Monday, August 27, 2012

Character Interview: Matt Clark!!

I had a reader request I do character interviews. No offense to others out there, but to me, most character interviews are silly and boring. I realized I needed to take my interviews from a different angle. So.... without further ado, I give you:

The Fat Lady Interviewing Matt Clark!

Before you get upset with me for her name, remember from The Key of Kilenya that she insists on being called the Fat Lady. Don't ask me why, ask her. :-) You might get the chance in some upcoming interview! For now, enjoy the following scene as the Fat Lady interviews Matt Clark. :-)

The Fat Lady walked onto the make-shift stage, cheap wood flooring sagging under her massive, well over five-hundred-pound frame. She paused and stared at the furnishings, and a blush spread across her cheeks. With a growl, she turned and looked at someone beyond the camera's view. “I can't hold an interview here. This,” she motioned to the pink and very florally couch and armchair, “is disgusting! It's horrendous! My cabin back home would be better.”
“Sorry,” a woman from off stage said. “It's the best we could do with such short notice. Besides, you said you didn't have enough time clean up your place.”
“Hrmph.” The Fat Lady sat on the chair, adjusting her position several times. Her eyes continuously drifted to the clock on the wall. “All right, Andrea, where is he?”
“Almost here—he just texted.” Andrea, author of the Kilenya series, drifted in front of the camera for a moment, holding a cell phone. She held the phone out to the Fat Lady. “Want to see the text?”
“Text? What are you talking about?”
A door slammed somewhere, Andrea backed out of view, and Matt strode onto the stage, hand extended to the Fat Lady. “Sorry I'm late! And I just can't believe you're the lucky one to hold the interviews. So much fun!”
“Yeah, yeah. Sit.” The Fat Lady picked up a piece of paper from the coffee table and looked it over. “Who the heck cares about this sort of stuff?”
“Um . . . Fat Lady?” Andrea asked. “Would you please come here for a moment? The cameras are already rolling, and we don't have time for this.”
The large, over six-foot-tall woman thumped off stage. Whispered voices drifted through the room, while Matt obviously pretended not to notice. He examined his nails, played air guitar, then leaned back, arms behind his head. Finally, the Fat Lady returned with a fake smile plastered on her face.
She grabbed the paper, reading it over again. “Such great questions.” She leaned forward. “Matt. Tell your fans a little about yourself.”
Matt's face lit up. “I'd love to!” He turned and looked directly into the camera. “My name is Matthew Clark. I'm Jacob's older brother.” He paused. “And no, I'm not magical like he is—wish I were. But I'm better than him at basketball.” He snickered, then shot a glance at the Fat Lady. “Don't tell him I said that.”
The Fat Lady rolled her eyes. “Oh, I won't.” She looked down and started reading the next question. “How did—”
“Oh! And I'm also captain of the football team at my high school, Mountain Crest, and I like singing and playing the guitar.”
“Yes, yes, I'm sure the viewers wouldn't be able to live without knowing all this about you.”
“Gotta keep the ladies happy.”
The Fat Lady raised her eyebrow. “Speaking of 'the ladies . . .' How did you and your girlfriend, Samara, meet?”
Matt practically bounced to the edge of his seat. “Sammy! Oh, she's the coolest, best, most awesome girl I've ever dated.”
“I'm sure. Answer the question.”
“Okay, so it all started when I was dating her freaking hot older sister, Molly—”
The Fat Lady blinked. “Um . . . You do know that Sammy is going to watch this, right? Kid, calling her sister 'hot' is completely and totally stupid. No girl wants to hear that from her boyfriend! Unless you're trying to get out of the relationship?”
The blood rushed from Matt's face and he turned to the camera again. “Sammy. You're hot too. You know you're the only girl for me. Listen, we're always going to be together, and Molly never crosses my mind. Except that one time, but you were totally with me, and it wasn't my fault!” He looked at the Fat Lady, desperation on his face. “Can we please just erase all of this and start with the question again?”
“No, of course not.”
He turned to the woman off stage. “Please, Andrea? Pretty, pretty please?”
“Sorry, no. It's too expensive. One take is all you get.”
“Well, Sammy knows I love her.” Matt cleared his throat, loosening his collar, and looked at the Fat Lady. “Any more questions?”
“Yeah, but they're dumb. And I'm bored.” The Fat Lady jumped from her seat, grabbed Matt's hand, yanked him up and pumped his arm a few times. “Thanks for doing the interview. Get back to school.”
Matt nodded and dashed off the stage.

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