Victoria Roder's Bolt Action

My guest today is Victoria Roder. Born and raised in Wisconsin, Victoria currently resides in Spencer, Wisconsin with her husband Ron, and their pets - Rocky a three-legged Husky, Tucker a German Shepherd dog, Molly a black lab, two cats Baby and Zeus, and a Blue Tongued Skink named Slippery. She has three grown sons she’s proud of, each one making their own way in the world.

Her mom always told Victoria she was creative and should write books. Victoria hasn’t quite decided if she should thank her mom for this crazy life of a writer, or blame her. A story about her childhood was included in A Cup of Comfort for Adoptive Families.
The kidney donation between Victoria and her sister is in Chicken Soup for the Coffee Lover's Soul.
  She has been published in Canadian Kids Magazine, Wisconsin Regional Writer's Journal, Guide Magazine, Pockets Magazine, The Highground, The Little Lutheran, The Little Christian, FarmLife Magazine, and One Way Street.

Victoria is a member of Wisconsin Regional Writer's Association and Wisconsin Sister's in Crime.

Welcome to my little corner of the blogosphere, Victoria. Let’s talk writing!

Anne - Do you have a fear, phobias, or habit you’d rather no one knew about? 

Victoria - Like a lot of people, I have a fear of rats, but that’s a story for another day.  Today, I’ll share a fear that isn’t as common.  I have an irrational fear of dead animals.  When I drive down the road and have to pass a dead animal, I roll my car windows up, move as far over to the other lane as possible, grip the steering wheel in a death grip, and hold my breath.  I don’t do these things because of the smell. I do them because I am positive the dead animal is going to explode as I drive past it and spray dead animal intestines all over my car.  Have I ever had a dead animal explode on my car? Never. I told you it is an irrational fear.

Anne – I know it’s impolite to laugh, but I have to admit I find the image of an exploding dead animal kind of funny. So, I suppose we’re both a little irrational! Okay, let’s talk about your latest release. What’s it about?

Victoria - In Action Thriller, Bolt Action from Champagne Books, Detective Leslie Bolt is a smart talking, gun hording, Harley riding investigator forced to work a serial murder case with her sexy ex-lover. After a childhood of abuse suffered at the hand of her father, Leslie sleeps with a Ruger Blackhawk .357 under her pillow, has a Browning A-Bolt Stainless Stalker rifle in her broom closet, and a Saturday Night Special stashed in her road-hog cookie jar. The body count mounts and Detective Bolt must conquer her own past, as she races to capture “The State Quarter Killer” before her sister is the next victim. 

Anne  - Sounds like a super read. I also enjoyed the video book trailer. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqcYL_G7h7s Of all the characters you’ve created do you have a favorite?

Victoria - Detective Leslie Bolt is my favorite. First of all, I modeled her after one of my own sisters. I will let my five sisters fight it out, trying to decide which one it is, but it should be kind of obvious. Leslie Bolt has a flawed past and struggles with relationships, she is usually her own worst enemy. She has a tough outer shell, but longs for intimacy like the rest of us. 

Anne – Do you have any words of advice for unpublished writers?

Victoria - Set your goals, be determined and persevere. Expect rejection, it is part of the process. The difference between quitting, or becoming a published writer is what you do about that rejection. Work hard and resubmit.

Anne - Have you ever experienced writer’s block?

Victoria - I do experience times in my writing when I’m not sure where the book is going.  I’m what they call a pantser. I don’t plot out my novels. So, I don’t know the specific ending to my novel until my characters reveal it to me.  When I get stuck, a ride on the motorcycle gives me a chance to clear my head and work out scenes. I live in Wisconsin, so that motorcycle ride is not always possible, but I also write children’s books and create puzzles, so if I am stuck on a novel, I always have something else to work on.

Anne – Would you share an excerpt of Bolt Action with us?

Victoria – Absolutely!         

