The title of this post may seem a tad self-serving, a bit heavy on the ME, but hey, when you’re an author during a pandemic and you haven’t had a novel out in nearly four years, you desperately look for ways to celebrate your work.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to be tooting my horn too loudly or pressuring any of you to buy my existing books. I’m merely going to be presenting myself with numerous arbitrary, self-created awards to show you what you’re missing out on if you’ve never read any of my novels. This is totally normal behavior for an author … named Greg Levin.
My goal is really just to have a little fun and elicit a little laughter during these turbulent times. In other words, please buy my books.
So, without further ado or any more poorly veiled attempts at marketing, let’s get started with the First Annual Greg Levin Writing Awards (Recognizing Outstanding Achievements in Fiction by an Author Named Greg Levin).
Best Line in a Scene Featuring Voluntary Euthanasia:
“The trick to looking excited when children are presented to you for sex is to remember you are saving their lives. If you don’t look excited, the pimps will get suspicious. Show your anger and disgust, and you ruin everything. For help getting into character, think about the biggest douchebag frat guy you’ve ever met, imagine him with several million dollars, multiply his money and demeanor by ten, and then act like that guy. Right up until the cops remove your handcuffs and thank you for your service.”
Best Conversation Among a Group of Terminally Ill Vigilante Serial Killers:
Ellison’s eyes opened almost as wide as his mouth. “Wait, you mean you guys are behind the two cyanide incidents that were just in the news?”
“Yes, that would be us,” Jenna replied.
“Jesus Christ. I thought maybe you had gotten the idea from the news, I didn’t realize you were the news.”
“Neither does anyone else,” said Jenna.
“How long do you think THAT will last?” Ellison asked.
“We don’t know, but considering our health, it doesn’t have to last too long.”
“Yeah, fear of getting caught isn’t much of an inhibitor with us,” said Gage, who’d been sitting at the table waiting for an opening. “We aim to keep this up as long as we’re still standing.”
Ellison glared at Gage. “Jenna mentioned you ‘succeeded’ in your lone attempt, so I suppose that means I’m talking to a murderer right now?”
"Can you please stop behaving like we're going to be alive in two years, Ellison?” Jenna asked, rolling her eyes. “You have to put these poisonings into context. You're not seeing the big picture."
“Yeah, you're making it sound like we're the bad guys,” said Gage. "We're in a unique position. I mean, think about it, we have an extraordinary opportunity here. Becoming killers could have a real positive impact in the community.”
Best Scene Featuring a Buddhist Getting Trained for an Undercover Sex Trafficking Sting Operation:
And the winner is…
In Wolves’ Clothing—for the following scene:
Three minutes into the video, I glance at Caleb. He’s fully engrossed in what he’s watching. And what he’s watching is a nine-year-old from Myanmar lying in a hospital cot a day after having her dislocated jaw wired shut.
Five minutes in, Caleb is quietly jotting down notes as a pimp caught on a hidden phone camera is bragging about how many virgins he’s able to bring to the next night’s party.
At the ten-minute mark, as the video is ending, Caleb closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths.
I’ve seen this before with trainees.
“It’s okay, man,” I say as I pat him on the back. “Should I grab the trash bin?”
With his eyes still shut, Caleb says, “I’m good” and continues breathing deeply.
“It’s okay, man. No shame. What you just watched is too much for most people.”
Caleb says nothing. Just long inhales followed by longer exhales. Hands in his lap. He looks too serene to vomit, but I get up and grab the bin from the corner anyway and place it by his chair.
“Do you need anything else?” I ask, wondering how I’m going to break it to Fynn that her golden boy isn’t cut out for the job.
Caleb takes a couple more deep breaths, and opens his eyes. He says, “My apologies, I was just—”
“No need to apologize,” I say. “We can take a break if you want.”
He shakes his head and goes, “That won’t be necessary. I just needed to get that little meditation out of the way. You know, send my intention out into the universe.”
Now it’s me who might need the trash bin.
Caleb points at my laptop screen and says, “Those traffickers are in pain, and they haven’t learned how to respond to that pain with mercy and empathy.”
He says, “The intention I sent out was for them to recognize this. To help them ease their suffering, and that of the girls.”
Oh shit.
It’s more serious than I suspected.
Caleb isn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict or suffering from PTSD. He isn’t depressed or bipolar or a masochist.
He’s a Buddhist.
I can overlook a lot of shit in a Jump Team member, but total enlightenment may be where I have to draw the line.
Best Author of a Novel by Greg Levin:
And the winner is…
No way—ME?! I’m shocked and honored. I’m humbled and grateful. Most importantly, I’m calling to make an appointment with a psychiatrist.
Best Protagonist of a Novel by Greg Levin:
And the winner is…
It’s a three-way tie! Eli Edelmann from The Exit Man; Gage Adder from Sick to Death; Zero Slade from In Wolves’ Clothing.
Best Novel by Greg Levin:
And the winner is…
Get outa town—another three-way tie! The Exit Man, Sick to Death, and In Wolves’ Clothing.
