Let's start with you telling us a little bit about yourself, Wayne.
I’m a pretty normal person. At least outwardly. I was born and raised in rural Western Australia. My family and I moved around a lot when I was growing up, which I didn’t like because I always found it difficult to make new friends. I’m a trained primary school teacher, counsellor and English language teacher. I buy at least a couple of Lotto tickets every week because I want to win Division One and spend the rest of my life travelling, writing and working with animals. Well, it’s good to have a dream, isn’t it?
I’m a very sensual person. By that I mean I enjoy my senses fully and stimulation of any one of them can lead to me writing an entire story. I once wrote a short story inspired by the bells at the beginning of Kate Bush’s “The Sensual World”. Favourite smells – freshly baked bread, cut grass, jasmine, bacon cooking. Favourite sound – footsteps crunching on loose stones, and rain. Favourite taste – mango, berries and bacon. Not together, though. Favourite touch sensation – a scalp massage, either with fingers tips or a comb. Favourite sight – the ocean or my mother laughing.
What would people be most surprised to learn about you?
I’m sure people who don’t know me would be surprised by a few things. At my core, I’m a very spiritual person, although I find it impossible to believe in a god. Or a religion. I’m interested in witchcraft and the innate powers of the human mind. The thing I hate most in the world is cruelty to animals. I have a great respect for the natural world and almost everything in it - apologies to mosquitoes, cockroaches, flies and quite a few people. Friends say I am very contradictory in what I say, but I don’t think so. I have a reason for everything I believe. I am a deep thinker and I love philosophy. My best quality – loyalty. My worst quality – impatience.
When did you start writing, is it something you've always been interested in, or did it develop later in life?
I was always good at writing at school. I topped the class in English, which was just as well since my mathematics was atrocious. In junior high school I began submitting poems and short articles to the local paper. I also wrote all through university. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing. It seems it was something I was born to do and have always done.
Has it been everything you thought it would be or not?
Getting something published and having people read what I’ve written is always exciting. Now that I’ve been doing it for a while, some of the thrill has gone, but I still enjoy it or I wouldn’t do it. All throughout my childhood I wanted nothing more than to have a book I had written published and I’m so proud I’ve achieved that. But there are still goals for me to aim for. I want my writing to keep improving. I want to write bigger books and bigger selling books. I would LOVE to see a story I had written on television or on film.
How did it feel when you realized that your very first book was going to be published?
I don’t think anyone ever answers this question with a negative. Of course, I was thrilled.
What's your favorite part of writing a book?
I love sitting at my computer writing the first draft. I enjoy just letting the ideas flow out. It’s so exciting creating worlds and putting people in them, and then determining what happens to each one. Sometimes I get so lost in the story that many hours can whizz by before I realise I am not a character in the story and that I have, sadly, returned to the real world.
Do you get time to read for pleasure? If so, which books do you enjoy?
I actually don’t read very much at all and when I do it’s usually a book on spirituality, the occult or the paranormal, or something related to personal development. Having said that, I always read the latest Clive Barker. As a gay horror writer, he is a HUGE inspiration to me. I have also read most of Anne Rice’s books and those of Neil Gaiman. Time is valuable so I only read books that will teach me something or that can carry me away on an imaginary journey.
Are there any other genres you'd be interested in writing?
I love writing erotic horror and fantasy, and will continue along that line. I write the types of books I like to read, so I can’t see myself moving away from those genres anytime soon. I like to give my readers as much as I can in each book and a simple erotic romance just doesn’t do it for me. I want to show people things, perhaps get them to think about things, as well as hopefully entertain and amuse.
Please tell us a little about your most recent release.
I have a release in December called “The King’s Successor”, which is the fourth and final part in my “King’s” series. The first book was incredibly popular and I couldn’t have been happier with sales. “The King’s Successor” concludes the tale. I have really enjoyed writing about Pan’s progress from simple farm boy to the King’s lover and partner, so it was with more than a touch of sadness that I brought the tale to its conclusion. I actually felt as though I’d lost a friend.
What can we look forward to in the future from you?
People can look forward to more stories and books from me. I have a contemporary novella based on my first year teaching at a small school in the desert coming out in January – “Desert Country”, a futuristic, post-apocalyptic science fiction / fantasy story coming out in February – “Future Past”, and have further releases slotted for each month until June 2014.
Anything you want to say to your readers?
I want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who reads my books and stories. I really am incredibly grateful. I also want you to know that I don’t just write erotic horror and fantasy. I also write more contemporary, everyday stories. So if you aren’t into horror or fantasy, please check out some of my other work.
Wayne Mansfield's recent releases:
The Stroke of Midnight
Night falls. Passions are released. Yet human desire isn't the only thing the darkness brings with it.
When the moon is high and the land is sleeping, gods descend and transform into men of such beauty, they are irresistible to mere mortals. Vampires hunt, not just for blood but for men worthy enough to join their ranks. And the Devil himself is free to roam and take what he wants from those who don't know any better.
Other creatures tread bolder paths. They walk amongst us during daylight hours -- creatures like an ancient demon from the sea, ghosts of pirates long since dead, and a beast of blackbirds whose hunger is not for love or lust, but revenge.
Even other worlds are not safe from creatures of the night. Many centuries into the future, man-love is illegal. Men caught coupling with other men are exiled to a verdant planet in whose breathtaking jungles lurks the last of an ancient race.
