16 Things You Don’t Know About Trust Trade w/ Ki Brightly

February 6, 2017

 

16 Things You Didn't Know about Trust Trade with Ki Brightly

 

Hello readers! My name is Ki Brightly and I’m here on the Dreamspinner Press blog today to talk about my newest release, Trust Trade. It’s a crime/thriller/romance, dark and twisted, but the type of read that sucks you in once you get started. Jeb and Freddy are both dealing with their own struggles and lives, and their paths just happen to cross. The story is heavy, but I do my best to end it on a ray of hope. Instead of going into all that the book is and isn’t, the blurb does a pretty nice job with that, I thought I might give everyone some interesting tidbits about Trust Trade and the writing process surrounding it. Since I love making lists, one might even call it an obsession, please enjoy these random, numbered, facts.

1. The house Jeb grew up in was modeled after the house I lived in as a teenager.

When I was small my father and I lived with his parents, but when I turned 13 we moved into an old farm house he was rehabbing. As those projects tend to go, the house was never finished. By the time I left for college it was nowhere near done. There was no insulation, and I mean absolutely not a bit, in that house. During the winter, any part of the house that wasn’t near the gas heaters was cold enough that your breath would cloud. I would shower and then dash to dress in front of the gas heater in the dining room cursing a blue streak every morning. The house was ramshackle and old, but I did love it. It belonged to my great grandmother. There were nooks and crannies to explore: servant’s quarters with stairs off the kitchen, odd ghost sounds at night, even hidden rooms. One thing I especially loved during the spring was that French Lilacs bloomed right outside my bedroom window. To this day it’s the only smell I truly associate with the end of winter.

2. The college Jeb and Freddy attended was modelled quite closely on my alma mater.

I say it’s close because there has been 10 years of construction, growth, and rearranging that has gone on at my old school. When I took a tour recently, I was both shocked at what had changed and bemused by what hadn’t. I think the furniture in the library has probably been there since 1980, but I love that too. Oddly enough the kids looked younger than they did when I left. Strange how that happens.

3. The pines in Trust Trade are deliberately placed.

I wrote pine trees into the final scenes of Trust Trade because I grew up running the pine woods near our old farmhouse. It was like a magical land under these towering ancient trees. They smelled like Christmas year-round, and were always cool underneath when it was hot, sheltering if I got caught in the rain. I was extremely fond of those branches with their skirts spread wide. The dead needles could prick you, but the piles were also soft if you spread out your jacket to lay on them, sort of like hay. There were some summers I would have lived under the pines if they would have had a bookshelf.

4. I used to watch the water polo guys while I was running.

The reason I put water polo into Trust Trade is because when I was running at the gym in college, the treadmills were set up against these huge windows overlooking the pool area. I must have pleased some sort of exercise god because at least half the time while I was exercising with upbeat music blasting in my ears the water polo guys were practicing. And oh, wow. Let me tell you. Guys that swim miles and miles every day are amazing to look at. I would say things to myself like, “Run one more mile and you can ogle the hot guy in the red speedos for a few more minutes.” There were days I ran two and a half hours. No lie.

5. Sellers didn’t have a first name for most of the book.

I know that sounds ridiculous. I’m so inconsistent when I write books. Sometimes when I write a book I know every single character that will be in it and have a character bible. When I do that I literally know everything about a character, including what they have in their refrigerator. I pantsed Trust Trade. (For those of you not into the lingo, that means instead of planning I wrote it by the seat of my pants.) So, Archie was as much as surprise to me as it was to anyone reading the book. It just sort of slipped out onto the page and I was like…yeah, sure, why not. It’s one of those names you don’t hear much anymore and seemed to fit Sellers.

6. Sampson is a pocket/mini beagle because I want one unreasonably.

I have wanted a miniature beagle ever since I watched Star Trek: Enterprise. Archer’s dog Porthos was the most amazingly cute dog, plus he was named Porthos, which, to my geeky heart, was the best thing ever. I guess it doesn’t take much to amuse me, but that dog sealed beagle love into the core of my very being and one day I shall have one. I shall name him d’Artagnan. (Who am I kidding. The dog will probably end up named something refined like Skittles or Pumpkin, but I can dream.)

