Today I'd like to welcome author Joshua Dyer. Tell us a little about yourself.
I am the author of several works in various genres. I’ve had
previous award-winning works published in the Los Angeles Times. Apart from writing, I love reading, languages,
sketching, cooking, and spending time with my family in the mountains of West
Virginia.
Share a short excerpt from your novel
“A
pale crescent moon sat nestled high above the asylum among drifting tufts of
silver cloud. Herb shut his car door and stamped out a spent Chesterfield onto
the concrete. One of the hospital’s security guards saw Herb approaching and
popped one of the main door’s open.
The
guard tipped his brim. “Evenin’, detective.”
Halbert
slid past him. “How are things?”
The
guard spun the deadbolt lock on the door. “Oh, ya know. Quiet relative to the
night before.”
Herb
shuffled behind him down the polished tile. “That’s what I heard.” He eyed the
guy’s black tag: Milson.
“This
way,” Milson said, opening the door to the basement. “I’ll take ya down to
her.”
Herb
chuckled. “Doc tell ya to expect me?”
Milson
clopped down the steps. “Yeah. Said you might be back tonight to talk to Gale
some more.” He rounded the bottom stair and headed along the sloped floor.
“How’s that goin’ for ya?”
Herb
tucked his fedora under his left arm. “It’s an unusual case, for sure.”
“You
said it, bub.” Milson aimed his nightstick toward the dead end. “You know the
rest of the way in, I take it.”
Halbert
nodded. “I’ve got it from here, thanks.”
“Good
night.” Milson waddled back to the stairs.
“You,
too.” Herb strode up to the door to The Cloud.
He
placed his briefcase on the cold floor, and fetched his notes. On the other
side of the thick door, she hummed and, from the sounds of it, spun in slow
circles.
Halbert
slid the wooden shield aside. “Hello? Ms. Gale?”
She
hummed an upbeat tune about going to see the Wizard.
“Mr.
Gale? Dorothy?” He heard the song. She was in there.
“Boo!”
Her hideous mask consumed the window.
A
massive pulsing knot formed in Herb’s throat. “Jesus, kid!”
Dorothy’s
laughter trailed off as she skipped to her bed. “So uptight.”
He
bent over and took some breaths. Stars and yellow explosions closed in on him.
“Yeah. Too funny.” Herb snagged his file and notes while he was down there.
“Before, you had mentioned that the Wizard sent you on a mission to kill the,”
his eyes snuck a peek at his notes, “Wicked Witch of the West. Can you tell me
about that?”
She
shook her bouncy brown curls.
“And,
why not?”
Dorothy
plopped on her bed and clenched its edge in both hands until her knuckles ran
white.
“Ms.
Gale? Why can’t you tell me?”
She
yanked up handfuls of her white bedsheet. Something sinister boiled just
beneath that mask. “You didn’t say, please.”
“Please,
Dorothy.” He didn’t blink. “Can you describe your trip to kill the witch?”
Her
chokehold relaxed. “You’ll just tell me it didn’t happen again, detective.” She
swung her feet. “Try and convince me that I’m crazy.”
Herb
lowered his eyes. “It’s my job to show you the facts as they occurred,
Dorothy.” A groan. He hated this side of the work. “I know that sometimes it’s
not what you wanna hear, sweetheart --” He lifted his gaze to find her standing
less than a foot from his window.
The
brown glare behind her mask closed the gap between them. She whispered through
her wire, faint and ethereal. “Fine. I’ll tell you.” Gale checked to make sure
no one else was eavesdropping and continued. “We snuck into the Haunted Woods
that protected her castle.”
Halbert
maneuvered through his report to the appropriate section.
“About
the time we were ready to climb the rock face, her monkeys swooped in and
kidnapped poor Toto and me.”
Herb
cleared the phlegm. “The monkeys flew?”
“Uh
huh.” Her hand arched toward the ceiling. “Whoosh!”
His
pen raced over the page. “Okay. So, you got kidnapped?”
Dorothy
spun on a heel and marched off with her hands clasped behind her. “That old hag
tried to take my ruby slippers.”
“What
would the witch want with your shoes?”
She
spun and marched back. “They hold a deep and powerful magic, Mr. Halbert.”
“Such
as?”
Dorothy
laughed. “We’re getting to that.” The girl’s sideways stare chastised his
mortal soul. “The witch tried to touch my slippers, but got shocked instead.”
Another odd giggle. “Seems I have to be dead for her to be able to take them
from me.” She doubled over. “Isn’t that a HOOT?”
“A
real barn burner.” Herb scratched a thought down: what’s with the red slippers?
Where did she get them? “Then, what?”
She
flipped an imaginary object. “Time started ticking on me.”
“In
what way?” He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“Once
it ran out, she was going to kill me and Toto.”
Herb’s
fist landed against the door. “You’re tellin’ me Gulch threatened to kill you first?”
Dorothy
nodded. “She never got the chance, though. The others came to our rescue high
in the witch’s tower.” She jogged from one side of The Cloud to the other. “We
ran and ran! Down the stone stairs. We flew outside and up along the castle’s
walls while her Winkie guards were in pursuit.”
“Winkie?”
She
stopped in the middle of her room. “This will go much smoother if you,” she
flung her fists behind her arched chest, “STOP – INTERRUPTING – ME!”
