Today’s special guest is dark fiction and fantasy author A.I. Winters. She’s chatting with me about her new psychological horror mystery, Summoner of Sleep.
Bio:
A.I. Winters is an award-winning horror and fantasy author. Her titles include Summoner of Sleep, Strange Luck, The Nightmare Birds, and A Darling Secret.
Born in Northern California, Winters has since lived in every region of the country, but now resides in Los Angeles. She has published many articles on writing and publishing, and has worked as a grant writer and copy editor for non-profits, municipalities, and major corporations.
Welcome, A.I. Please tell us about your current release.
My new book, Summoner of Sleep, is about a man named Ryder Ashling who is plagued by nightmares of clocks. When they start attacking him in his sleep and returning to the real world, he’ll do anything to stop them, including ingesting a mysterious tonic that appears daily in his house. This leads to the discovery of the tonic’s origins in an unknown mountain town called Marble Woods. There he learns the dark history of his family’s origins and is forced to make a decision that will impact the fate of humanity. It’s very much in the vein of my favorite author, H.P. Lovecraft, so you can expect plenty of monsters, strange town folk, and dark magic.
What inspired you to write this book?
Some nights I would wake up after having a good dream and think “why can’t I have those kinds of dreams all the time?” Wouldn’t it be WAY better to have dreams of flying through the galaxy, hanging out with your favorite musicians, and eating all the donuts you want? I had the same thought when I woke up after a bad or mundane dream. Who wants to dream about grocery shopping, or seeing someone die, or being scared? This sparked the idea for Summoner of Sleep.
The character, Botanē, is hell-bent on perfecting not only the best kinds of dreams, but a very specific dream and he’ll do anything to obtain it. Dreams are prevalent themes in all my stories. There’s something so mysterious about dreams and where they come from and why we have them. Summoner of Sleep allowed me to really explore my own dreams and how they impact me on a day-to-day basis. I hope my story will do the same for you.
Excerpt from Summoner of Sleep:
A figure appeared from the mist and ripped a thread from the center of his forehead. He screeched in agony, but then the end of the thread morphed into a black oozing mass. The figure squished the thick sludge in his face and laughed. Blinded, he wiped the burning slime from his face and ran. Eyes surrounded him. Thousands of eyes. Eyes like white, shining gems looking at him from above, below, and upside down. Eyes in black heads. Eyes that followed him as he flew through the emptiness. Out of breath, he peered over his shoulder at the eyes that had now transformed into clocks. Their chimes and rings echoed through the darkness. His pulse throbbed in his ears as he searched for a place to hide in the barren landscape. In an instant, the sky blackened with metal parts. Cold steel gears and sharp spokes pelted and serrated his flesh into ribbons. He choked on wallowing tears and slipped on his own blood. The clocks multiplied and descended upon him.
***
Ryder Ashling’s body burned like a bonfire, but he refused to let go of the quilt wrapped around him.
“Explain the meaning of this right now.” Julie’s gaze slashed back and forth as she scanned the pile of clocks tangled in the sweat-soaked bed sheets.
“I already told you. The clocks came back from my dreams with me.”
“Tell me the truth. You and I both know that there’s no way in hell clocks just appear out of thin air like that and end up in our bed in the middle of the night.”
“You think I just put them there?”
“Yes.”
“You’re crazy,” Ryder said.
“Oh, I’m the crazy one? Who’s afraid of something as stupid as a clock?”
“I told you about my nightmares before we got married. Why are you so surprised?”
“You told me you dreamed about clocks, not that they came back with you.”
“I know…I know,” Ryder said through his clenched jaw. “This has never happened to me before though. Can’t you just cut me some slack?”
“No. And you better do something about it.” Her face and throat flushed as she darted out of the bed.
“What do you want me to do?” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the quilt. “You know I’ve tried everything to stop the nightmares. Hypnosis, drugs, alcohol, sleep deprivation, meditation. All those disgusting sleeping concoctions that make me queasy. You know that nothing works.”
She crossed her arms with a scoff. “I’ve put up with your blood-curdling screams waking me up at all hours of the night. The welts, bruises, and scratches on your skin each morning. The sleepwalking. Getting phone calls at two in the morning from neighbors asking me to pick you up from their lawn. And now this. I can’t deal with this shit anymore, Ryder.” Julie strode across the bedroom.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to live in the guestroom. When you stop playing these asinine jokes on me, then I’ll come back to bed.”
“Wait. I already told you. I’m not playing a joke on you. This is real. Please believe me. You’re my wife for Christ’s sake.”
Her wicked glance shot him dead, then she slammed the door so hard their wedding picture sprung from the wall and broke.
For the next hour, Ryder’s cries echoed through the cold vaulted hallways of the Ashling house. He had cried two other times in his life. Once when his beloved beagle Bologna died, and once when his stepdad smacked him around for writing poetry. Tears poured from his eyes as he turned and stared at the mound of ticking clocks in his bed. He was too afraid to touch them, to believe they were real.
A sharp pain ached in his gut and Ryder rushed into the bathroom and gagged into the sink, but nothing came up.
His hands struggled to grasp the medicine cabinet handle, but he rose from the depths of despair to ease it open.
What concoction will numb my pain tonight?
His gaze zipped to a little brown vial with a tag wound around the neck that read CURE.
What exciting story are you working on next?
I’m currently working on a screenplay for Summoner of Sleep and hope to get it made into a series. In terms of novels, I have a concept for my next psychological horror book and have written a few chapters so far. I plan to start writing regularly again after the holidays.
When did you first consider yourself a writer?
That’s a great question! Well, I started writing when I was in elementary school. It was my favorite subject and I regularly wrote creative short stories. I have one about a magical ice cream sundae, and another about a haunted house occupied by a bald ghost. They are hilarious to read. After I graduated with my MA, I published my first YA fantasy novel, Strange Luck, so I guess you could say I’ve always been a writer. It’s something I can always remember doing and enjoying.
Do you write full-time? If so, what’s your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?
I wish I could write fiction full-time, but that whole adulting thing gets in the way. Right now, I mostly write around my work/life schedule. Sometimes I can get a solid couple of hours in a day, and other times it takes me a week or more to find just twenty minutes to write. When I’m not writing I practice Jiu-Jitsu, bake desserts, and hike.
What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
Chocolate must be had after a good writing session.
As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A veterinarian. I’m a HUGE animal lover and always want to help them. This obviously didn’t pan out, well…because I’m easily grossed out.
Anything additional you want to share with the readers?
If you enjoy YA Fantasy—think The Neverending Story meets a dark Alice in Wonderland meets V.E. Schwab, you might want to check out my three other books in the Strange Luck Series. Strange Luck (book 1), The Nightmare Birds (book II), and A Darling Secret (book III). They are heavily rooted in magic, whimsy, and mystery.
Links:
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Thanks for being here today, A.I. Happy writing!