An interview with author, Zachary Katz-Stein!

K Nycole Lee

Good evening!

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

Hey!

How are you this evening?

 K Nycole Lee

I'm doing very well. And yourself?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

Also quite well, thanks!

 K Nycole Lee

Great! Ready to get started?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

Absolutely, fire away.

 K Nycole Lee

Excellent!

Thanks for joining us this evening on Write Like A Wizard. Can you tell us a little about yourself? Where are you from? What do you do for a living?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

Thanks for having me and sure! I grew up in the small hippy town of Yellow Springs, Ohio, where my mother began my love of fantasy with the simple childhood rule: you're allowed toy swords but not toy guns. I am currently somewhat nomadic. After graduating from Kenyon College in December I lived with my family in Berkeley California. I spent my summer working odd jobs in Columbus, and I'm about to move to Milwaukee, Wisconsin!

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

I am a certified yoga instructor, English major, and art enthusiast.

 K Nycole Lee

Wow. That's great! So when did you start writing?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

I always enjoyed storytelling, but I started writing more seriously my senior year of high school. I took all of the AP classes my school offered and would still have had two study halls my senior year, so I arranged an independent study in creative writing with my English teacher. Basically, I had to turn in 8-12 finished pieces each quarter and in exchange I was given 50 minutes per day to write. I wrote mostly (bad) poetry, but by the end of the year I wrote the prologue and the first chapter of The Grey Heir, a book I just published June 2nd.

 K Nycole Lee

That is incredible. Tell us about The Grey Heir. What is it about? What inspired you to write it?

Zachary David Katz-Stein

The Grey Heir is a boy-based, young adult, fantasy adventure. Essentially, the main character, Rayne Drehmer, is pulled into a massive power struggle between a religious order, The Order of Trel, and a group of aristocratic mages. 

The problem is: it's really hard to tell who the "good guys" are at first and, even at the end, no side is purely "good." That was one of my major goals for the book - to create a fantasy world where all the factions were, if not entirely justifiable, at least understandable. 

My other major inspiration was the desire to write a boy-based fantasy series. You see, I grew up in a world of female heroes (as unlikely as that might sound to some readers). My favorite series was The Protector of the Small Quartet by Tamora Pierce, in which young Keladry of Mindelan struggled to become Tortalls first acknowledged female knight. My second favorite was the Abhorsen Trilogy by Garth Nyx, for which two of the three books had amazing female protagonists. 

 Overall, until I read Eragon, I was left thinking, "Where are all the boy heroes?"

K Nycole Lee
I love that. What a great premise! Can you share an excerpt with us?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein
Absolutely!

 A rough canvas bag was thrown over his head and he felt a sharp point touch his back. 

Rayne stiffened. Growing up the son of one of the wealthiest merchants in Kresain, he had been mugged before, though since Keegan, one of the ally rats that Rayne had grown up with, had taken over the city’s sewer gangs the attempts on Rayne’s belt pouch had stopped. 

 Clearly, Rayne thought, this poor sap didn’t recognize me. Probably just saw decent clothes and made assumptions about the contents of my pockets. Rayne raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The dagger nicked his back and his captor whispered, 

"Don’t move your hands, just walk the way I point you." 

Jumpy, Rayne thought dryly, though if he really doesn’t know who he has...He allowed his captor to lead him around the corner of Fredrick’s shop and into a presumably unoccupied alley, which Rayne recognized by both the smell of garbage and the small amount of light the that got through the canvas sack. 

Casually falling forward, Rayne caught himself on his hands and, twining his legs around his would be captor's ankles, wrenched left. Rayne smiled at the satisfyingly loud sound of the boy falling into what he assumed was a pile of garbage. 

Rolling backwards onto his feet, Rayne tore off the canvas sack and was reaching for the throwing knife he always kept up his sleeve when he heard an odd huffing sound from the boy he had dumped in the trash. 

Was he crying? No, Rayne realized, he was laughing and he was not alone. Rayne spun around to see two other dirty adolescents almost doubled over in their attempts to smother their laughter. At the sight of these two, Rayne relaxed. He recognized them. 

