Spotlight &Giveaway: A STAGE SET FOR VILLAINS by Shannon J. Spann

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Shannon J. Spann to HJ!

Hi Shannon and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, A STAGE SET FOR VILLAINS!

Hiya reader, welcome to HJ!
 

Please summarize the book a la Twitter style for the readers here:

A STAGE SET FOR VILLAINS asks the question: “What if the Greek gods died, and beautiful, godlike monsters rose from their blood, began causing chaos, and hosted a deadly competition that a mortal accidentally wandered into and now must escape?” (We’ve all wondered that…right?)
 

Please share the opening lines of this book:

For as long as I can remember, we have feared the Players. I know of only three ways to survive an encounter with one. “Never look a Player in the eye,” I recite as we shuffle a few steps forward in line. My older brother’s hand clutches my gloved fingers a little too tight, and I wonder if he’s nervous, too. Last night, I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep. But the longer we wait, the more I wonder if being marked will hurt.

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

This book has LORE. Let’s get started.

• The “big twist” is the first thing I knew about this book, and the reason it took so long to write.
• There are countless variations of this book, including a version with an entirely different set of characters. Everyone was…recast, so to speak.
• Speaking of characters, Sil is the only remaining character from the original manuscript–and his name still changed!
• The map is structured like an Ancient Greek auditorium.
• The book reads entirely different a second time through.

What first attracts your main characters to each other?

We learn pretty early on that our main characters couldn’t be MORE different on the surface, but in truth, they’re two sides of the same coin at heart. Our FMC Riven definitely starts out more in a place of envy–Jude is everything she’s not, and she resents that. He’s cocky, grounded in who he is, and doesn’t seem to care much what anyone else thinks–not to mention, immortal. Life seems too easy for him, and that doesn’t feel fair to her. Well, that, and he trapped her in a deadly bargain she can’t get out of.
Jude falls for Riven for reasons that feel a little spoilery 🙂 But we learn early that he finds her antics equal parts hilarious and entertaining, that he loves her clever little mind, and that her admires the grit and strength. Their romance has always been a chaotic slowburn for the yearners of the book world.
 

Using just 5 words, how would you describe your main characters”love affair?

Tragically doomed happily ever after.
 

The First Kiss…

Took 4 days to write, ha! That was, by far, one of the most difficult scenes–and ultimately became one of my favorites. I’ll write this as best I can without spoiling too much. It started out as an argument between characters (LORD, they like to argue), but devolved into both stripping each other of a lot of the masks and armor they protect themselves with. I got to know both characters on a deeper level while working on that scene and what they are both deeply afraid of while. I hope finally cracked it in the end!

Without revealing too much, what is your favorite scene in the book?

I think it’s impossible to share a snippet from my favorite scene without spoiling, so I’m pulling a snippet from a less spoilery scene that I really love instead. This is the scene where we meet Marigold, the terrifying Prop Master who dwells at the bottom of the Playhouse. Riven is on her way to retrieve a golden arrowhead she needs to escape…and she is NOT leaving without it.

A furnace blazes in one corner, where several long broadswords hang over a workbench of blacksmithing tools. Thick webs enmesh the ceiling. I make a face at the rather large spider spinning down to my right.
Then the golden statue moves. It’s not a statue.
I duck behind the canvas of Jude.
“Player?” the Prop Master asks sharply. No, not sharply.
Desperately.
She may have spotted me, but then I spot something, too, when
I peek around the easel.
There, hanging at her hip, is the dismantled arrowhead.
I am not leaving without it.
The arrowhead swings as she rushes forward.
Gathering my courage, I ease out from behind the canvas but stay in its shadow.
Marigold is smaller than I thought she would be, shorter than me, with skin the same gold as her lips. Tight coils of thick hair are dried stiff around her shoulder, shimmering with Craft. A carefully tailored dress patched with dozens of different patterns, materials, and colors clings to her waist.
Her eyes fix on mine. Or at least, I think they do. A haze of gold hangs over her pupils, too, but there’s a warm brown color peeking out at the edges of her irises.
There’s no denying—she’s striking, almost devastatingly so.
“Player,” she breathes.
Thank the gods. Her vision really is poor.
“Yes,” I whisper and wince. That’s my second lie tonight. “I’ve come to collect my arrowhead. Thank you for holding it for me.”
Her hands grip the arrowhead at her hip. “A gift. From Mattia,” she hisses, revealing a golden tongue and teeth. “Dangerous for you Players. For me to keep you safe.”
Well, she does have a point.
“Sil has sent for it,” I lie. That makes three. “I’d hate to tell him you’ve disobeyed a Player. Are you so ungrateful for your position here?”
Her eyes widen, and she snatches the arrowhead from her hip, thrusting it toward me. “Take it!”
Don’t mind if I do, I think, stepping forward and reaching my hand out to clasp the object.
We both seem to notice my mistake at the same time. Me, when I glimpse the mirror leaning on the wall behind her and notice the jacket I stupidly unbuttoned. And Marigold, when those cold eyes land on the blistering remains of my scorched mark peeking out from under the bandage at my throat.
Her hands tighten around the arrowhead just as I grasp it.
“Marked,” she whispers with disgust.
Well. I guess her vision isn’t that bad.
My eyes flicker to the painting of Jude as the naivete of the legend hits me.
She paints. She makes the props. She can see just fine.
Marigold tugs the arrowhead back with alarming strength. But I’m stubborn, and so I go with it, flying forward and finding myself closer to a mythical monster than I ever wanted to be.
“Oh, this? Just stage makeup!” I squeak. Four lies.
Marigold stares at me the way one would expect an ancient monster you’re trying to gaslight would stare. Definitely not blind. Her eyes examine me, narrowing as she opens her mouth. I’ve been so focused on her teeth being gold that I hadn’t noticed they’re also sharpened into little points. This is easier to observe when they’re two inches from my face.

