As you all know, I’ve (Aimee) been pushing people to read Stolen Songbird ever since I finished the glorious book. It was fantastic in terms of the magical world-building, angst-y but lovable characters and huge bags of feels. (No kidding–that cliffhanger broke my heart! I’m sure you guys are curious about that, so READ THE BOOK. *chucks book at your face*) So please give a warm round of applause for Danielle Jensen, who’s generously giving her time to celebrate our blogoversary with us! *clap clap clap*
Why trolls? Can you advocate them for us?
I didn’t begin writing Stolen Songbird with the intention of writing about trolls. They sort of created themselves as the story grew in my mind, and the backstory of who they are and where they came from developed as I wrote. I know many readers picked up on the many, many clues I left as to what the trolls really are, but don’t get too comfortable thinking that you have them all figured out J
What’s your favorite thing about being an author?
Probably when fans who have really connected with my novels talk about the characters like they are real people.
If you had to choose, what do you think your favorite genre would be?
Easy choice! Fantasy, especially alternate world epic fantasy.
This is going to be a tough question, what’s the book that affected/inspired you the most?
Dragonsbane by Barbara Hambly. The characters in that book are so real… If I can instill half that much life into my books, I will feel as though I’ve done my duty.
Can you tell us what you have planned for Cécile and Tristan in Hidden Huntress? Just a little snippet? PRETTY PLEASE?
Hidden Huntress is still in the final stages of editorial, so this is all subject to little changes, but here is the snippet I provided before on Goodreads PLUS a bit more!
My voice faded into silence, though the memory of it seemed to haunt the theatre as I slumped gracefully, trusting that Julian would catch me, however much he might not want to. The stage was smooth and cool against my cheek, a blessed relief against the heat of hundreds of bodies packed into one place. I tried to breathe shallowly, ignoring the stench of too much perfume and far too few baths as I feigned death. Julian’s voice replaced mine, and his lament echoed across my ears and through the theatre, but I only half-listened, my attention drifting away to fix on the all too real sorrow of another. One far out of reach.
The audience erupted into cheers. “Bravo!” someone shouted, and I almost smiled when a falling flower brushed against my cheek. The curtain hit the stage floor, and I reluctantly opened my eyes, the red velvet of the curtains pulling me back into an unwelcome reality.
“You seem distracted tonight,” Julian said, hauling me unceremoniously to my feet. “And about as emotive as my left boot. She won’t be best pleased, you know.”
“I know,” I muttered, smoothing my costume into place. “I had a late night.”
“Shocking.” Julian rolled his eyes. “It’s tiring work ingratiating yourself with every rich man in the city.” He took my hand again, nodded at the crew, and we both plastered smiles on our faces as the curtain rose again. “Cécile! Cécile!” the audience shouted. Waving blindly, I blew a kiss to the sea of uniform faces before dropping into a deep curtsey. We stepped back to let the rest of the cast take their bows before coming forward again. Julian dropped to one knee and kissed my gloved fingers to the roaring approval of the crowd, and then the curtain dropped for the final time.
The moment the fabric hit the stage floor, Julian jerked his hand away from mine and rose to his feet. “Funny how even at your worst, they still scream your name,” he said, his handsome face dark with anger. “They treat me as though I am one of your stage props.”
“You know that isn’t true,” I said. “You’ve legions of admirers. All the men are jealous, and all the women wish it was them in your arms.”
“Spare me your platitudes.”
I shrugged and turned my back on him, walking off stage. It was two months to the day since I had arrived in Trianon and nearly three since my dramatic exit from Trollus, and despite arriving with a plan I had thought was good, I was still no closer to finding Anushka. Julian’s jealous theatrics were the least of my concerns.
Backstage was its usual state of organized chaos – only now that the performance was over, the wine was pouring more liberally. Half-dressed chorus girls preened at Julian, their overlapping words barely intelligible as they rained praise upon his performance. I was glad for it – he didn’t get the credit he deserved. Me they ignored, which was fine, because all I wanted was to be alone. Eyes on my dressing room, I wove through the performers until the sound of my name stopped me in my tracks.
Slowly, I turned on my heel and watched everyone scatter as my mother strode through the room. She kissed me hard on both cheeks and then pulled me into a tight embrace, her strong fingers digging painfully into the long livid scar where Gran had cut me open to set my ribs. “That was positively dreadful,” she hissed into my ear, breath hot. “Be thankful for small mercies that there was no one of taste in the audience tonight.”
“Of course not,” I whispered back. “Because if there had been, you would have been the one on stage.”
“Something you would be grateful for if you weren’t so ignorant.” She pushed away from me. “Wasn’t she brilliant tonight!” she announced to the room. “A natural talent. The world has never known such a voice.”
Everyone murmured in agreement, a few going so far as to clap their hands. My mother beamed at them. She might criticize me until she was blue in the face, but she wouldn’t tolerate anyone else saying a thing against me.
(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Can we have the next book now?)
Time for a round of THIS OR THAT
Vanilla or chocolate?
Netflix or Hulu?
Music or no Music?
Coffee or tea?
Impossible choice. Coffee in the morning, tea at night.
YA or Adult?
Ehhhhh, that’s hard. I’m going to have to say adult, but only because most of my favourite epic fantasy series are adult. I feel like such a traitor… Can I take my answer back?
Danielle was born and raised in Calgary, Canada. At the insistence of the left side of her brain, she graduated in 2003 from the University of Calgary with a bachelor’s degree in finance. But the right side of her brain has ever been mutinous; and in 2010, it sent her back to school to complete an entirely impractical English literature degree at Mount Royal University and to pursue publication. Much to her satisfaction, the right side shows no sign of relinquishing its domination.
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