It’s the second most frequently asked question fans and readers pose at events and signings – “Where do you get your ideas from?” I am sure the question is posed to nearly all authors – regardless of their chosen genre. With horror, however, the inquiry always seems to be laced with a healthy dose of fear – which is good – because fear is the fuel which powers my gray-matter engine. Everything I write boils down to me trying my very best to elicit fear in my readers – the humor and warm & fuzzy scenes I sprinkle into my stories are merely icing on the proverbial “nightmare cake”.
So where do I get my ideas? The answer might just surprise you. Asylum Lake/Grave Undertakings started as a journal entry about struggling with the death of my father and the memories I would sometimes encounter when I travelled home to the small town where I grew up. Of course, there was no abandoned psychiatric hospital in my neighborhood or haunted board games to deal with. The inspiration for the story and the dark turns I take that inspiration are two very different things.
For FLIGHT, the project to follow the release of Grave Undertakings, inspiration came from a TIME Magazine article about the military’s use of passenger aircraft to transport the bodies of soldiers killed in action during the Gulf War. The practice was eventually discontinued, but I oculdn’t get the visual out of my head of those flag-draped boxes next to the luggage in the cargo holds of planes. I merely, added a diabolical pharmaceutical company doing military rsearch and a spreading zombie apocalypse – just small elements which make the actual story much more interesting (insert evil laugh here).
The lesson I’ve learned is that inspiration is a real bitch and that you sometimes have to take what the world gives you and turn it to your own dark devices. You can imagine my glee when this headline from the BBC scrolled across my computer - SOUTH KOREA TO TARGET POWDERED HUMAN FLESH CAPSULES.
Will I do anything with this story? The jury is still out. I’ve been wrestling with a vampire story inspired by an article from Newsweek. You see, apparently scientists are on the verge of identifying the gene responsible for causing mosquitos to crave blood. Once modified, these malaria-carrying insects could be erradicated or at least controlled to no longer spread dangerous diseases. In more capable hands this story would practically write itself.
So what will I do with these powdered human flesh capsules? As much as i would like to turn my imagination loose on developing the horrific who, what, where, and why – I just don’t have the time. For now, I’ll just allow myself to quietly wonder what a powdered human flesh capsule tastes like and whether it is a better strategy to swallow them whole or to bite through and enjoy every last grainy morsel?
I had to run a few errands on my lunch hour yesterday – pick up a prescription and deposit a royalty check at the bank. Of course, when I arrived at the pharmacy my prescription wasn’t ready. I insist on using my corner pharmacy in an effort to “buy local” but when my son has an ear infection I kinda need to get the antibiotics relatively quick. You can imagine my mood when I pulled into the bank and saw five cars ahead of me in line for the ATM. The world, it had seemed, was conspiring against me.
I opted for a quick run into the bank in hopes that most of the with banking needs were just as lazy as I usually try to be and were exercising their right be lazy by not walking the thirty feet from the parking lot to the lobby. Sadly, the line was long inside, too.
I took my place in line and quickly morphed into full people watching mode. I love to people watch, In fact, it has to be one of my favorite past times. That’s when I noticed the woman standing in front of me in line – she was reading her Kindle. After a few failed attempts to peek over her shoulder I was finally able to decipher what she was reading – ASYLUM LAKE.
I could tell she was far enough in to have made some sort of commitment to the book – somewhere in Chapter 9 if my memory serves. Brady had already had several encounters with the Scrabble Board and young Lionel was beyond his visit with the Reed family. If this woman were going to bail on the story she probably would have done so by now.
The line dragged along slowly as I watched this woman page along on her Kindle. The internal debate was raging – do I introduce myself? Do Iask her if she is enjoying the story? I could feel my anxiety level rising as I wondered what to do. Would an introduction be a cool and memorable moment or might it just come across as desperate and strange?
The pace must have picked up as I stood there debating my options. Without warning the woman was called to the counter and was soon out the door. Later, as I drove back to the office, I thought about her missed oppportunity to meet the author of such a fine tale (insert sarcasm). That’s when it hit me – the missed opportunity wasn’t hers. I had missed the opportunity to thank a reader for investing their time – and $2.99 unless she downloaded it on a free day – into my debut thriller.
