A.J. Aalto Supervillain on a Leash
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Taking It To The Grave 2 (Interview With A Thrill Master)

May 30

No, no–don’t get up … a woman getting tossed in a cell with you is hardly the same as her joining you at the dinner table. Jesus, you can barely stand. Sit back down before you fall. *swipes under her bloody nose with forefinger* No sense cracking your fool head open before they bring your last meal, Boudreau. Yeah … I know who you are. You understand why you’re not chained up, right? *gestures at the iron rings bolted to the wall* Why they left you loose? And why they threw me in here? They know you, friend. They think you’re one of those white knight types. Hope they’re wrong, for your sake. See, they figure if they knocked me around a bit, you’d get riled-up, and when they came back, you’d put yourself in front of me like some macho dickhead. They’re counting on it. Don’t let them fool you, Boudreau—ain’t nothing you can do for me. Standing between me and them is only going to cost you a few teeth.

Yeah, you’re right: I was one of them. Funny, most people don’t peg me for an assassin. But then, you’re a writer: guess you see things most people don’t. I’ve been slated for removal. *defeated chuckle*  It was only a matter of time. Your left arm looks like it hurts, lemme give you something for it. Just a pain killer. No? Suit yourself.  *dry-swallows four pills* More for me. Gonna wish you had a few of these in an hour or so.

What were you thinking? I mean, you’re no dummy, you must have known you’d piss ’em off with your thinly-veiled antagonists. And between you and me, they do not appreciate the word “frankenseeds”. No sense of humour about it. That might have been the last nail in your coffin. How’d you know about the seed bank plan? Lucky guess? Doesn’t matter, now. They’re gonna bury you, Boudreau, I watched them dig the hole. You’re a goner whether you answer their questions or not, so if I were you, I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Better yet, give me the answers. I know what they’re dying to ask you.

A heads up? When it happens, they’ll take me away first, for two reasons: first, they hope you’ll get in their way, give ‘em an excuse to do more damage to that arm. Second, you get to hear me scream. They think this’ll make you more talkative, when they get around to coming for you. *turns her head* Hear that? The low hum. They’re warming up the chair. Guess they’re going all out for me. I should be flattered. Won’t do them any good. They broke with me, they get nothing. *raises her voice* HEAR THAT, PERCY? YOU GET NOTHING! Ten years I gave him, and this is how it ends? Nothing more than a primer for an author take-down? Fuck Percy and fuck Slade too, sideways and ass backwards. If there is a hell, they’ll have to face me there someday.

Hey, Boudreau? We’ve got a little time left. Talk to me a bit? I keep thinking about Slade’s AK47. Do you know that thing can fire 700 rounds a minute? Only holds 30 but still–he could turn my guts to a gooey paste in under 4 seconds. Not that I’ll get off that easy. *choked-back sob* Nah, I’m OK. Superfine like sugar. No worries. Tell me about this book of yours that’s got the whole organization pissed off. And then … well, would you promise me something? Before they put the bag on your head, tell the bastards:

                      AJ took your secrets to the grave...

AJ: I understand you used to sing in a band. How does your love of music influence your writing, do you think?
 
AB: In my opinion, performing in a band and crafting a good story are both activities designed to entertain the general populace. If one has talent for any given vocation, I feel you owe it to yourself to give it a go. You know…try it on for size, and see how it looks and feels. Although I had wanted to perform as a singer for many years, it was never meant to be more than a hobby. Writing has proven just the opposite; I never aspired to become a writer. However, once I began, I realized how much passion I had for it, and will certainly pursue it as a second career.
 
 
AJ: Your protagonist is an ex-navy seal. Have you yourself served in the military? How did Mocado present himself to you, during character creation?
 
AB: Murhkin Mocado is the main character in the story, and I created him even before having a loose concept of what “In Memory of Greed” would be about. My desire was to write a character who was very tough physically, but vulnerable, and a bit naive emotionally, due to childhood experiences. Navy SEALs must undergo a series of training programs so rigorous that a large number wash out well before graduation. I thought it would be an interesting, and powerful paradox, to create an incredibly rugged character from a physical standpoint, yet one who carrys heavy emotional baggage. I believe this dichotomy helps cement a bond between Mocado and the reader. If I’ve done my job, people will respect this character for his achievements, and compassionately root him on, as the reader is privy to where his difficulties have stemmed from. I have never served in the military. Instead, I attended college and earned a professional degree in architecture. However, I’ve always had the utmost respect for those who serve our country, and I’m proud to have my MC represent the men and women who protect this nation.

AJ: Were there many scenes or ideas you had for this group of characters that didn’t make it into this story?