"Andreth," Rayne said reprovingly, though the two teens’ laughter was infectious and he felt his mouth twitch upward. 

"Does Keegan know about this?" 

 "He does," an amused, confident, voice said. Rayne’s eyes flicked left to the tall young man leaning against the stone wall of the alley. 

Keegan was dressed in a battered brown leather jacket, loose fitting black paints, black boots, and an aura of power that Rayne had always found impressive. 

"I see you haven't gotten too rusty," Keegan commented, his mouth quirking upward. 

Rayne returned his friend’s smile, though he was still a little annoyed. "Don’t you have something better to do than have your friends jump me? I could have hurt the poor boy!" 

A quiet rustle from behind tipped him off, allowing Rayne to side step as the boy rushed at him, tapping the youngster as he rushed past to make him stumble. 

Keegan shrugged unconcernedly as his young accomplice fell to his knees, "We don’t have money, Rayne, we don’t have errands or work or really anything to pass the weary time away." His eyes met Rayne’s for the first time and he was positively grinning now. "We were bored. Besides," he added gesturing toward to youngster, "the next generation needs you, Rayne. Who else will teach them to throw knives and all those sneaky moves you know?" 

 "You," Rayne said bluntly, though he was smiling now as well. "You taught me to throw and tumble. Besides," he added, imitating his friend’s airy way of talking, "weren’t you just saying how bored you are?" 

Keegan laughed shortly, "Oh, I have been teaching them," he said, nodding to the two younger teens and the preteen struggling to his feet. "I even told them exactly what you were going to do to get away and he still messed it up." 

The older boys laughed outrageously at this until Keegan silenced them with a look. 

"Not that I blame him. You were always good, Rayne." He sighed, 

"If only you hadn’t turned legitimate." Rayne smiled; it was a common source of banter between them. 

"I was never crooked," he reminded Keegan. "Whenever I went out with you we always returned anything we took." 

"Anything really valuable, yes," Keegan agreed. "Although I do remember some strawberry pastries that never made it back to their shelf." 

Rayne smiled and put his fists on his hips. "And I remember some coins that happened to appear in a certain pastry chef’s till before we left." 

Keegan laughed. "I had forgotten about that," he admitted. "Still, everything was more fun when you ran with us." 

Rayne’s smile wilted a little in regret. "It was," he agreed. "Though maybe it just seems that way because you have people to do the running these days. You’re wasted as an administrator." 

"That’s true enough," Keegan said with another quick grin. Stretching his back, he added, "This is the first time I’ve left the nest this week." 

 "Well that’s the problem," Rayne said. "You need to get out more. " An idea suddenly occurred to him. "Say, " he added, eyes shining, "Do you want to do a city run to stretch your legs?" 

 Keegan pushed himself off the wall. The motion was fluid, catlike. "Now we’re getting into my area of expertise. You could never beat me before, but hey," he said, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his legs, "if you are eager for a beating, who am I to disappoint?" 

Rayne cracked his neck. "So confident? You’ve been sitting in a dark hole in the ground running your little kingdom while I have still been out and about in the city. Roof tops only?" he asked. 

Keegan nodded. "Some things you don’t forget." He bent forward and touched his toes. "To the monastic gate?" When Rayne nodded, Keegan straightened and, turning to his younger companions, said, "You lot go ahead of us so you can be at the gates to judge who gets there first." 

The three youngsters scrambled away, whooping in delight. A few seconds later, Rayne heard a distant crash and then shouting. He assumed one of them had tripped into a merchant’s wagon or knocked a pole out of an awning. 

"Nice crew you got there," Rayne said, smiling over at his friend. 

Keegan grinned. "They’re fun. One…" He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Two… " 

Rayne walked over to stand back to back with Keegan, mentally preparing for the run ahead. 

"Three!" they said together, each jumping onto an alley wall and starting to climb."


 K Nycole Lee

Thank you for sharing that with us! It sounds like a great story. I cannot wait to read more! How did you go about publishing The Grey Heir?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

I started by starting a blog, theinkslinger.org, and a twitter account while doing the final edit of the book. Those were enormously helpful to have already set up when I launched The Grey Heir, though I think I could have done even more with them. They're both works in progress.