You see, at the end of the day the fact that I published a book really isn’t any great feat. Trust me, anyone with a computer can upload an ebook to Amazon and call themself an author. It’s having readers that allow me to be a SUCCESSFUL author – and even that is subjective. I shouldn’t feel as though I am making a reader’s day by introducing myself, I need to focus on the fact that they have made my day by choosing one of my titles to spend their time with.
Whoiever you were, mysterious woman in line at the bank, just know that I think you’re great!
And that, my friends, was my brush with greatness.
According to Native American legends, the souls of the dead are carried to the afterlife on the wings of a crow. Sometimes, however, the manner of death is so vile that the soul is weighted down by sadness, grief or guilt. In these instances, the crow is unable to carry the soul to the land of the dead, leaving the soul in limbo. These unfortunate souls, carried by crows, cannot rest until those wrongs have been righted.
For those of you who have read my thriller Asylum Lake you know of the restless souls searching to right the wrongs which still hold them captive. It is through their tormented eyes that many of the secrets of the mysterious abandoned asylum will continue to be revealed. Their souls, however, are not the only burden carried on the wings of the crow.
Other legends provide vastly different accounts of the crow. These legends speak of the black-winged bird as a scavenger of the dead, a feeder on the flesh of the departed, and even a devourer of the souls of the living. It begs the question – to what use would a crow put the soul of a man? Is it merely a coincidence that the crow flies higher into the heavens than nearly all of its feathered bretheren? Perhaps it is the stolen souls of men which carry the crow ever-closer to the creator.
In Grave Undertakings you will learn much more about the neverending journey of the soul. The veil which separates the living from the dead has been parted, allowing the most restless of souls to revisit their grief, anger, and loss upon the living. This parting, however, also provides the living an opportunity to prey upon the souls of the dead.
The cast of characters widens with Grave Undertakings as the story moves both forward and backward in time to reveal even more secrets. Although much of the story is spent within the walls of the Lake View Asylum, readers will also journey beyond Bedlam Falls to follow the trail of Dr. Wesley Clovis. From the coal mines of West Virginia to Gray’s Crossing, Indiana, the search for answers eventually leads back to The Lake of Tears.
I look forward to the unearthing of Grave Undertakings on May 22nd and hope you find as much enjoyment in reading my dark tale as I have had in writing it.
I talk a lot about prostituting myself to sell books, and if that’s the case then my pimp is gonna be pissed because today I’m giving it away for FREE! You have until 11:59 pm PST to download the indie smash Asylum Lake for free on Kindle. Don’t own a Kindle? No problem, simply download the app to read great books like Asylum Lake on your smartphone, PC, or laptop. Heck – you can even read Kindle titles on your iPad!
CLICK HERE to download your FREE copy of Asylum Lake and I’ll even throw in a week’s worth of nightmnares at no additional cost!
Saddened by the news today that Eddie Vedder has cancelled his 2012 solo U.S. tour due to nerve damage in his arm. I’ve been a fan of Pearl Jam for more than 20 years and have wanted to take in one of Eddie’s solo performances for quite some time – and this was going to be the year!
Concert dates are being rescheduled and who knows – maybe I’ll still make it to see him this year; Halloween in Vegas does have a nice ring to it. Needless to say I’ll be mourning this in my own unique way – cranking my iPod to 11 and doing some writing about things dark and dangerous!
Tonight’s writing session playlist will surely include my top 10 Pearl Jam tracks/covers/performances of all time. I thought I would share them with you here (including Links to videos on YouTube):
Welcome to Hell, an unincorporated stretch of land in Southeast Michigan. With an advertised population of 666 and a playful proclivity to garner attention from its infamous name, nobody batted an eye when the self-proclaimed “Prince of Darkness” chose Hell to set up shop. But as business booms in his Soul Proprietorship, rumors begin to swirl. Who is this mysterious stranger and what is really being bought and sold behind the doors of The Devil’s Pawn?
