Interview with Author Nicholas Fisher

My guest today is Nicholas Fisher.  Hello!  Welcome to Writing in the Modern Age!  It’s such a pleasure to have you here.

Can you tell us a little bit about your latest book? When did it come out? Where can we get it?

Becky’s Kiss, my young adult paranormal romance / baseball story came out 11/30/15 through Vinspire Press. It is available on Amazon at as well as Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Kobo, and Google Play. I write horror under a different name, but this story came to me as a baseball story first. The characters were young adult and it was not horror, but more teen romance. I wrote what came to me and it took me into a totally different genre! What I got is a fun, quick read about life, love, sports, and the ability to change history.  



That's great! Isn't it awesome how the muse works? ;)
This is a wonderful cover too.

So, tell us, Nicholas...
Is there anything that prompted Becky's Kiss? Something that inspired you?
I was co-coaching my son’s Babe Ruth baseball team a few years ago and the head coach told me a story about the pitcher and batter who happened to be facing each other. Evidently, when they were 12, the pitcher threw one that tailed in and hit the batter square in the chest. He was okay, but it got me thinking…what if the greatest hitter in Southeastern Pennsylvania was hit in the chest and died at 15? What if he was going to make the majors and break every record? What if things lined up years later where he could re-do that at-bat, have another chance? 

All right.


So, tell us. When did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?


I was into music in the 80’s, metal band, professional. I wanted to find an avenue for art where I wouldn’t have to compromise. Writing seemed the best way to go.  


Great!  I love to hear about how an author got started! :)


Do you have any favorite authors, Nicholas?


Stephen King.  


Okay. Let's try another question.


Do you write in a specific place? Time of day?


The morning. In my office. No music. No interruptions.  


No interruptions? Well, that certainly would be nice! LOL. 


But, I agree. It is easier to write without distractions.


Are there any words you'd like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice?


Don’t follow trends. They fade. Make the trends follow you.  


Ooh! Well said. Thank you for offering those words of wisdom. 
And thank you so much for stopping by to visit us here today at Writing in the Modern Age.  It was so nice having you!  :)
Readers, here is the blurb for Becky's Kiss.
It could not be worse for ninth grader Becky Michigan on her first day at a new school, sitting in beet juice and staining her white jeans in a classroom about to fill up with students. In the nick of time, a gorgeous blonde boy named Danny comes in and offers his oversized baseball jersey so she can cover up, get to the office, and change. By the time she pulls the shirt over her head however, he has mysteriously disappeared.

Becky scours the school in search of her dream-athlete and wonders why after contact with him, she has magically gained the ability to throw a fastball ninety miles per hour! Instead of finding the answer, however, Becky’s new skill pits her against the school bully and the entire varsity baseball team. That night, after her exciting showdown in front of the entire school, Danny shows up at her bedroom window. If she will agree to meet him behind the school at midnight on the ball field at the edge of the woods, he promises to reveal a secret meant to alter the past and change her life forever. 

Here is an excerpt.


There was only one place left to sit in the crowded cafeteria, at the empty table by the trash cans next to the concrete support beam that had a poster of Frederick Douglass on it. It was an old science desk at the edge of the walking aisle separating the two halves of the room, and one of its legs was broken at the base. The wobble-table.  For losers.

One kid was sitting there, the Asian boy from English class. He had stuck his math book under the short leg, and was politely sipping soup, robotic and rigid, nothing else on his tray but a couple of pieces of fruit. Becky walked over, pulled out the chair across from him, and slipped off her backpack.
“What’s your name?” she said.
He was startled, but clearly glad he had a visitor.
“Joe,” he said.  “Joey Chen.”  He smiled then, and even though he had funny teeth, the expression had an interesting effect, like craft-show glass, like sidewalk art. His eyes glinted.  “You,” he said, “are Becky Michigan.”
She shrugged.
“Are you new here?”
He looked down at his soup.
“I am from China. I been here one year, three months, eleven days.”
Becky sighed. A whole year and he was eating lunch alone. And counting the days.
“You like this great food?” she said.
“Me neither.”
“And I don’t like bullies,” he said. “This place is full of them.”
Becky sighed again, and then something hit her in the ear. The projectile rolled and wobbled across the table, settling at the far edge. It was a grape. A purple grape.
Another one struck her right on the end of the nose, leaving a hint of moisture, making her blink stupidly, and yet another plinked off her forehead. So immature! Bullies, oh yes, Joey had a point now didn’t he? She pushed back her chair and looked over in the general direction of the assault. There, across the aisle and about eighteen rows down, was Cody Hatcher, the big kid who had been teasing her in English class, sitting at the edge of the table with what seemed to be four of his idiot friends, all of them laughing like hyenas, one stamping his foot he was so overcome with the hilarity of it all. Hatcher stopped and looked right at Becky. He reached in front of him and took a purple grape off the stem. He put it in his mouth and chewed real slow. Swallowed. Licked his top lip and winked. Then his friends were laughing again, slapping him on the back.
Becky didn’t think, she just acted. Joe didn’t have time to move. In a flash, she reached across the table, knocked over his milk, grabbed his orange, and pivoted back, side-stepping into the aisle. She had a split second to look at her target, and Hatcher had his mouth open, all teeth, eyes up at the ceiling he was laughing so hard.
She kicked up a knee and spread her hands, throwing-arm dangling way low behind her. There was a moment of perfect balance there, and then her body became a machine: all hot fluid and angry levers. She stepped into it deep, cocked up her arm, snapped her hips, and fired.
The orange flew out of her hand as if on a clothesline. Even through the noise, she could hear it hiss through the air, and heads turned with it as if in slow motion. Hatcher had just enough time to adjust his eyes from the ceiling and focus on what was coming. It hit him square in the forehead with a hard splat and his hands flew up. It knocked him straight back out of his chair, and the fruit ruptured in a blast of spray and peel.
People roared. Gossip exploded, and Becky could hear a lot of “Did you see that?” and “Who is that girl?” and “What happened?” and “Did you see how freakin’ hard she chucked that?” Everything was echoing, sounding unreal, and the teachers on lunch duty were darting their eyes all around to pinpoint exactly where the disturbance was. Becky got back in her chair, and Joe had his mouth open.
Becky was trying not to shake.
“He had it coming,” she managed.


Purchase Links:


Amazon Universal:

Barnes & Noble:





The trailer:



Love it! Sounds like a great book! 


Author Bio


Nicholas Fisher is a college professor of English, baseball enthusiast, and dreamer. Becky's Kiss is his first young adult novel, and he has published numerous collections, short stories, and novels in the horror genre under a different name.


Author Links:


Amazon Author Page:




Nicholas' Book:

As Michael Aronovitz:


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