Descending by Holly Kelly – The Interview & Review

Review of Descending by Holly Kelly

Wow, where to begin. Long before I became friends with the extremely talented and ultra-brilliant Holly Kelly, I was interested in the premise of her debut novel, Rising – a tightly written thriller-romance about a noble Dagonian (a tough, more masculine version of the traditional merpeople) on a quest to eliminate a group of humans responsible for the deaths of thousands of their kind via a toxic waste dump into the ocean. He ventures ashore to make peace with the humans before an all-out assault takes place between the species. So, basically, he’s trying to save the world. The problem? While on land, he comes across a beautiful young human who is bound to a wheelchair. Spoiler Alert! They fall for one another, and he (Xanthus) is unable to kill the woman (Sara) whom is revealed to be a daughter of the sea god, Triton.

Fast forward to book 2, Descending. This take is toll from the very opinionated perspective of Sara’s best friend, Gretchen, and of Xanthus’ bestie, Kyros. They start out as enemies, their pasts leaving them room to become little else. But as an ancient and mysterious force seeks to destroy humanity in search of Gretchen, Kyros steps up and in doing so realizes that despite their differences, he is falling in love with Gretchen, and hard. Their love proves the catalyst of all that goes wrong in their world. Will Gretchen and Kyros’ newfound love prove strong enough to save not only one another, but the very whole of humanity?

While I found Descending thoroughly engrossing, there was something more dynamic about Xanthus and Sara’s relationship that I found more engaging. Kyros comes off as a bit two-dimensional at times, and Gretchen is often overly stubborn – often to the point of ridiculousness. Their devotion to one another once uncovered, is admirable, if a little difficult to comprehend in its velocity. However, the scenes beneath the waves are my favorites. When we catch glimpses of these marine hominids partaking in their habits and cultures, it overcomes any shortcomings or mysterious in the romance department. Scenes of politics and great battles bring life to this love story, a love story rich in gore and scare in eroticism, due to the customs of the moral Dagonians, who are thoroughly old fashioned when it comes to their females – a theme that is visited often in Descending.

My favorite scenes and the ones I feel are especially well crafted, are the mysterious cliffhangers. Those, and the tantalizing Dagonians, will keep me reading until Kelly releases the final book in the series.

The Interview

Q: First things first, who’s your favorite character in the series so far?

A: Choosing a favorite character is difficult. It’s like choosing which of your children your favorite is, but if I had to choose only one, I’d choose Xanthus. I admire his strength, his honor, and he’s just a really amazing character. I guess that’s why he keeps popping up and taking up bigger roles in subsequent books than I ever planned for him. And then Sara is a close second, I think mostly because her personality seems similar to my own. I can totally relate to her.

Q: Of the three couples in the trilogy, which would you say is the most definitive to the trilogy?

A: I’d say Triton and Nicole—in the third book. The second book kind of sets the stage for the overall series story arc, but the third book hits you with greater detail and lets you in on a secret that rocks the entire mythological world of the gods. And just so you know, this is not a trilogy. There will be at least five books in the series, but probably more—we’ll see. As long as cool and interesting characters keep popping up in the books, I’ll keep writing.

Q: You’ve said that the world of Rising and its following installations all began with a picture. As an author myself, I can see where you’re coming from. Art is extremely stimulating. But I can imagine that for some of the readers, they might have a more difficult time understanding how this massive world is produced by a single imagine. So I’m going to ask the question on all of our minds – do you have this image, can we see it, or if not, can you describe it and your thoughts once you saw it?

A: I do have the image. I wish I knew who the artist was. But this picture was what inspired it all. I took a look at it and thought, what if a mermaid were born on land, but she didn’t know she was a mermaid? She simply thought she was horribly deformed. I started writing that day, and a year and a half later, Rising was published.

Q: There are underlying themes that are very real issues in the world today. Ocean pollution, poaching, and domestic violence to name just a few you broach in your novels. What caused you to decide to incorporate these potentially controversial topics into a fantasy-romance angled tale?

A: I didn’t write Rising to be a plug for preserving the environment. But, I studied marine biology in college in Hawaii, and was well aware of how polluted our oceans have become. While writing this story, I had to confront the realism of that situation, and I wondered what ocean creatures would think of us polluting and messing up ecosystems throughout the world. I had to admit, they’d probably be pretty angry. And then domestic abuse is one thing that I’ve had experience with on a personal level. Throughout my life, I’ve dealt with issues I couldn’t control by using my imagination. I was always thinking, if only…So for me to bring this situation into the story, was a natural reflection of my own experiences.

Q: In Rising and also Descending, you take care to keep all sensuality to a minimum – just enough to keep us all wanting more. There are also themes of abstinence until marriage. I’m sure there’s a reason for that, can you tell us a little more about that?