AB: I actually rewrote a major percentage of “In Memory of Greed” twice, the third version being the one I published. I started writing the book without having developed an outline first. The storyline wandered far afield from where I really wanted it to go. As a result, many scenes were culled, and replaced with writing that worked. I learned the hard way—writing without an outline is not a method that works for me.
 
AJ: Do these characters still speak to you, with intentions of returning for more adventures? Is there one character who is speaking louder than the rest?
 
AB: The protagonist, Murhkin Mocado, and the secondary protagonist, Joelle Barstow are not quite ready to call it quits. Both will show up in my second novel, which is also a political mystery/thriller. This story will certainly keep Mocado and Barstow busy. My antagonists will likely bury both characters up to their eyeballs in treachery. 
 
AJ: I’m really glad to hear that. What was the biggest hurdle you’ve faced in bringing “In Memory Of Greed” to where it is today?
 
AB: As a first-time, indie-published author, the challenge lies in promoting the work without over-doing it. There’s a fine line between making people aware that you have a quality product to offer, and spamming them to death. I try to give of myself, in terms of helping fellow indie authors promote their work, instead of tooting my own horn, non-stop. I feel that this creates fellowship and camaraderie among writers. Not only that, but it gives me a fantastic reason to read new books. As I often hear it said in this profession: “A rising tide lifts all boats.” I’m happy, and proud, to contribute to this philosophy.
 
AJ: What worries you most: the bioethics (or the lack thereof) of modern agro-science, the murky relationship between big business and government policy-makers, or the sheer size and sway of some of these “king of the jungle” corporations?  
 
AB: All three topics are worrisome, for the simple reason that the revolving door policy between big business and government allows these firms to basically write their own rules then dictate who enforces them; which leads me to the question, who is watching the watchmen? Unfortunately, when those at the top are in bed with one another, the average man on the street ends up becoming a unsuspecting, human guinea pig.
 
AJ: You’ve mentioned before that you’ve got your second book outlined and ready to go. When you do sit down to write it, what will your work/writing schedule look like? Do you set aside time, or grab it when you can?
 
AB: When I am actively working on a WIP, I get up around 4:30 AM and write until about 9 AM. I then head out to work at my day job. Upon arriving home, I do the family thing for a while then try to get a couple more hours of writing in, before going to bed. I also try to take as much time off as possibe, in order to devote large blocks of time to writing.
  
AJ: Stuart Roth’s temper interests me–talk to me about him. From what part of your own psyche did you draw, to write that character’s dark, passionate outbursts, or did you have to look outside yourself to find him?
 
AB: Stuart Roth is an amalgamation of the bosses I had while in my twenties, before starting my own business. Most seemed to get off on their position, lording over employees with a heavy hand. I remember taking issue with how these men treated their staff, acting as if they were vastly better and smarter than the rest of us. When it came time to write “In Memory of Greed,” payback arrived in the form of crafting a character who was obviously his own worst enemy, losing the respect of all individuals with whom he had contact. I wanted to make him funny in a profoundly sad sort of way. I believe I’ve accomplished this with Roth.

 

AJ: I think it’s fair to say that Senator Mocado is a cold, distant man. Whereas Stuart Roth at least has passion, Senator Mocado is the one character in “In Memory Of Greed” to have zero warmth, which makes him a hard, disinterested father. How does this affect his son’s personality? Did you plan this consciously?
 
AB: It was quite intentional that I wrote Senator Mocado, Murhkin’s father, as a self-absorbed, emotionally unavailable character in the story. I believe it adds a layer of emotional complexity to Murhkin, as his past contributes greatly to the issues he’s forced to overcome on his journey. Many parents keep a tremendous amount of personal information safely hidden from their children, in order to insulate the parent/child relationship from unpleasant surprises. This is taken to extremes with Murhkin and the senator. In the end, Murhkin is forced to face certain realities that cause him pain, but also help to provide closure. By working through these revelations, he can ultimately live a more fulfilling life, his journey providing wisdom and strength.
 
AJ: You’re a well-travelled man. How did you choose California, Ireland, and Kenya from your extensive list of locales–why did these three places fit your vision of the story so well?
 
AB: Kenya, in all it’s exotic wonder, burst forth from my mind as a locale that I MUST write about. There is so much about Africa that captured my imagination. It was my first trip abroad; therefore, making it a locale that my characters travelled within my debut novel would not be denied. And Ireland was a perfect fit, as one of my main characters is Irish. Ireland is also quite breathtaking, allowing me to provide the reader with a travel experience they may, or may not have experienced on their own. California seemed right for the U.S. location, not only from a character development standpoint, but also in relation to its geography. Further, I have spent a fair amount of time there. As they say, write what you know. 
 
AJ: You’re not shy about your love of Hawaii–any interest in setting a future story there?
 