If your book was optioned for a movie, what scene would be absolutely crucial to include?

This is a tough one. There are so many things that would be neat to see on screen, but not much I can say here without getting into full-blown spoiler territory. Probably the arena battle–and you’ll know when you get to it!–very late in the book. Seeing that true-to-book on screen would be fabulous.
Secondly, I’d love to see a section around the midpoint on screen…you’ll know you’ve reached when you see snow.
Lastly, we “see” each of the Players through Riven’s eyes early on, so I think I can share a snippet from that–I think it would be incredible to see the Players on screen!

A voice splits the silence, radiating with power and shaking the edges of the gilded frames.
It does not sound human.
TITUS: “Gods, they’re annoying!”
Horror grips me, my eyes sweeping around the corridor for a hiding place until I spot a large statue of a Player. That’ll do. I scamper across the hall, skirt behind the statue just in time to see a golden-eyed being round the corner.
My education instantly sets a name to the Player’s face: Titus. He’s all brawn, with massive shoulders and warm brown skin. A few strands of black hair fall loose across his proud expression as he saunters down the hall, the rest of it tied back at his neck with twists of silver. When he smiles, he shows all his teeth. The image
of a wolf nudges my mind.
MATTIA: “You’ve barely spoken to a single auditionee yet, Titus.”
A second Player, her voice sonorous, smooth and whispery like the hiss of a snake. She moves like one, too, carried by the sway of her hips and gliding like she’s skating over water. I take in her sharp gaze, steady shoulders, and dark-brown skin that glows like a harvest moon. Elegant braids are styled over her head to reveal emerald earrings that dangle from her earlobes like tiny chandeliers.
Player Mattia. The oldest Player on record.
My heart hammers at the sheer size of them, towering at least a foot over me, with long, toned limbs and brilliant gold eyes. They file before the curtain I just came through, lingering at the entrance like beasts about to be released from their cage.
Gods, what am I thinking? This is their cage. I’ve just stepped into it.
My eyes sting from the soft halo that shivers around their skin,
like they’re stars that have come loose from the night sky and fallen right into the Playhouse.
ARIUS: “They may surprise you yet, Titus. Casting calls bring in all kinds.”
My gaze shifts to a third Player rounding the corner. He’s lithe and willowy by comparison to Titus’s brawn and most certainly the tallest of the bunch, with fair skin and deceptively soft eyes. Arius works on tying back the golden-blond hair that flows nearly to his waist. While Titus’s tone crackles with the spit of fire and Mattia’s
thrums low, like the rattle of the earth, Arius’s voice carries like a mild wind.
He seems too gentle. Too harmless, like a dove.
But I know a dove could not do what Player Arius has done. A dove did not make an entire city laugh until their vocal cords tore and split. Player Arius specializes in the comedic arts. He might actually be more violent than the other two.
I hold my breath, easing closer to the statue and peeking between the space of its marble waist and elbow.
The wolf hollers a laugh that makes me jump.
TITUS: “Why bother learning their names? Odds are whoever makes it through will be blood on the stage before this is over.”
I draw inward at the words, frightened on behalf of the fools who are actually auditioning for this. It’s taking all of the self control I have not to make a panicked dash for the hall.
ARIUS: “You’re terrible. May Hades give you no rest.”
TITUS: “If he’s half so handsome as they say, may I give Hades no rest.”
ARIUS: “Fine. Then a long life in hell, I pray you.”
MATTIA: “Don’t bother. The gods do not listen to the eternally damned prayers of actors.”
I hold in a scoff. I’m pretty sure the gods have stopped answering prayers altogether.

Readers should read this book …

If they like unhinged banter, a complicated romance, a wild magic system, Greek mythology (specifically, the lore around Dionysus), and a twist (or five).

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have planned?

