Hi peeps, we have Fai Marie Dawson stopping by on the first day of the tour for her debut novel Please Understand, we have a short interview with Fai, she lets us have a peek at one of her works in progress, we have a great excerpt from Please Understand and there’s a great giveaway, so enjoy the post and click that Rafflecopter link <3 ~Pixie~

Please Understand

Fai Marie Dawson

To keep his mother off his back, Fox struggles to live life as a straight man. Following his failed marriage, he thinks he’s found a piece of heaven when he meets Audrey, a sexy dark-haired beauty. When he’s introduced to her twin brother, his life turns upside down. Mrs. Jones, a regular shopper at Fox’s quaint neighborhood bookstore, steps in to referee the fall-out. Can Fox maintain relationships with both Audrey and her brother? Can a late night train chase bring Fox closer to the one he loves? How far will Fox’s mother go to keep her son tight in her clutches?

Interview

Today I’m very lucky to be interviewing Fai Marie Dawson, author of Please Understand. Hi Fai, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Tell us a little about yourself, your background, and your current book.

What genre is your book and what drew you to this genre?

Please Understand is LGBT Romance. It is the perfect genre to describe the issues that face the LGBT community. For some straight readers, it may be the only way to experience the joy, conflict and rejection one feels when loving someone of the same sex.

How many days a week do you write?

I try to stay focused on my project six days a week. That involves many things. Four days I aim for 3,000 words on the manuscript—just rough draft copy. I focus on words, not hours. But on those days I average about four hours. One day I brainstorm ideas, get back in touch with characters that haven’t shown up on the page the previous week. The next day I work on edits or revisions. Finally, I take one day away from my characters, but they don’t always respect that, and plague me with ideas all day…

On average, how long does it take to write a book?

My first manuscript, LeMarais, took me three years to reach the end, and I’m still working on the rewrite. Since then, I’ve changed my work flow and it has increased my productivity. It takes me about nine months to plan and write the rough draft, three to six months to edit twice, send out to beta readers, rewrite and edit twice again. I started writing Please Understand in February 2014. I finished the initial editing process in September 2014. MLR picked it up in November, and we went into several edits. It was released the end of July 2015. About eighteen months in all. The actual creative writing of it only took six intense months. Edits and revisions can be grueling!

Do you have a trailer for your book? If yes, give us the link. If not, do you think you’d like to have one done at some point?

No, I don’t have a trailer. But it would be interesting to look into that process in the future.

If I could be a character in a book, I would be _______?

If I could be a character in a book, I would love to be Amelia in Elizabeth Peters’ Amelia Peabody mystery series. She can solve everything, has a great career and a strong relationship. Great character!

This is from my work in progress, Seeking the Code of Being

Chapter 1: Martin

I hadn’t noticed it before, but the crack outside is growing larger. In the sidewalk, the third square down. People talk on their phones as they walk down the street, none of them see it. But I do. I’ve snuck out at night and I see the glow from between the slabs of concrete. The irises are blue, the pupils elongated, like cats’ eyes. When I shine my flashlight inside, they glow and I hear them scurry away from my light.

If I tell you where I live, you won’t believe my story. I know they lock me in at night to keep me from telling what I think I know. I don’t even have to check the door to know. Just remember: just because your diagnosis reads crazy doesn’t mean that what you see isn’t real.

Let me introduce myself. It’s Monday, so my name is Marc. I live on the third floor of a halfway house about five miles away from my shrink. She visits once a week on Wednesdays, when my name is William.

***

Today a big black Mercedes is parked out front. I know they’ve come to question me. It’s just a matter of time until someone knocks on my door. He will be dressed in black. I will see my reflection in his dark glasses and I will cease to exist for I know too much.

They began putting sedation in my tap water two days ago, I saw them tapping the waterline in the hall. I can no longer drink if I want to stay alert. They will come for me any day now, and I must be ready.

The drains are breathing again, and at night I can hear whispers from deep within the pipes. What sort of mouths form those words within the muck of the pipes? I can make out a few words, but cannot fathom what the words mean when I string them together.

“French-dipped parasites…

rolling in the clover…

many times nothing is still round…”

I am thankful for the daylight when I can come and go as I please. The days I am locked in my room are bad. They choose the longest days to do this.

Today I had a session with Dr. Martine. She asked me to explain to her how this all began. She taped it with her blue recorder, not the black one.

c. 2015, Fai Marie Dawson

Excerpt

from Please Understand

It was shortly after lunch on Friday that Mrs. Jones came in. Although she had shown such tenderness to Audrey, I was still in fear and awe of this woman. To me she was curt and demanding. I still dreaded Fridays on account of her. Today she barged through the door: middle aged, shaped like a tank, with a formidable purse that I suspected she could brandish as a weapon if she so chose. I shamefully admit that I hid, shaking, in the back room. I remained hidden behind the door as I watched through the space under the hinge.

She marched straight over to Tommie, who was innocently concentrating in his chair, bent over his laptop. He didn’t stand a chance.

“You, there!”

Tommie looked up and scanned the shop. Not finding me, he sacrificed himself for the greater cause.

“Yes?”

 “Tommie?”

He said something I couldn’t hear then he looked around the shop again, I supposed in a vain hope that I might come rescue him. I saw him take a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable. Poor man didn’t have a clue what he was up against. I knew I should come out of hiding, but so help me, I didn’t have the strength. I had been dealing with her on my own every Friday for over a year, and my morbid curiosity wanted to see what she could do to someone else.

“What can I help you with, Ms. ––?

“Mrs. Jones.” She said it decisively and firmly. No question about it, she was Mrs. Jones. Like no other, she stood like a rock.

He nodded and snapped his laptop shut. “What can I help you with, Mrs. Jones?” When he stood, her eyes scanned down his body like a CT scan, slowly taking in and savoring every inch carefully.

He carried his laptop and set it on the shelf under the front counter. Mrs. Jones took in the view from behind, her head tilted thoughtfully.

I remained silent. This was getting interesting. I was seeing a side of Mrs. Jones I hadn’t known existed. I was anxious to see if Tommie could handle her.

“Well,” she said a bit breathlessly. “Tommie, your jeans are a bit tight.” He turned slowly, but her eyes settled on his mid­section, centering on the zipper of his jeans.

“My eyes are up here, Mrs. Jones.”

“Totally inappropriate!” But her eyes still wandered appreciatively over Tommie’s landscape.

“Very well, Mrs. Jones,” I saw him smile pleasantly then ask, “But may I help you find something?”

I didn’t hear what she said, but to my dismay, he led her to the closet where my adult books were stashed. I almost came out to prevent the disaster that I anticipated, but instead of indignation, within moments they returned to the front desk, and I watched as he rang up her purchases. She had chosen several books.

“I hope you enjoy these, Mrs. Jones.”

“You’ve been most helpful, Tommie, not like that naughty Fox that you work for.”

She waved goodbye happily and blew him a kiss as she went out the door, her purchases held tightly to her ample chest.

“Coward!” I assumed he was talking to me, although he didn’t look up.

About Fai

Fai Dawson lives in a small town thirty miles northeast of Seattle Washington in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains with her beloved wife, Becky. Together, they work on restoring their 110-year-old Victorian home. She spends her days writing, blogging and walking Moxie, their Newfie-Chow through the rainy streets of town. Pepe, a brave and proud tuxedo cat is her muse, ever mindful of providing inspiration for her next project. Although she has filled countless journals in her life, she began writing seriously in 2009 as a way to deal with anxiety. She is currently working on her next manuscript.

Where to find Fai Dawson:

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