AB: Though a number of movies, television programs, and novels have been based in the Hawaiian islands, I feel there is enough diversity of culture, scenery, and history to provide a fresh, solid backdrop for a story. I’ve seen a few attempts get a bit cheesy, in terms of including cliche scenarios, so it’s a locale that requires a certain finesse to pull it off. I make a solemn promise to my readers: no hula contests will appear in any of my novels.
 
AJ: Corporate greed and government corruption feature heavily in this novel. They remind me of certain other massive corporations (which I’ll not mention, lest they aim their dreaded cudgel of death at my forehead) which are, at this point, not even attempting to pretend they’re not a den of super villains. Do you believe anyone can make a difference in the stand against such corporations?
 
AB: Change on this scale, and magnitude, must come about collectively. If a large enough chorus of voices echoes across the land, those who choose to do wrong may just find themselves under a white-hot spotlight. My intent is to be a conduit for getting the word out. I fully intend to be an integral part of the change I want to see happen. This type of grass-roots effort has worked well in the past, and it can work again.
 
AJ: There’s a scene that I’ll never forget in “In Memory of Greed” that takes place in a witch doctor’s shop. Without any major spoilers, take me through your research process for that, because this is a colourful and unexpected addition to the plot. How much of this scene is based in realism and how much is pure fiction?
 
AB: The shop is a real place, located exactly where I described it in the book. I actually purchased a number of tribal masks from the shop when I was in Nairobi. Although I’m relatively certain the real proprietor of the place was not a witch doctor’s son, the vibe I got from having all those tribal masks hanging there “looking” at me was otherworldly. Each was authentic, and hand-carved, belonging to various tribes from all across Africa. The feeling I got while standing inside the place left an lasting impression on me. Therefore, it just had to be the backdrop for a dramatic scene in my novel.
 
AJ: Yep, that’s friggin’ creepy LOL. Was it a conscious choice on your part to give all your characters, both good and bad, personal sensitivity and depth? I’m thinking now mostly of Patrick Keegan, who, as a well-rounded player with both an edge and a conscience, would actually be my choice for most interesting character. Did you set out to create characters with unexpected sensitivity, or was that a happy accident?
 
AB: No accident there. I believe that the most saintly individuals in the world have a dark side. Conversely, those who walk the earth with hearts chock full of evil still have a small area where positivity and light remain. My feeling is, the more a writer shows the complexities of each character’s personalities, the more invested it allows the reader to become. I want to make my readers feel as much as possible while immersed in my work. The best way I know to achieve that, is to provide them with characters who are colorful, complex, and flawed in some way; a figurative meat, and potatoes to sink their voracious teeth into. PS: I welcome vegetarians with opened arms too.
 
 
AJ: How often do future characters, not yet written, disrupt your work day with their chatter in your head? Do you push them aside or jot them down for later?
 
AB: I’ve heard many writers speak of this, but my day job usually requires a great deal of concentration, and situational awareness. I don’t generally allow my mind to drift from day job to writer mode. For me, sitting down to write, whether it’s research, character development, or editing, gets my full attention. Likewise with my day job. I enjoy the process of creating good characters far too much to have anything else enter this realm, simultaneously.
 
AJ: So you’re pretty focused. What 3 adjectives do you hope readers would use to describe your writing style thus far?
 
AB: Intense, fast-paced, and satisfying.
 
AJ: As a writer, what do you feel is your weak point, that which needs the most effort to overcome? How do you plan to improve this?
 
AB: As writers, we all have something new we can learn, on a daily basis. For me, if the rules about writing mechanics were to become more second nature, I feel my work would improve. The more we get right the first time around, the less editing our work requires, to become solid. I actually enjoy reading books about grammar, as they contain the tools we utilize to craft our stories. 
 
AJ: When you read, do you do so as a writer, with an eye to what writerly tricks other authors might be using to entertain you and draw you in?
 
AB: I certainly read differently now than I did before starting this journey as a writer. It’s difficult not to view other works with a critical eye, as that’s how we get the most from our own work. I’m delighted to say, there are few books I’ve read, from which I can’t take at least something away to help my own work. Some are things to emulate, some to avoid.
 
AJ: Do you find yourself mentally editing other people’s books without meaning to?
 
AB: Yes, I totally do this. Each individual has a slightly different way of saying something. What may look and sound perfectly normal to me, might come across as clunky, or conversely, genius to another. While there are some black and white rules to follow, we, as writers, have many options available to get our ideas across. Our own individual styles are what help draw fans to our work. Some of my favorite authors became such, for the simple reason that I can find no flaws with their prose.
 
AJ: Where do you do your best thinking, as a writer? Do you have a Thoughtful Spot, like Winnie the Pooh? Is there any magical place in your world where your words seem to come easiest?
 
