Welcome Author Carmilla Voiez

Milla V is the more gentle alter ego of Carmilla Voiez. Milla's YA and NA novels have more universal appeal than her somewhat extreme form of horror writing. The Ballerina and the Revolutionary, to be released on April 1st, is her first full length novel that can be regarded as Magic-Realism rather than horror.

Carmilla Voiez, a British horror writer, resides in Scotland and writes from her home in Banff, where she lives with her daughters and cats. Carmilla sold her Gothic Clothing business in 2012 and has been writing and releasing top selling books and short stories since then. A Goth for over 20 years, her books are inspired by the Gothic subculture, magic and dark desires, exploring sexual obsession and violence in often hard-hitting ways.

The first book, Starblood, which has been nominated for the Commonwealth Book Prize, is set partly in the beautiful Cairngorm mountains and partly in the city where she grew up, in South West England, she finds inspiration in local beauty, stately homes, the Moray Firth and woodlands around the Scottish town where she has lived the past 10 years.
Carmilla Voiez won the title Horror Author of the Year 2013 from HFA and FearVenture Author of the Year 2014. 

 

Interview

 

 

Me:What inspired you to write this book?

Carmilla: I had been reading a book about freestyle shamanism by Jan Freis and it made me wonder about how much one might achieve by travelling into the mindscape in the way that happens in The Ballerina and the Revolutionary. I was also living with someone suffering from schizophrenia at the time and writing Vivienne's character helped me deal with what was happening in my own life.

 

Me:Were any characters based off of real people and if so- which character?

Carmilla: None of the characters were based on real people, however they all have aspects of myself and the people around me to give each of them a spark of life.

 

Me:Was there any part of the book you had a hard time writing?

Carmilla: It took me from 2008 to finish this book. I suspect that answers your question.

 

Me:What one song would sum up this book?

Carmilla: Tainted Love

"Sometimes I feel I've got to Run away I've got to Get away From the pain you drive into the heart of me The love we share Seems to go nowhere And I've lost my light For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night
(chorus) Once I ran to you (I ran) Now I'll run from you The tainted love you've given I give you all a girl can give you Take my tears and that's not nearly all Oh...tainted love Tainted love
Now I know I've got to Run away I've got to Get away You don't really want any more from me To make things right You need someone to hold you tight And you think love is to pray Well I'm sorry I don't pray that way"

 

Me: How to you deal with writers block?

Carmilla:Writers block definitely caused me to move onto other projects like the Starblood Trilogy before returning to finish this one. Usually I will take a shower or go for a run or a walk to stimulate my creative juices. If that doesn't work I'll usually switch to research for a while, but if I still find myself blocked I'll switch to a different story until I'm ready to tackle this narrative again.

 

Buy Links-http://smarturl.it/Ballerina

http://smarturl.it/CarmillaOn Amazon

Facebook page for Milla V - https://www.facebook.com/pages/Milla-V/151766008361857?ref=hl

Blog for Milla V and Carmilla Voiez – http://carmillavoiez.wordpress.com

 

Readings can be heard on Room 13 Radio Podcast - https://soundcloud.com/carmillavoiez/carmilla-voiezs-room-13-radio

 

Blurb - Vivienne realises she is dying. All she wants to do is see her daughter Giselle one last time and apologise. But Giselle no longer exists and it is Crow, a gender-queer anarchist, who returns to a family home that is plagued by ghosts and violent memories. Crow unravels terrifying secrets, hoping to find closure at last. But can anyone survive the shadows that lurk behind the fairy tales?

 

 

Excerpt

 

My body was like flotsam, tossed about in the crowd. My throat, dry from shouting, felt full of razorblades. Where was everyone? The bodies, bouncing beside me, crashing against me, were strangers. All my friends scattered in the first surge, not long after the rioting started and the police descended. Above our heads, damp with sweat and water spray, towered a dozen mounted police. Glossy, chestnut mares gazed haughtily down at the crowd as their riders tapped batons against body armour, menacingly. The bodies of fellow anarchists and others pressed in around me. The tide was turning. We were moving back, retreating, scurrying away like frightened rats. A sweaty chest crushed my face. As the man moved so my jaw and nose moved too, pinned between it and an arm behind me. I gasped for breath.

It was always the same. Two steps forward, one step back. Our comrades had been occupying the closed school for months, providing free education to adults and children alike in this deprived area of London, but the landlords wanted them out. Answering their call for help, we stood with them. Dressed in black and red, we created a buffer between those grass-roots heroes and our moneyed oppressors with nothing other than property values, profit and fast turnarounds on their minds. Our standoff displeased the Metropolitan police, and here they were again, determined to move us on. Comply or die – that should have been their motto.

Amidst the chaos, I heard a shout and recognised the voice. Jumping, I accidentally bludgeoned a man’s ear with my elbow as I rose. He yelped in pain and shock then acknowledged my existence, at last.

‘I need to see,’ I told him.

He supported my weight, lifting me proud of the crowd. Outside the tightening ring of protestors was Chrissie. She was being tackled by three policemen and wrestled to the ground.

The man withdrew his support and I slid between bodies and dropped to my knees. Beyond the forest of legs, Chrissie’s face was being pushed against concrete, a heavy boot pressed between her shoulders. Our eyes met. Wrapping my fingers around a rock from the ground, I rose to my feet, leaned forwards and pushed my way towards the front of the crowd, weaving between hot bodies. The smell of anger and fear tainted the air. Sweat and tears dripped like rain.

At last, my body fell clear of the crush of protestors. Chrissie craned her neck and stared back at me. My shout of rage was cut short as a riot shield slammed against my cheek and I crumpled on the ground beside her.

In the flashing lights of my dazed vision, her face faded. I reached out and grasped her wrist. A smile lit up her face and she mouthed one word, ‘Crow,’ before all light extinguished and I passed out.

 

Promo video - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-CJ_MXjDjeg&feature=share