Interview with Kim Karter

Hello Everyone!

We are delighted to have author Kim Karter amongst us today at Musikdiv India Online Magazine at our Special ‘Authors Festival’ interview series to tell us about her new book Small Town Unwound!
Please read on …

Delta Grayson may be Leighton, Alabama’s only medical doctor, but she’s not the only serial killer.
Small Town Unwound is the first installment of the Dr. Delta Grayson series.
Body disposal was my least favorite part of protecting my cornbread fed town. A sliver of moonlight shined across the blade of the hacksaw creating an illuminant shadow as I made a point to force this slice clean through Dallas Osborn’s abdomen.
Squirts of cooling crimson soaked my black rubber apron, and trickled silently down to the tarp underneath my knees. Blood pooled around the lifeless legs, and I relished choosing the rickety slaughterhouse for the dismemberment. It was my home away from home.


So Kim, we’ll start your Interview with the very first question

1.Please introduce and tell the readers something about yourself.

I’m Kim Karter, and I live in Muscle Shoals, Alabama with an overweight German Shepherd and an orphaned fox.

2.What brought you to writing?

I’ve always had an overactive imagination, and one day when I was about fifteen years old, I thought I had a good enough idea to put down on paper. As soon as I saw my story on paper, I was hooked.

3.How long have you been writing?

Thinking back on it, I’d say around ten years.

4.Which was your first literary project?Tell us something about it.

Shortly after my Grandmother’s death, I wrote a short story titled ‘Not In My Kitchen’. It was in honor of her, and I felt the need for others to read it. I sent it to editors across the country, and Folly accepted the piece for publication.

5.Is this your new/latest project?

No, my latest project is a Southern Mystery novel titled Small Town Unwound. The book features a vigilante doctor trying to avenge a young woman’s death by tracking down the murderer who’s been in the clear for twenty years.

6. Traditional books or e-books? How do you prefer to see your works published? Have you tried ever publishing the traditional way?

I love the convenience of e-books, but I will never be able to give up paperbacks. There’s something about holding a novel and knowing it’s going to open up another world. To me, that’s a magical feeling. I loved holding my own novel in paperback form

7.Can you give a chapter sample preview of your book here for our readers to know more about it.

( Please look at the bottom of the interview for book excerpts )

8.What are your hobbies?Things that you enjoy doing besides books of course.

I’m a big nature fan. I really enjoy escaping into the woods. Even if it’s only to sit and relax.

9.Who is your favourite author?

I love Joe R Lansdale. When you read one of his novels you feel as if he’s sitting there telling you the story. He’s also a master genre mixer. I pick up one of his books and know I’m in for a ride.

10.What is your favourite genre to read and also to write?

When I was younger I couldn’t get enough Horror. That was certainly reflected in some early short stories. Now I tend to gravitate toward Mystery and Southern Fiction. My favorite thing to write is Mystery. Even if it’s filled with much more, the basis is a solid Mystery foundation.

11.Do you have a role model that you get inspiration from?

My Mom keeps me inspired with everything she does. When I’m not feeling top notch, she’s always there to cheer me on.

12.Where do get your ideas from?Do you take your story ideas from real life situations?

My ideas aren’t taken from real life situations, but some of my characters have evolved that way. I still remember the moment Delta Grayson started forming in my head. I’d been in line at the DMV for half a day. The cutest little blonde girl plopped down in a chair next to me. When she turned to face me, one of her eyes had been blacked. My first instinct was wanting to push whoever did it down a long flight of stairs. I couldn’t, but I imagined a character that could.

13. Do you have a pseudonym?

I write under a pseudonym for the sheer fact that my real name is difficult to spell and not very romantic.

14.Whats your experience been like in the publishing industry?Postive or negative?Please share your experience with our readers.

I think there are positives and negatives with everything. I’ve received every kind of rejection letter there is in the publishing industry. Literary Magazines, Agents, Publishers, and the occasional nasty review, but even with all the bad, it seems that bad news is followed by good news.

15.Where do you see yourself 10years from now?

If I could continue to tell stories and entertain readers, that will be enough for me.

16. What motivates you to write?

Sometimes I get the feeling that a story simply needs to be told. When an idea is jumping onto the page, it motivates me to carry it to the page.

17. How important is good cover art for your books?

We’re taught never to judge a book by its cover, but realistically, it’s the first thing we see. If the cover doesn’t have some type of appeal, it won’t draw people in from the very beginning. I’m proud to say that Inkslinger Designs have done amazing jobs on my covers.