A: I was raised being taught abstinence and practiced it—waiting until marriage myself. I think so many people think it’s not realistic. Well I believe it is, and for those who desire to wait to have sex after they are married, it’s a worthwhile endeavor. But also, as you see in my books, there can be a definite attraction, and knock your socks off kissing. But having a make-out session does not rob a person of their ability to stop. It may be difficult—or more realistically, they may not want to stop, but they have complete control. They just have to make the decision before hand, and the strength to follow through on their commitment. I am speaking from experience. That being said, I do respect other author’s choice to write what they desire. Personally, this is what I’m comfortable with.

Q: Rising is told in a split narrative, almost equally between Xanthus and Sara. However, Descending seems to concentrate on Gretchen’s take on things. I would have loved to have heard more from Kyros, personally! What stories that Dagonian could tell!

I wish I could have delved into Kyros’s world more. But the story didn’t take me there. Book 3 has more underwater scenes, but alas, it too gets pulled up on land during most of the book. I would really like to write a book that takes place 100% below the surface. Perhaps I will.

Q: As an aspiring author, I’m always interested in the process of each. Do you have a certain formula, or ritual that you adhere to? Or do you just steal time whenever you can?

Do you have real muses for your characters? How much time do you spend researching the legends behind this tale? And do you do your own editing?

A: I don’t really have a process. I’m a pantser. That means I don’t use an outline, I just write off the cuff. I did try outlining book 3—thinking it would speed up the process—but it only slowed me down. I veered from the outline two chapters in and didn’t look back. The final book actually looks nothing like what I’d outlined. And I write mostly while my kids are in school. When I had young children, I would write between 3:00 and 6:00 in the morning. Rising was written almost completely in the early morning hours. It was the only time I could write uninterrupted.

As for a muse, I don’t know if I have one, but I swear sometimes I feel like I’m not the one writing my book. It seems to come from outside me and beyond my natural abilities.

And then when it comes to research, it do that as I go. I’ll write until I come to a point I need to check my facts. Then Google is my best friend. Anything you could ever want to know is found on the internet.

And no, I don’t do my own editing—nor would I suggest any author do their own. My publisher has an editor, and has more recently added a whole editing team—so my next book to come out will be edited better than my first. Yay!

Q: Final question! What’s next for Author Holly?

A: I’m excited to say, I’m taking a short break from the mythological world and am writing about the paranormal. I started a ghost story shortly after fining Rising. I was about 20,000 words into it when Rising got published and my publisher asked for a sequel. But now, I feel it’s time to go back and finish the spine tingling tale. This story is a paranormal romance in a classic haunting story with a twist. It’s inspired by my love of all things Halloween. You can expect bone chilling scenes, a villain who is of the worse sort of evil, a damsel who is not easily distressed, and a hero who thinks he’s the villain of the story-but we know better. Add all these together and you’ll find adventure in a world where reality may be in the eye of the beholder.

Check out Holly Kelly on Facebook and Goodreads, and find her on Amazon to catch the wave with the most eco-conscious, clean romance around!

© Holly Kelly – https://www.facebook.com/authorhollykelly & https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21972431-descending?from_search=true &

http://www.amazon.com/Descending-Rising-Holly-Kelly/dp/1940534631/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1424730559&sr=8-1&keywords=Descending+Holly+Kelly

Descending Cover

© Megan M. Caldwell – https://www.facebook.com/MeganMCaldwellAuthor

A Poem – A Knock at the Door

He tapped on my door, dressed in light blue. His hands were empty. All of this I found to be particularly distressing.
How often does a grave digger’s son go around in anything but black without a shovel or spade to wield?

I rapped three times on the millionare’s door, knowing none other than his daughter were there to answer. I wore my best shirt and took care to wash the dirt from my hands.
She looks at me as if she’s noticed my face beneath the grime. It must be the first time because her eyes are wide.

He stares back at me. I want to tell him something, something my father would approve of, but I don’t feel very much like my Father’s daughter in front of the grave digger’s boy. I feel like a girl, standing in front of a strange boy. I feel like he can see everything in my eyes.

I can see interest and fear in the daughter’s eyes, and my heart jumps up and wants me to tell her, to confess just how long I’ve loved her. I tell it no and pull a bit of candy I saved up for from my pocket. Life teaches us to enjoy what pleasures we can, while our flesh is pink and our eyes clear.
Her lips are pink. I watch the candy slip past them as they smile at me. Blood stains them. No. It is only the color of the sweet.

