Kathryn Meyer Griffith has been writing for nearly forty years and has published 14 novels and 7 short stories since 1984 with Zebra Books, Leisure Books, Avalon Books, The Wild Rose Press, Damnation Books and Eternal Press in the horror, romantic paranormal, suspense and murder mystery genres.
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By Kathryn Meyer Griffith
Truthfully, what started me off as an author was simply this: As a child, about eight or nine years old (the same time I began to draw pictures in pencil and years before I began to dream about being a singer with my younger brother Jim), I began reading books, science fiction, historical romances and scary books from the library. I had six brothers and sisters and though I had a loving mother and father, a loving family, there was very little money. I can’t say we were poverty poor, but we were poor at times. Sometimes our meals were scarce and we never had extra money for many toys or outside entertainment. I think in my whole young childhood my father only took us out to eat once. Try paying for seven kids and two adults. So we learned to entertain ourselves. Played outside. Climbed trees and hid in deep dirt gullies. Sang, howled really, outside at night on the swing set.
I loved to read. The library books were free and plentiful. I’d sit on my bed, especially during the long summer days and evenings (after chores were done, of course) and read one amazing book after another. If I was lucky, with a chocolate snack or cherry Kool-Aid nearby. Those books, those words on the page, took me away to other places, times and worlds. It was magical. I got lost in people-on-a-spaceship-going–to-some-faraway-planet science fiction books. There was this one horse book when I was a kid that knocked me out, made me cry, and laugh with joy at the end it was so real to me and so full of pathos because I loved horses so much. It was called Smoky. Loved that book. Sigh. I never forgot how those wonderful books made me feel…so free. So adventurous. So rich. Like I could be or do anything someday. And when I grew up I wanted to create that magic myself for others. So…that’s why I began writing. And when I get depressed over my writing at times, I remember that.
I remember vividly one day at school (I must have been about 10 or so) when a big box of Weekly Reader books were delivered and we each got to pick one to read. The smell of those new books in that box as I looked at them, the excitement and awe of the other kids over the books and the reverence for those authors, and I thought: Wouldn’t it be something if someday a box of these books were mine…written by me? Oh, to be an author. People respect an author. It was the beginning.
Then there’s also a second part to the question: Why do I keep writing after 39 years? Because I can’t not write. I can’t stop. The stories take over my heart and mind and demand to come out. It’s sort of like birthing a baby (I have one real son and two grandchildren myself). You carry them for a while, a short or long time span, and then once they’re born (published) they go on to be their own individual entities that sometimes continue to amuse and amaze you. Or disappoint you. Whatever.
This is what it’s like to be a published author.
It’s not like anything you would imagine. There’s excitement, the passion and feeling of being right with the world, as the story is being created and the words are tumbling out into the computer; there’s the exhaustion of writing hours and hours, the doubt that your words will mean anything to anyone and why am I doing this? that creeps in but that you have to chase away; there’s the pride in seeing the finished book, either e-book or print, and finally there’s the feeling of unexplainable happiness when someone says they read it and liked/loved it. The best response I love to hear is: I couldn’t put it down. The characters were all so real. I got carried away with it. Didn’t want to leave the world you’d created. Wow. That makes the sometimes low pay and grueling hard work all worthwhile. Because writing is hard work. The creating and promoting anyway. Hour and hour, day after day, year after year. It’s your life you’re using up. Precious time. You have to truly love it to give all that up…to strangers.
Sometimes people ask me: is it still fun?
Fun? A strange way to put it. Sometimes, rarely, it’s fun. Mostly it’s hard work and lots of solitary time alone. Writers live so much of their life in their make believe worlds they get lonely. Lonely for the real world, real breathing people and adventures. I know I do. But the writing won’t leave me alone until I write down the words, tell the tale. The easiest way I can put it is when I’m writing or dealing with my writing I feel like I’m doing what I was born to do. Yes, I believe a writer is born to write – like an artist is born to paint and draw; a musician to write or play music. As an artist myself I know I’m not really happy, or fulfilled feeling, unless I’m writing, drawing or singing. Creating. Though the singing and the artwork have gone more by the wayside as I’ve become older…writing mostly takes all my free time now. Yes, writing does make me happy. Grin. Except the rare times someone hates one of my books…and that happens, too. I’ve finally learned that reading and loving a book or short story is subjective. Some people love my stories, get them, and others…don’t. And that’s okay. We’re all different people. That’s a lesson a writer must learn. One person’s criticism is not a blanket criticism of all your work or even that one work, it’s just one person’s opinion.
Is it lucrative?