AB: I don’t have any one spot that works better than others, but I do have a condition that must be met; relative silence. I can’t have TV, music, or conversations happening around me. Incessant noises, phones, and the like don’t allow my mind to become fully immersed at the task at hand. Give me a quiet spot, and I’m happy.
  
AJ: Talk to me about the #pubwrite crew on Twitter. That’s one fantastic bunch of people who adore you; have you received your Nicest Guy on Earth statue yet?
 
AB: I’ve never met a collective group of people that are better, smarter, or funnier than the wonderful friends I have made on Twitter, and particularly through #pubwrite. It’s very much like an online family for me. It’s my one stop where I can find information, camaraderie, laughter, and sharp wit. These people are the most pure source of joy I’ve found along my writing journey. Haha…no statue yet.
 
AJ: I have NO DOUBT it’s being bronzed as we speak. What is the very best gift someone could give you?
 
AB: I absolutely love when someone finishes reading “in Memory of Greed,” and their experience with my book parallels the particular goals I set for the work when writing it. Writing is my passion…to have someone take precious time out of their busy lives to give my work a shot is nearly surreal. It never gets old. I couldn’t be more appreciative of my readers and the lovely feedback they so graciously share.
 
 AJ: Was there a singular “click” moment in writing “In Memory Of Greed” when you could see it all coming together? 
 
AB: Only when the climax was fully developed, did I feel I had the story clenched. I’ve read a number of books by some very successful authors, where the end left me flat, and completely unsatisfied. I HAD to nail the ending of “In Memory of Greed.” In the mystery/thriller genre, the story must build to a stunning crescendo, or you haven’t done your job, as an author. The moment I came up with the finale, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief.
 
AJ: Paint me a picture of Al Boudreau the day after you launched “In Memory of Greed”. Business as usual? Nervous? Elated? What was going through your mind?
 
AB: I remember feeling a tremendous sense of relief. Now, as I look back on that time, I realize just how naive I was. Who knew that writing, revising, and editing was the easy part? Networking, promoting, and the whole process of utilizing social media, while fun, takes a tremendous amount of time and energy. I find that small, daily inputs work well for me, allowing progress while taking time to really enjoy the ride. For me, it’s about the journey more than the destination.
 
AJ: I think I hear them coming. One last question for you, a fun one. The table is set, the invitation is sent and accepted, you’ve been able to invite one author, living or dead, to dinner to talk writerly talk–whom did you invite and why?
 
AB: I would be sitting on a barstool in Key West next to Earnest Hemingway, if given the opportunity to chat with a particular writer. His work is so appealing to me that I could pick his brain for hours, taking detailed notes all the while, of course. And we’d certainly be getting some drinking done in the process, ’cause that’s how Ernie and I roll.
 
*rests her head against the wall with a sigh* I hear boots. It’s OK, I’m ready to go. I’ll say hi to Hemingway for you.  *looks over her shoulder at the hallway* He doesn’t know shit, Percy, let him go. He made it all up, he’s a storyteller. It was a big coincidence, that’s all. *shrugs sadly at the writer* Was worth a shot, right? Be sure to look me up on the other side, Boudreau …
 
 
 
 
 (author’s note: Neither AJ Aalto nor her dear friend Al Boudreau were injured and/or snuffed in the making of this interview. They did, however, have quite a bit of fun. His marvelous book “In Memory of Greed” can be bought here http://amzn.com/B004L2LJ94 and you can visit his website here http://alboudreau.wordpress.com AJ would like to thank Al for his gracious acceptance of my request for an evil author interview and his tolerance of my rampant silliness and flights of mania. Thanks so much, Al. You’re a doll!)
 

Waiting For Boudreau

May 23
  There was a van parked across the street, a blue utility van with white lettering—Percy & Slade Windows & Siding—which was absurd, really, considering the only renovating Percy or Slade ever did involved realigning the bones of unlucky men. The old-fashioned park bench was wood and iron—as opposed to those awful vinyl ones the Greenies made from recycled pop bottles, Olivia thought, a nice touch for an urban strip—and moist from the afternoon rain.  Damp seeped through her black corduroys, yet she was made far more uncomfortable by the fleeting glances of the brunette sitting beside her. I’ll have to speak to Slade about not sending me fucking amateurs.

 Olivia entered a number into her cell phone and held it to her ear without pressing send. The brunette unwrapped a bagel—cinnamon raisin, toasted, with butter—and proceeded to pick the raisins out and flick them to the pavement. Pigeons waddled and cooed at her feet, and Olivia thought, at least she’s wearing sensible shoes.

 Liv said to the empty phone, her voice a soft British lilt, “Might I assume everything is in place?”

 Cinnamon sans raisins frowned at the bagel as though it had offended her, and took a long look down Franklin street in the opposite direction. “Fell through.”

