I thought I'd post my interview now, in the wee hours, then get some sleep, tackle the mayhem of my day, and then come back and treat myself with everyone else's entries.
Before I go on, I want to thank everyone who's signed up and been so enthusiastic about this blogfest. You're all wonderful, and I hope you enjoyed doing this as much as I have!
And so, on with the show...
The other day, with the blogfest very firmly in mind, I invited one of my characters, Sir Matthew Mercer, to tea. He turned me down somewhat impolitely, which made for an inauspicious start. I asked him why, and he said he didn't 'feel like it'. Thanks, Matthew. Eventually, I think his curiosity got the better of him, because he turned up at my door at the precise hour, decked out in his usual vest of light chain mail over shirt and trousers.
To those who aren't in the know, Sir Matthew is a Weaver. He makes echoes. He wears his chain mail because, he claims, 'knife crime is a tragic thing'. I suspect the real reason is because he's afraid of being exterminated by a hunter. But I can't be sure of this. With Matthew, as my protagonist Echo will tell you, you can't be sure of anything.
SANGU(S): So, ahem, Matthew. Thank you for coming, even if you did refuse my invitation, show up unannounced, and surprise me in my pyjamas.
MATTHEW(M): They're not even very nice pyjamas, are they?
S: *blushes* Well... you're not here to talk about pyjamas, so let's -
M: Why not?
S: Excuse me?
M: Why can't we talk about pyjamas? I happen to own the most glorious pair. Silver. I gleam like a suit of armour, it's delightful.
S: A nugget of knowledge I'm most happy to add to my notes, but I'd rather talk about more important things.
M: I can't imagine there are more important things than pyjamas.
S [exasperated]: Well, I can, so please shut up about the bloody pyjamas and let me ask you a decent question. I have blog readers, you know! They expect exciting things! They don't want to hear about your stupid silver pyjamas! In fact, I'm banning the word pyjamas. Anyone who says it gets killed in the next book.
M [with a voice like a tiger on the prowl]: Just how do you envision finishing this saga of a tale without me, my dear? Where do you hope to find another Weaver as handsome, ambiguous and interesting as I? I hope you don't mean to use Elsa or Adrian. They'd be awful at playing the ambiguous, handsome and mysterious figure.
S: Handsome and mysterious? Don't make me laugh, Matthew!
M: Sir Matthew.
S: I gave you your stupid title, I can take it away too!
M: Oh, tut, do resist the urge to exercise your authorial powers. It would make for a very poor story if you were in charge of everything.
[SANGU takes a deep breath and counts to ten]
M: Have you got any biscuits?
S: In the cupboard.
M: They're not the right kind.
S: Well, you can **** right off then.
M: Egad! My ears have been positively scorched. Come, come, let's not go into a sulk. Ask me anything you like. I shall answer them. I won't promise to answer them well, but I'll offer a response. Or two.
S: One's more than enough, thanks. Could you stop spilling crumbs all over the carpet? I thought you didn't like those biscuits. Anyway, on to the first question: what first put you on to the idea of Weaving?
M: It was Adrian who first put us on to it. You may have noticed that he has a slight desire to cheat death.
S: Ah, yes. A slight desire. Hmm. But echoes don't really cheat death...
M: But they were supposed to, my dear. Haven't you worked that out yet? They were supposed to cheat death. And I can't imagine why they won't, in a few years' time, once we've worked out the kinks in the system. Soon, we'll solve death.
S: You seem very sure.
M: I know everything.
S: Well, you don't, actually -
M: I think you'll find I do.
S [sighs]: So that was the idea all along, then? To fix these 'kinks', as you call them, so that echoes are more... complete. So that they're more than just echoes? You're giving me that look, so I'll take that as a yes. Is that what you really want?
M: I have whims. They change so often, as is the nature of whims. How can one ever be certain of what one wants?
M: Oh, do refrain from scowling. Why wouldn't I want to fix the kinks?
S: You'd rather have Amarra instead of Echo? You'd rather have the girl who died instead of the one you stitched into being?
M: Oh, look! A sparrow! Isn't it just darling?
As you can see, I suffer enormously.
Do scroll down the list in the sidebar to check out everyone else's entries! And once again, thanks for reading and for participating!