The voice on the phone said, “This is an attempt to collect a debt and any information obtained will be used for that purpose.” The caller ID showed the number as unavailable, causing an already aggravated Brooke to toss the phone onto the passenger seat as she returned her attention to the rearview mirror and her mascara.
“Fucking asshole credit card companies,” she fumed, ignoring the impatient horns and shouts from the unfortunate drivers filling the lane behind her white Range Rover. Of course, the call could have just as easily been about her car loan or condo lease. Hell, maybe it was Columbia House finally tracking her down for all of those CD purchases while in college. Regardless,
Brooke’s immediate concern was her lashes.
Two green lights later, Brooke’s Range River finally sped through the intersection. The distraction of the phone call forgotten, she was oblivious to the dark sedan riding her bumper.
* * *
Michael had found the ad online. Collections Agent. No experience necessary. Some travel required. The description suited him perfectly. He had found himselfon the wrong end of collections several times, had no real job experienceof any sort, and was looking for any reason to put some distance betweenhimself and the bright lights of Vegas. It all seemed too good to be true when the brief telephone interview turned into a real job offer.
Of course, things are rarely what they appear and the ex-con knew that nobody hires a recently paroled mafia hit man as a best business practice. Still, the $2,500 check to cover moving expenses was real enough, even if it was drawn under a rather unusual name—Devil’s Pawn, 666 Sulfur Street, Hell, MI. Surely somebody’s idea of a joke, he mused.
Michael had still yet to meet his new employer face to face. Beyond a name, Lucien Burns was a complete mystery. He wasn’t even completely convinced that the gentleman he spoke to on the phone during his brief interview was in charge. The entire affair felt a lot like his prior work with a certain unnamed family out in Vegas. But this was Hell, Michigan—far from the lights and glamour of the Strip. Michael was wise enough to know that his work was best handled on a need-to-know basis and not to clutter his mind with useless details.
As expected, the target guided her Range Rover into an office park. Michael followed, wondering just what this crazy bitch could have done to get herself into this kind of trouble.
* * *
“I want to be beautiful,” she whispered, eyes darting around nervously. The Pawn Shop was empty, save for the well-dressed man who had greeted her entrance. Of indeterminate age, the man exuded a raw confidence and sexuality that made Brooke both strangely at-ease and uncomfortable. He was not what she had expected.
Brooke had found the ad online. Everybody Has A Price. What’s Yours? Call 734.666.6666. The ad’s simplicity is what had initially piqued her interest. What did it even
mean? A price for what? Even the phone number seemed to be a joke. Yet for two straight days Brooke had carefully considered what harm could come from simply calling. She would block her number from the caller id, of course.
“Ms. Jennings, so nice of you to call. How may I be of service?”
Brooke hesitated, unsure how the stranger on the other end of the line could possibly know her name. “I, uh, um.”
“Please, take a moment to collect yourself. I can only imagine how nervous you must be. It takes great courage to embark on this journey,” the man’s soothing voice continued. “My name is Lucien Burns and I assume you are calling in response to the advertisement?”
Brooke’s racing mind made it difficult for her to form a cohesive thought, let alone an apt response. “Mmm hmm.”
The next several minutes passed with Lucien’s hypnotizing voice providing scant information about exactly what it was he was peddling. Yet, within moments, Brooke found herself taking down a few scribbled notes and an address for a business in of all places, Hell.
“Shall we meet at say, seven-thirty tomorrow evening, Ms. Jennings?”
Now, at precisely the agreed-upon time, Brooke stood in Lucien’s presence, baring her soul of its greatest desire—beauty. At just under two-hundred fifty pounds, beauty had always been the proverbial carrot dangled in front of her obese form. From diet programs to health club memberships, nothing had granted Brooke her soul’s deepest wish. Nothing, that is, until now.
“Ah yes, beauty,” Lucien responded with a knowing smile. His closely cropped hair was the color of cigarette ash, granting him the appearance of being both wise with age and virile in youth. Dressed in a well-tailored black suit with a starched white open-collared shirt beneath, Brooke’s attraction to the man was instantaneous.