That’s a loaded question and (though I don’t know why) most writers will not talk about how much they make or a book makes. Maybe (this is just my theory) it’s because most of us make so little it embarrasses us. There’s no way we could ever live on it. It’s icing on the cake. Trim on the woodwork. The mid-level writers anyway. The top (very rare) writers like Stephen King, Dean Koontz and many other writers (especially some romance authors) make a very good living, but most writers don’t. Ever. Oh, in my heyday in the 1980’s and early 1990’s I made fairly good money with Leisure and Zebra paperbacks (and though at the time I didn’t think it was good, comparing it with now, well, it really was good) , because back then the distribution and print runs were so large. I got a smaller percent in royalties but there were more books out there selling for me. So far the e-books and PODs (Print on Demand) aren’t selling that well, but I get a much larger percentage. I’m hoping in the next year by having all my old 10 novels out again (rereleased between June 2010 and July 2012) and 2 new books I’ll see a gradual increase in income. It’s an experiment, sort of. Selling a small quantity each 3 months of 12 or more books might add up to a nice sum. Or so I’m hoping. I’m marketing (a whole new thing in the Internet world these days) a lot, seeking and getting great 4 and 5 star reviews, joining reader and writer loops, guest blogging, etc. It’s never ending. Thing is I don’t know how much it all helps. Eventually, I figure, I’ll find out. I’m an optimist always.
Do I still enjoy writing?
Sure. I love it. It’s like breathing, eating, dreaming. It’s become part of me. Second nature. It took me 39 years to say: I’m a writer. And really feel like I wasn’t being a pretentious so-and-so or outright lying. Took me all that time and 14 published books, 7 short stories (and more to come hopefully) for me to feel deserving of the title. Even without the money telling stories is what makes me feel…complete. Happy. Hey, look at me I’m a storyteller! Ha, ha, now I just have to figure out a way to make it more profitable, as well. Working on that. As one successful writer recently said to me: Just get the books out there…nothing else matters. (Presumably good books, I’d add.) The rest will come. Gosh, I sure hope he’s right. Cause I’m been working soooo hard.
Written by the author Kathryn Meyer Griffith this sultry August 24th day of 2011 firstname.lastname@example.org
A word about Kathryn Meyer Griffith...
Since childhood I’ve always been an artist and worked as a graphic designer in the corporate world and for newspapers for twenty-three years before I quit to write full time. I began writing novels at 21 and have had fourteen (nine romantic horror, one historical romance and two mysteries) previous novels published from Zebra Books, Leisure Books, Avalon Books, The Wild Rose Press, Damnation Books and Eternal Press.
I’ve been married to Russell for thirty-three years; have a son, James, and two grandchildren, Joshua and Caitlyn, and I live in a small quaint town in Illinois called Columbia, which is right across the JB Bridge from St. Louis, Mo. We have two quirky cats, Sasha and Cleo, and the four of us live happily in an old house in the heart of town. Though I’ve been an artist, and a folk singer in my youth with my brother Jim, writing has always been my greatest passion, my butterfly stage, and I’ll probably write stories until the day I die.
Novels and short stories from Kathryn Meyer Griffith:
Evil Stalks the Night (Leisure, 1984; Damnation Books, July 2012)
The Heart of the Rose (Leisure, 1985; Eternal Press Author’s Revised Edition out Nov.7, 2010)
Blood Forge (Leisure, 1989; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out February 2012)
Vampire Blood (Zebra, 1991; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out July 2011)
The Last Vampire (Zebra, 1992; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out October 2010)
Witches (Zebra, 1993; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out April 2011)
The Nameless One (short story in 1993 Zebra Anthology Dark Seductions;
Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out February 2011)
The Calling (Zebra, 1994; Damnation Books Author’s Revised Edition out October 2011)
Scraps of Paper (Avalon Books Murder Mystery, 2003)
All Things Slip Away (Avalon Books Murder Mystery, 2006)
Egyptian Heart (The Wild Rose Press, 2007; Author’s Revised Edition out again from Eternal Press in August 2011)
Winter’s Journey (The Wild Rose Press, 2008; Author’s Revised Edition out again from Eternal Press in September 2011)
The Ice Bridge (The Wild Rose Press, 2008; Author’s Revised Edition out again from Eternal Press in November 2011)
Don’t Look Back, Agnes novella and bonus short story: In This House (2008; ghostly romantic short story out again from Eternal Press in January 2012)
BEFORE THE END: A Time of Demons (Out from Damnation Books June 2010)
The Woman in Crimson (Out from Damnation Books September 2010)
Find Kathryn on MySpace (to see all my book trailers with original music by my singer/songwriter brother JS Meyer)
Find Kathryn on Jacket Flap
Find Kathryn on Shoutlife
Find Kathryn on Romance Writer and Reader
Anything spooky. I love a good old-fashioned (not a lot of sex or unnecessary brutality) ghost story or a vampire story where the vampires are still the evil, wicked creatures of the night. I also love to read any well-written contemporary slice-of-life stories. Truth is, I like about any kind of fiction as long as it’s well-written and from the heart.