7. The reason Philadelphia isn’t featured more prominently in the Trust Trade is because I’ve only been there once.

And the trip was awful. My grandmother, all innocent like, asks me if I want to go for a drive one morning. Me, not realizing what I was in for, said sure. We were in the car for six hours. SIX. We didn’t stop. We didn’t eat food anywhere. I was a chubby kid. I was dying. It turned out she wanted to see the tall ships that were in Phillie for some festival (to this day I will never understand why we had to go there instead of driving two hours north to Erie which also has tall ship festivals). We were in Philadelphia for a grand total of an hour and a half then we drove home again so we could be back in time to make supper, because my grandmother was the kind of woman that would never allow the men in our family to go hungry. She grew up on a farm and was determinedly old fashioned that way, even if she was progressive in others. So we didn’t stop on the way home either.

Worst. Car trip. Ever.

8. People from Philadelphia talk so strangely their dialect is studied by people around the world.

Don’t believe me? Google it. Go ahead. Google Philadelphia and dialect.

I’ll wait.

The stuff you find will truly boggle you, especially if you aren’t from Pennsylvania and you’ve never had the joy of experiencing someone with a Philadelphia accent. People like to make fun of Yinzers (I will admit that I grew up saying yinz, just north of Pittsburgh), but Phillie has its own thing going on.

Since Wally is from Philadelphia I spent about 2 days reading up on the Philadelphia dialect, which while interesting, is sort of mind numbing after the twentieth article. I also tried to listen to some people online talking. I really wanted to get his speech patterns right, but, in the end, I’m not entirely sure I succeeded. I just wanted someone who was from Philadelphia to read that section and feel like that guy could have been someone from the block they grew up on.

Trust Trade by Ki Brightly

9. I never lived on campus when I was in college.

Most freshman at other colleges are required to live on campus, but I chose my school in an ass backwards way. My cousin was a Sophmore and needed a roommate for the apartment she wanted to get, so I applied to her school and got in. They had a very lenient commuter policy. Boom. Done. I totally missed that dorm experience, which, meh. Whatever. Living off campus was about 80% cheaper than living in a dorm. So, all of the “dorm life” I wrote was basically what I imagined the dorm experience would be like. I helped a guy sneak a case of beer into his dorm once (I was distraction…he had a SQUARE case of beer shoved into a duffle bag, so it’s probably a good thing I am so good at being awkward…I mean, the center of attention…), so I did see the inside of the dorms. I guess I did an okay job with that.

10. “No one named Freddy ever hurt anyone.”

So, there is this spot where, in internal dialogue, Freddy says something along the lines of “No one named Freddy ever hurt anyone.” Half the time when I am writing my brain is so stuck in character mode that I don’t really process what I’ve written until I’m editing it, and this was one of those times. I had a helpful editor note, “Except Freddy Kruger.” I laughed so hard while I was doing that edit that my Sugar Plum came to check on me and see if I was all right. Nightmare on Elm Street was one of those movies that scared me into staying awake for a day and a half straight. I mean, I was like eight the first time I watched it, so it was terrifying. I ended up leaving what Jeb said in the story because he’s of an age where he may realistically have never seen the movie (It released in 1984), and the way he was raised he wouldn’t have watched anything like that if he hasn’t seen it in the meantime. I still giggle every time I read that section of the book.

11. I promised myself I wouldn’t write messed up parental relationships in this book, then failed hard. Jeb’s and Max’s parents are maybe some of the worst I’ve ever written. Maybe even some of the worst I’ve ever read.

I write a lot of “bad parents” in my books, a lot of self-involved and selfish people. I don’t necessarily mean to, but having parents that aren’t that great isn’t an isolated occurrence. I have heard a lot of horror stories. I realized after I wrote this book that Jeb’s relationship with his mother closely resembled my own near lack of relationship with mine. I guess it is true that we try to subconsciously work out things we aren’t good with in our own lives in our fiction. I’m double dog super sure not going to write messed up parental relationships in my next book, simply because I’ve noticed it now.

