Interview with John Nicholl, Author of Portraits of the Dead

portraitsofthedeadbannerToday, I’m delighted a feature an interview with John Nicholl, author of Portraits of the Dead. His other books include When Evil Calls Your Name and White is the Coldest Colour. John is always happy to hear from readers, bloggers, or anyone interested in proposing a joint creative project. He can be contacted through his author website: www.johnnicholl.com.

Barbara: What is your favorite ice cream flavor?

John: Chocolate.

Barbara: Which mythological creature are you most like?

John: What the ….? My wife says I’m like a bear with a sore head. Does that count?

Barbara: First book you remember making an indelible impression on you.

John: The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Barbara: How do you develop your plot and characters?

John: I start with the key characters in mind and let the story develop from chapter to chapter.

Barbara: Describe your writing space.

John: I write with family life going on all around me.

BLURB: Emma didn’t know how long he hid, silent and unmoving, in the large Victorian wardrobe to the side of her single bed. She didn’t know how long he peered out, salivating and drooling, between the two heavy dark oak doors, and watched, mesmerised, as she slowly drifted into fitful sleep. She didn’t know what time he pushed the doors open and crept towards her in the drab grey darkness of the night.

Detective Inspector Gravel finds himself floundering when a local nineteen-year-old university student is abducted and imprisoned by a sadistic serial killer, who has already tortured and killed five young women.

A gripping page-turner of a serial killer thriller packed with suspense. If you like Rachel Abbott, Robert Bryndza and Karin Slaughter, discover John Nicholl’s chilling new thriller today.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

John Nicholl, an ex-police officer, child protection social worker, manager, and lecturer, has written three dark psychological suspense thrillers, all of which are Amazon international bestsellers, reaching # 1 in multiple categories in the United Kingdom, France, Spain, Australia, Canada and the USA. John is always happy to hear from readers, bloggers or anyone interested in proposing a joint creative project. He can be contacted via his author website at:

 

http://www.johnnicholl.com

https://www.facebook.com/john.nicholl.988

https://twitter.com/nicholl06

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13795294.John_Nicholl

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Portraits-Dead-John-Nicholl/dp/1786972670/

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
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portraitsofthedeadbookcover

Excerpt:

Chapter One, 2:20 A.M. Saturday, 2 May 1998

Emma didn’t know how long he hid, silent and unmoving, in the large Victorian wardrobe to the side of her single bed. She didn’t know how long he peered, salivating and drooling, between the two heavy dark oak doors and watched, mesmerised, as she slowly drifted into fitful sleep. She didn’t know what time he pushed the doors open and crept towards her in the drab grey darkness of the night. But he did. She knew that he did.

Emma woke with a start, tense, alert, and opened her bleary eyes, telling herself insistently that the dark silhouette slowly approaching her was the nightmare construct of her subconscious mind. But initial anxiety became blind panic as the inky shadow took on an obvious human form that suddenly gained pace and loomed over her. And then a hand, a large hot clammy hand, pulled the bedclothes over her head, clamped her mouth tight shut and silenced her scream before it materialised.

A myriad unwelcome thoughts invaded her troubled mind as he pinned her head to the pillow and raised his free arm high above his head, before closing his fingers tightly, forming his hand into a formidable weapon and bringing it crashing down, again and again and again, with all the force he could muster, rendering her unconscious and bleeding.

She didn’t know how long she remained senseless, or what he did to her while she slept. She didn’t know what time he lifted her from her bed and carried her from her student bedroom, down the creaking wooden staircase and out into the Welsh city street. But he did. She knew that he did.

Writing after a Loved One Dies

 

Michael was very supportive of my writing endeavors.

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My family took the picture to the left a year before my husband Mike went into the nursing home. You hold onto the good days when you get them, and Christmas, 2009 was one of them. When he passed on January 29, the pain of losing him shot through my heart like an arrow. I wondered how this would affect my writing and other activities.

When my mother died in 1990, an instructor advised me to keep a daily journal. This journal evolved into fiction pieces, and months later, I submitted them for publication. In 1995, after my father died, I sat down and penned a short story in three hours. It got published within a week. Losing Mike has come with its own circumstances, though.

