I've not interviewed another author before and I couldn't have picked a better one to start with. For those who don't know him already, Armand Rosamilia is a top notch horror author and one of the best zombie authors I've met. Here's a picture of him standing next to one of the other best zombie authors, Joe McKinney.
Q: When did you start writing?
A: When I was twelve, but seriously in my early twenties. Then I screwed around and walked away from it and found it again in my thirties. I got serious about two years ago (in my forties) and decided to d this for a living. So far so good.
Q: What was the first story you remember writing?
A: "Beastie" was the first horror story I completed and I was 18. I ended up 'selling' it a couple of years later to a side-stapled zine. I'm quite proud of it and I've released it in a collection or two over the years.
Q: What genre is your most preferred?
A: Horror, but I've also written thrillers ("Miami Spy Games"), contemporary fiction ("Flagler Beach Fiction Series") and even erotica under a penname. I enjoy writing horror the most, though. o
Q: What challenges you the most in your writing?
A: Focusing each and every day on a small word count goal of 2,000 words. Not turning on the TV or reading a book or doing a million other things until I hit my goal.
Q: What is your favorite thing about being an author?
A: The hours. I can some days pump out 2,000 words in 90 minutes and then do promotion, answer e-mails and kill the rest of the day doing what I want to do.
Q: What do you like least about being an author?
A: The hours, lol… sometimes I fight to stay in the chair and other days I can't keep away from it and spend 10-15 hours writing and editing and answering interviews and e-mails. There is no clock to punch to go home because I'm always home.
Q: How many books do you currently have available?
A: On Amazon I have over 100 releases with my name on it. I am what you might call prolific. I set a goal and 99.9% of the time I hit it.
Q: What projects are you currently working on?
A: About 6 of them. I'll have the fourth "Flagler Beach Fiction Series" book out by mid-November (Flagler Fish Company) as well as "Evil," the fifth and final Keyport Cthulhu story and then the print book will soon follow… Dying Days: Origins and Dying Days: European Village 2 co-written with Tim Baker, and then an anthology with writers playing in my Dying Days universe called Still Dying 2… and that's just what's coming in November.
Q: Which book, or series, is your favorite?
A: Definitely Robert E. Howard's Conan series. As a kid I read and re-read them over and over. They were amazing and I still also have a complete run of the Conan Marvel Comics, too. I'm a geek.
Q: Who are some of your favorite authors?
A: Joe McKinney, Mark Tufo, Tim Marquitz, Brian Keene… I could keep going…
Q: Which book(s) inspire you the most?
A: Most books do. I love to read and get some new insight or ideas from everything I read.
Q: Do you listen to music when you write? If so, what band(s) do you play?
A: I put music on in the background but usually not anything I know or like so it doesn't distract me. I'm used to writing in public places with customers talking and music playing, so I need some noise.
Q: Any hobbies?
A: Who has time for that?
Tell us some more about yourself including your website and where we can find you on social media sites:
I am all over social media. My website is http://armandrosamilia.com and you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Pinterest, new Myspace… everywhere.
Care to share a bit of one of your books with us?
This is the unedited first chapters to Dying Days: Origins…
Dying Days: Origins
Chapter One: Notorious
The apartment was cramped, smoky and the radio way too loud for the neighbors. Tosha Shorb tried to get to the window to open it despite the cold night, but several drunks were in her way.
"Excuse me," she asked the guy in front of her. He ignored her.
She was tired - she'd worked a double today - and, despite three shots was still sober. And now she was sweating because forty people were crammed into this shitty apartment.
"Excuse me," she said louder, trying to talk over the inane pop music blasting. When he glanced down at her and smirked, putting his beer can to his lips, she lost it. Before she could think she'd swung around and smashed him in the face, the can crushing on his face and beer exploding in all directions.
"What the fuck?" he managed, and took a defensive position even as blood and beer streamed down his face and chest. He cocked his fist to punch but stopped, staring at his attacker.
Tosha was a slight redhead with piercing eyes, which were now filled with rage. She looked much younger than her twenty-seven years, which wasn't a good thing when you worked in a hospital and patients never took you seriously when you came for blood-work.