18. Do you have a price strategy for your books?

With the economy in the shape it’s in, lots of money can’t be thrown into a book budget. I try to offer my books as cheap as I can to give readers the opportunity to buy them without feeling like they’ve spent too much money.

19. Have you read a bestseller which you felt was not as good as yours?

It makes me upset for books that I’ve read that have blown me away. Much of what I read isn’t on the bestseller list, and I can’t figure out why these terrific authors aren’t climbing the charts. When I read a book and know deep down mine is better, it puts a smile on my face and gives me hope.

20.Why do you think readers should buy your book?What can you offer them through your book?

My book is a fun read and allows an escape outlet. If you’re looking to have a good time, and get attached to a quirky set of characters, you’ll enjoy Small Town Unwound.

21.Where is your book available?Any Buy Link for our readers?

Amazon for Kindle and Paperback-

22.Do you have a website or a blog that you’d like to share here.

I can also be contacted directly through e-mail Kimkarterthewriter(at)gmail(dot)com

23. What advice would you give to other writers?

My support group does wonders. Surround yourself with people who will celebrate the good and talk you through the bad. Don’t bottle up all the rejections. Do what you need to do to get through it, and keep on writing.

24.Anything else you’d like to share with our readers

The sequel to Small Town Unwound will be released early in 2012. If you enjoyed the first installment of the Delta Grayson Series, look for the second one titled Main Street Misfire.

  • Thank you Kim Karter for gracing us with your presence.It was a sheer pleasure.Good luck with your book.We conclude the interview here