I seldom discussed Mike on social media, but if one wanted a true measure of my grief, they only had to look at my checkbook entries for March. I’ve had to scribble out and rewrite most of the entries, and it was hard to read what I’d written when I had to balance the checkbook. The writing dried up as well; I have written only two or three blogs during the last six months. It was like my internal gadget for blog making had gone into hibernation. As it was, the handling of Mike’s estate and increased need for sleep left no time for blogging. On my days off from work, I had numerous appointments lined up with the lawyer, the bank, insurance folks, etc. By 7:30 at night, I was ready for bed. Thankfully, I had previously pulled together Night to Dawn 29, and my authors have been understanding regarding other projects.

The story writing did a big slowdown, too. I’ve been trying to work on a sequel to When Blood Reigns, which should see a fall, 2016 release. I began writing it with visions of Alexis and Yeron setting up house and beating down the renegades. The thing was, when I attempted to write from Alexis’s point of view, I managed only a few paragraphs at a time. The appointments and the phone calls that came with them got in the way.

I found a lot of help from my writer’s support group in Hatboro and The Writers’ Coffeehouse. This has helped get the words moving. Night to Dawn 30 has gone together without a hitch; NTD released Sandy DeLuca’s Lupo Mannaro, and I’ve just released a new edition of Rod Marsden’s Ghost Dance. I will likely do a blog tour after my book When Blood Reigns goes live, so there should be more blogs coming.

The parade of Mylar balloons has grown, although the intense heat we have now has laid some to rest. At any supermarket, you’ll find a balloon or two trailing me to the cashier’s line. I tried getting around the writer’s block by introducing a new character into the book, one who likes balloons. She was supposed to be a secondary character, but … she’s taking over the book. When I work on a chapter that involves this character (she’s also dealing with grief), the words flow like balloons do toward me at the markets. Perhaps I am journalizing after all. In any case, I find myself jumping around and writing the material from her point of view. I anticipate completing this book, but it’s liable to turn out way different from what I had imagined.

This leaves me to wonder how grief affected other writers. Did you find yourself changing genres or going off on a different tangent? Did you keep a journal? I’d be interested in hearing your experiences.

Ghost dance, a horror tale written by Rod Marsden.

Parkinson’s Scorched Earth: The Conclusion

Mike was living a real life horror tale with his disease.

You grab the good days when you can.

The conclusion happened January 29th at about 2:00 p.m. The scorched earth warfare waged by Parkinson’s and dementia against Mike prohibited his ability to swallow, and that was when he died. I should have seen it coming; he’d been losing weight and getting frequent infections. My Mylar balloons tried to warn me. Every time I browsed Amazon to order him fresh supplies, the balloons stayed my hand. “Wait,” they advised me quietly. “He’s not going to need those. Save your money.”

Speaking of balloons, it was Mike who introduced me to them. He brought me some when we got engaged, and after his hospital stay in 1996, he thanked me for his care with several Mylar balloon bouquets. He loved my cheesecake, and I told myself that as long as this continued, no worries. Denial can be a comforting place.

He often regaled people with tales of his years in the Navy during the Vietnam War. Later on, he added that the Navy gave him the happiest years of his life, and now I can see why. Time spent around other people enabled him to escape the reality of Viet Cong capturing people and Parkinson’s disease invading his body.

“Scorched earth” comes from the military strategy the US used to fight the Viet Cong. This strategy involved the destruction of crops, homes, and resources vital to the enemy. I don’t recall exactly when Michel’s war with Parkinson’s disease got ugly, but I know that dementia had imprisoned his talents. It whispered “scorched earth,” with gardening, driving, and activities of daily living becoming the first casualties. His frequent falls echoed “scorched earth,” necessitating admission to the Veterans home. The ability to swallow became dementia’s final target; yes, dementia can affect swallowing in its late stages. The patient’s cognitive function worsens until finally, his brain forgets how to swallow and sustain life. After his admission to the home, I learned that deep brain stimulation, when done in the subthalamic nucleus where Mike had it done can cause cognitive changes, including dementia.

I can sum up Michael’s fight with Parkinson’s by using an analogy about life. When I was ten, my mom sent me to a summer camp for three weeks. Other kids spent the summer; some stayed a week.  Some preferred sports; others leaned toward arts and crafts. One kid remained a loner and avoided most activities.

