Friday, November 15, 2013

Fire Writer Friday - Jane Lark

Cowboy Marvin loves listening to the Written Fireside stories and is having great fun learning a little more about the Fire Writers  

Graciously, those who have authored a part of the round robin story have agreed to stop by, one each Friday, and visit with my curious goat. 

Stopping by this Friday is

Jane Lark       

Howdy Ms. Lark, happy to meet you.

Tell me, are you a night owl or early bird? 

Night owl now 

(early bird and night owl when I was younger) 

It's good you're over the early bird gig.  I don't understand why anyone would want worms.  If I have worms my humans force nasty medicine on me.

Who would you be, Batman or Robin?

Batman all the way

A female Batman, that looks intense.

Would you take a taxi or a limo if they were the same price?

:/ Honestly don't much care for fuss, but hey, no, let's go for it... Limo

Since you said go for it, I thought this car looked nice.  Chickens keep the bugs down.  Love them.  

Do you like music?  What was the last song you listened to?  

Avicii, Wake me up, is my latest Favourite, and the one I'd pick as a get in the mood song for the New Adult Romance I have coming out on 5th December.

Ah yes, cool song but the girl in the video would have been better off with a goat.  


What about your taste in movies, do you like scary, comedy, romance or adventure?

Romance - of course - I write it, I have to love it.

I agree, there is nothing like a good romance, especially with tasty flowers.

Tell me what season do you like best, Spring, Summer, Winter or Fall? 

All of the above. I love each season for it's individuality, but I guess maybe spring the most.

Spring is lovely in Oregon, my fields are covered in greens.  Lots of nom, nom, nom.

Would you tell me a place you've never been to but would love to visit? 

There are many, But the one that seems the most hard to reach, New Zealand, the whole place :-)

Pretty green fields to explore but my impression is 
too many sheep not enough goats.

Would you swim in the ocean or a pool? 

Oh Ocean always.

Some of my relatives swim in the Ocean but ever since Ms. Hulsman pointed out the scary sharp toothed creatures that live in there I haven't ventured one hoof in salt water.

So how would you go camping - sleeping bag under the stars, tent, trailer, fancy RV, or a hotel with room service?

Mmm, diva alert, hotel with room service. Under the stars sounds so nice, but reality, hard ground... Mmm #needmysleepandhomecomforts

Stars are beautiful indeed, but I understand the appeal of fresh, thick straw to bed on and humans that deliver apples.

One last question.  A goat walks through your door right now wearing a cowboy hat.  What does he say and why is he there?

"Get off your couch and get me milk." 

So obviously he's here for milk. I don't know why the hell he has a cowboy hat on ;)

 Why the hat?  Because it's sexy and he knows it.

Jane, a fellow Harper Impulse author
and was a Fire Writer for 

Check out her First Fight Friday interview.

Jane's latest book, I Found You, is available for pre-order now on Amazon USA Amazon UK and soon will be available on Kobo and Nook.



The beat of the music pounded through my earphones, drowning out the loud rattle of the subway trains. I was in the zone. My heart was racing, my feet striking the pavement with the rhythm of the baseline, as I ran.

The monotony of city life swamped me in the day, but running brought me back from it at night.

God, I missed home, and fuck it was cold.

Too cold to snow. I heard the words Dad always repeated. I’d always thought it a myth. Was it ever too cold to snow? I didn’t know, but people had been saying it all day.

The pavement was dry, not icy. Dry with cold. There was no moisture in the air, only the cloud of my breath, as my lungs filled and then exhaled with the pace of my strides.

Maybe it was true. God, there were so many myths in the world. Like, New York was the place to be. It still felt like new shoes to me, like it just didn’t fit.

The tarmac felt firm beneath my sneakers.

I looked forward, trying to increase my pace and energy, burning away the doubts and disappointments I’d felt since I came to the city.

At the end of the bridge there was a figure, caught in the middle of a beam of orange lamplight, like some illuminated angel. I generally only saw other guys jogging on the bridge path. It was rare to see anyone else.

It was Thanksgiving in little over a week and Christmas in a few weeks. Lindy was pissed I wasn’t going back home, but she’d made up her mind to come to me for Christmas.

Was that good or bad?

The figure was facing the Brooklyn Bridge, probably looking at the reflection of the lights glinting and shifting on the dark water. It was mesmerizing when you focused on it.

The Manhattan Bridge was never busy, probably because of the noise of the trains. The environment didn’t inspire pleasure, so it wasn’t a place for tourists. But it was a good path for running, long and straight, and normally empty.

I ran harder, my eyes focusing on the figure.

The person hadn’t moved. They held their hands up, gripping the metal grill above them.

The pose seemed odd. A little desperate. It wasn’t casual.

My imagination shifted, no longer picturing angels but a horror movie. The way the lamplight shone down on the figure, could be like they were in the sights of a hovering helicopter, or a beam from a UFO.

I thought of Christmas again, and ached for home. But I wasn’t going home. I had to conquer New York.

The light shining down on the stranger, suddenly took the form of a Godly benediction once more. The person’s arms shifted, stretching out, similar to a crucifixion pose, hands wide and high, as they looked upward.

I was getting nearer.

My fingers were numb with the cold, even inside my gloves, and my ears burned as jack-frost nipped beneath my hood. Running should’ve kept me warm, but it was twenty-one degrees Fahrenheit, way below freezing point.

Fuck, now I could see the person ahead was standing in a t-shirt. Their out-stretched arms were bare.

“Hey!” My heart rate thundered as I ran on, wondering what sort of city-nutter I was running toward. What were they doing wearing a tee in this weather? It didn’t look like a homeless dude, but…

My breaths grew more uneven.

The guy ahead hadn’t heard me.

I pulled my earphones out. “Hey!”

Still no recognition. It was like they were in some sort of trance.

My feet pounded on the concrete.

It wasn’t a guy, it was a girl. I’d seen the long hair way back, but hadn’t been sure. Plenty of guys had long hair. Now, I could see.

I knocked my hood back. I didn’t want to scare her. “Hey!”

Jane Lark is a writer of authentic, passionate and emotional Historical and New Adult Romances. She began her first novel at sixteen, but a life full of difficulty derailed her as she lives with the restrictions of Ankylosing Spondylitis.

When she finally completed a novel it was because she was determined to be able to say I’m a writer.

Now Jane is thrilled to be giving her characters life in others’ imaginations at last.

Jane is also a Chartered Member of the Institute of Personnel and Development, and uses her knowledge of psychology to bring her characters to life.

‘Basically I’m a sucker for a love story. I love the feeling of falling in love and it’s wonderful to be able to do it time and time again in fiction, plus my understanding of people helps me write the really intense relationships I enjoy creating.’

Follow Jane Lark online


Thanks for stopping by Jane!

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...