Interview with Uvi Poznansky
Author of Dancing with Air, and Volume IV of Still Life with Memories
Author: Uvi Poznansky
Still Life Fall
Some books sweep you away to a different place,
letting you escape from reality. My books sweep you away too, but they bring you back from that place of escape, allowing
you to face, with a new, clear focus, the thoughts and emotions inside of you. Step into the skin of my character, look in
the mirror, and find yourself.
It is the beginning of autumn, time to turn a leaf, and I hope that for you, that will be a leaf from my new WWII Romance
book, Dancing with Air.
to Dancing with Air
Tell us a little about yourself.
I am an author, poet and artist. I paint with
my pen and write with my paintbrush, which you can realize looking at my book covers, which are based on my own art. I
am in the process of showcasing my bronze and paper sculptures on my blond, along with my oil paintings and
Luckily, several of my books have become bestsellers and award winners. My boxed set, A Touch of
Passion, is the 2016 WINNER of The Romance Reviews Readers' Choice Awards.
My professional career
is a mixed bag, if you will. I received a Fellowship grant and a Teaching Assistantship from the Architecture department at
Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, where I earned her M.A. in Architecture. Then, taking a sharp turn in my education, I earned
her M.S. degree in Computer Science from the University of Michigan.
To avoid boring myself, I do the
opposite of what they call ‘branding’ of my books. I write across a variety of genres: Apart From Love, My Own
Voice, and The White Piano (literary fiction), The Music of Us and Dancing with Air (romance), Rise to Power, A Peek at Bathsheba,
and The Edge of Revolt (historical fiction), A Favorite Son (biblical fiction), Home (poetry), Twisted (horror), and Now I
Am Paper and Jess and Wiggle (children’s books.)
What is the
key to writing?
Art by Uvi
A lot of
books--some good, some not so much--offer advice on how to write, the rules of grammar, the tools to use in plotting and character
development, etc, etc, etc. But really, the most important key to honing your skill is this: just write. Do not wait until
inspiration strikes or until the time is right. How often do I write? Every free moment, every day. And even when I’m
away from punching those keys, the characters, who are alive inside me, keep whispering their innermost secrets to me, keep
I love doing a lot of research for the story, to anchor it in the particular time and
place. For historical fiction, this means not only paying attention to the historical timeline of events, and let the characters
go through them, but in terms of the small details, everything must match what you would see, smell, and hear if you landed
right there and then. This includes fashion--what were the popular styles of hats, dresses, shoes? How did man and women were
their hair? Could women afford to buy makeup? It includes gadgets--what where ovens like back then? Were there refrigerators?
How do you store food? What particular meals were popular in England of that era? Were there shortages, due to the war?
Congratulations for your new release! What is it about?
Oh thank you so much!
In my previous novel, The Music of Us, Lenny met Natasha, a young, accomplished concert pianist, and fell in love with her. Now, in my new WWII romance novel, Dancing with Air, their love story comes to its height oversees, with a bit dash suspense. Serving on the European front, Lenny writes
bogus reports, designed to fall into the hands of Nazi Intelligence. To fool the enemy, these reports are disguised as love
letters to another woman. This task must remain confidential, even at the risk of Natasha becoming suspicious of him.
Once she arrives in London, Lenny takes her for a ride on his Harley throughout England, from the White Cliffs of Dover
to a village near an underground ammunition depot in Staffordshire. When he is wounded in a horrific explosion, Natasha brings
him back to safety, only to discover the other woman’s letter to him. He wonders, will she trust him again, even though
as a soldier, he must keep his mission a secret? Will their love survive the test of war?
Please share an excerpt from Dancing with Air with us.
From afar I could not read the features of her face, because she turned her head to look
at her suitcase, nor could I tell the color of her hair, because it was tucked under the hat. But I figured, I might as well
strike a conversation with her, on the far-fetched hope that she might have met Natasha or knew something, anything about
I could not be sure if this young woman noticed me, not only because
the sun was in my eyes but also because of the little veil, giving her an air of mystery, and because of the oversized, stiff
brim, sweeping around her head. Its wide line balanced out the new, slimmer look, which was coming into fashion, lately. Unable
to deny my curiosity I started walking towards her, squinting.
cloud drifted over across the horizon, shielding the sun, and now I could see: her white and black polka-dotted dress was
neatly gathered around the waist by a black linen belt. In the evening breeze, dots were flapping against her hips, dancing
around her knees.
The fabric was crimped, however, which suggested
to me that at the last minute, just before coming ashore, she must have taken the dress out of the suitcase and changed into
it, with no time to take care of the creases, to smooth them. I imagined she was eager to look her prettiest for someone,
a special someone she was expecting to meet.
What’s the matter with you, I asked myself. What game are you playing? A spy? A private investigator?
Strangely, the closer I got to her the more pronounced was the thumping of my heart.
I quickened my step, crossing through a sudden gust of air, in which I caught not only the smell of the ocean but also a whiff
of perfume. Somehow it reminded me of Natasha’s, except that in her case, the only purpose for which she used it was
to dab the corner of an envelope, when sending a letter to me.
I said, trying to strike a conversation with this stranger. “I heard it was a difficult journey.”
Just then, the wind grew stronger.
It lifted the hat into a tilt and for just an instant, revealed a glint, the red glint of a curl. At once she caught the brim,
set the hat properly back in place—but not before I noticed the rosy blush.
Burning suddenly with desire I reached for her hand.
Instead of taking it, Natasha wrapped her arms around me, coming into mine. Speechless, I embraced her.
“Oh, Lenny,” she said, her voice so soothing, so velvety, just as I remembered it.
“Just snuggle up a little closer.”
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