Excerpt:
There were shouts within and then banging, followed by the distinctive sound of splintering wood. I watched a man rush into the room and douse the flames with a handheld fire extinguisher. I got to walking before the smoke settled. I had a pretty good idea of what I’d see and my day was already shit enough.
I hurried around the corner and almost whooped out a hallelujah when I saw the gate to Singa’s was up.
My enthusiasm was tempered when I looked through the window. The place had been ransacked.
Singa, at least that’s what I assumed his name was since he was always there, sat behind the counter reading an old newspaper.
“What happened in here?” I said.
The shelves had all been knocked down, glass to the cold cases reduced to pebbles, boxes, bottles and cans strewn about as if the entire store had been invaded by a mosh pit.
Singa, who had been old to begin with, looked like he’d aged twenty years. The bags under his eyes were dark and had an almost crispy texture. Those umber eyes held back tears that threatened to fall any second. He looked around the remains of his store in a daze.
“Humanity happened,” he said, his voice, like his gaze, far, far away.
I put a fifty-dollar bill on the counter. “You mind if I see if there’s anything worth saving?
“Keep your money.” He either avoided my gaze or thought he was talking to a ghost. “Money burns. We all burn.”
I snatched a reusable bag from the floor and got on my hands and knees, looking for anything that had been left whole. I came up with a box of elbow macaroni, a can each of beets, sliced potatoes and artichoke hearts, three bottles of off-brand water, and a box of stuffing mix. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
I slung the bag over my shoulder. “Is…is there anything I can do for you?”
His eyes slowly found mine. “Yes.” He opened his palm. In the center, I saw a tiny pile of black specks. “Run.”
Singa dipped his head and inhaled the powder like a cokehead fresh from rehab.
The sneeze came instantly.
The flames seemed to burst from every pore of his body.
I jumped back and slipped on a pile of debris, sure that the heat had singedmy eyebrows.
Poor Singa slumped into his chair and burned without a sound.
It took a few attempts to get to my feet and run out of the store. In my mad dash back home, my heavy breathing popped the tampons loose. I didn’t stop to look for them.
I noticed fires in other windows.
The one that had been put out earlier was back, blazing again. SHC was like that sometimes. Someone on the radio had called it ‘almost sentient.’ It didn’t like it when people put it out. So, it came back with a vengeance. This time, no one tried to extinguish it.
In fact, there were tendrils of smoke everywhere as far as I could see. And nowhere could you hear the sound of a single fire engine. What was the point?
Oddly, what disturbed me most was when one of the feral cats hiding under a car gave a loud sneeze. It burst into flame immediately. The fleeing blur of burning hair and flesh went headfirst into a wall, made a sharp turn and disappeared down an alley, leaving grayish smoke in its wake.
1. What literary pilgrimages have you gone on? –
I’ve yet to go on one, but if I could right now, I’d be in Paris tracing
Hemingway’s footsteps. I know, not very original. But the one book I re-read
every year is A Moveable Feast to kind of recharge my writing battery,
and I’ve become a little obsessed. So far, the closest I’ve come to making that
journey is watching the movie, Midnight in Paris.
2. What is the first book that made you cry? The
first and only book that has made me cry…so far…is Joyland by Stephen King. It
was the summer of 2013, and I had just lost my father to a sudden and
devastating illness. We took my mother with us on vacation to our favorite town
in Maine. I was sitting in a hammock reading Joyland by a peaceful lake, just
feeling my father’s presence, thoroughly wrapped up in this book by the author
my father introduced me to when I was a young boy. I don’t cry often, but the
waterworks were in full effect that afternoon.
3. Does writing energize or exhaust you? I’d say
mostly energizes. There are days when I’m plumb wiped out and have no idea how
I’ll get a sentence in. Before I know it, I’ve written five pages and I’m hyper
charged. Writing a book is a long process, and there will be good and bad days
behind the keyboard. But for the most part, I truly love and enjoy the writing
process, so it gets my motor running.
4. What is your writing Kryptonite? The dang
Internet. It’s too easy to get distracted. I don’t know a writer who isn’t a
gold medalist procrastinator. YouTube rabbit holes are a surefire way to get us
not to do what we’re supposed to do. That’s why I like to write in the library
where I’m totally disconnected. It’s just me and my manuscript.