In many ways, life is like camp. God drops us off to “stay” for a while; some of us will remain here longer than others. Some people become writers or artists. Others go for medicine or law. Mike came to the camp of life with many talents, but as the years passed, he reminded me of the little girl who didn’t fit in.

His problems became apparent when his doctor attempted different medicines that resulted in intolerable side effects. At work, customers complained about his softening voice, accusing him of drinking (he was a teetotaler). Although surgery contained the tremor, it aggravated his cognitive changes and speech difficulties.

After Mike went on disability, he joined the neighborhood’s beautification committee. He had his horticulture skills behind him, and this seemed to give him purpose. Instead, after a few months, he came home, reporting that he’d been “ousted.” One of the other members who happened to be a nurse explained that Mike was exhibiting personality changes and none of them pleasant. Toward the end, he became a lone wolf like that little girl at camp.

Thankfully, the Veterans home nurses treated him like family. They appreciated the sense of humor and kindness still lingering under the dementia. He’d been supportive of my writing, and this continued on his good days. Up until a month ago, he giggled at my balloon adventures. I suspect that his relatives in Heaven will welcome him with love, balloons, and flowers. Whatever Mike saw upon passing must have been beautiful, for he had a look of awe on his face. His suffering is behind him, and I’d like to think that he’s filling up on cheesecake, picking balloons, and thinking of me. Heaven has surely gained an angel.

Featuring R. Arundel: The Hardest Part of Writing is…

R. Arundel, author of Face Transplant, delivers a compelling blog on writing.

The hardest part of writing is the middle or, as some have said, the “muddle.” It is relatively straightforward to create an interesting premise and an exciting opening to hook your reader. Also the ending of the book in a thriller will have a climactic end with revelations the reader did not expect. These parts of the book fuel the writer to fill the pages. The middle is a different story.

The middle of the story has to keep the story moving forward with interesting details, fill in exposition needed for the story, fill out the characters, develop subplot. This all has to be done in an interesting and fresh way for the reader to continue to enjoy the book. The opening is usually sketched out with relative ease since this sets up the story and really the only concern is how you will decide to reveal the opening. Likewise the ending really has been determined by what has already been written in the story. The conclusion naturally flows from what has already been written.

The middle can easy become unfocused and meander down paths that really don’t propel the story forward. The other problem with the middle is that it has to keep the fill in essential elements and be interesting. The initial pages can have a breathtaking scene, with details to thrill the reader. This can’t be done for the entire novel or it will lose its effect and the novel will become over the top and totally unbelievable. The middle has to take a more nuanced approach to storytelling. The pacing must vary, the characters must have interesting reveals. My personal approach to the middle is to make sure everything propels the story forward, even if some of the expository details are less exciting than the opening.

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TheFaceTransplant is a compelling tale written by R. Arundel.

Dr. Matthew MacAulay is a facial transplant surgeon at a prestigious New York hospital. When his friend and mentor, Tom Grabowski, dies under mysterious circumstances, Matthew uncovers his friend’s secret: a new technique that allows perfect facial transplants. No incisions, no scars. Tom was able to accomplish this monumental feat with the help of Alice, a supercomputer robot with almost human abilities. While trying to find the people responsible for murdering Tom, Matthew realizes he is the prime suspect. He must flee for his life with the help of Dr. Sarah Larsson, a colleague and reluctant helper, who has a secret of her own, and Alice, who helps them make sense of a baffling series of seemingly unrelated events. The clues carry Matthew and Sarah around the world. They stumble onto a sinister plot of monumental proportions that leads Matthew all the way to the White House.

The Face Transplant is a powerful medical suspense thriller of the first order. The novel was written by a surgeon who weaves politics, medicine, and espionage into a tightly paced, intelligent thriller.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Arundel is a practicing surgeon. This experience brings realism to the story. The novel asks what would happen if a surgeon were to develop the perfect face transplant. This would allow people to have a new face, in essence create a new identity. You can create the perfect double, the perfect Doppelganger.

Contact link: http://www.amazon.com/R-Arundel/e/B00EBCQVEC

FOR A CHANCE TO WIN AN AUTOGRAPHED COPY OF THE BOOK, go here: http://www.thefacetransplant.com/contact.html  FILL OUT THE FEEDBACK AND MARK SUBSCRIBE.

