Meet Xine Rose

Xine Rose’s debut novel reads like S.Y.P.H covering Betsy’s Theme by Bernard Herrmann. With prose that hums like a child holding flowers, skipping through the rubble and ruin of late 40’s Berlin, They Won’t Apologize for the Mess is a combat boot stomping song of love and self-affirmation found in the wreckage of marital collapse. As Dr. Victor Frankl said, “That which is to give light must endure burning,” and this novel is an anthem of self-immolation—a guidebook for those willing to self-destruct to reinvent themselves.

Xine Rose’s debut novel They Won’t Apologize for the Mess is now availble through Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

Read the prologue and 1st chapter of her debut novel here:
They Won’t Apologize for the Mess

Learn more about Xine Rose and pick up your copy of They Won’t Apologize for the Mess by following the links below:

XineRose.com
Amazon
Barnes&Noble

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Xine was kind enough to answer a few questions for us. Please enjoy.

What is a writer, to you?

A writer is an amalgamation of skills and habits that require, most of all, paying attention. If you can pay attention, you can analyze and criticize. If you can take that time, and then still, more time to write it down, then a writer spawns into the universe, annoyingly so, and truly, there is no cure.

Describe your writing routine or lack thereof. (E.g., early morning, late night, sporadic, feast or famine, number of words daily, etc.)  

I have a love affair with routine. I dream of blocking of portions of my day, or my week and devoting them to writing. I fall under the spell, of believing I have any control over the future version of myself. As if my life could be like the movies, I scribble down my intentions, I burn some sage, I set alarms, I cancel plans. The fact is, most of the time, my best writing is in the passenger seat of the car, on the way to the grocery store, or on a break at work, smoking cigarettes in my car, or in the thirty minutes before I have to leave the house. There is the rare occasion, that writing springs forth from me like a burst pipe in the frigid temperatures. Alas, those occurences are both frantic, painful, and debilitating. All that to say, my writing habit consists of fooling myself into thinking my age and experience has equipped me to tackle time management and measured progress, when in reality, I am still just a screaming child, in a booster seat, occasionally being smacked in the face by the driver/parental figure who secretly just wants me to stop needing things.

We all have strengths and weaknesses in our writing, what are yours?

I have fairly standard weaknesses in my writing; procrastination, editing, rewriting to a fault, and imposter syndrome. To me, these aren’t special or a sign of a singular issue. These are part of the process. Writing wouldn’t be rewarding if you weren’t fighting to accomplish goals along the way, or hunting for grammatical errors, again, days before publication. I can’t fathom a writer, who hasn’t doubted their relevance, talent, or energy to reward ration. When I speak to other writers, I notice the common approach to these problems is akin to: If only I could eliminate THESE issues, I could write. Not just write the next great novel, but write. Just write. Which I guess, brings me to my one strength that my shadow self loves to label as a weakness: I just do the damn thing. Just write. I practice letting go of editing, and time management, and when a voice inside says I’m not any good and no one wants to read what I write, I just shrug, to myself alone in my office, and continue my writing. I think it’s important to clarify, I’m not claiming to write for myself, or for the 12 people who pre-ordered my book. I just writing. Just like I’m working when I can, and eating when I can, and resting when I can. It’ll all come out in the wash.

Tell us about the projects you are working on now and what’s next.

I submitted the first chapter of my debut novel as a nod to a literary journal that helped shape the kind of writing I want to see in the world. While editor at BarBar, They Won’t Apologize for the Mess was mostly complete, in desperate need of a copy editor, and was threatening to suffocate in dust in a drawer. I made the difficult decision to step away to focus on finalizing formats, publication, and distribution. I wanted to give my first book a fair shot, even if, mentally I had already moved on to my next projects. The book was published by a local emerging publisher, BirkenStacks, which is owned and operated by the Lexington Ladies Lit. Next, is a literary fiction novel about a young runaway, living homeless on the streets of Cincinnati. If all goes well, I may dip my toes into a three part fantasy novel, or a mystery murder series that reminds readers of the best movie that too few people know about, Drop Dead Gorgeous.

What written work by another author lives rent-free in your head?

I still haven’t read the Bell Jar. It’s been on the tbr list for many, many years. I finally checked out the audiobook on Libby and listened while I worked. For work, I sometimes drive a lot. At about the two hour mark, Plath described a birth with such visceral detail that I retched in the driver seat. It was February, but all of a sudden I was burning up, and sweating profusely. I rolled the window down, kept both hands on the wheel and turned the audio book off. I tried to switch to “Movies” Alien Ant Farm. When my vision began to blacken at the edges. I pulled off on the side of the highway. I proceeded to pass out. When I woke, my mind couldn’t quite remember if I had pulled over already. So, I gripped the steering wheel, trying like hell to keep the car between the rumble strips and the guard rail. When I realized the car was parked (I had already pulled over) I reclined my seat back and forced water and peanut butter crackers down my own throat. And while that work lives in my head like a squatter, I can only say it will not be going to a desert island with me.