She put her hands on her hips, aware the music had been turned down and all eyes on her. As usual. Glad her twin sister wasn't here to give her the motherly look, she tried to remain calm. "I asked you to move."
The guy laughed. "Are you even allowed in here, little girl? What are you, twelve?"
There were a few snickers from those guests that didn't know Tosha. To her friends and those aware of her reputation, they knew what was coming and took two steps back.
The rage was building. She had two choices: turn and walk out and go home, or take action.
She put her right foot back a step at the same time he wiped his face and winked at her. Tosha tipped her weight forward with her hard leather boot swinging, catching him squarely in the groin.
As he doubled over, dropping to one knee, she leaned over and got in his face. "I'm allowed wherever the fuck I want, you fat piece of shit." Tosha winked at him as people grabbed her by the arms and pulled her away.
"I think you need to leave," someone said to her.
"Of course. You can't have some little girl in here kicking dude's asses, can you?" Tosha shrugged off their grip and gave them the finger as she left.
Chapter Two: Flesh Eater
It was cold but her rage kept her more than warm. Her Lizzy Borden concert shirt - she'd picked it up in Allentown during their last U.S. tour - was sticking to her chest and her tight blue jeans were starting to bother her. Her toes still felt numb after kicking the guy in the balls, and the thought of it made her laugh.
The streets of Harrisburg were empty, as usual. "Should've listened to Trista and stayed in." Her sister was the introverted one, preferring to sit home after work and play videogames online with her imaginary friends instead of going out into the actual world and talking to actual people.
She even preferred to be called by her stupid online name, Mathyu. Tosha didn't know if that was the dumb part, or the fact that she'd started addressing her sister by the name.
In order to get to her apartment she cut through an alley between the McDonalds and the Harrisburg Laundromat. It always smelled bad down here, but it was much worse during the summer, when the garbage heated up, rotten food and dead rats stinking. The bums loved this alley because the fast food garbage was tossed in the dumpster, and they'd rip the bags apart and feast.
Tosha decided to sleep in tomorrow, burying herself in her pillows and stuffed animals on her bed, curtains drawn, and threaten her sister to not wake her unless the world was ending.
She was so focused on her thoughts she stumbled into the bum, standing in the dark in the middle of the alley.
"Watch where you're going," she said loudly. Usually when you shouted or acted crazier than they did, the bums would leave you alone.
He didn't move.
When she tried to sidestep him he grabbed her left arm. He leaned into her and his breath was like rotting meat and bile. Tosha nearly gagged, but knew she had to get away from this crack-head or drunk and escape before she was raped.
"Back off, dickhead," she said and pushed him away. He simply reached for her again. Tosha easily moved around him and ran down to the other end of the alley. When she looked back he was walking slowly toward her. "Fuck you, asshole. Maybe I'll call the cops."
He kept coming with that staggered, insanely slow stutter step. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? Was he fucking with me, trying to freak me out? Playing some game?
As he got closer she tried to see his face, but it was too dark. Was he smiling, laughing, stoned? Tosha had all kinds of overdoses in the hospital, and she'd seen too many drug addicts with faraway stares or looks like they wanted to kill you.
She walked backwards to the other side of the street, aware she was alone. A quick glance north and south confirmed her fear. There wasn't a person out this time of night. No cars went by on the cross streets, she didn't hear traffic, not even a train rumbling by.
It felt like an hour but he finally made it to the end of the alley and stepped out onto the sidewalk and under the street light.
Tosha gasped. He was covered in blood, his mouth dripping with it.
"Is this some fucking joke, asshole? It's not funny. Did you come from that lame party, and think you can fuck with me?"
She puffed out her chest and planted her feet. She was headstrong and didn't run away from a challenge, even if it was a dumb idea. Her past was littered with dumb ideas, and she thought this was about to be another one.
"Last chance to leave me alone," she said. He took another three steps forward, within ten feet, when she gasped.
Something wet and bloody fell from his mouth and to the pavement. His eyes were glazed over and dead, his mouth slowly moving like he was biting the air. His arms were bent forward, straining at her.
"Fuck this," she muttered and turned and ran.