My tendency to put crappy parents into my works in progress seems to increase the closer my writing occurs to the holidays. During Yultide it’s especially hard for me because there’s a very huge expectation of “family”. It’s been about four years now since I was more or less uninvited from my family. (I’m kind of adopted. It’s a long story worthy of Jerry Springer. The early years Springer, not the crap he’s been doing lately—the really messed up stuff.) This year I finally shook off the holiday malaise by making sure to create my own traditions and celebrating with the family I have taken the time to make myself—Sugar Plum, the kids, and the good friends I’ve made.

12. My friend Bobby Musolff died during the production of Trust Trade.

Honestly, this one only matters to the people who knew him, but I did. I nearly made this book in memorial to him, but for several reasons I chose to wait for a different book that I think would fit him better. His death hit me hard because even though he’d been sick for a while I got busy and didn’t visit him as often as I should have. You always feel like you have time, but sometimes you don’t. Bobby is one of the reasons I started writing in the first place. When I was in college, living in the basement of the house I shared with him and a few other people, I started writing longer fiction—more than 20 or 30 pages—for the first time. It had flaws and issues and the guy I was dating at the time literally laughed his ass off when he read my work. (He was a jerk anyway, but I took it to heart.) Bobby didn’t laugh. He said everyone starts somewhere, and he passed on the best advice I’ve ever heard to allow someone to continue writing: “Ki…” Pause to take a drag on his clove cigarette. Exhale. “Fuck everyone. Just write. I think you have potential.”

Well, okay then. That’s what I did.

And if it weren’t for him, I probably never would have published anything. He was already sick when Threefold Love was first published, but he was excited for me anyway. I felt bad telling him about something good in my life when he knew he didn’t have much time left in his, but he was radiant, called that bullshit, celebrated with me.

I’ll miss Bobby.

13. The living room suit from the safe house was in the house I shared with Bobby.

The house used to belong to Bobby’s grandmother and grandfather and the couch was this boxy greenish/gold monstrosity that almost had that kitchy, retro appeal, but stopped short of it. The gilded gold mirror on the wall was a dusty monstrosity. The entire house was just terrible. But some of the most entertaining moments of my life took place there, along with some of the most embarrassing. I won’t ever forget that old furniture. This house was so amazingly awful that occasionally the lights would flicker, and after a little searching we realized that it was because the electric intake on the outside of the house was loose. Geniuses that we were, we decided to put a boot on a broom (because the rubber sole should have kept the electricity from conducting…in theory…) and poked at the electrical box on the outside of the house. I have clear memories of being outside at three in the morning, wine tipsy, with the boot on the broom jabbing at the sparking electric box until the lights came up and the music inside started blaring again, Bobby trailing after me with a bottle of Merlot and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth bitching about the inferiority of people who don’t like reading James Joyce.

“But Bobby, I hate Joyce!” Poke. Poke. Poke. Lights fizzle. “Shit, one too many.” Poke. Poke. Lights back up.

“Yeah, but you’re a good soul. This one kid in class actually had the balls to say—”

Good times.

14. Connie wasn’t always Kare’s sister.

It wasn’t until the next to final draft of Trust Trade that everything came together and Connie became Kare’s sister. This was a classic example of me writing something in great detail that might have been cut otherwise, which later became important to the overall plot. Before Connie became Kare’s sister there were several plot points that were strings hanging in the wind. Sometimes it takes all the way to the bitter end for a story to come together.

15. Beck may or may not get his own story.

I’m still deciding whether or not it makes sense to allow Beck to get his own story. For a while when I was writing Trust Trade I was going to have him be jealous of Jeb, that seemed to reminiscent of Scott in The Paranaturalist (I try to stay away from writing two books in a row with a similar theme). So…that’s there. I didn’t write anything into Trust Trade that would indicate one way or the other which team Beck might play for. I thought maybe an enemies to lovers book with Chaz would be fun, but it would be hard work considering what a less than stellar person Chaz was in this book to make that fly. I’ve seen it done well though. Maybe in the future I’ll do it.

(What does everyone think? Yea? Nay? Beck? I admit I’m currently writing Kare and Jolliss…his first name is Gus by the way…oh, also, did anyone find the Easter egg for The Paranaturalist?)

16. Kare…so there’s a reason Kare has a Scandinavian name, even though it seems off the wall.

First of all, quite a few people of Scandinavian descent live in Erie. Erie is actually a city that has always been a big refugee resettlement area, so there are a lot of different types of people here. I love that about it.