I published with Book Tango because I wanted to be able to publish on Amazon, Nook, and iBooks. Full disclosure, however, I have not been very satisfied with them. My book still isn't available on Nook or iBooks (though I understand that getting on iBooks can take months). The other thing I'm not entirely happy about is their sales reporting. Although they say they compile reports for distributor sites (basically any site that's not the Book Tango store) at the end of every month, I JUST got my first sales report for June about a week ago and the only reason they gave me that was because June was a quarter end and they pay quarterly (with a two month time delay). 

At this point I'm a little frustrated with everyone but Amazon (who posted my book two days after I submitted it to them) and I'm seriously considering taking my book and making it Kindle Select.

 K Nycole Lee

Very interesting. I've never heard of Book Tango. Thanks for sharing that experience with us. Amazon is pretty good about sales reporting and publishing quite quickly. Kindle Select would be great for your book. Everyone loves the free days and that means more books in reader's hands and a greater chance for reviews!

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

Exactly what I was thinking, I'm just still trying to figure out the logistics of switching over.

 K Nycole Lee

Yes, that does sound tricky. Good luck!

Have you ever been to a writing conference or anything like that before?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

I have not, though it's definitely something I'm interested in! The closest I've come is the Nanowrimo Website, which is pretty much what I imagine a conference to be like (except quieter). Do you have any to recommend?

 K Nycole Lee

There is one coming up in California! The Writer's Digest writing conference. I'd definitely recommend looking for local writing conventions/conferences as well. I'm going to the World Fantasy Convention this October. You should come! It's in Brighton, United Kingdom.

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

Unfortunately, being a recently impoverished college student (and only getting rid of one of those adjectives), I don't think I'll be able to make it to the UK this year. However, I will definitely look up local conferences and see what I can do about The Writer's Digest conference!

 K Nycole Lee

Excellent! I can relate to the impoverished part as well. I actually used www.gofundme.com/koabooktour to raise money for my trip! Give it a shot!

Do you have any advice for aspiring authors?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

Conventional wisdom says, "write every day," and that's absolutely fantastic advice. I would, however, like to add a little nuance: write what you love everyday. People often say "writing is writing," implying that any kind of writing will make you better.

 This is true.

However, only writing what you love will nourish your soul.

 K Nycole Lee

Oh my. That was profound. Thank you, Zachary!

Is there anything else you'd like to tell us about The Grey Heir? Are you working on any new projects or books?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

The Grey Heir is the first in a series called The Edge Walker Chronicles, and I'm already working on the second one! Its working title is: The Exile.

I am also editing a book I wrote for Nanowrimo that I'm planning on sending to agents in the near future. I figured, why not pursue both paths? I'll publish The Edge Walker Chronicles myself while shopping my other work around to agents and publishers!

 K Nycole Lee

That is a great idea. You should totally try both paths. I'm doing the same thing right now with my fantasy trilogy, Rise of the Flame. Time to work on that query letter!

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would that be?

Zachary David Katz-Stein

For a while at least I would love to live in New Zealand - preferably on the remains of The Lord of the Rings set. Really though, I'm not sure. There's still so much of the United States that I haven't explored (let alone the world!) that I don't have a clear idea of where I might eventually end up.

 K Nycole Lee

Oh yes! I must see The Lord of the Rings set as well. Good choice.

If you could have any super power, what would you choose?

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

My classic answer to this question is a little bit of a cheat. I would choose to be Force Sensitive. For those readers who have never seen Star Wars (or better yet played the Knights of the Old Republic games), being Force Sensitive allows some telekinesis, amazing reflexes, visions into the future, and (if your evil) the ability to shoot lightning out of your fingers.

 It's a cheating answer because I get multiple powers.

 K Nycole Lee

Yes! I love it!

Thank you so much for joining us tonight, Zachary. This was fun. Good luck with everything!

 Zachary David Katz-Stein

Thanks again for having me! Good luck to you as well!

