Devon McCormack, author of Clipped stops by!

Hello again, my Twisted & Kinky Lovelies! 

Did the hot book cover above grab your attention? Well, whether you are into angels or not, it should have! It is the book cover for brand new author Devon McCormack's first novel, Clipped. And just let me say, if you think the cover is HOT then the pages are surely going to burn you up!

I read Clipped when it first was published by Devon and I am thrilled that it was picked up by a publisher. When I was contacted by Pride Promotions to join Devon's blog tour, I was excited to help spread the word about this awesome novel!

Check out the blurb: 

Though mortals have been convinced that God cares about their souls, nothing could be further from the truth. He created the world as a gift for his lover, Satan. But when Satan left him, he decided to end what he saw as his most grotesque creation.

Satan and his army of demons are man's only hope...

The demon Kinzer and his lover, Janka, have been sent by Satan to spy on The Raze, a gang of rogue demons who are working with God to bring about Armageddon. When someone exposes their true allegiances, The Raze clips Kinzer's wings and murders Janka. Kinzer manages to escape. He tracks down Satan's allies to warn them about a mole in their midst when he learns that they've located the Antichrist—a powerful weapon that could prevent the apocalypse. Now, he's on a mission to protect the Antichrist and avenge his lover’s death.

So, without further adieu, let me introduce you to my special guest, Devon McCormack, so you can get to know more about this great new author! Be sure to continue reading after the interview for a giveaway and excerpt, and where to get your greedy little hands on this title!

Hi Devon and welcome to My Twisted & Kinky World! It’s wonderful to have you here!

Hey, Brenda. I just want to take a moment to thank you. You were my first review for Clipped, and you were so encouraging and supportive, and I appreciate that so much.

Awww... you are most welcome. As most know, I don't tend to leave reviews unless a novel total rocks my world and yours certainly did! 

So, growing up, who was your favorite author?

In middle school, it was S.E. Hinton. I loved The Outsiders, Rumble Fish, Tex. I wasn’t a big reader back then, but those books sucked me right in. In high school, I became obsessed with William Faulkner, which leads perfectly into your next question--

 What writer gives you the most inspiration and/or which one do you aspire to be like?

William Faulkner. Hands down. I adore William Faulkner. I can’t say that I’ll ever be even remotely like him, but I love the way he conveys a story. I love his mind. I love his dialogue. I don’t think anyone who reads this will see any comparison between his work and mine, but it’s because I make no attempt at being anything like him. I know I’ll never be that. I can only be me.

How did you figure out you wanted to be an author?

When I was a kid, I’d write little stories, and my dad would always say, “You’re gonna grow up to be a writer.” But I didn’t like that. It sounded boring. I wanted to go on adventures. I wanted to explore. I wanted to live an exciting life, and I didn’t think I could do that by sitting at a keyboard all day. I’m willing to admit that this was an erroneous assumption on my part.

Eventually, it just sort of took over, and I fell in love with it. I don’t know. I just always gravitated to it. It’s the easiest way for me to express myself.

What was the first piece you ever wrote?

I wrote a story about kid superheroes at like…eight-years-old. I ended up turning it into a novel many, many years later, but it was my first love.

How much of what you write is based on personal experience?

Every single bit of it. I write paranormal stories. Clipped is about angels and demons fucking left and right while battling the apocalypse, but it’s all based on my own life. It’s based on emotions I’ve felt in relationships. It’s based on questions that I’ve had about the nature of religion since I was first exploring the topic.

Do you have any rituals involving your writing?  Before/during/after?

For the most part, I always outline the entire story before I begin. It changes throughout, and about 75% through the novel, I go back and re-outline. Then I finish the story. For Clipped, the outline was maybe 30 major bullet points. I just finished a paranormal book with a bit of mystery to it and that had about 80, but it’s not any longer than Clipped. In fact, it might be about 5,000 words shorter. There were just so many components to it that I wanted to make sure that I knew how everything came together before I started. Even then, the story transformed throughout the writing process. As much as I like to believe these outlines will make my work easier, at the end of the day, I still have to beat out the pages, and that can be a daunting task.

What is your writing process?

It’s whatever gets words on the page. Some scenes, they flow easily and write themselves. Others are so heinous that I’m not sure I was ever able to write to begin with. If a scene is really difficult, then I start it off just as bullet points of things that need to happen and work from that until I’m able to flesh out a scene.

Clipped flowed very naturally. It was rare that I found a scene that I needed to force myself through, but usually, that’s the case. There’s this one scene that has to be written, but I don’t want to write it. To me, writing a book is like being in a relationship. If I want to do it, there are some things that I have to be willing to put up with. And scenes that I just don’t want to write are included in those things. It’s not always easy. It’s not always fun. But it has to get done.

What is the hardest part of the writing process for you?  And how have you overcome it?