5. Did you ever consider writing under a
pseudonym? I actually do write under a pseudonym. It all stemmed from
publishing my first book, which was a children’s picture book, with a major
publisher. My agent said it would not be a wise idea to publish horror novels
under the same name. It’s all about branding. Pseudonyms are fine with me. I
also do ghost writing, and my name can never be on those books. I’m fine with
it. I never started writing to get my name in lights. I write solely to
entertain people.
6. What other authors are you friends with, and
how do they help you become a better writer? Wow. Too many to list. There is a
great group of writers in the horror community I’ve had the pleasure to start
horror lines with, partner with on podcasts, hang out at conventions and
signings. And I’m meeting new people all the time. Just to name a few, I’m
honored to be friends with Tim Meyer, Chad Lutzke, Jason Brant, Tim Waggoner,
Laurel Hightower, Russell James, Glenn Rolfe, JH Moncrieff, Cat Cavendish,
Terry M West and so many more. Knowing them, hearing their war stories, being
inspired by their work, just keeps me trying to be a better writer…and person.
7. Do you want each book to stand on its own, or
are you trying to build a body of work with connections between each book? Even
when I wrote a paranormal trilogy (Jessica Backman’s Death in the Afterlife), I
wanted each book to be enjoyed as a standalone. That doesn’t mean I won’t plant
little Easter eggs in books so big time readers will go, “Ah, I see what you
did there!” I write so many books about cryptids, my true love, that the
strange creatures are the glue that holds them all together.
8. What authors did you dislike at first but grew
into?
9. What’s your favorite under-appreciated novel?
I’m a huge fan of Snow in August by Pete Hamill. It’s a kind of love letter to
New York in the 1940s, AND, it’s a horror novel in a way because there is a
golem. Just a unique, precious book.
10. As a writer, what would you choose as your
mascot/avatar/spirit animal?All I can hear in my head is Napoleon Dynamite
talking about ligers. But Napoleon aside, I guess I’d choose good old
sasquatch. Me and the big hairy guy have been on good terms for most of my
life. I tell the stories he wants the world to read. And when you’re not
messing with him, he’s pretty laid back. The funny thing is, I have quite a few
people who call me Squatchmo!
11. How many unpublished and half-finished books
do you have? I’m so fortunate to say I only have 2 unpublished books – both
middle grade horror tales – and 1 unfinished thriller that I swear I’m going to
dive back into and complete. If anyone is looking for the next Goosebumps, hit
me up!
12. What did you edit out of this book? More than what I left out
is what I kept in. The relationship between Sam and Aja is falling apart right
in tandem with the world outside their marriage. Some of the things they say to
each other are kind of rough, but it happens between couples. One of my editors
was put off by the animosity between them, and I get it. But sometimes,
relationships take dark turns. It’s how we fight for the light or descend into
the abyss that defines us.
13. If you didn’t write, what would you do for
work? I’d probably either work in, or own a bookstore. I’m such a bookworm. If
I could spend all day, every day, reading, I’d be the happiest clam in the
ocean. I love the smell of books, new and old. I love to feel the pages in my
hand. I love talking about books with other people. It’s still a dream of mine
to have my own bookstore.
14. Do you hide any secrets in your books that
only a few people will find? I did write a wild deep sea horror novella that is
chock full of Creature from the Black Lagoon references. Almost every name is a
take on someone or something from the movies. I love it when people read that
book and reach out to me, totally getting what I did there. When you read a lot
of my books, my not-so-secret love of horror is in there in plain sight from
character names to locations.
15. What is your favorite childhood book? By far,
it was The Little Red Lighthouse. When I was in grammar school, I got it from
one of the Scholastic book fairs. It came with a floppy record. I read or
listened to that book at least a thousand times. Imagine how thrilled I was
when my mother told me the little red light house was an actual place we could
visit under the George Washington Bridge! I still have that well-worn book on
my shelf. I can’t wait to read it to my grandchildren. Speaking of which, I
better tell my daughters to make me some grandchildren!
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