Prizes for the tour are as follows:

  • One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.
  • One randomly chosen host will receive a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

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Face Transplant is a compelling tale written by R. Arundel.

Excerpt:

Guaarrr. It sounds like water draining from a very large bathtub, through a very large hole. I just killed myself. I just killed the patient. Dr. Matthew MacAulay looks down on the operating room table at the gaunt, graying man. Matthew quickly scans the operating theater. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the short wide man in the observation area.

I just killed myself, Sarah, and Amanda.

They have been hijacked into performing a face transplant. The patient is unknown. Mr. Glock, the short wide man, hovers in the far end of the operating room. He made it clear that if the patient did not survive, the three of them would be following him in short order. The 9 mm Glock with a silencer on the end gave credence to his profanity-laced words of warning.

Matthew looks across the operating room table at Amanda Soto, forty-two, an American of Spanish ancestry. She has been his scrub nurse, assisting him in the operating room for the last three years. Divorced, one child.

It will take a few more seconds for the monitors to tell everybody what Matthew already knows. Amanda already knows. She is right across the table. She saw him use the robotic arm to dissect the vessel and mistakenly cut the large artery in the neck. An operating room nurse of Amanda’s experience has seen it all. When Matthew looks into her eyes, they flash ever so quickly an acknowledgment that it is all over. Instead of any words, she quietly unclamps the suction. Now a dull hiss fills the air. To the casual observer, or the short wide man holding a 9 mm Glock pistol in his fat stubby hands, nothing really has changed. Amanda, anesthetist Dr. Sarah Larsson, and Dr. Matthew MacAulay act as if all is going well.

Matthew cannot help but glance over to the man with the 9 mm Glock. In his mind, he names him Mr. Glock. Adrenaline surges through Matthew’s body and time slows. The short wide man, Mr. Glock, has gray eyes. Pale, gray eyes. Very pale, almost tired. Matthew remembers reading somewhere that people with gray eyes have the best visual acuity. They make the best marksmen, the best assassins. He wonders if this was true.

When Mylar Balloons and Manuscript Rejections Go Together

Night to Dawn features zombie fiction, vampire tales, and poetry.Night to Dawn has had to close to submissions again because a lot of folks responded, and I hate to make writers wait three years to see their work in print. A lot of acceptances went out, along with rejections.

How do I approach story submissions? When a story intrigues me, I take that work along with several others to the meeting room, where twenty-five Mylar balloons float around a long table, each with copies of the manuscripts, prepared for a go-no-go discussion on each tale. I ask every balloon for their thoughts on the first story, and a heated discussion follows. The heart-shaped balloon complains that the story needs more romance. The Smiley face might prefer a humorous piece. The flower points out that the story will need a lot of editing. The pink butterfly might holler, “Damn all edits, let the story fly!” With six stories on the table, the meeting might last three hours, and maybe three stories will make it to Night to Dawn. If I bring a novel manuscript to the table, I’d better pack a lunch. The ensuing meeting could take all day.

At least that’s how it works in my balloon world.

In the real world, like many other small publishers/editors, I read submissions borrowed from time needed for editorial and writing chores, not to mention my day job and life events. There is no editorial board or meeting room, though I might enlist the help of beta readers. I read each one, at least the first three pages. If the first pages keep me in suspense, I’ll continue to the end. The stories that spoke to me outright got an immediate acceptance, especially if they haunted me long after I closed the file. Some tales read mostly well, but something along the way stopped me. These went on my shortlist. Some folks haven’t heard from me yet because their story’s on the shortlist.

Several folks sent a cover letter addressed as “Dear Editor.” You don’t want to do that with any editor, balloon world or not. When you’re ready to submit, take the time to visit the website and find out the person’s name. Other publishers—and agents—have complained about “Dear Agent” or “Dear Editor” submissions on their blogs, too. My name is plastered all over my website, so a “Dear Barbara” cover letter would work. Heck, if someone sent me a letter addressed “Dear Balloon Lady,” I’d smile and think, this person sure did their homework.