    Thanks again from Team MusikDIV

    Book Exerpts – Sample Chapter

    Small Town Unwound By Kim Karter

    Body disposal was my least favorite part of protecting my cornbread fed town. A sliver of moonlight shined across the blade of the hacksaw creating an illuminant shadow as I made a point to force this slice clean through Dallas Osborn’s abdomen. Squirts of cooling crimson soaked my black rubber apron, and trickled silently down to the tarp underneath my knees. Blood pooled around the lifeless legs, and I relished choosing the rickety slaughterhouse for the dismemberment. It was my home away from home.
    Being Delta Grayson, Medical Doctor, I knew to make my cuts: jagged and filthy. There was always a chance of being caught no matter how clean the kill had been, but every detail was meticulously planned to the very centimeter. Right down to these messy chops. His femur took longer than expected. Sweat trickled under the shield of my plastic facial mask. My heart kicked into marathon gear as my arms ached dully with each jerk of the flimsy saw.
    Hooks clanked overhead when the Alabama breeze picked up enough to sway the iron chains. The wind cheered me on with low whining as it curled to enter through the shattered windows of the two story half-way falling in house of reeking death.
    Even if Wayne’s Meats had been closed for ten years, the death stench hit my nostrils forcing my slightly upturned nose to close off all air.
    At first glance it had been the perfect place to wield my scalpel of protection. So much torture and destruction of the living animals we passed through our gullets to get our bellies full, but it was sure a pain to clean up after.
    When I looked into Mr. Osborn’s dead eyes, I knew my decision was right. His greying hair was sticky with his own blood. Seeing him naked being chopped into small bits made my head swell like it was tumbling in a drier.
    Evil leaked from his pores like bad acne as I continued to hack him into bits with a violent temper. This outburst wasn’t mine. Of course, it was my body taking care of the gruesome business, but the rage was from his acts of brutality.
    Weeks ago my office had been standing room only in the lobby. I was behind schedule, and a diaper clad boy had pulled out a chunk of my almost black hair. My cheek had been kicked when I delivered an injection to a grade schooler’s thigh. Kids loved me in general, but they didn’t understand a shot would be a pinch of pain that would cure a deadly infection.
    I had retreated to the back to rub my high cheekbones hoping a bruise wouldn’t develop. My deep set green hues stared back at me with exhaustion clearly visible. Shoulder length hair that had managed to keep it’s curl even after a hard day. I was tall for a woman in the South. Standing at five foot nine flat footed. I was as tall as some men, but that didn’t seem to bother them.
    As I slashed cold water on my face, and patted my full lips with a napkin making sure there was no soreness; the door opened quickly.
    “Uhh, excuse me, Doctor,” she said holding a urine specimen cup.
    Her blonde hair was tied in tow low pigtails with blue ribbons around the hair ties. She wore overalls with pink sneakers, and was blushing at her intrusion.
    “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’m finished. I’ll see you as soon as you get back to the room,” I said, before turning to exit.
    That adorable little girl was eleven years old. I found out quite a bit of details on her secret hell. The pain of a young child makes me mad, and I should never be mad. I’m genuinely calm ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent resorts in breaking necks.
    I can’t for the life of me remember her name. All I know for sure was that the urine specimen cup was for a pregnancy test. The test was negative, but while we waited on the results, the two of us had a chat. Sometimes children know better than to tell sordid family affairs, but my face looks like it’s the mask of a dear old friend. My voice is sweet with a hint of honey suckle, and people open up to me feeling comforted. This girl broke down into tears as she showed me her thighs covered in bruises. Her stomach oozed with fresh burn marks, and I carefully examined the tender spots. “Cigarettes?” I had asked, and she had only nodded through tear stained eyes. The child’s mother had driven her to my office—since I was Leighton’s only doctor—while the two of them could make a run for it.
    She had been beaten, burned, and called a slut when she hadn’t received her monthly visitor. The man who violently raped his daughter, and forced her own mother to watch at gunpoint was now being gutted.
    The two women never had to endure another angry fist.
    Dallas was in at least fifty pieces, and I took a breather. My gloves were sticky with sweat, so I swapped them for new ones, and dug around in my bag of goodies. Carefully opening a bag of flour, I covered every part with the powdery substance making sure it stuck to the blood soaked skin. Crushed corn covered that, and then a pinch of corn syrup.
    An hour passed before Dallas was packed up and ready for departure. The wind picked up, and the clanking of the hooks sounding like a steady applause coming from the grave.
    Another hour flew by, and I was growing tired. My mental check list was going through my head, and I needed a pat on the back for missing nothing. Clothes were bagged. I had changed, packed the tarp, drained the blood residue, and took a final curtain call.
    My Jeep sputtered down the highway at a normal speed. Five miles over was one of my golden rules. I drove forty five minutes out of the way to use five different dumpsters. All of which I was certain didn’t have cameras. The hacksaw, tarp, his clothes, my sodden clothes, and the gloves all said their goodbyes as I continued down a county road with what was left of Dallas.
    The initial attack had looked identical to a robbery gone bad. I waited outside one of the seediest motels I had ever seen as he went through the door to do who knows what. Perhaps it was a crack house? Whore house? I wasn’t entirely sure, but in the deep South these types of motels are common in rural areas. The name ‘motel’ covers up all the gambling, fighting, and fucking that goes on between the walls of these places.
    It confirmed my suspicion that this middle aged fat slob would meet me in the darkened lawn.
    I spotted him before he did me, and targeted his Vagus nerve right below his right ear. I was skilled in my medical profession, and within two seconds I had applied enough pressure to render the nerves in his brain non-receptacle. His body went limp as his heart rate slowed, and I forced him into the back of the Jeep. I found his wallet, and threw it down behind me toward his truck. In a place like this, any sorts of things could have happened, and I reveled in knowing that speck of detail.
    Torture wasn’t my cup of sweet tea. I had no need to inflict pain upon others even if they were the scum at the bottom of a catfish pond.
    To unlearn, un-see, and un-live a single moment would change this curse that’s been laid on my shoulders. The defining moment of my life wasn’t graduating medical school; it happened when I was thirteen, and saw my hero brutally murdered.
    Deep inside Delta Grayson, something started intertwining, bonding, and building. I was changed. I was alive, but completely furious toward the evil that resided in the world.
    The dreams became more frequent, the voice told me to lead, and I was now about to dispose of my ninth body.
    I shut off my head lights, grabbed a .38 revolver from the glove box, slipped on a new pair of latex gloves, and gathered up Dallas. Movement from all around cued me into the liveliness of the woods. Leaves had started to turn copper and bronze colors. The southern air was thick with fall, and a doe nuzzled it’s nose foraging acorns under an oak tree. The woods knew me well. Better than any other living being. No animals strayed at my presence even if my boots crunched against broken twigs. Nothing moved when I jerked my arm away from a thorn patch. The serenity was heaven for me, along with the woodland creatures. They knew I wouldn’t harm them just as children knew I would die protecting them. Would that be the only thing that kept me thinking I wasn’t a monster?
    A leg cramp, and a mile later; I started whistling as I dumped the marinated remains onto the ground.
    Taking a few careful steps back to watch the action; I lit a smoke in celebration of a child being safe tonight. A girl in pigtails who could watch cartoons, and drink chocolate milk without worrying about good ole Daddy coming home.
    Within minutes a pack of wild boars shot out of the clearing racing toward me. Tusks barred in the moonlight as the filthy brown creatures scurried to their treat. The guzzling sounds made my stomach turn, but I waited anyhow. They squealed, rolled, and snorted for joy at being fed such lovely meat. Hell, one of them even ate the blood stained garbage bag.

    Buy Small Town Unwound by Kim Karter On Amazon Kindle >>

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