Today we are back with our third and final interview with local author, Rachel Loepker!
What project are you working on now?
I am working on a non sci-fi book right now. It follows the journey of a girl who is going blind. That is all you get for now!
Will you have a new book coming out soon?
My goal is to have this new project finished in a year and start the process by then, so maybe 2016?
Are there certain characters you would like to go back to, or is there a theme or idea you’d love to work with?
I definitely want to continue with the characters in Bleeding Ink, I feel like they have more to say and i would be overjoyed to share that! After I am finished with my current project, I plan to finish up Autumn’s story.
If you had to go back and do it all over, is there any aspect of your novels or getting them published that you would change?
No, every “mistake” is a learning process and has helped me become a better writer. Of course I wish it would be perfect the first time, but I know anything worth doing is worth doing wrong at first.
Is there anything that you would like to say to your readers and fans?
Thank you for reading Bleeding Ink and going on this journey with Autumn and I! It means so much to me to share her story with you and I hope you enjoy it.
How can we contact you or find out more about your books?
And now, before you go, how about a snippet from your book that is meant to intrigue and tantalize us:
” “It is too late.” These words rattled around in my skull as a swarm of angry hornets. My face flushed scarlet. I would not permit this to happen.
“Are you certain there is nothing you can do? Anything. Anything at all? I have a great need for your patronage.” I was determined. My gaze was penetrating, I hoped.
“I am very sorry. We have tried everything. All the treatment that was administrated has not been successful. Again, I’m very sorry. The window of opportunity has passed. It’s just too late.” With a sigh of hopelessness, she slowly closed the large, iron-rusted door in my face. Tears burned my amber eyes as they raced down my scorching cheeks, staining my marigold silk blouse.
The stains were permanent, just like my problems. Reaching behind me, I attained a piece of paper that was long ago tucked into my back pant pocket. Memories of the first time I sought help flooded my senses.
“Treatment will be from nine forty-five until noon every other day. I hope that will be suitable for you. Here is an itinerary of what you need to prepare for in case of the worst.” A grimace appeared on Doctor Gates’s face. She pulled me from my recollection. I peered down at the perfect piece of paper. I accepted it reluctantly. The ink leached itself to my fingers and into my brain: a single mother with a young child, homeless, and elderly people with nowhere else to reside. As a steel hand gripped my neck, a contraction immobilized me for a moment. Their only alternative was experimentation. I discharged the spotless paper. A shiver of ice water coursed through my veins from my toes to the peak of my spine. This was only the notation of expectations, yet so many people had wept these words into print.
Doctor Gates unfastened her white lab coat and reached into a side pocket. She handed me a letter. I hesitated and then reached for the envelope. I slid it into my back pants pocket. My gift was not to be discovered. My gift was not of vocal cords, skills, or movement of the body, but implausible expansion of the psyche.
Every time my fingers skimmed a piece of paper that had been touched or printed upon with any variety of ink, I experienced that person’s pain, joy, and every sensation in between through images and emotions. I could relive memories just by feeling any document. I once tried to handle the Declaration of Independence; that did not go well. I also have started to evoke things as I smell them. This seventh sense had only matured recently.
The memory of my first encounter with Dr. Emily Gates slid. The sensation was like a contact forming to my eye. I lost my sight of the real world for mere instants, then I blinked, and I could see things I didn’t always want to.
Gasping, I quickly recoiled my chilled fingers and tucked them gently in my other palm. I blinked three times to clear my focus. The old letter I obtained glided down on the hopes that no longer belonged to me. I didn’t understand the pain and worry that marked Doctor Gates’s face until now. In my vision, I noticed that a fear was being masked by her eyes. The risk was worth taking. I had gained information that was vital to my vocation. I nearly have completed my purpose, nearly. “