was great.
If anyone wants to get in touch with Paul, follow him or purchase a copy of his novel, the links are listed below...along with the link to his trailer.
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