Are you a true romantic at heart or not really?
I’m a true romantic and always have been since I was a child. It shows in my books, too, I suppose. Because love, or good, always wins out. I’ve been called a goody-two-shoes a lot in my writing but I don’t care. The world’s a harsh place and there needs to be a make-believe world where that isn’t always so. Then again I grew up in the 50’s and 60’s and all you need is love seemed to be the fabric of our very lives, or to me, anyway. I’ve been married to the love of my life, my husband, for 33 years and we’re as happy as the first day we met…older and more stable, but as happy. Life without love of family, friends and a husband would mean nothing to me. Love and hope are what make us humans different from the animals.
What’s your favorite childhood memory?
Running barefoot down the summer dirt roads searching for wild strawberries, free from school and worries, playing in the woods and fields behind our sprawling old childhood home, with my six brothers and sisters. Soft summer nights. The sounds of the night crickets and frogs. Breezes in the open windows. Car rides with our dad. Watermelon slices on a hot July day. Homemade ice cream. Our life in those early, poor but love-filled, days with my whole family around me can still bring me joy…and tears to my eyes. Memories of my beloved storyteller Grandma Fehrt, my parents young and happy, my brothers and sisters still children, before all the troubles came, there to love me are my best memories. I dreamed of being a singer, an artist…a writer…and all my dreams over the last sixty years have come true in one strange way or another. I smile when I think of all those I loved now gone. But I still have the memories.
Maggie Owen is a beautiful, spirited Egyptologist…but lonely. Even being in Egypt on a grant from the college she teaches at to search for an undiscovered necropolis she’s certain lies below the sands beyond the pyramids of Gizah doesn’t give her the happiness she’d hoped it would. There has always been and is something missing. Love.
Then her workmen uncover Ramose Nakh-Min’s ancient tomb and an amulet from his sarcophagus hurls her back to 1340 B.C – where she falls hopelessly in love with the man she was destined to be with, noble Ramose, who faithfully serves the heretic Pharaoh Akhenaton and his queen Nefertiti.
She’s fallen into perilous times with civil war threatening Egypt. She’s been mistaken for one of Ramose’s runaway slaves and with her blond hair, jinn green eyes and fair skin she doesn’t fit in. Some say she’s magical and evil. Ramose’s favorite, Makere, attempts to kill her.
The people, angry the pharaoh Akhenaton has set his queen Nefertiti aside and he’s forced them to worship his god, Aton (instead of their many Egyptian gods), are rising up against him.
Maggie’s caught in the middle of it in a dangerous land and time she doesn’t belong in.
In the end, desperately in love with Ramose, will she find a way to stay alive and with him in ancient Egypt–and to make a difference in his world and history?
Because Maggie has finally found love.
Can you include an excerpt?
My eyes flicked back to the far away pyramids. There were always tourists around them. Oohing and aahing. Climbing. Taking pictures. Like ants everywhere. Oh, if only those stones could talk. The things they’d seen over the millennias: the lovers who’d met besides the huge structures or walked, kissed and wept tears in their shadows and the history that happened all around them.
I was woolgathering again. I couldn’t seem to help myself. Since I’d arrived I kept hearing ghosts whispering on the breezes around me of long ago passions and secrets.I couldn’t make out what they were saying but they haunted me. My fingers dropped to sift through the glittering grains at my feet. Something about this place, the humid heat, the exotic smells in the air and the warmth of the sand brought out the long dormant erotic side of me. I hadn’t felt so alive, so sensual, since I’d been a teenager. My skin tingled it was so strong at times.
Egypt had cast a spell over me. That was it. It was bringing the woman I could have been, but never had been, out in me. I found myself staring at the men in the excavating crew and having the oddest thoughts. What did their tanned bodies really look like underneath those desert robes and headdresses and, at the end of the day, I mused, which ones were going home to please wives or lovers under the Egyptian moon.
The past. Love. Yearning. Passion. I saw them everywhere. ***
Thank you for sharing this excerpt. Sounds like an intriguing book. Where can readers find your book?
Purchase Link for Egyptian Heart
Kathryn, thank you so much for guesting today. I enjoyed chatting with you and learning more about you and your books.
If anyone wants to enter to win an eBook copy of Egyptian Heart, please comment on this blog post. Hope you all can stay and chat for a bit.