And finally there are the creatures within ourselves. Borne from the desire for youth and beauty, a man can be driven to extreme lengths. He can become a beast as wicked and evil as anything hell can expel. Some men have no control over the beast within, while others endure the wickedness of a curse.
One way or another, this book of short erotic horror and fantasy stories will keep you up until The Stroke of Midnight. Do you dare?
Brothers of the Moon
When night falls, darkness cloaks the land. It is a time of shadows and those creatures who move in shadow. What truly happens in the hours we spend sleeping blissfully unaware in our beds? Only the moon knows. And the Brothers of the Moon.
This collection contains thirteen tales of horror and fantasy, of passion and lust, from the realm of darkness. A demon on the beach demonstrates a degree of trickery that reinforces our fear. Spectres from beyond the grave return to help, console, and once again enjoy carnal pleasures long since left behind. The lonely Nullabor Plain plays host to extraterrestrial visitors. Ancient vampires bestow the Moonkiss on a troubled young man. Beings who have no name move unseen throughout the world, altering our lives in small but important ways. And all the while there is the call of the flesh -- the unceasing passion for closeness and gratification that binds human to supernatural.
Join the Brothers of the Moon. Let them lead you to places you can only imagine. Let them caress you. Let them kiss you. If you dare.
When the moon is high and the land is sleeping, gods descend and transform into men of su Night falls. Passions are released. Yet human desire isn't the only thing the darkness brings with it.
Excerpt from “M” (Brothers of the Moon)
“But master, what is this strange parchment? Its texture is not as rough as paper and it’s not brittle like ancient papyrus.”
Ambrose placed a hand on Aroth’s broad shoulders.
“It is human leather, my boy. It was old before I was born, and now I am passing it on to you as my master passed it to me.”
“But when I bleed on him, won’t that stain him?” asked Aroth, who wasn’t certain he wanted to be responsible for such an artefact.
Ambrose shuffled across the floor to the fire where his favourite chair stood.
“The blood is absorbed. He needs it to bring him back. Blood is the only thing that won’t stain him. I trust you, Aroth.”
Ambrose backed himself up to the chair and then slowly, painfully slowly, sat himself down with a sigh of great effort.
“Now leave me alone to rest. Take your gift to your room and keep it safe.”
Aroth rolled the parchment back up as carefully as if it had been made of butterfly wings. He pushed it gently back into the satin pouch and placed it into the black box. He looked across at Ambrose, who was already making the quiet noises he made when he was dozing.
“Night,” Aroth whispered before stealing off to the small annex where his bed was.
With the curtain pulled across and the box safely on his bedside table, Aroth removed his robe and settled onto the mattress. For a while, he lay naked on his simple bed watching the flickering candlelight dance across the walls of his tiny room. He often did this while he waited for sleep to come, and when he could feel that it was on its way, he would roll over onto his side and bring an arm up under his head to rest on. Tonight as he rolled over, his eyes fell upon the box and, suddenly, the wispy tendrils of approaching sleep were swept away.
He reached over and removed the satin pouch from inside the box. With his heart thumping and his blood full of adrenalin, he slipped the parchment from the pouch and unrolled it. Taking the candle, he held it carefully over the drawing to more closely inspect its detail. It was exquisite. The lines showed each and every muscle, even the veins on the penis, which hung down over a pair of large balls. The man’s eyes stared off into the distance and there was a slight smile on his face, as though he were thinking sinful thoughts. Aroth could even make out the toenails on the man’s toes.
So focused on the drawing was Aroth that he didn’t notice the slight tilt of the candlestick. In fact, he only saw the small drop of hot candle wax as it left the candlestick and fell toward the drawing. He jerked back, spilling hot wax on his hand, but the damage had been done.
A small spot of wax had landed on the man’s abdomen.
Aroth could hardly breathe. His heart was pounding so hard, that it threatened to break free of the ligaments that held it in place. He hadn’t had the drawing an hour and already he had damaged it. How could he tell Ambrose?
Not knowing what else to do, he blew on the wax to cool it, and when he was sure it had set, he manipulated the parchment so the small wax disc lifted off, leaving only a small shadow of a stain on the drawing. With a little amount of luck, Ambrose would never notice.
Aroth sat back on his bed and breathed a mighty sigh of relief. Yet now that the problem had been taken care of, his mind began to wander. Blood. Blood would bring the mysterious man drawn on human skin to life, and if it was blood M wanted, then it was blood Aroth would give him.
Taking the small knife he kept on his belt, he pricked his finger and squeezed it until a tiny bead of dark crimson blood appeared. With a bit more pressure, the bead rolled off the wound and dragged a red ribbon down the length of his digit. However, before it reached the bottom of his finger, he pointed it squarely at the drawing and let the blood drip freely onto M’s naked body.
At first, nothing happened. But as more and more blood landed, splashing onto the parchment, it seemed to swell. He kept his finger poised over the drawing until the whole parchment began to quiver. Such was the amount of movement that the whole thing fell off the night table and onto the cold stone floor, where it continued to increase in size until, finally, it transformed into a fully grown man.
Aroth watched with curious fascination as the man blinked his eyes and looked around him. When he saw Aroth, he smiled.
“Hello,” he said. His voice was deep and had a rich timbre.