 “You’re quite sure?” Liv tapped a fingernail against the hard plastic of the phone expectantly, tap tap tap.

 “He won’t talk.” A paper cup of coffee appeared from her side, went to her lips, and disappeared again. “Won’t talk to Goldsmith, won’t talk to Pfeifer, won’t talk to me.”

 “Your failure displeases me,” Liv told the silent phone, finally thumbing send. “Moreover, it will displease M. As will your use of names in public. Christ.” Percy picked up on the first ring without a hello. She informed him, “I need some glass replaced.”

 There was no reply. Liv thought the silence was tainted by irritation. Then again, Mel Percy’s emotional range wasn’t that broad to begin with. He was usually dialed to don’t fuck with me, and only once had Olivia seen him brighten, briefly, to that’s not complete and total shit.

She waited for the blue van move away from the curb, to take Franklin to 13th, beyond which she could see ModAgro International’s massive chrome and glass headquarters, Stuart Roth’s phallic surrogate thrust stiff and proud above the other buildings, struggling into a soft and yielding grey sky. She waited a further five minutes beside a woman who might have half an hour left to live—and 30 minutes was stretching it–wondering if Cinnamon Bagel had any idea.  Now I have to call M. And M will send AJ.  He always does. This had the potential to get ugly, fast; Liv was no longer sure she wanted a part in it.

 When Liv finally did stand, sweeping a cascade of ash blonde hair back over her shoulder, she passed a brushing hand over her damp posterior with a grimace.

 Bagel stopped chewing to offer up a simple, if muddled, “I’m sorry.”

 Liv thought, Clueless.

 Olivia was half a block away, waiting for the limo driver to open her door for her, when she heard the single pop, and caught in her peripheral vision the crumpling of a body off a park bench. She didn’t look back to see the dregs of the rookie’s coffee running into the storm drain. Checking her Tag Heuer, noting the late hour in Ireland , she ignored some citizen’s wailing alarm, and swung into the back seat.

 In her natural accent, pure Quebecois, she told the driver, “Back to the Fairmont , s’il vous plait.”

“Gonna hit traffic, Madam Pelletier,” he said.

Ostie de marde,” she muttered beneath her breath, texting M. His reply, despite the late hour, was immediate and concise: Pass off to AJ.

“Be about a 50 minute drive,” the driver told her, avoiding her eyes in the rearview mirror.

 Olivia slipped out of her Etienne Aigners and brought her bare feet up onto the seat, silk stockings sliding across cool leather. Putting her iPhone ear buds in, she cranked Vivaldi’s opera 7 concerto 7 in D minor, and waited a heartbeat for her serenity to return.

 As it always did.

To be continued …

 

That’s right, my faithful readers. As you might have guessed from the above, another evil author interview is in the works (and by that, I mean the interview is evil, not the author). Can you guess who it is? I’ll give you a hint: his last name rhymes with flu-row … which sounds like the last kinda boat you saw if transferred to the lazarettos in Venice in 1423, yes? You know, yersinia pestis … NEVERmind, I’ve drifted into geek territory now. Back to spy-chick!

Coming soon, the curl-your-toes charming Al Boudreau will sit down with me (well, not literally with me, more’s the pity, cuz I’m a real sucker for that why-resist-me-I’m-harmless smile of his, not that I buy it for a heartbeat). Al and I (yes, Al and Allie) will discuss his political thriller In Memory of Greed, his coming plans—both writing and travel—and his views on the often odd life of a writer. And his thoughts on warm soda. And if he’s allergic to beestings, or has any scars on or around his junk—what?! Oh, don’t pretend you don’t wanna know, ya buncha pervs. Then, while his resistance is down, I’ll go in for the kill. My plan is a thing of beauty … if by “beauty”, you mean “warped and puerile”.

                      (Witness the “I’m harmless” smile ^ Not buyin’ it!)

 In any case, I look forward to prying his secrets from him. Some sympathy may be in order, since he’s a sweet, sweet man indeed, and I hate to have to rough him up. No, sympathy for me, not for him! It breaks my iron-clad heart to hunt him down like this. But I’d do anything for my readers, dontchaknow?

 He’s given my accomplices the slip, but don’t you worry: AJ’s been called to the task. *smiles innocently, hauling the business end of a .357 Walther P22 to eye level* And once I’ve set my sights on someone, well, you should know by now: I always hit my target center of mass. Just hope I don’t chip a nail …

 

(editor’s note: AJ Aalto’s evil interviews will continue until she is no longer amused with the free-for-all torture of Indie authors–this could take years. AJ can often be found lurking on Twitter in #pubwrite. To flush her out of hiding, just say something filthy and wait for the inevitable smart-assed reply, or say the words “I have a confession to make” and wait for the “OMG tell me now, what did YOU DO?!”)