A desire to make everything absolutely perfect. I think that’s the fastest way to never write a book. Certainly, I strive to make it as good as I can, but sometimes that means that something isn’t as good as I wished it had been. In the end, no book has ever lived up to my dream vision, but I don’t let that stop me from writing it. There’s a bit of a mind-fuck that I use to get to the end, and it goes something like, “This one is going to be crap. This one is going to be total crap, so just let it be crap.” It frees me from the pressure of having to write something amazing. And usually, it’s not nearly as bad as I think it’s going to turn out.

Are you able to write full time?  Is that your ambition or something you want to keep on the side?

No. I’m a poor person. I just do it on the side.

Do you as an author concentrate on one genre?  Or do you feel like you should try to find your voice among the genres? 

Well, I’m writing several gay books. If we’re going to count that as a genre, then yes. I write a lot of projects, but I’m primarily focusing on those, because I know that there are people out there who will read them. Certainly, I have other ideas and other books that I’ve written. But no one really cares about them. I self published a middle grade novel. No one reads it. No one cares. It’s my favorite project that I’ve ever written, but I think it’s just going to kind of float around until the day I die.

Have you ever based a character on a friend or enemy?

They’re all based on friends and enemies. Some are the teachers that I hated. Some are my current best friends. When I’m writing those pieces where I know friends will catch the similarity, I get a little nervous, but I would rather be called out than stifle the creative impulse, so I always write it.

I bet they love that! On that note, f you had to name one character you have written that was the most like you, which character in which book would that be? 

I have a vampire novel coming out with Wilde City Press in October. It’s called The Pining of Kevin Harding. The main character, whose name is surprisingly Kevin Harding, is so much more like me than any of the other characters I’ve written. I didn’t intend for it to be that way, but the more I wrote, the more I knew it was going to turn out that way.

How do you feel when you finish a book?

“This is crap. No one’s going to like it. Why did I waste all my time doing this? I should just delete it.”

Well, I bet the response to Clipped was a big surprise for you!

How long of a break do you take between books?

Recently, I haven’t taken any breaks. I just finished three books during the winter, and I think that’s how I work best. Whenever I take breaks, I get wildly depressed. There’s a sort of storytelling withdrawal that occurs, and I think the best way to prevent that is to move on to the next story.

How do you react to a bad review of your work?

Cry. Throw a fit. Feel sorry for myself. I try to let myself get really upset about it and then I let it go. There are some perks. I’ve had some amazing quotes in bad reviews that I think make my work sound far more interesting than it really is. The best kind of bad review I can hope for is one that is offended and outraged by the book. At least I’m evoking a powerful response. My greatest fear is a review that’s like, “This was meh.”

What is the best thing about being a writer?

I fall in love…over and over and over again. But it’s different, because I know my characters more than I can know a real-life person. I know how they think. I know why they do horrible things. There are some heinous characters that I adore. In Clipped, there’s a villain named Vera. The love of her life abandoned her, and now she does atrocious things to get back at him. It’s hard for me not to relate. People hurt you, and you want to hurt them back, so it’s easy for me to feel sorry for her. I doubt other people will, though. 

What is something that people would be surprised to know about you?

In Clipped, there’s this angel with a 20-inch dick. Part of the issue is that he tries to fuck this guy with a very mortal hole, and it’s quite problematic. I think people assume that because I’m writing about this ginormous cock, that I must be a size queen. Truth is, big cocks scare the shit out of me. Most of my life, I’ve avoided guys with big cocks. If anything, the reason I wrote about a 20-incher is because the idea was horrifying, and I largely write about things that scare me.

OMG, Traycore... ummm what can I say about him and that scene? Oh, Oh, I know! Yummmmm. Everyone knows that I am a size queen so that scene was just... *gush*! Yes, I am that twisted! I hope you write more about him and Kid in the next novel!!! Pleeaaaaaaseeeee!

Is there anything else you would like to share with our readers?

Besides Clipped, I have the vampire novel coming out through Wilde City Press in October. I also have a young adult novel being released by Harmony Ink Press, Dreamspinner Press’ young adult imprint. And I’m wrapping up on revisions for another book that will surely be released at some point. So…just writing, writing, writing. Oh, and editing, editing, editing.

Where can readers find out more about you and your books?

I have a blog, www.devonmccormack.com, or they can visit my Goodreads Author page. I use Facebook and Twitter, but mostly my serious updates are on my blog or Goodreads. Or at Wilde City Press and on Amazon.

As promised, here is the giveaway for your very own HOT copy of Clipped!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

And now the excerpt!

Dedrus scanned Kinzer’s body, admiring his massive biceps, his brown eyes, and his black waves of hair. Even with the wounds and tears that still tainted his face, he was beautiful. Dedrus wanted to press him back against the cushion, rip off his clothes, and provide him with the ease he deserved. But no! He was just wanting it for himself, and he was pretending that it was to serve Kinzer’s pain. 

