Interview with Author Tory Allyn

My guest today is debut author Tory Allyn. 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?

ALTER EGO is chock full of mystery with action adventure, realistic fantasy, humorous banter and romantic suspense peppered throughout my novel. It begins with the discovery of a disfigured body and ends with the discovery of a live…it would be unforgivable of me to give you the ending, now wouldn’t it?

My novel came out on April 15, 2016. One can get it on Amazon.


Is there anything that prompted Alter Ego? Something that inspired you?

My father died unexpectedly and it totally prioritized what I wanted to say about my life. Some not so important things were relegated to the lower end of my list, allowing my writing to take precedence. Once I made the commitment, a set time was put aside every day to write. I found a quiet location and let the words pour from my brain. Before I realized it, the flooding of words gave me a total of four books which is a series entitled, THE DAVENPORT DECREES. My first novel is ALTER EGO.
Wow! Writing novels in a stream like that is impressive.
And I'm sorry about your dad. :( I know how grief can sometimes make you pour your emotions out on paper.

Let's try a different question.
When did you know you wanted to write? Or has it always been a pastime of yours?

I would always tell stories when I was a young boy. I’ve had the story line jangling around in my brain since the mid-1990’s. It wasn’t until I committed my ideas to paper that they took on a life of their own. With each stroke, my characters developed personalities, qualities, temperaments, dispositions and so forth. As you will see in my first novel, writing for a variety of men and women is quite the challenge…but I loved every minute of it. What helped me most was writing out a ‘grid’, as I call it. The grid allowed me to write out each character’s name, age, physical features, education, employment, backgrounds, personalities and how they related to the story. I used it so much that it had coffee stains on it (I probably shouldn’t have admitted that)!
Nice! It's fun to hear about an author's writing process.

Do you have any favorite authors yourself, Tory?

Yes. I enjoy John Grisham and Lee Child. I have recently put some Indie Authors on my reading list. I love autobiographies.
All right. 

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

Yes, I have a room which is quiet where my thoughts can gather. I write in the mornings because my mind hasn’t had the chance to get cluttered.
Are there any words you'd like to impart to fellow writers? Any advice?

Your story has to be hungry to get out. When you sit to write, let it consume all thought; just allow it to bleed from your mind. Do not worry about perfection. That will come to fruition during the editing process. Once you have finished the initial draft, go back and read it out loud. Awkward sentences will reveal themselves. Always hire a competent editor (check Predators & Editors to see if they are in good standing) and get a beta reader (one who is not a family member) to make sure you manuscript is ready to be published. Also, buy a mini tape recorder or have a pen and paper available because inspiration can come when you least expect it and your memory will lose it within two minutes.
Yeah, I just make sure I have paper on hand at all times. ;)
But, this is all great advice! 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 Alter Ego.
At Granite’s Mill, deep in the backwoods of Virginia, a body is discovered with unusual physical characteristics. By morning, the media erupts over a headline in a local newspaper, ‘The Son of Virginia’s Governor is Missing’. FBI Special Agent Jack Stanwick is handed the case. Realizing he’ll have to go outside the brethren, Jack marshals the help of an old friend, Raymond Davenport, who hung a sign on a renovated brownstone in Washington, DC, with the verbiage: Davenport Detective Agency. To assist him, he hired three former police officers from various precincts, who like himself, blew the whistle on dirty cops only to deal with the fervent hostility from the brotherhood. With the investigation under way, the detectives stumble upon a group of men known as M.A.G.O.C., who’re muddled in a governmental conspiracy involving a top-ranking official at the White House. With their many resources, they dig further and unearth Prescott Chemicals. Years earlier, the owner and his lead chemist had stolen an elixir from the Mayapo natives of the Amazon rain forest and have transformed it into a formula to be used in a congressional scheme. When the detectives accidentally come into contact with the new formulation, something undesirable happens to one of them, altering his life forever.
Here is an excerpt.

Sirens echoed in the distance as Jack Stanwick entered the rural town of Rockfort, Virginia. Another gruesome discovery led the local boys to claim jurisdiction—but the Bureau had their own ideas and about to pull rank. After he sliced through the necessary red-tape and secured the needed sanctions, FBI Director Gordon Weaver issued an order to survey the tragedy and retrieve all remnants from Granite’s Mill.

With hardly a resident looking his way, Jack hastened through the four-way stop and hurried up Old Gulch Road. He noticed the sparse trees had turned into a dense forest that dimmed an already cloudy sky. So after a quick flick of his wrist, the headlights came on.
As the car gained speed, it careened along the crushed-stone route. The loose gravel struck the undercarriage like a hail of bullets. At the same time, the screeching cry of police horns blared louder with each impending tread. It put him on high alert. While the adrenaline surged, he sped over a hill and caught sight of the glaring flares that inflamed his path, which improved his view. The crime scene now became visible.
Jack veered off onto a dusty road and pulled ahead of the pack of scattered cars. He shut off the engine, peered out the windshield and eyed the disarray of yellow police tape that encircled the crime scene. All the grave facial expressions gave weight to what lay just ahead.
Here we go again! His mind raced.
He reached over to unlock the glove compartment and removed a mini-recording device. Once his throat cleared, he pushed the corresponding buttons and spoke in a deep and sturdy voice, “This is Special Agent Jack Stanwick. It’s Sunday, the twenty-sixth of October and the time is…” He looked at his watch then continued logging the rest of his statement. When finished, he shed the blazer and put on his FBI jacket. He shoved the gadget into a pocket and turned it back on.
Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and thrust open the door. He emerged from the car and was overtaken by a brisk wind that stiffened his face and stirred his spine. With a quick zip of his jacket, he advanced toward the group of men who had gathered around as if in a football huddle. One of the local cops approached him.
“You must be the FBI agent?” Out came a hand. “I’m Deputy Morton Talbot.”
Jack grasped it. He noticed how the gun holster hung loosely around the deputy’s waist; seemingly held up by a uniform that was one size too big.
“You got here mighty quick.”
“I drove like a banshee.” Jack turned and stuck his head between the congregated men. “Why is everybody just standing here?” He looked down at a body partially covered with leaves.
“We don’t want to touch anything until Chief McAllister gets here.”
Jack pulled his head out from the group. “Where is he?”
“The chief is on his way up from Gallagher County. He’s been visiting his brother over the weekend.” The deputy glanced at his pocket watch. “He should be here any minute.”
Jack was raised to be respectful, but also knew cops from the South played by their own set of rules. If things weren’t done their way, an investigation could come to a screeching halt and critical clues would be lost. “I take it you haven’t started processing the crime scene? His eyes narrowed. “You know crucial evidence is disintegrating.”
“Like I said before, we’re waiting for the chief.”
Realizing the jig—a name he called the dance—Jack prepared for another whirl. “Can’t you can initiate things?” He wanted to plant the seed. “Aren’t you second in command?”
“Where’s my CSI team?”
“Right behind you.”
Jack spun around his head and noticed some FBI vans from Quantico, Virginia.
“We’ve got our folks standing by,” Deputy Talbot said. “I told your team that.”
“C’mon people, you can at least take pictures.” He pointed down. “I need those tire marks cast.”
Nobody moved.
“Damn it!” His body wrenched. “Where’s the camera? I’ll start this investigation myself.”
“Oh no ya won’t,” bellowed a loud, crass voice. The man bustled his way through the crowd. “This here’s my case that happened in my county that happened in my state.”
Jack stood in the presence of the South’s Wyatt Earp. He was a short, portly dynamo. Stuffed in an old suit with cowboy boots, he looked like a real hellcat. “You must be Chief Denton McAllister?”
“You’d be right, son.”   
Purchase Links: 

This book sounds fascinating! We'll be sure to check it out! :)

Author Bio 
Tory Allyn currently resides in Upstate New York. Although born in Syracuse, he was raised in the quaint town of Baldwinsville with his brother and two sisters, who drove him into becoming the zany person he is today. As a child, he made up many a tale. Some funny; others dark and brooding, but all started him on the path to writing. Today, his nephew, lovingly referred to as ‘The Monster Child’, is his partner in crime. Most days, you will see them playing ball at a nearby park, going for a dip in the backyard pool or snowboarding down a popular mountainside.

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