“So elusive, beauty,” he continued, staring deeply into Brooke’s eyes. “Tell me, Ms. Jennings, at what price does beauty come?”
Brooke broke Lucien’s gaze, “Any,” she whispered, bowing her head with embarrassment.
Lucien reached forward and gently placed his delicate fingers beneath Brooke’s chin, raising her head to recast her gaze. Warmth spread throughout her body as she stared deep into his eyes.
“Let’s talk terms, Ms. Jennings.”
* * *
Michael parked two rows beyond the Range Rover and watched the white SUV from his rear view mirror. Again, the driver was busily applying makeup. Turning his attention from his target, Michael rummaged through the glove box and pulled forth a manila envelope. Written in flowing script across it’s surface was a name—Brooke Jennings. The ex-con opened the flap and emptied the envelope’s contents onto the passenger seat.
He glanced again into the mirror; no movement from the Range Rover. A single photo rested on the sedan’s leather seat. Michael recognized his target immediately and turned the photo over where the same flowing script provided his brief instructions.
Beauty is only skin deep.
Cut it out—along with her eyes.
L.B.
Again, Michael reached into the glove box. His hand emerged holding a pair of black leather gloves and a hunting knife with a six-inch serrated blade. The knife disappeared quickly up the sleeve of his jacket as he slid the gloves over his already sweating hands. Casting another glance into the rear view mirror, he emerged from his car, setting the timer on the explosives beneath the driver’s seat. Ninety seconds, he thought, walking briskly in the direction of the Range Rover.
“Excuse me, miss,” he called as he approached his target. “Ms. Jennings,” he called again, now standing at the door of the SUV. A wide smile split his lips as he gazed upon quite possibly the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered. Pity, he thought, the muscles lining his jaws tiring from the forced smile. Sixty seconds.
Brooke turned her attention from her lipstick application and looked with obvious annoyance at the man standing at her window. Rolling her eyes she reached for the button and lowered the SUV’s window.
“Yes, can I help you?” Her tone clearly implied helping anyone was the last thing on her mind.
Michael leaned forward, sliding the blade free from his sleeve, as the smile fell from his face. “I’m here to collect a debt.”
The blade bit into Brooke’s throat spraying blood and slicing her vocal chords with a single twist. A torrent of blood flowed from her gaping mouth as she struggled to scream.
“Some cultures believe the eyes are the portal to the soul,” Michael stated from memorized instruction as the blade’s serrated edge tore into her porcelain skin. “Lucien was very specific,” he added, plunging the tip of the blade into the corner of her left eye. Glancing over his shoulder at the desolate parking lot, Michael noted the time and continued his task. His target’s sky-blue eyes were soon out and deposited safely into his pocket.
“Tell me, Ms. Jennings,” Michael asked, taking in his handiwork. “What is the price of beauty?”
His target responded with a final gurgle and gasp before her lifeless head fell to the steering wheel. Michael smiled and walked briskly from the parking lot, tossing his blood-soaked gloves and knife into his car as he counted the remaining seconds before detonation.
* * *
Seated safely behind the wheel of the car he had parked around the block the night before, it wasn’t until he was miles away that Michael finally relaxed. The drive back to Hell would take approximately forty-five minutes—depending on traffic. There would be no follow-up at “the office.” His task was done. At the end of this car ride he would simply climb the stairs to the apartment above The Devil’s Pawn and wait for another envelope to arrive under the door.
His stomach tightened into nervous knots at the approaching sound of police sirens. He stared through the windshield and watched the approaching red and blue flashers of law enforcement as he guided his car to the shoulder. The handful of other cars on the road did likewise. His anxiety lessened as three police cruisers sped past toward the direction of the blast.
He exhaled in relief as he guided his car into the first available lane of traffic. The bumper sticker on the car in front read ‘No rest for the wicked.’ The Collection Agent laughed. Those poor bastards didn’t know how right they are.
