How many books have you written? Which is your favourite?
In which genre do you prefer to write and why?
I guess I don’t really have a preference. As you can see, I’ve written in a lot of different genres, the women’s fiction/romances as Alana Lorens and the fantasy/sci-fi/supernatural stories as Lyndi Alexander.
When you are not writing, what are your hobbies, passions, etc?
When I have extra time, which isn’t often, I also like to quilt and make doll clothes for the many grandchildren, and we try to put in a garden and can fresh vegetables each summer to stay as healthy as possible.
If you could time travel back, or forward, for one day, where would it be and why?
My mother and I were estranged for a long time, and she became ill with a mystery disease, that was finally diagnosed as hepatitis C, back in the early days of that disease’s discovery. She made up with all of her daughters before she passed away, and when I went out to visit her, she asked me to take care of her final arrangements, disposing of her furnishings and so on.
When she went into the hospital for the final time, her friends called me and asked me to come to Arizona to close up her apartment, as she would not be able to return home, because she was very ill. I dropped everything and went out, handling the distribution part without a lot of emotion, just getting through it. I went to the hospital with her friends to pick up some final papers, but I couldn’t bring myself to go in and see my mother, because I knew she’d know I was closing up her place and that meant she wasn’t going to make it.
I’ve regretted that missed opportunity to say goodbye so many times over the years. If I could do that over, it would really put my conscience to rest.
(As a postscript, I received a call from the hospital just as we finished cleaning the apartment that my mother had passed. It was almost as if she knew she could let go because her affairs were handled. So I believe she forgave me. But I’d rather it had been different.)
EXCERPT from LOVE ME, KISS ME, KILL ME:
Of all the corpses I’d seen in six years as a news reporter, Lily Kimball’s hit me the hardest. Found in a drainage ditch along Route 24, two inches deep in snow, she wore only a shabby pair of Banana Republic jeans and a red jersey shirt, a dried clot of blood on her forehead where she’d taken a header into a discarded bottle.