For more on Zachary Katz-Stein and his debut novel, The Grey Heir:

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Writing Challenge with Author, Zachary Katz-Stein!!!!

The Challenge:

 

In 3000 words or less, write about a unique child who has been left orphaned when their parents leave them without saying anything. How does this child survive?

The Result:

Left in the Attic

By, Zachary Katz-Stein

Ardent closed her eyes and hugged her knees into her chest, breathing in the familiar scent of dust and sweat that clung to her stockings. It had been...twenty-two days since she'd washed them and she'd worn them thirteen times...or had it been longer? She shook her head. Since what Ardent thought of as "The Accident," days had begun to blur together.

The creak of wood from directly below made Ardent catch her breath and squeeze her legs in tighter. She counted to ten, then to twenty before she allowed herself to breathe. She waited for the any sign of life below. Nothing. Muscles protesting shrilly, Ardent slowly uncurled and rose to her feet.

She was in her attic, surrounded on all sides by walls of boxes, moats of blanket-covered furniture, and guarded by framed photographs of her parents. She touched one of these as she passed, caressing the cracked glass. Though the attic was dimly lit by the moonlight through the dormer window, Ardent moved silently across the warped wood of the floor. When she reached the trap door she paused, touching the cool metal pull ring and closing her eyes.

She didn't know how, but sometimes when she did this she could tell if someone was in the hall below. Her ears would grow hot and her cheeks would burn, just as they had in The Time Before when Eric had kissed her cheek after class. That had been an exciting feeling though; this one made her afraid. She couldn't let people know she was still here, not after The Accident.

Ardent's ears and cheeks remained cool and pale. No one was there. Slowly, she pulled the trap door to the attic up and lowered the ladder into the hall. Quiet and quick as a shadow, she flowed down the ladder and started toward the stairs. These too she passed as quickly and quietly as she could. Now that she had broken cover, her best hope lay in speed and besides, she knew every grain of wood in that house, including which could be trusted to keep their mouths shut and which could not.

Her first stop was the bathroom. As hungry and thirsty as she was, certain calls of nature became unavoidable if one held one's bladder all day. That done, she turned toward the kitchen. She couldn't take much, Ardent reminded herself. Too much missing food would get her noticed. Her stomach growled audibly. But so would too little.

Carefully, Ardent took one slice of bread from the middle of two different loaves so that both were still the same length. Next, she stole a few slices of meat and a small bit of cheese. All of this was fairly routine. When she opened the freezer, however, her willpower was tested. There, on its own plate as though waiting especially for her, was a beautiful strawberry sundae.

It was perfect. Its vanilla mounds were topped with just the right amount of sauce. There were even a few freshly cut strawberries along the rim of the dish, just the way she liked it. Ardent swallowed and licked her lips, unable to take her eyes off the prize. How long had it been since she'd had ice cream? Thirty days? Fifty? One hundred? She wasn't sure; it seemed like a lifetime.

Ardent knew she shouldn't take it, knew it was probably a trap, but her hand started to reach toward the treat anyway.

"Mommy?" a voice called from the hall outside the kitchen. "Mom?"

Ardent pivoted around the refrigerator and sank to the floor as a young boy, maybe five years old, shuffled into the kitchen. The boy rubbed his eyes and looked around in confusion. "I'm here," a woman responded, stepping right past Ardent to wrap the boy in a tight hug.

Ardent squeezed herself further into the corner, not daring to believe the woman hadn't seen her, yet she hadn't said anything so maybe...

"What are you doing up at this hour sweetling?" Ardent heard the mother ask.

"I don't know..." the boy replied, a frown in his voice. "I was asleep, and then I had a feeling that it was important for me to come downstairs..."

His mother chuckled. "If that half frozen sundae is any indicator, I think I know what drew you..."

"It wasn't that!" the child replied indignantly. "I was saving it for later!"

"Uh-huh," the woman said. "Well, in that case, let's give your self-control a little help, and head back upstairs shall we?" Ardent heard footsteps retreating upstairs so she assumed the boy had agreed.

