Guest – Karen Faris

Hi Melissa. Thanks for hosting me.

Pleasure is all mine. I’m always happy to feature a fellow Whimsical author.

I have to tell you, I think my characters are a little intimidated by how hunky and hot it is over here.  The only thing that’s hot in Grumbles is the weather. 72 and sunny every day.

You’re too funny. But thanks! Not that Hector or the infamous Weatherman are anything to sniff at! Dragwood either! What girl doesn’t love a pirate with savvy fashion sense?

Speaking of heat, have you heard about Cli Fi fiction yet? It’s a kind of riff on Science Fiction. It uses elements of climate change as either the backdrop to the story or the story itself.

In fact, Karen I have. My book 12 is Cli Fi, too.

You’re so prolific. I have a hard time keeping up with all your different kinds of stories.

You’re so sweet. That’s great that you’ve written a climate fiction novel. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about Grumbles. Book One is already out?




So this is Book 2? Take Another Pill?

Grumbles 2

Right. Obviously, with titles like these, the story is a comedy! It’s also a satire. And there’s lots of fun with words, puns, allusions, even illusions.

It’s a near future story filled with madcap adventure where our heroine, secret agent and agony aunt, Pettie Grumbles, has to save the world from an evil weatherman. She befriends a boy named Toga and begrudgedly, takes along his dog Emma on their quest to stop the man from ruining the planet with his evil weather ways.

In Book 2, their adventures continue.   They meet up with all kinds of people, from the debonair Dragwood and his 24/7 poker game, to accepting the hospitality of a Trollman (by the way don’t!). They wander a bike trail filled with camels and caravans uncertain of how exactly they will destroy their nemesis. Oh, did I mention, there’s 3 twins?

Come on. How’s that work?

You’ll just have to read the book. But just so you know, that question won’t be answered until book 3.

Sounds like a lot of fun. Did you have an excerpt?

Thought you’d never ask.   We begin with Pettie stranded on a channel marker in the St. Lawrence River. She’s about to be rescued. Or is she?

Out of the dark, a long, low barge emerged, illuminated by strings of light, squares of interwoven red, blue, and or- ange, the riparian signal that all parties were welcome. As the boat picked up speed and the engines churned away, the flags of Canada and the United States fluttered and snapped in the breeze. Wafting above them both, in all its orange and black splendor and pride, the Progressive Plunderer flag flew. From the breeze came the wheezing hiss and scratch of vinyl records as they crackled through ancient speakers. Voices aboard the ship hung in the evening air that was already heavy with laughter and the smell of cigars as perfume and flirtatious promises beckoned. That vessel, that glorious ship, could be none other than the legendary River Queen.

Behind the turbines, the water ran deep and turbulent, capped by white waves and a strong eddy. The River Queen came up as close to the rocky shoal as she dared.

I took a deep breath and jumped to my salvation, pro- pelled to my destiny by the encouragement of two awaiting figures on the boat. I caught the cold metal of the railing, then felt anguish as the railing slipped from my numb fingers and I fell backward, toward the black water tumbling over rock. I closed my eyes in anticipation of my fate, but death spurned me, and I was plucked from the water’s icy embrace.

Two burly men, with the telltale tattoo removal scars on their bulging biceps, dropped me onto the deck without much fanfare. The faces of my would-be rescuers told me they’d been at sea a while. They had the square, three-month-old, speckled beard growth of seamen, one with gray glitter and the other with amethyst, a signal of their importance not only on The River Queen, but also as up-and-coming players in the rising mercenary class. They had certainly earned their pirate stripes. They smelled of fried onions and garlic and a scent I could only refer to as “eau de man.” The one with the amethyst glitter licked his lips and glanced at his shipmate, then back at me, making me uncomfortably conscious of how my clothes, soaked and ripped, were clinging to my body. My shirt made a wet, sucking sound as I pulled it away from my body, spraying them with water in the process.

I wasn’t sure if they knew who I was nor was I about totell them. In the spy world, you could never be sure who worked for whom. There were plots and conspiracies, counterplots and counter conspiracies, and that didn’t even touch the Machiavellian machinations, the manipulators, and the mavens and mavericks of malice. I stood up and just like it said in the Sociopathy 101 manual on artifice called: How To Make Friends and Influence People, I put on my best ‘This isn’t going to hurt’ smile. “Good evening, gentleman. I hope saving me isn’t too much of an inconvenience.”


You can follow Karen on twitter either as @karenafaris or as @GrumblesNovel.

Her Grumbles novels are available at:


as well as on Amazon and B&N.


She has a short story single up on Kindle Direct that has nothing to do with Grumbles the Novel but has everything to do with our contemporary world.



Her Grumbles novels are available at:


as well as on Amazon and B&N.


She has a short story single up on Kindle Direct that has nothing to do with Grumbles the Novel but has everything to do with our contemporary world.


Check out the Grumbles website.


For a glimpse into Karen, check out her interview with Allison Christie.






Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s