But…there’s a story…

So, a fresh fish place opens up. It’s one of those seafood places that has fresh, never frozen seafood, which I had previously never experienced. My friend Chris (in the dedication of Trust Trade) and I go there one day and get a bunch of stuff including scallops. They are the most fantastical scallops I have ever put in my mouth. They melt in my mouth. They make me want to empty my bank account and live in a cardboard box to have them every day of my life. All the things we bought were to fucking die for.

Let me back this up. When you enter the seafood place you are greeted by the owner. A big, burly blond guy with his gray cable knit sweater rolled to his forearms and an unabashedly fabulous lilt to his voice. And when I say fabulous I don’t mean rhinestones and sequins. I mean diamonds. He has a rainbow flag in the window of his business. He’s not subtle, is what I’m getting at here. The man is gay. Extremely gay. And happy about it.

So, my friend Chris’s then fiancé? Husband? I don’t remember, they’re one of those couples who has been together since high school and will probably die together on the same day at the same second, ect., so anyway, he decides to stop there after work one day. His name is Tony. (Also in the dedication to Trust Trade.) He comes home with the seafood he stopped that day to buy since the stuff we had the other day was so delightful (I was living with them at the time.) and he looks at Chris and says, I swear to everything he says, “The guy who owns the place was super friendly! He was great! But…where’s he from?”

Chris and I look at each other. “Huh?”

“His accent…you know. Where’s he from?”

By this time Chris and I are giggling. Chris raises an eyebrow. “Uh, sweetie, what the hell are you talking about?”

Tony looks uncomfortable because he has realized at this point that he’s about to step in it, but can’t slow his foot down in time. “Is he Swedish or something?”

Chris and I: Cackle and proceed to spend the rest of the night giving Tony shit.

That is the story of how, forever more, when someone was unabashedly out and proud, we would refer to them as Swedish. In honor of the proud Swedish fisherman, I chose to give Kare a Scandinavian name.

 

So, now you know 16 random facts about Trust Trade. I think some of my list numbers got a little more personal than I intended for them to be when I first started writing them, but that’s okay. I am feeling a little Bob Ross-ish at the moment, like I just created this odd tower of words that sort of emerged on its own out of the ether, but it fulfills my list making needs for the day. I hope you all follow this up by taking a look at Trust Trade. It’s one of those books that might make you bleed while you read it, but ends on a sweet happily ever after.

Happy reading!

Ki Brightly

Check out Trust Trade today!

Trust Trade by Ki Brightly

Dreamspinner Press
Amazon

Blurb:

Life hasn’t been good to Jeb Birchman. When he attempted to escape his abusive, zealot father, he found himself on the streets, making a living the only way he knew how, the victim of more violent men—one of whom orchestrates a series of vicious attacks that leave Jeb deaf. Now that he’s aged beyond his latest client’s interest, Jeb knows he needs to escape his risky lifestyle before it’s too late. Seeing one last chance for himself, he earns a GED and enrolls in college.

Freddy Williams enjoys a life that couldn’t be more different from what Jeb has survived. He loves sports, being a personal trainer, and hanging out with friends. The son of deaf parents, Freddy is an outspoken advocate of the Deaf community and works as an interpreter at his college. When he meets Jeb at the bookstore, he’s struck by how attractive he is, and as they get to know each other, he finds Jeb’s good heart just as appealing. By the time he learns of Jeb’s past, it’s only a few steps behind them, and Freddy must make a choice between school and his familiar routine and protecting the man he’s falling in love with.

 

Ki Brightly

About the Author: 

Ki grew up in small town nowhere pretending that meteor showers were aliens invading, turning wildflowers into magic potions, and reading more than was probably healthy. Ki had one amazing best friend, one endlessly out of grasp “true love”, and a personal vendetta against normalcy.

Now, as an adult, living in Erie, Pennsylvania, Ki enjoys the sandy beaches, frigid winters, and a wonderful fancy water addiction. Seriously, fancy waters…who knew there were so many different kinds? It’s just water…and yet…

Ki shares this life with a Muse, a Sugar Plum, and two wonderful children.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kibrightly/
Blog: www.brightlybooks.wordpress.com
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Twitter: https://twitter.com/KiBrightly
E-mail: kibrightly@gmail.com

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