I take his gift and wonder what has stopped me from seeing the boy who talked to headstones. He stares at my lips a while. I wonder what he is thinking. I wonder if I could love him. My head tells me no. My heart stutters quietly, speaking a different story. I wonder if he would speak to my headstone…

To be continued…

© Megan M. Caldwell

http://www.facebook.com/meganmcaldwellauthor

Megan M. Caldwell

A Poem ~ Immortals on Love

Bats in the dark, screech and swirl,
It runs in my blood.
Shadows down a dark corridor, coming after me.
Looking for my blood.
Will you remember me when I’m dead and gone or will I be another face, haunting your eternal memory?
I know I shouldn’t be out this late, but I couldn’t sleep, and now I can’t remember if I’m in my century or yours.
Dead and gone.
I scream your name, it’s the only thing I can remember in this world of fucked up happy endings.
You come to me, singing in a voice like Morrison’s about this potential I hold… how can I be your bride when I don’t even believe in marriage? You swear it means something more. I swear I don’t care.
Let’s pretend. You be the prince and I guess that leaves me the role of princess.
Night runs along and you’ve tasted more of me than any lethal weapon. It runs in my blood.
Dead and gone.
Born again to be yours.
Born again to a world of black velvet cloaks, and love expressed through violence, through an innocent thrown or left for you.
See my love, translucent beneath my white skin. It is stolen from others to echo what my living heart once tried to tell you. But you ripped my throat and my heart, from my body, consumed me, in ways I never knew possible.
I miss the feeling
Of the unknown
Of your arms
Around me
Around my throat
I miss
The flow of blood
In my veins, not theirs.
These castle walls cannot make up…
The love you loved me with, before I became…
Dead.
Like you.
Undead.
I am now your bride
My doubts, wants, thoughts fade
To what you ask of me
Offer me
Make love to me in the tomb
And let our love be immortal.

© Megan M. Caldwell

http://www.facebook.com/meganmcaldwellauthor

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Megan M. Caldwell

A Poem ~ To Those Who Wander

Hands together, as if in prayer, as if diving, as if under arrest.
We start into the unknown, into life, into prisons of our own making, our hearts for the taking or for sale. These hearts they don’t know, don’t know what they’re messing with.
Its a hard road, with its twists and turns and and its… doubts. So hard to understand, to comprehend the reasoning, the why’s, we’ll never be given.
What was ours was a mile back and ten years past. Too late to claim anything really, even now. That belongs to the future.
Fading away, in the distance, in substance, in coherency. What do I stand for we begin to wonder…  what good am I? I am carbon… carbon copy of something done before, of someone lived before, carbon… star ash.
Walk through our paths, our layers, our lives and struggle. To face what we fear…  bittersweet. .. is this the first time or can I make it the last?
Let me tell you and let me remind myself – the hero always needs saving. And mental illness is a hydra. Its not an excuse or a glossy suggestion on a magazine page. Its the shadow that follows millions. Its the monster in our closet and the shadow of our soul. Please don’t ever think of us as lost, those who wander, most of all those who know this as reality. No, world, there isn’t a green screen at our backs. There’s just a dark road laden with an endless cast of what ifs…

This is one person’s attempt at crying out.

© Megan M. Caldwell

http://www.facebook.com/meganmcaldwellauthor

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Megan M. Caldwell

A Poem ~ The Space Between

Ghost
Makes me feel alive, whole, like myself.
Alive
Takes us apart, time doesn’t understand. Repetition takes us closer to the grave.
Grave
A bed of roses where I dream of you. Dead and gone, wish I was, because you are.
Boom
You’re the bullet in my heart. The one I won’t remove. The one that stirs my blood. The one thing that makes it impossible to be happy without the pain of love.
Take aim. Shoot me again. I can’t get enough. Of being dirt. Of being ice. Your storm is in my blood. Let it flow. I was born in the night, breathing violence and love.
Ghost, you make me live. Dead and gone thrills me. If only I could see… I’ll take a bullet through the heart for you. Give me the chance.
Juliet is a bitch to think she could love like this.

© Megan M. Caldwell

http://www.facebook.com/meganmcaldwellauthor

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Megan M. Caldwell

A Poem ~ Empty Roads

I settle into the car, shut the door and turn the ignition. It cranks with more life than I feel. I tamp down on the sensation and pull away from what I’ve called home.
I watch the familiar sights pass me by, remembering the people in them, knowing I’ll never see them again. I’m okay with this. I’m okay with everything now. Oblivion is a beautiful thing.
The car takes me away from what I’ve known and into the unknown. Away from people who love me and people who couldn’t give a damn.
I want to be away. I cannot care by what means.
The pavement whips under the tires and some song on the radio makes the situation worse, makes me feel a lifetime of loss.
I don’t stop when I reach the state line, I don’t pause when I pass the next. I don’t look at the signs. I only look for a way to disappear.
Memories fuel me like the toxic blend that fuels my car.
I speed, liking the way I can control the uncontrollable.
I stop at dangerous places and see myself in them like a mirror. I remind myself I am not good enough to enjoy the pleasure of settling. I climb back into the car and drive, feel like I’m driving across the entire world. My mind takes a different journey and I don’t see the road, only the reasons I run to a place with empty roads.

© Megan M. Caldwell

www facebook.com/meganmcaldwellauthor

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Megan M. Caldwell