Takin’ It To The Grave

May 11

A Peek Behind the Eyes of a Horror Writer: R. A. Evans

*Whispers*: Shhhhhhhh. No, no. Don’t struggle, you’ll only make it worse. They’re iron shackles, Mr. Evans. Pretty sure your futile twisting isn’t going to accomplish much. Now, focus. Over here in the corner. There ya go. Hiya! Nice bow tie. *finger wave* Christ, you’re pale. Didn’t see any heart problems when I hacked into your medical records, but I suppose under the circumstances …*ahem* 

Mr Evans, look past the furnace to the cellar stairs, if you would, please. See that hatch? You’re probably thinking it leads to freedom. You want that, don’t you? Wanna play “guess who holds the keys to your chains”?–gosh, you’re quick, even when you’re hyperventilating. *steps under the single swinging lightbulb* You needn’t stare at the work bench like that; I hardly think I’ll need tools to get what I want from you. Unless you’re going to make me work for it tonight? … Settle down, bronco, that was not an invitation to resume bucking. Golly–threats from a man in a tight spot like this? Afraid that won’t get you far. *shakes her head sadly* And if you spit at me again, I’m gonna have to put the gag back in. Here’s what we’re gonna do: I’m going to ask you a few simple questions. You’re going to tell me what I want to hear. Then I can set you free. Now, close your eyes. Relax. This won’t hurt much. Cross my little black heart and hope to rot.  

            Spill your secrets, Mr. Evans … I’ll take ’em to the grave.

AJ: Give us a little synopsis of AsylumLake. It’s a horror novel, correct? Well of course it is, or you’d never have ended up here. *innocent smile* Tell us a bit about the story.

RA: Asylum lake is a story about the power of memories – especially those of the dark and sinister variety – and how they can attach themselves to places and things waiting for you to return. The memories in my story involve an abandoned asylum, a nefarious doctor, and three generations of the Tanner family. Asylum Lake is a tragic story of loss – with plenty of chills, blood, and even some humor mixed in. The mysteries of Asylum Lake run deep – and beneath its sparkling surface the unremembered have grown restless.

AJ: Do you think you’re more sensitive to the horrors of every day life … or desensitized to things that might shock others? Generally speaking: are horror writers harder to scare? 

RA:I actually think horror writers are easier to scare – we tend to find darkness and tragedy in what are otherwise normal surroundings. I, for one, tend to look at life through a dark filter. I have a very healthy fear of the unknown. Anything from what lurks under my bed when I shut the lights off, to what the neighbor next door does behind closed doors – it’s all unknown. As a writer, I just like to fill in those blanks. Writing, to me, is like a Mad-Libs on steroids.

AJ: Do you remember the last thing/situation to make your blood run cold, to make your heart hammer, to fire off that fight-or-flight?

RA:I was awakened a few nights ago by a dream that involved finding a headless corpse in my bathtub. It all felt so real. I laid there in my bed for the longest time, afraid to go check the bathroom.  Ever since I’ve been trying to recreate that feeling of fear with my current project.

AJ: Are you a fear junky? Do you enjoy feeling frightened?

RA: Definitely. Very few things come close to the rush that fear provides. That being said, I am also quite possibly the worlds biggest wuss, so I don’t push my fear limits very often…or far.

AJ: So you’re a ginormous pussy. Gotcha. (I’ll put that box of fat, juicy nightcrawlers away in a sec.) I know where and when my random “what ifs” usually pop up, let’s see if you’ll be brutally honest with us: where do your “what ifs” occur most often?

RA: My best “what ifs” occur while watching television. 

AJ: OK, so totally not what I was expecting.

(What I was expecting, or some version thereof —->)

(side note: One wonders how many new shower curtains a gal can buy in a month before her husband calls the men in the white coats?) 

 

RA: I had a great “what if” while watching American Idol last week. “What if the zombie apocalypse started with Ryan Seacrest in the middle of the show. How many people could he devour/infect before the camera’s stopped running?”

AJ: I think zombie Ryan Seacrest (AKA Ryan Z-crest) would be even more annoying than he is now, fly-speckled guts flapping out and all. Dude, a classy gentleman tucks in his shirt AND his entrails. That’s Style 101. 

AJ: Asylum Lake has religious undertones: the priest, the Parting of the Veil … are you a fairly spiritual person? Do you believe in a ghost, spirit or soul that lives on? Do you have the devil on speed dial? 

RA: I’m not a fan of organized religion but do consider myself a spiritual person– 

AJ: Hold on a sec …. *sneers into cell phone* So that’s why you won’t answer my texts, because you’re busy with this jaggoff? Nice, Lucifer. Reeeeal nice. *hangs up* Sorry you had to hear that, Mr. Jagg–err, Evans. You were saying?