Halbert’s
pen hit the concrete. Dorothy’s masked face turned to him, heaving with each
labored breath.
“My
apologies, Dorothy.” He knelt down and nabbed it and stood. “Please.”
She
groaned and walked to the adjacent wall. “I was at the point in my story where
we stopped anyway.” Gale’s arms flew up in a protective gesture. “The witch
flung fire on the Scarecrow. How was I to know?”
Halbert
considered a question, and then bit his lip.
“I
grabbed a nearby bucket of water and tossed it at the Scarecrow’s arm.” She
held open hands at the floor. “Once it hit her, she melted into nothing. Poof.
Gone.” Dorothy snapped her slippers together and bowed. “That’s how I defeated
the Wicked Witch and freed the Winkies.”
Herb
tossed a glance up at the asylum’s outside wall. Somewhere in the fresh air
beyond, thunder rolled. He smoothed out the official report. “Folks over here
saw something else, Gale.”
Her
arms went up in defeat. “Here we go again.”
“This
would be the point where you listen to what I have to say.”
Her
slippered feet raced over the floor as fast that she slid the last two feet
into her side of the big door. Dorothy pressed her mask against the mesh.
“Don’t you dare speak to me in that
tone.”
Herb’s
chest thumped like an angry bee trapped in a screen door. Her vile grin peeled
back, revealing teeth ready to gnaw him to his bones.
He
attempted to write, but the ink refused to crawl back out. “Who’s on which side
of the door, Gale?”
Herb
took a lungful of stale air and proceeded. “Police and the local volunteer fire
brigades arrived in time to bear witness to your aftermath. The two-story
plantation home of Almira Gulch went up like a torch, Gale.” He flipped to the
next page. “Says here, the Fire Marshall discovered charred human remains in
the kitchen area. He also found a blackened gas can near the body. The Marshall
suspects that Mrs. Gulch had been doused in her own gasoline in her own home
and set on fire.” Halbert scoffed. “Here’s the kicker. You went as far as to
ransack her broom closet by the back door. The other mops had been left strewn
all over.”
He
folded the report. “A real piece of work. It all makes sense now.” Herb pecked
the wire on his side. “How’s it look from your side, Gale?” He shook his pen.
“Looks fine from where I’m standing.” Herb slapped his pen against a leg. Nada.
“Damn.” He pocketed the spent implement. “We’ll have to pick up our date at
another time, dear. I’m all spent.”
Joshua, can you tell us what brought
about the idea for this book?
I felt that there was something untold about the original story.
With all of the folklore and myth surrounding it, I wanted to create something
that brought it all together in one explanation. Some people won’t get, and
that’s fine. For those that do, they’re in for a wild ride.
Where do you
see yourself in five years?
In writing, I see myself surrounded with a couple of dozen
completed works, a smattering of published short stories, and maybe a
commissioned stage play script. We’ll see.
Have you been given any helpful advice? If so What?
Margaret Weis was my mentor for a
year. She gave me several pieces of sound advice. One of them that sticks out
is: people are drawn to your story by its characters. They hang around for their
growth within the plots and settings. It’s true! We all want to live out other fantasies
through relatable people. If we can’t see at least a bit of ourselves in them,
we move on.
Currently, what are you working on?
I’ve got a few works in progress. Dirty America is a psychological
thriller that’s being made into a film. I’m also writing a sci-fi and a fantasy
epic around this project. I’m compelled to create. I can’t help myself.
I agree it can be an addictive process. What has
been the most difficult thing you have struggled with since you began a career
in writing?
Finding my own writing voice was difficult. You can research
grammar and storytelling, but writing is the only way to find your voice.
Tell us a little bit about your main characters
Most of the cast is well-known. The
main character, Herb Halbert, is a detective re-examining the case. Not exactly
Bogie, but a tough cookie nonetheless.
What was your favorite scene to write?
That’s like picking my favorite kid.
If I do it right, then they’re all great scenes.
What has been the best compliment you have received?
I’ve been blessed with great readers.
Some have been moved to tears, while others have noted they’ll miss the
characters when it’s done. They all mean a lot to me.
What kind of
research do you do before you start a new story?
I have an elaborate preproduction
process that I use to create characters, plot, everything.
Joshua how do you promote your books? Any tips you can share?
I’d say get involved on a genuine level with other readers and
writers. We want real relationships with you not your persona.
That's great advice. Do you have people read your drafts before you
publish? How do you select beta readers?
Sometimes. I look for readers interested in my work. If they have
a passion for the genre, then they’ll give straight feedback.
Who designed the artwork for your cover? Or did you
design it yourself?
I do about all of my own these days.
How do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?
Everyone’s entitled to their opinion. I take what I can from them
and learn from others.
I think that's a great attitude to have. Is there something you learned from writing your first
book?
From my first novel, I learned how NOT to write a novel. Many of
the greats that have been around a lot longer than me will tell you the same
thing. Your first novel is (will be) crap. You will learn so much more after
the second, third, and fourth ones that it will pale in comparison.
Joshua, which do you find more challenging inventing the hero or
the villain? Why?
They both have their challenges. It depends on the story. I’ve
encountered instances for both and neither.
How many times do you think you read your book before
going to print?
Dozens of times!
Any last words?
Read often. Learn more. Write every day.
Thanks for sharing with us today Joshua. Happy Reading!!
Don’t forget to send me images of your cover and author pic!
Thanks again!
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