She lowered herself to the floor and slowly peeked around the cabinet at floor level. The coast was clear. Ardent reached the sanctuary of her attic without further incident. The trap door closed behind her and she breathed again.

Ardent moved to her little nest in the far corner. She had made her "bed" from old clothes, winter coats, and spare table settings that had been swallowed by the attic long ago. Nestling herself into the folds of fabric, Ardent drew comfort from the large writing desk that protected one side of her bed and from the wall of boxes that shielded the other. She was safe here.

She began to breathe slowly and deeply. Her muscles tensed and released. Her pulse still sounded in her ears. She had almost been caught. In fact, she thought the woman had seen her, but no. She couldn't have or else she would have reacted. Screamed probably. How else could she have reacted to finding Ardent still in the house?

Slowly, her body relaxed. Soon she was fast asleep...

...She was in her room. Ardent came awake slowly. Her thoughts were muddled as if she'd slept in later than usual. Then she sat bolt upright. She had slept more than usual and now she was late! She tore out of her room and hopped down the hall, trying to slip on her shoes. She stamped into them just in time to take the stairs two at a time, calling out, "Why didn't you wake me up? You know I hate being late!"

Nothing.

No response.

She reached the bottom of the stairs. "Mom!" she shouted. "Dad! Are you ready to go? "

Silence.

"Hello?" she called out, suddenly nervous. Ardent began to wander. Something was wrong. She was definitely home, but somehow it didn't look right. It looked...older? The familiar furniture was worn and patched in ways she couldn't remember, and where were her parents? One generally left early to open the family bakery, but the other was always there to make sure she got to school safely.

Ardent could only remember one other time she had come down the stairs to find an empty house, and then they'd at least left a note on the table.

She walked quickly into the kitchen, certain that they must have remembered to leave her a note at least. Then she froze. She walked over and placed her hand on the smooth, well-worn wood of the kitchen table. Here was the problem, the thing that made Ardent's spine tingle: her family had just bought a new kitchen table. This table was worn, but it was also unmistakably the same. Her brain tried and failed to make sense of it. It was the same table and it wasn't.

Her shock carried her dazedly over to a window. She looked out and, again, had the strange, disconcerting feeling of looking at the familiarly impossible. The street was the same...and it wasn't. It looked more developed, the buildings looked bigger and older than they were yesterday. She shook her head.

The rattle of keys in a lock jerked her back to reality. Finally, she thought, that must be one of them now. She had started toward the door when it cracked open and unfamiliar voices drifted in. Ardent froze. She didn't know why but the idea of strangers with a key to her house, on top of the other shocks of the morning, terrified her. She dropped to the floor and rolled behind a couch as the door opened.

"As you can see, Lady, we haven't changed anything."

The sound of footsteps. Three? No, four. "I can see that," a female voice said. "It's exactly as I remember it." There was a strange catch in that voice, as though the memory was not entirely a pleasant one.

"Are you all right?" a different, slightly deeper, male voice asked.

"Yes," the woman said. "Or at least I will be. It's just been a very long time since we've been here, that stupid fight..."

"You couldn't have known."

"No," the woman sighed, "but I could have been less stubborn."

"This is the one you were looking for, isn't it?" the higher male voice asked.

"Yes," the woman said again, a smile in her voice this time. "We'll take it."

...Ardent woke up with a gasp and then had to hold her breath to keep from coughing as her sudden movement raised clouds of dust.

"I thought I might find you up here," a calm, familiar, woman's voice said.

Ardent jumped to her feet and whirled to face the intruder, mentally preparing for me worst. The woman would tell her that she was crazy and her parents were dead. She would say that Ardent would have to go to an orphanage and that she'd never see Eric again.

The woman smiled as if reading these thoughts in Ardent's eyes. Something about the smile spoke to Ardent. She recognized it. It was her mother's smile. "You're not crazy, and your parents aren't dead," the woman said. "Well, actually here they are, but don't worry you'll have many more years to spend with them and," she added with a conspiratorial wink, "you'll see plenty of Eric, I promise."

Ardent backed away quickly, bumping into the desk behind her. This woman was a mind-reader, a witch, who wanted to kill her. How else could she know what Ardent was thinking?