“I loved him so much.” The words cracked through Kinzer’s lips. His cheeks and forehead shivered. Tears filled his eyes. “I know we had so much time, but it wasn’t enough.”

The sting in Dedrus’s chest intensified. His cheeks flashed red as anger washed over him—anger that he loathed because it made him feel like a terrible, selfish creature.

He set his hand on Kinzer’s back, his palm stroking softly across the blue fabric of his polo. He wanted to say, “You’ll find love again.” He couldn’t, because he knew he’d really be saying, “Please find love in me.” He thought of saying, “Everything will be alright.” No. He couldn’t make that kind of promise. “It’ll take time,” felt appropriate, and yet, as an immortal, Dedrus never perceived time as a generous gift as much as a twisted, agonizing punishment.

“I wish I could think of something right to say about this,” Dedrus said, “but I can’t. I know how much you loved him, and I know how much he loved you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is going to be for you. But I’m here. As your friend. I don’t know if that means much, but I know the feeling of having something so perfect and wonderful torn from you.”

Kinzer’s gaze met his. His eyes were sad.

Does he know what I’m talking about?

“Tell me you’ve found someone,” Kinzer said.

“Of course,” he lied. “I’m just being overdramatic.”

“I figured as much. Considering where you work, I'm sure you get a lot of offers.”

It was true, but not the way Kinzer was suggesting. There were nights when Treycore dragged some pathetic mortal back to ease Dedrus’s pain. Those nights were the loneliest. Though he could bring himself to climax, it was an empty relief that just stirred the cruel memories of those moments filled with so much more.

Dedrus hugged him again. “Let’s get to bed,” he said. “You need some sleep.”

Kinzer nodded.

“We have plenty to sort through tomorrow. You can have my room. I’ll just sleep here.”

Dedrus released him.

Kinzer picked the sword up off his lap and stood. He reached his hand out. “Come on. It won’t be the first time we’ve shared a bed.”

The upward curl of his lip let Dedrus know that Kinzer was more than interested.

Dedrus’s dick swelled. “I don’t think I can.” He wanted Kinzer so bad, and if he put himself in that position, he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to resist making a move—especially if Kinzer initiated something.

“I'd rather not disrespect you like that,” Dedrus said.

Kinzer’s hand fell, bouncing against his jeans. His head drooped.

“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dedrus smiled. “‘Night, Kinzer.”

Kinzer knelt, offering a light peck on Dedrus’s lips.

Don’t tease me with a taste!

“Up the stairs, first room on the right.”

Kinzer walked up the stairs, headed down the hall, and slipped into Dedrus’s bedroom.

Dedrus had hoped that Kinzer’s exit would provide some relief.

It didn't.

He ached for him. His thoughts dwelled on Kinzer’s lips tickling his nipples, his gaze appreciating his body, his tongue delighting in his body’s grooves. He wanted to run upstairs and throw his arms around him, to hold him for the night, and tell him that no matter what happened he’d be there for him. He wanted more than that, but he wouldn’t press his friend. He wouldn’t dare cross that line…even if Kinzer insisted.

Spreading his limbs across the couch, he rested his head on a lace pillow at the end and rolled so that he was facing the cushions.

He closed his eyes.

A few moments passed before something pressed against his ass.

He flipped over and hopped to his feet, ready for a fight.

Kinzer stood before him, holding his hands out, as if showing a cop that he was unarmed. “Whoa, cowboy. Chill the fuck out.”

“Sorry.” Every hair on Dedrus’s immortal body stood on end. “You freaked the shit out of me. Did you need something? Another cover? Pillows?”

Kinzer wiggled his thumb behind the waistband in Dedrus’s khakis.

“Yeah. I need something.” He pulled their pelvises together.

His hot breath rushed across Dedrus’s lips, settling in the bristles across his cheeks. The warmth combined with a rush of blood that surged to his face and made him feel like his cheeks were about to catch on fire.

Kinzer pressed his lips against Dedrus’s.

Amidst the creases in Kinzer’s lips, Dedrus felt the smooth, subtle dip where Kinzer’s cut was healing.

He trailed his palm over the rough fabric of Kinzer’s polo. As he reached the smooth flesh of his neck, curly black hairs pricked his fingertips.

Kinzer opened his mouth wide. Dedrus eagerly reciprocated, tilting his head and allowing their lips to seal together. A swirling sensation gathered at the back of his spine and rushed to the crown of his skull.

Guilt nagged at his thoughts. He couldn’t do this. Kinzer didn’t really want him. He was just vulnerable and ached for a physical distraction from his grief. It would be wrong to take advantage while he was still recovering from Janka’s death.

Kinzer’s tongue flicked his.

He wanted Kinzer so bad, but not like that. Pressing his hand against the dip between the bulbous, jagged pecs before him, he broke their sealed kiss.

For you authors who may be checking out this interview and looking to do a blog tour of your own, check out: