Monday, October 16, 2017

Erin Eldridge ~ an interview and her novel ~ Days of Insult

Erin Eldridge

TITLE: “Days of Insult”
RELEASE DATE: April 30, 2017
AUTHOR: Erin Eldridge
CATEGORIES: Historical Fiction/Romance
ISBN: 978-1543006971
IMPRINT: White Stag

I live in Christchurch, New Zealand. The city is still rebuilding after the devastating earthquakes of 2010 and 2011. I have been a teacher for most of my life, most recently, a teacher of deaf students. Currently, I do part time support work with International students at a boys’ college. I’ve taught overseas as well, in Africa and in Brunei. I have two children, one of who, my daughter, lives in the UK and the other, my son, lives around the corner! I started writing two years ago and have completed four books: a contemporary romance, two war stories and a medieval fantasy. I have many more ideas for stories yet to come.


Q: Are you a morning person, or a midnight candle burner?
A: I’m definitely a morning person. I prefer to write in the mornings.

Q: If you could morph into any creature what would it be?
 A: A wolf. I love wolves. Farley Mowat’s book Never Cry Wolf is a favorite.
            If you don’t mind me asking, why?   
A: I have written my fantasy books around the concept of a shapeshifter morphing into a wolf. I find them beautiful creatures.

Q: Bedtime, relaxing so you can sleep sounds. Is your preference, white noise, TV, soft music, ocean waves, forest or meadow sounds, babbling brook, or something else?
A: I’m a Pisces, so definitely water sounds. I remember falling asleep to the sound of the sea lapping when I was in Asia. It was so soothing.

Q: Did you like school when you were a child?
A: I hated school. I still have nightmares about it.

Q: How do you feel about exercise?
A: I avoid it at all costs. Exercising my brain, heart and spirit is what I focus on.


Q: When did you start writing and why?
A: I lost my husband to cancer – Days of Insult is dedicated to him – and my kids left home about the same time. I needed to fill the void in my life and always wanted to write anyway.

Q: Where do you get your ideas?
A: They’ve been knocking around in my head for years. I just have to fish them out! Sometimes an idea for a story will just hit me as a result of seeing or hearing some random thing.

Q: What do you think is the hardest part of writing a book?
A: Until I started to write, I had no idea what hard work it was, or how draining it can be. I also found there is no thrill to match it when it just goes right, when the words come together to express something with beauty and meaning.

Q: What is your favorite part of writing?
A: I love the whole process, but I particularly enjoy doing research for a book. For me, that’s the relaxing side of writing.

Q: Are you a sit down and play it by ear kind of writer, or do you need a structured guideline, or maybe a little of both?
A: Sometimes I’ll thrash out the entire plot, really detailed. Other times, I’ll let the story take me along with it. The latter is more exciting!


Q: What are you working on now? Would you like to share anything about it?
A: I’ve almost completed the sequel to my medieval fantasy, Ravening Heart of the Wolf. Its working title is The Wolf in Winter. I also have a non-fiction book in the pipeline, Expat Blues, an account of my adventures in Africa, working there as a young woman.

Q: Do you have a new book coming out soon? Tell us about it.
A: Not right now, but I live in hope! I’ve had two books published this year, so time to take stock a bit, I think.

Q: How can we find you? Do you have a web page, FaceBook page or any buy links?
A: Yes, I do. Here are the links:



KEYWORDS: War, Partisan, Love, Betrayal, Canada, Refugee, Explosives

Hitler’s troops invade Russia and Sacha Mikhailov’s life is changed forever. Forced into early manhood, he joins his country’s bitter struggle against the Nazi invader.

When the Germans invade his country in 1941, Russian youth, Sacha Mikhailov, becomes a part of the titanic struggle on the Eastern Front. Fighting first as a partisan, operating with his detachment from deep in the forest, he learns the skills of sabotage and ambush. He makes friends, falls in love, and endures the enemy’s vicious onslaught to wipe out the partisans once and for all. As the Russians push the Germans back, Sacha joins the Red Army and his war continues on into the capitals of Europe where he formulates a plan which will set his life on a radically different course.

“The cottage Sacha shared with his mother was at the furthest end of the village, backing on to the woods. His mother had just placed his breakfast in front of him, fresh eggs collected from the hens that morning, when they were both rendered rigid by the sounds of the unfolding mayhem beyond their doors. His mother dropped the pan she was serving from with a clatter and Pritzy, the small grey terrier, began to bark wildly, whirling in tight circles on the kitchen floor. While his mother pushed the shutters aside and peered through the window above the tub trying to identify the reason for the unearthly shrieks that carried to them on the still morning air, Sacha opened the front door a fraction and saw a field grey uniform dart past just beyond the rickety little picket fence that demarcated his mother’s beloved garden, keeping out errant sheep and goats.

‘Germans, Mama!’ he cried. ‘Soldiers!’

She swung around and closed on him with terrifying speed, slamming the door shut and gripping him by his arm so hard he yelled his protest. She dragged him through the small porch that led off the kitchen, seized his jacket from the row of wooden pegs and flung it at him.

‘Quickly, put this on!’

‘Why?’ he asked, beginning to cry, terrified by the stricken expression that contorted her normally sweet, placid face into something ugly and deranged.

She slapped him hard across one cheek, traumatising him further, and wrenched the back door open.

‘Go!’ she spat fiercely, hurling him outside and down the shallow wooden steps. He landed heavily on his bottom, rendered speechless by shock and pain. Her eyes were bulging, their expression wild. She didn’t even look like his mama.

‘Go to the woods and don’t come back, no matter what you hear! Do as I say now! Go!’ She flung out an arm to conclude his dismissal. Then she slammed the door shut.

He scrambled to his feet, so horrified by her alien violence that he obeyed without further protest. Clutching the jacket to his chest, he turned and ran as fast as he could towards the shelter of the woods, Pritzy on his heels, crashing into the foliage, grappling with branches, the trees all merging into a solid green wall as tears blurred his vision. He ran and ran, repeatedly stumbling, falling, and scrambling back on to his feet until he could run no more. Frightened and breathless, he sank down on a pile of needles under a tall spruce, clutching little Pritzy to his chest for comfort and swiping away the mucous that clung to his cheeks, mingling stickily with his tears.”

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