Out of my collection of weapons I have stashed around my apartment, I chose my Browning A-Bolt Stainless Stalker rifle from behind the mop in the broom closet. I headed in the direction of my enclosed storage area. Flipping on the porch light in hopes of frightening an intruder, I exited my front door. As I reached the bottom of the wooden steps, I could detect an outline of a person in front of the shadowed storage door. Male-at least six feet tall.

Cocking the rifle, I warned, “Stop. I have a rifle.”

“Calm down, Bolt. It’s just me.” Lance Kestler ran his hand through his thick black hair as he stepped from the shadows into the glow of the porch light.

“Oh for crying out loud. What the hell are you doing here?” I released the trigger.

“Did you just come out of my storage area?”

“No. I got out of my car and walked toward your door.” Kestler placed his hands on his slim hips. “How come you never wear your hair down during the day?”

I ignored the question. “I heard a door close.”

Kestler shrugged his broad, black Fieora-clothed shoulders, and wobbled on his feet. “Must’a heard my car door.”

Headlights from a passing car shined toward me and I slid the rifle behind my back. “Whatever. It’s like midnight what the hell do you want?”

“Well, I remembered you don’t sleep much at night, so I assumed you’d still be up. Or maybe you just didn’t sleep at night because I kept you up-or should I say, you kept me up?” Kestler took a stumbling step forward.

I blew out a breath in frustration. How did I ever get involved with this guy in the first place? “Get off it, Kestler. You’ve been drinking. What do you want?”

“Aren’t you gonna invite me in?” He winked in his typical cocky manner. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had your firm body under mine.”

I shook my head. “Are you kidding me?”

“Look, I want to apologize for how things have been going between us lately.” Lance stumbled and dragged his hand across the side of the duplex to stabilize himself.

“Apologize?” The rifle dug into my hand as I tightened my grip. “You can’t even talk in complete sentences. How come you only show up to talk after you’ve been drinking?”

Kestler advanced two steps toward me. “What’s wrong with you? I’m trying to rekindle a civil relationship between us, and you show up acting like Annie Oakley the sharpshooter.”

“You don’t do apologies, or favors without an ulterior motive.” I pointed the rifle toward him. “What the hell do you want? Why don’t you go home?”

“What? You’re gonna shoot me?” Lance put his hands up, pretending to surrender and laughed.

His humor was lost on me. I wanted Kestler off my property and wanted him to know I meant business. Not that I would have shot him. Probably. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re trespassing. I believed you were an intruder and I had to defend myself.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Sounds convincing. I might be able to get someone to buy that.”

“You’d miss.”

My finger itched to pull the trigger. “Don’t you remember my target scores where always better than yours?”

Lance winked at me. “That’s because I was distracted by your cute ass.”

“You are an ass.”

“I’m done trying to be nice to you.”

“When did you start?”

“Screw you.” He turned to stomp back toward his car.

I lowered the rifle and called out, “Kestler, you’ve been drinking. Should I call you a cab?”

I heard him open his car door. As I walked backward up the three steps to the front door, it didn’t take detective skills to realize he didn’t have the ability nor the courtesy to answer me. Kestler was six feet tall─could he have consumed more then two drinks an hour? I ran back down the steps to offer him a ride.

“Kestler!” I pounded on the hood of the car. “Kestler, wait!”

He jammed the car in reverse, spun it around and squealed his tires on the usually quiet street. I watched him drive off and prayed he wouldn’t hit someone on his way home. Retreating inside my apartment, I locked and dead bolted the front door. I returned the A-Bolt rifle to its spot behind the mop, and headed for the phone to call in a tip about a drunk driver. If he was lucky, he’d be stopped by a friendly cop. It not-if he had to spend the night in the drunk tank at least he wouldn’t kill himself or anyone else.  

Anne – I love the dynamics between these two! Where can readers reach you online?

Victoria – At my website www.victoriaroder.com

Anne - Thank you so much for dropping by, Victoria. I wish you every success with Bolt Action. It is definitely going on my TBR list! As always, reader comments are welcome and appreciated.

Happy reading!

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