There are certain milestones which every author strives to achieve. First – just finish the damn story. This is usually the most difficult milestone to achieve. The internet is littered with the carcasses of half-finished manuscripts and pitch letters for projects which never make it from thought to fruition. For me, I am most proud of the fact that the idea of Asylum Lake actually became the novel Asylum Lake.
The second noteworthy author milestone is actually getting someone to pay for the privilege of reading it. It’s one thing to get a pity read from your mother and something altogether different to have a complete stranger part with a few bucks to read the fruits of your labor. I still recall with wonder watching the pre-orders roll in for Asylum Lake. It was both gratifying and terrifying at the same time. Now, having just launched pre-orders for Grave Undertakings, I find that same odd combination of fear and pride taking root somewhere between my heart and my lower intestine. I’m still gratified that people are buying into me and my creepy tales, but also afraid that I will in some way disappoint them.
My most recent milestone achieved is purely ego-driven. Asylum Lake is currently taking up a bit of real estate on the Kindle Top 100 List for horror – #83 last I checked. What a rush to see my novel listed with some of the heavyweights of the horror genre. As I write this Stephen King’s The Stand sits squarely in my rear-view mirror at #84 and Robert Kirkman’s The Walking Dead: Rise of the Governor is within spitting distance ahead f me at #70. Now, I’m not foolish enough to compare Asylum Lake to those titles, but apparently – for the time being at least – enough people are intrigued by my ghost story to push sales figures into the rarefied air of two of my idols – Mr. King and Mr. Kirkman – and I think that is pretty fucking cool!
So please forgive me this moment of self-adulation. Its not every day that I get to rub shoulders with greatness and something tells me that by this time tomorrow I will be cast back into the abyss of anonymity.
If you would like to do your part to keep Asylum Lake on the Top 100 Kindle Charts for horror, CLICK HERE to download my 4.4 star rated thriller. It’s only $2.99 and you probably have that much sitting in the cup holder in your car. Don’t have a Kindle? No problem, you can easily download the Kindle app for your smartphone or computer and still dive into the mystery of Asylum Lake.
Consider it my Christmas in March sale. Asylum Lake will be free on Thursday, March 29th in the Kindle Store on Amazon.
With more than 60 reviews on Amazon alone, Asylum Lake has a solid 4.4-star rating and according to Ray Walsh of the Lansing State Journal, “Asylum Lake is a taut tale liable to raise significant goosebumps.“
What do you have to lose? Dive into the mystery of Asylum Lake for absolutely nothing. I’ll even throw in nightmares for free!
Plus, you’ll be prepared for the unearthing of the chilling sequel – Grave Undertakings – on May 22nd. In fact, you can even pre-order an autographed print copy of Grave Undertakings today and be entered to win a Bedlam Falls swag bag full of great items. Simply visit www.schulerbooks.com and be among the first to discover the darkest mysteries of Asylum Lake.
Counting down to the release of Grave Undertakings and I thought I would spice things up with a contest. Only the the most dedicated fans of Asylum Lake will recall this passing description of one of the most feared characters to walk the halls of the Lake View Asylum.
One lucky winner will be chosen from all correct responses. Please answer the poll question and leave a comment which includes your response.
It’s been a long time coming, but I am overjoyed to announce that pre-orders are now being accepted for Grave Undertakings, the chilling sequel to Asylum Lake. The book will be available in both print and Kindle formats starting May 22, 2012.
In addition to receiving what I am confident will be a completely creepy read worthy of multiple nightmares, each pre-order will also be autographed and include an official Grave Undertakings bookmark.
That, however, is just the start. I will also randomly select three pre-orders to receive a Bedlam Falls Swag Bag which includes an autographed copy of Asylum Lake with official bookmark, Lake View Asylum t-shirt, and the highly-prized Bedlam Falls coffee mug.
So where do I get my ideas? The answer might just surprise you. Asylum Lake/Grave Undertakings started as a journal entry about struggling with the death of my father and the memories I would sometimes encounter when I travelled home to the small town where I grew up. Of course, there was no abandoned psychiatric hospital in my neighborhood or haunted board games to deal with. The inspiration for the story and the dark turns I take that inspiration are two very different things.
re capable hands this story would practically write itself.