RA:  –I think George Lucas was rather spot on with his take on the whole thing – there is a “force” that lives within each of us. Whether it’s a soul or not is anybody’s guess.  As for ghosts and spirits, I believe we all leave pieces of us behind when we die. Some of those pieces are just darker and angrier than others.

AJ: Dark and angry pieces need lovin’ too. Like this fellah, though I think I’ll love him from afar. So, describe to me your mindset at a funeral. As a writer, are you taking mental notes?  

RA: I can’t say that I’m taking mental notes, but I do try to draw on all of my experiences when writing. There is a lot to be learned from how people express their emotions – especially grief.

AJ: Was there a scene in AsylumLake that you found especially challenging to write, or that kept you awake at night?

RA: Without revealing any spoilers – there is a childbirth scene in the back of an ambulance that gave me fits. It was tough to write for a variety of reasons. I must have re-written it half a dozen times. I’m still not completely happy with where it landed – but I was too worried about pushing the envelope with it. I’d love to hear some feedback from readers. I’m sure they know exactly which scene I am referring to.

 AJ: I remember it vividly. Did you have any moments in the creation of a particular character during which you upset/disturbed yourself?

RA: Dr. Wesley Clovis is a pretty disturbing guy.  His bloody handiwork is mostly only hinted at in Asylum Lake – it’s not until Grave Undertakings that readers will get to see just how creepy the guy really is. There were a few times that I even freaked myself out a bit. He was a blast to write, however.

AJ: How much like you is your protagonist, Brady Tanner? How long has he been rattling around inside your head?

RA: Brady is entirely me – but from 10 years ago.   I’m nearing forty and feeling even older. Brady’s almost thirty yet still hip and cool.  He gets to say and do all of the things I wish I had the courage to. The best part of writing Brady was all of the little anecdotes I sprinkled throughout the book. It’s a sneak peek into my own warped world.

AJ: In his song Misery’s the River of the World , Tom Waits wrote: “If there’s one thing you can say about mankind, there’s nothing kind about man.” There are a few characters in Asylum Lake that definitely illuminate Waits’ point. What sort of struggles does this present to Brady Tanner, his mindset and his resolve?

RA: Brady is grieving the loss of his pregnant wife and is teetering on the edge of his own pit of darkness. As the secrets from his family’s past begin to surface he is confronted with the knowledge that he shares some very disturbing similarities with the story’s antagonist – Ellis Arkema.  Asylum lake is a story of loss — loss of love, of life, and in many ways loss of one’s sanity. Brady is dealing with all of these things – as well as supernatural elements with a taste for blood.

AJ: Fear and sex seem to go hand in hand in the horror genre, in both novels and movies. What do you think is at play there, and what is your strategy for managing sex scenes in your work?   

RA: Sex can be used to depict a character’s strength or vulnerability.  It can be used as a weapon, a punishment or sometimes even as reward.

AJ: Better reward than Alpo snacks.

RA: It’s carnal and physical – full of lust and raw emotion.  Asylum Lake has a very tender sex scene. Grave Undertakings opens with a hospital orderly diddling the still warm corpse of a patient. Both are powerful elements which are integral to the overall story.

AJ: Sorry, I’m still snort-giggling about “diddling a warm corpse” … ah, the follies of youth and the raging excitement of new love. Wait, what? I mean … dude, that’s sick! 

RA: Much like comedy, however, it’s a challenge to write sex in a believable manner. Too easy to make things sound like a Letter to Penthouse Forum.

AJ:  I’m sure I wouldn’t have a CLUE what that is. *batting eyelashes*

One last thing, Mr. Evans, before I unleash you upon the world again. *slow, wicked grin* On the table behind me, you will notice a Gransfors Bruks forest axe. Very nice, yes? You’ll also see a 3 lb ball pein hammer, a handheld oscillating bone saw, piano wire, neoprene gloves, a box cutter and an ErgoHunter Avid buck knife. You’ll have 30 seconds and one shot to finish me off. *dangles the keys to the shackles on one finger* What one item do you choose?

RA: The box cutter, of course. The first slice will take your tongue. I like my women quiet. Then your eyelids – no closing your eyes and wishing this away as a nightmare. I want to watch the life drain from you.

*unlocks her captive and steps back, whipping two pickle forks from her pockets.*

Most excellent. You want my tongue, Mr. Evans? By all means, come and take it, if you can. *plays pickle forks adeptly across her knuckles*

                                       And may the best horror writer win. 

