So why am I not myself?
Well, a year ago, I woke up and heard voices. Yeah. And I saw monsters. Conspiracies. Kingdoms falling. And the Lord was speaking...to Ela. Not me. Ela--a bewildered girl-turned-prophet, who was about to die.
Not my problem, right?
Sure. When two cups of coffee and a full day's work on my Victorian saga failed to chase Ela from my thoughts, I knew I was in trouble. I'd been dragged, mentally kicking and screaming, into a new genre: Biblical fantasy fiction. What's a sidetracked author to do? EAT!
Fortified with chocolate and potato chips, I emailed Tamela, my dear, patient agent, and explained to her that I was being driven crazy by this unexpected plotline, which was worlds away from our agreed-upon gentle Victorian saga. Tamela, being dear-Tamela, agreed to humor me and represent Ela's story.
Within a week, I wrote three chapters and a synopsis. Within four months Tamela received an offer from Bethany House Publishers. The catch? I needed a pen name to suit my new genre.
A nom de plume. And who better than R. J. Larson? Never mind that I haven't met the person until recently and haven't any idea how to share a website with such a cryptic being. Does it sound as if R. J. and I are uneasy with our new partnership? Well...we are.
Victorian novels are not R. J.'s idea of fun. *sob!*
R. J. is fond of epic Biblical twists, dazzling weapons, and mythical beasts--forget the tea and etiquette. It's enough to make me cry in my Darjeeling.
Fortunately, R. J. likes coffee and potato chips with dark chocolate, and we've agreed to a truce over mochas. For Ela's sake.
There. See? Perfectly reasonable explanation for my "other I" confusion. It's Ela's fault!
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