On many of the rejections, the story doesn’t begin until page four or later. One story had a beautifully written setting that went four pages, describing the heat in the protag’s town. I imagined an egg frying on the pavement, but I couldn’t use the story. If you want to start with your setting, litter the ground with some dead bodies. Cleaning out a closet is backstory, but if the character stumbles into a corpse dangling by a rope, that will keep me reading. And, by the way, there’s no need to send “you’ll-love-this-work” cover letters. Like a Mylar balloon, a well-crafted horror tale will get my attention on its own merit.

Beware of typos. We’re all human, and no writer sees their own mistakes, but…a submission littered with typos would give any editor pause. Most authors review their submissions before sending, but folks who use their eyes a lot (like writers) can run into visual issues, especially as they get older. I know – I’ve dealt with cataracts and now, scarring. So if you’re straining to read the print, turn up the zoom feature. For editing, I magnify mine and use Word’s “search and find” feature.

Occasionally I get well-written work in a genre I don’t publish. Though I can’t use them, I might ask to see more work. Anytime I ask to see more work or offer a though critique, take heart. I never waste time picking dust off of battered balloons. And if I have nightmares after reading your Night to Dawn tale, you’ve done a great job. My Mylar balloons would agree.

Your thoughts?

The litter is a horror tale featuring feral children.

They Can Smell Your Fear

Kevin Doyle's horror novel features a tale about feral children.When people contemplate horror tales and movies, zombies, traditional monsters, gruesome scenes, and death come to mind. Its roots started in folklore and religious beliefs revolving around the afterlife, supernatural, and death. Other types of horror involve nature, hostile aliens, rabid animals, killer insects, and perverted criminals – anything that will make people afraid. A good horror tale will scare people with fears they might not have. Take Mylar balloons, for example. I can’t pass a store without stopping in to buy one. Yet Pennywise’s balloons scared the bejesus out of me. I enjoy being around children, but when I edited Kevin R. Doyle’s The Litter, his feral children gave me nightmares.

The Litter offers a traditional monster, death, and feral children. These feral children terrorize a city in brutal ways. They can scent their victims’ fear and capitalize on it in nasty ways. According to some reviewers, Doyle’s book addresses the potential consequences of the breakdown of society and homelessness. That’s possible. Ever since my visit to Atlantic City’s mummy pavilion at age ten, I’ve been a lover of horror and Kevin’s tale was a delight to edit and publish. The body count started with page one. Sure, I had bad dreams along the way, and thus, his mission accomplished.

A great horror tale will keep the surprises coming. Why did Pennywise’s balloons frighten me so much? It’s the surprise element – the clown luring his victim to a brutal death. Kevin filled his tale with lots of surprises – people who knew how to defend themselves, but getting killed. The feral children hungered for meat, and they knew how to catch a victim unaware.

An element of suspense is crucial to an effective horror tale. The action needs to start on page one and keep me reading. In Stephen King’s It, a team of children banded up to fight Pennywise and his minions. All through the book, I kept hoping that the team would survive, but I had my doubts. As I read The Litter, I kept thinking that protag Karen was going to become the next meal.

An element of mystery will give flavor to the horror tale. I’m not talking about whodunits. Sometimes characters can surprise us – even the good guys. Perhaps halfway through the fight, we learn what the major character fears. There’s a strong element of mystery in The Litter. You won’t find out how the feral children got that way until toward the end of the book.

Spoilers (foreshadowing) play a crucial role in any good horror tale. People love them the way I like Mylar balloons. For example, during the first few pages of Steel Rose, Alexis and Johnny were reading about zombies. That spoiler hints that Alexis and Johnny were going to fight some zombies. The Litter has plenty of spoilers. In the prologue, Doyle drops a hint that something ugly is about to happen to one of the characters. And when Karen searched for a missing child, I thought, oh, oh, any second the killers will jump her.

Horror addresses the concept of good versus evil, but some tales will touch on social issues. Does The Litter? Whatever you decide, you’ll meet engaging characters. There’ll be some gruesome moments, so you might want to sleep with the lights on. The Litter debuts this week and will be available in paperback and Kindle on Amazon, Smashwords, and Barnes & Noble.

So if you love horror, crime, and suspense fiction, stop by and read an excerpt from The Litter. Kevin’s feral children would love to have you for dinner.

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