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Douglas Quinn Interviews Fantasy Author Blythe Parsons of Ocracoke Island

Douglas Quinn Interviews Fantasy Writer Blythe Parsons of Ocracoke Island (a character from from the mystery novel Blue Heron Marsh: A Webb Sawyer Mystery)


Including the ferry from Hatteras Village, it’s about a three hour drive from Elizabeth City, North Carolina down the Outer Banks to Ocracoke Island. It’s another fifteen minutes from where the ferry docks at the northern end of the island down to Ocracoke Village at the southern end.
After interviewing Webb Sawyer, I’d decided to interview his friend, Blythe Parsons. When the official interview with Webb was over and we were having the flounder we–actually I–had caught at Blue Heron Marsh, he talked about his friend, whom he calls Bly. She sounded like an interesting person. I soon found out that she, in fact, was more than interesting.
Per Blythe’s instructions, I made a right turn onto British Cemetery Road, and followed it down past the well-known landmark, the British Cemetery.
The British Cemetery was not only there as a memorial to the Royal Navy, but was actually considered as a piece of sovereign territory of the United Kingdom. In 1942 the HMC Bedfordshire was torpedoed and sunk with all hands lost. Four bodies of the crew were later found and buried in the cemetery, now surrounded by a white picket fence.
Just past the cemetery I turned left on Bay Shores Drive, then a right on North Bay Lane. According to the instructions, she was the last house on the right, set on a double lot.
Blythe greeted me in her wheelchair. Webb had told me about her condition. She lived in a specially designed stilt home that overlooked a cove off the Pamilico Sound. We went upstairs via an elevator. She fixed us some coffee and we began the interview.

DQ: Before we get started about your writing, can you tell me a little bit about your house here? It’s pretty cool.

BP: Thanks Doug. It is pretty cool, isn’t it. My dad owned the lots. His intention was to build on one and sell the other. But when he passed and the property came to me, I wanted to span the house over both lots. I inherited a fair amount of money, so I had this place custom made to suit my needs. I’m totally self-sufficient. I have a Powerhouse home standby generator that runs on an LP supply. And I have a thousand gallon propane tank to keep me in business for ten days, double if I’m judicious.

I knew what she was talking about. When a hurricane hits the Outer Banks, Ocracoke Island can be cut off from everything for days, even weeks. She continued:
BP: As you can see, I had my counters custom built for height so I can use them from my wheelchair. I also have a grabber, at least that’s what I call it, so I can reach stuff in the cabinets. Kinda like a golf ball retriever. I see you eyeing the furniture in the living room area.

The kitchen, dining room and living room areas were all part of a great room.

BP: It was all hand made to my specifications. See the wood collage on the far wall? The same guy that did the art did the furniture.

DQ: Wow! Must have cost a fortune.

BP: The artist’s name is John Tucker. He is a big fan of an American Indian contemporary artist George Morrison. The first time I saw the piece I was so thrilled with it I bought it from him right off his workshop wall. Follow me and I’ll show you the rest of the place.

She had a guest bedroom with full bath at the end of the house, just off the living room. Her suite was at the back of the house, where she had a double bed, a laundry room and good-sized bathroom. The most amazing thing was a ceiling tracking installation that allowed her to effortlessly move from her bed to the bathroom and back without ever having to get out of bed, get into her wheelchair, wheel into the bathroom, etc. She’d seen it on a home remodeling show and realized how much freedom of mobility it would give her for bathroom functions. The bathroom fixtures and equipment had been designed specifically for her needs. I’d never seen anything like it. We went through a short, wide hall to her office area.

BP: And this is where I do my writing.

She showed me her desktop computer with a large flat screen and her bookshelves, loaded with three-ring binders containing the various manuscript versions of her novels, research for each one and a variety of other books for both research and pleasure reading.

DQ: Tell me about your novels.

BP: I just sent in my third novel in the Chronicles of Nnyw series titled The High Kings of Kull. Book one was called Lady Bryn and the Red Dragon and book two was The Elvens of Ackersly. The heroine is a girl who in the real world is in a wheelchair but when she goes to the fantasy land of Nnyw, she is not only whole, but becomes a warrior and saves the land. You know, the usual fantasy stuff, but the readers eat it up. It allows me to escape into a world I can only dream about. I think that’s why people love fantasy novels. You don’t have to be in a wheelchair to dream the impossible dream.

DQ: Do you mind if I ask you about the condition that put you into the wheelchair?

BP: Not at all. I was born with Spina Bifida, a neural tube defect that caused the failure of the spine to close properly. Even though I had surgery shortly after birth, the nerve damage was permanent, causing paralysis in my lower limbs. Because of the inability to use them, my legs from the knees down had atrophied. As you can see, they are maybe half the normal length, with no muscle tone. And, of course, no feeling.

We chatted about it for about ten minutes.

DQ: Back to the interview. When did you first start writing?