Secrets! But I will say, Theatron is set in a larger world, and maybe we haven’t seen the last of it yet. 🙂

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: 1 signed hardcover of A STAGE SET FOR VILLAINS. (U.S. only.)

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: If your personality was a museum, what book would be in the first exhibit?

Excerpt from A STAGE SET FOR VILLAINS:

Here’s an excerpt from Riven and Jude’s first meeting. 🙂

Compliments! Three compliments. Pay a Player three compliments and they’ll leave you alone.
The rule comes back to me with ease. It was drilled into my head around the same time I learned how to read.
That said, it doesn’t matter, because I have nothing nice to say. Even if he is admittedly the most staggeringly beautiful person I have ever seen.
Jude Stepharros. Lead Player of the Playhouse.
I grip onto my common sense before I can reach for my knife and start a fight that I most definitely will not win. Their director is one thing. But Jude, like the others, stands at least a foot taller than me—and I’ve been regarded as comically tall my entire life.
My second thought is that if I were to take him in a fight, I’d pierce one of his eyes first—which are glowing and golden and lined with kohl. And watching me like I’m live entertainment.
Probably because I’ve been staring in stunned silence for about thirty seconds now.
JUDE: “So, you are hiding, then.”
My gaze flutters longingly to the hall, where a smarter woman would have escaped moments ago.
Growing up, I always fantasized about this moment: fearlessly facing a Player. Confronting whichever cast member cursed me. Reaching for my knife and plunging it through the Player’s dark heart.
But I don’t feel fearless, and my hands are not reaching for my knife.
I feel small.
SILENUS: “Always intent on making an entrance of his own, isn’t he?” The director’s voice booms on the other side of the curtain as the audience hushes to an amused titter. “Now, if you please…a warm welcome for our Lead Player, Jude!” he tries again.
“Well, don’t look so scared over it.” Jude pouts at me. “It could be worse. I, for instance, am terribly late.”
The crowd screams the Player’s name, as if this will magically summon him. He makes no move for the curtain.
JUDE: “You know, I looked just like you at my audition—nervous and all. Better dressed, though.” His golden eyes look me over as I pray to the fl oor to open up and swallow me whole. “But anyway, it isn’t so bad. Do you know what the trick is?”
I have a feeling he’s going to tell me whether I respond or not. He hasn’t seemed to notice I’m inching backward or that my right hand has crept into my coat toward my blade.
JUDE: “Take three deep breaths like this— Gods, you’re standing like I’ve got a knife to your throat. Try sitting down? Here.”
Before I can say anything, Jude sits himself down and politely pats the ground next to him like I’m a lost puppy. Meanwhile, the onlookers outside have taken to chanting his name.
This is their vicious Lead Player? I imagined sharper teeth. Maybe an evil cackle.
Jude blinks up at me. “Well, I’m not going out there if you don’t sit first.”
It occurs to me that if he doesn’t go out there, someone is liable to come get him.
I quickly sit down across from Jude, crossing my legs the way his are and keenly avoiding his eyes, staring instead at the dark copper of his hair, which fl ickers like candlelight at the ends.
Jude looks like he does in his playbill solagraph, with smooth olive skin and tousled hair that probably took an absurd amount of styling to look intentionally messy. One dark eyebrow is arched just slightly higher than the other in amusement. He wears far too much jewelry for one person.
JUDE: “Good! I’m Jude, by the way.”

Excerpts. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

The gods are dead. All that’s left are the Players…

The performers of the Playhouse are as worshipped as they are feared, their enchanting shows bending hearts, minds, and even reality itself. Vicious, godlike, lethal. Eighteen-year-old Riven Hesper knows the dangers better than anyone, after her own encounter with a Player resulted in a curse that is slowly killing her.

When the Playhouse announces the spectacle of a lifetime―a chance for one mortal to steal a Player’s immortality―Riven sees her last chance to live. Desperate for answers, she infiltrates the competition. There, she finds Jude, the Playhouse’s brilliant, merciless Lead Player, whose charm is as dangerous as his Craft, and strikes a deadly bargain to save her life.

But with time running out and the Playhouse’s secrets unraveling into a disturbing picture, Riven faces a grim possibility: she might not be the hero of her story after all. In fact, she may be the villain.

Because the Playhouse doesn’t just tell stories. It rewrites them.

And Riven’s might end in blood.

Caraval meets One Dark Window in this lush and dark fantasy.
Book Links: Amazon | B&N |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Shannon J. Spann is an NYC-based author from Virginia, where she grew up as one of six sisters and spent most days crafting stories in the woods (and subsequently performing them for anyone who would listen). A lifelong fan of ghost stories, old movies, and all things theatrical, she can most often be found wandering Central Park, exploring her local bookstore, or hunting down a sunbeam to read in. You can find her on Instagram @ShannonJSpann
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