(Author’s note: R. A. Evans is the author of the delightfully wicked horror novel Asylum Lake, available here http://amzn.to/hGNex. Check out Mr. Evans’ blog at www.raevanswrites.wordpress.com  or follow him on Twitter @raevanswrites–found lurking now and then in #pubwrite–for upcoming news on his work. I’d like to thank Rich–Thanks, Bow Tie!–for being such a great sport. I’d also like to remind my readers that banter between writers is fraught with fictional elements, especially on this blog. I encourage my readers to check back for the launch of R.A. Evans’ next book, Grave Undertakings, in the near future.)

(Editor’s note: AJ Aalto carries pickle forks in her coat pocket, but only for the same reasons all the other pickle-fork-wielding maniacs do. Extreme caution should be used in approaching this woman after dark; while tiny and quick with a disarming smile, she’s most likely imagining what you’d look like without any clothes. Or eyes.)

(Author’s note: AJ Aalto is royally insulted by the above accusation and has the following to say about it: “Editor” can take a flying leap backward and sommersault head-first up her own ass.)

(Editor’s note: Being that “editor” and “author” are the same person, “author” may wish to rethink that last statement.)

(Author’s note: No. No. No, “author” does not wish to rethink that last statement. In-fucking-fact, “author” would like to reiterate said statement, add a hearty nah-nah-na-boo-boo, and end blog abruptly, thereby denying “editor” the last word.)

Getting Rich in the Gibbet

May 6

                       *Looks up from sharpening her pickle forks*

Oh hiya! Didn’t hear you creep in. Yes, I’m getting ready for company.  *gives her shiny new gibbet the full Vanna White treatment*

It’s quite thrilling, so pardon me if I’m all a’flutter! Gosh, I haven’t had a guest in my dungeon since … well, let’s keep the closet door closed on that skeleton, shall we? Next week, I’m doing my very first indie author interroga–erm, interview. *tosses towel over power tools and iron shackles* Yeah, “interview”. 

With the kind of courage that borders on folly,  R. A. Evans (author of the chilling horror novel Asylum Lake) has agreed to share some of his secrets with me. And once he does, oh man, I am totally gonna blab.

Before he arrives (read: before I throw a bag over his head, sucker-punch him in the kidneys and haul him into the back of my van) I’d like to clear up some vicious rumours about him … ones I may or may not have started in the first place.

 

First of all, this is not him —–>

He’s got an admittedly fiendish mind,

but Mr. Evans is not in fact a ghoul.

 

 

 

<–He’s this guy!  Hold on …. *holds finger to headphone, listens with dissatisfied sigh* OK, I’ve been informed that this isn’t him either.

 

                                                                                               

 

<——  He’s this guy!

         

But he sounds like this guy  —>

 

 

and when you get him in the dark, in front of a mirror,  and whisper his name three times backwards, I swear you can see his soul.

                                                                                                                    

                <R. A. Evans’ soul, probably>

Secondly, Mr. Evans assures me he’s never killed anyone, for realizies. And while I was relieved to hear it, I don’t actually buy that, do you? Nah, you’re right: this guy’s definitiely got bones in his crawlspace.

Thirdly, Mr. Evans does not do his writing while wearing a fursuit with a dickhole. That furry thing in his attic is a blow up doll stuffed into a fur suit. He doesn’t wear it. See? Nothing to worry about. Just your regular, average … hmm … nope, on second thought, that might bear watching.

 Fourth(ly?)  It has been suggested that Mr. Evans is undead. This is completely and utterly false. He is entirely dead, and I know this, because: I’ve NEVER felt a pulse on him, I’ve NEVER seen him breathe–not once!–and if that’s not enough, just look at him. Go ahead, scroll up … notice anything? He’s fucking black & white, people. It’s almost as though he completely defies the notion of colour. I rest my case.

 Last but certainly not least, rumour has it that he’s a degenerate pervert who’s been known to haunt mortuaries and mausoleums in the quietest hours of the night, seeking to satisfy the most depraved and baleful sexual urges, and worse … things you don’t want to know about, things best not spoken of in the oh-so-polite society of the Interwebz. I started this rumour myself (just now, in fact! Wheeee!) because it sure is a fun one, isn’t it?

But the truth is: he’s a charming gentleman, devoted father of three, uxorious husband to a wife he adores,  and he only throttles hookers on the very rarest of occasions. I know, that’s a relief, right? *whew*

 I think everything is almost ready for him at my end. *adjusts the angle of the video camera* It won’t be a lengthy visit *sighs at grim stains on the cement* … visits to my dungeon rarely last long. But it sure will be a thrill. For one of us, anyway.  Heh. *selects pickle fork and tests the sharpness of prongs against fingertip, drawing a pinprick of blood*

      I sure hope that Mr. Evans is ready for me …

 

(author’s note: In reality, Rich Evans is not a pervert, a ghoul, a dead man, a serial killer, a nice guy or a necrophiliac. Wait! I’m sorry, I’m mistaken … he IS a pervert. Duh.)