BP: Well, I began writing novels right after my parents died. Before that I’d written short fiction. For quite a number of years, actually. I even won a Hugo Award for best short fiction for whatever year it was. After that I had no problem finding a publisher for my first novel. I won another Hugo for Best First Fantasy Novel for that one. Book two made the sci-fi and fantasy best seller’s list and was one of three featured novels on the Sci-Fi/Fantasy Book Club new issues.

DQ: That’s impressive. What’s next?

BP: The publisher wanted to contract me for books four, five and six, a three book deal where the first three had been single book deals. Instead, I wanted to work on a new fantasy world and new characters. At first they said no, they weren’t interested in that, I threatened to go to another publisher. To make a long story short, they caved and gave me a high five figure contract on a one page story idea. Guess I’m not big enough for six figures yet, but I’m working on it.

When Blythe saw me looking at the books on her shelf, she wheeled over, reached up and took two books off the shelf, books one and two of her series. She took them over to her computer desk, opened them to the title pages, found a pen, and personalized them both. After I thanked her, I asked her:

DQ: I wanted to ask you about your friend, Webb Sawyer. How and where you met him.
BP: I’ll tell you about that if you’ll go out on the boat with me. Do a little deep water fishing in the sound.

When she saw me rolling my eyes, she said, “Webb told me how you out-fished him for flounder in the sound. Let’s see how good you are against me.” She gave me a knowing smile from the side of her mouth.

Her twenty-two foot white and blue Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with a 225 horsepower Mercury outboard was tied up on the east side of her pier that protruded out into the North Bay, which was actually a small cove off the sound. She had a contraption on the dock to lift her into the boat and a specially crafted chair.

We headed out into the sound. She opened the 225 Mercury up and in no time we were at a location she called the Nine Foot Shoal Channel, which ran east of the Big Foot Slough Channel, the one the ferries to Cedar Island and Swanquarter used. Soon, Blythe found a spot she liked, cut the engine and dropped anchor. Today we were after trout, both speckled and gray. While we fished I asked:

DQ: You promised to tell me about Webb Sawyer.

BP: Okay. We sorta knew each other in elementary school, way back when. All through school, he’d come to my rescue when others picked on me. It wasn’t only me. He once got himself suspended for coming to the aid of a student who’d had his homework torn up by another student. The teacher didn’t care about the reason, gave the victim a zero, then wouldn’t correct the problem. Did Webb tell you about what happened to him in Bosnia?

DQ: He wouldn’t say, but I’d heard about it from other sources.

BP: Well, I’m not going to talk about it either. I can say this: some guys just sit on their high horse, acting all brave and puffed up and important. Webb likes to act all gruff and grumpy, but in reality he’s one of those guys who actually rides in on a white horse to save the day. He won’t admit it, but he’s a crusader and a sucker for a damsel in distress.

As it was when I had interviewed Webb Sawyer, I got the first strike. Blythe guided me but I lost it. Then Blythe put on a fishing exhibition the likes I’d never seen. There would be no repeating my experience in Blue Heron Marsh. On the way back to the house I asked:

DQ: I heard Webb came down here to see you about the murder investigation he’s gotten mixed up with. Can you tell me about that?

BP: Supposedly, he came down to fish and talk to me about his troubles with his girlfriend, Nan Ftorek. But I knew it was more than that. He was troubled by the events that had taken place surrounding that murder. The guy was hung to death with his pants and underoos down around his ankles, you know. He claimed he was done with the case, but I knew better. By the time I’d talked it through with him, he’d headed off on a quest for the truth.

DQ: Did he ever find it? The truth, I mean.

BP: I asked him about it afterwards. He seemed troubled by it all, but all he would say was that things worked out the way they should. He did make one odd comment. He said that, “Sometimes the meaning of truth and justice is skewed, but in the end the bad guys get their due.” Some day, if he wants to, he’ll tell me about it.

Back at the house, Blythe said that she was only going to keep a couple of the trout. The rest of them she was going to give to a friend. Seeing that I wasn’t going to get any further insight from her about Webb Sawyer, that opened up the chance for another question that had been on my mind.

DQ: A friend, huh? I wanted to ask you about your social life.

BP: What you really mean is, you wanted to ask me about my love life.

DQ: I’m not really that bold.

BP: I don’t mind. You can come with me and have an early dinner with him before you catch the late ferry back to Hatteras.

Her “friend” was Roy Smith, a local celebrity who wrote and sang his own folk songs accompanied by guitar. Blythe gave him the cooler full of trout. He was appreciative.

Roy was a bit craggy but a pleasant man. He music was easy to listen to and the words informative about Ocracoke and the fisherman’s life. It was obvious Blythe and Roy had a good rapport and probably a lot more. We had dinner at the Silver Lake Bar and Grill, which was right on the waterfront of Silver Lake Harbor. Roy ordered us a round of Red Drum beer, a local brew. When it came, I looked at Blythe and smiled.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” she said. “Webb would probably gag seeing us drinking this.”


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[Karma: 15 (+/-)] Douglas Quinn on 02.03.08 @ 02:15 PM EST [link] [No Comments]