The woman's smile grew a little broader. "I'm not a mind-reader, or a witch, and I certainly don't want to kill you...or haven't you guessed yet? You don't really have to answer, I know you have." She brushed her straight black hair out of her eyes and smiled Ardent's mother's smile again. Her smile.

Ardent's eyes went to the crescent shaped scar on the back of the woman's wrist, reflexively touching the same spot on her own wrist. She'd gotten it after falling out of a tree and badly breaking her arm. "Hurts still sometimes, doesn't it?" the woman asked, her hand going to the same spot. "Funny the tricks that the mind plays on the body."

"H-how...?" Ardent managed to stammer.

"How did I know you were here? How is this possible? And, maybe your biggest question, why have I let you live in the attic for close to three months without saying anything when I surely must have remembered how torturous it was?" Ardent nodded and closed her mouth, ready to listen.

The woman sighed. "Well," she said, "the last question effectively answers the first doesn't it? I knew you were here because I remember being here myself twenty..." she thought for a moment, "...twenty five or so years ago. I'm honestly still not entirely sure how it's possible and that's part of the reason I let you hide in your personal little hell for three months."

"The other reason is that I'm afraid we'll need the skills you developed here. The ability to move silently, the feel of wood under your feet and how to tell when it's going to creak. We'll need to know how to hide, how to steal, how to feel if the adjacent room is empty. Most of all we'll need to know how to survive without anyone or anything around." The woman, the older Ardent, shook her head.

"Our life hasn't been - won't be - easy. You'll have to deal with the Snatchers when you get where you'll go next, then there'll be your little run in with Principal Kelledorn. Let me tell you now, this is a time when the 'principal' is not your 'pal.'" Ardent's vision blurred and she heard a ringing in her ears as the woman talked and talked, apparently dying to get twenty five years of baggage off her chest...

"...fight," the woman concluded. "You'll have to fight I'm afraid, you won't want to, but you'll have to. I - " Suddenly the stream of words stopped and she looked down at Ardent's glazed look with surprise and amusement. "Good God," she said, "I remember feeling like that. You haven't taken in a word I've said have you? No, of course not, I remember."

She gazed over Ardent's head now as if looking into the past. "The damn woman wouldn't shut up. She kept going on and on and when I finally began to believe I could time travel, I swore to myself that I wouldn't make the same mistake." Her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Yet, here I am, prattling at you just as she - I - did before, ah Ardent. Time is such a strange thing - especially for us."

Again she looked up, seeming to think for a moment before continuing even more seriously. "We don't have much time left, but I need to say two more things before you go: first, don't trust the gap-toothed man, you'll know him when you see him, and second," the woman smiled. "When you feel like giving up, when they have you trapped, outsmarted and outgunned, remember this: our story has a happy ending. Everything will work out. Goodbye now child, enjoy our life."

Ardent was about to ask what she meant. Was this woman - her older self - going to leave her to her attic now? Then she felt sick. The room, which had merely blurred before, began to spin in earnest. The ringing in her ears turned to a roar and then the room went black...

...When Ardent opened her eyes she saw a bright light and a white ceiling. She looked down. She was lying in a hospital bed, tucked under too warm covers, in a gown, with an IV sticking out of her arm.

"How are you feeling?" a pleasant male voice asked.

Ardent looked left and saw a gap toothed nurse leaning over her with a needle. He followed her gaze to the syringe in his hand and smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry about this," he said. "It's just to help with the pain." 

What pain? Ardent felt fine, except for the IV in her arm. There was a bang out in the hallway as a janitor and doctor collided and the gap toothed man glanced automatically toward the door. Ardent carefully but quickly removed the IV and rolled out of bed.

She hit the floor on all fours, cat-like, and scrambled under the bed. 

"What the - ?" the nurse exclaimed as he turned back to find her bed empty. He started around the foot of the bed to see if she was hiding behind it. Ardent began to crawl silently toward the door. By the time the nurse stooped to look under the bed she was nearly there.

 "Hey! Stop!" 

Ardent ran and didn't look back. 

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