Wow! I’ve never been so honored or so proud or so concerned about my mental health. These awards truly are an embarrassment of riches—or as my father is probably thinking, just an embarrassment.
I’ve been so busy recovering from the holidays, working on novels, and teaching English to Chinese children via video, I haven’t had much time to create new content for my blog. It’s kind of like how a lot of you have been so busy doing all the things you do, you haven’t had time to read all of my books. So I figured I’d do us both a favor and create a blog post featuring the best bits from my three novels. This way, I get content to fill this space, and you get some of the greatest lines of neo-noir fiction ever written by anyone named Greg Levin.
Now I know what you’re all thinking: “Greg, that isn’t fair to you—it’s not an even trade, you deserve more!” Folks, please, don’t worry about it. It’s my pleasure to share my work.
Okay, fine, if you absolutely insist on not taking advantage of me, I guess you could purchase one of my novels. Actually, you couldn’t pick a better time do so—because for the first time EVER, ALL of my novels are available for JUST 99 CENTS! (Kindle version only.)
Never before haveIn Wolves’ Clothing,Sick to Death, andThe Exit Maneach been priced at under a buck at the same time. So why now, you ask? Because never before have I overestimated my net worth by so much or overspent so badly during the holidays—thus, I need to do everything I can to bring in some extra cash without having to endure the pain and inconvenience of getting a better-paying job or making any real sacrifices.
To help you decide which of my ridiculously low-priced novels you’d like to buy (or gift to a friend), have a look at the rest of this post. Below you’ll find a brief description of each novel, along with what I and three of my five fans believe to be the best lines from each book, as well as praise from renowned writers/reviewers I didn’t even have to bribe.
(Note: Click on any of the red title links above or below to be brought to the Amazon Kindle page for that book. Have I mentioned each book is currently just $0.99!? )
On his best days, Zero Slade is the worst man you can imagine.
After seven years on a team fighting international sex trafficking,
Zero's quite good at schmoozing with pimps, getting handcuffed by cops,
and pretending not to care about the young girls he liberates. But the
dangerous sting operations are starting to take a toll on his
marriage and health. Not to mention his sanity.
Some "killer" lines from IN WOLVES' CLOTHING:
“There’s nothing better than being the bad guy. Long enough to do some good.”
“I tell him I’ll be back to my old self once we’re getting handcuffed in Phnom Penh.”
“I can’t remember if I took an oxy during the flight, so I eat two. They pair nicely with the scotch. It’s good to be home.”
“That’s one of the drawbacks of good narcotics—they often cause you to say cheerful things.”
“Appear too confident and comfortable, and your cover is blown. You are a perverted coward with no shred of decency, so for God’s sake act like it.”
“To get into character, think about the biggest douchebag frat guy you’ve ever met, imagine him with several million dollars, multiply his money and demeanor by ten, and then act like that guy. Right up until the cops remove your handcuffs and thank you.”
“Before I joined Operation Emancipation, I was just like the dozens of people fuming at Gate A-11 right now. Flight delays would ruin my day. Now? Now I can smile and whistle while walking through a pediatric cancer ward.”
“Whenever out with others, I can do pleasant. I can do content. I’m even able to muster empathy and interest on occasion. It’s not as easy as doing conniving, creepy, sleazy and sinister, but sometimes you just have to leave work at the office.”
“Barrett and Malik just arrived. A former Navy Seal and recovering coke addict, and a former Secret Service agent who got fired for punching a senator in the throat. Finally, some people I can relate to.”
“Maybe Caleb really is the bright and shining star Fynn has described. Maybe he’s self-actualized and stable and moral. Maybe he’s undamaged goods. If so, he’ll never fit in.”
“Human trafficking has a tremendous future. Even brighter than drug trafficking. It’s why many big-time dealers are diversifying—dipping their toes into the sex trade.”
“The reaction I’m looking out for is anger, which is the natural reaction and thus unacceptable. I’m also looking out for sadness, especially tears. Tears are completely normal. This job is not.”
“It’s more serious than I suspected. Caleb isn’t an alcoholic or a drug addict or suffering from PTSD. He isn’t depressed or bipolar or a masochist. He’s a Buddhist. I can overlook a lot of shit in a Jump Team member, but total enlightenment is where I have to draw the line.”
“And here I am, toasting a silver and sapphire blue ceramic container, trusting that the Eden Funeral Home got things right. That there were no mix-ups in the crematorium. I don’t like drinking with strangers.”
Praise for IN WOLVES' CLOTHING
“Levin movingly conveys the horrors of child sex trafficking in this effective thriller. He provides a window into one of the world's darkest underbellies, while somehow managing to insert appropriate lighter moments. This author deserves a wide audience.” —Publishers Weekly
“A riveting, fast-paced thriller. In Wolves' Clothing is an immensely satisfying read by an author with a genuine flair for originality and narrative-driven action. Unabashedly recommended.” —Midwest Book Review
“I highly recommend In Wolves' Clothing to those who love dark crime fiction and thrillers, as well as edgy literary and transgressive fiction— especially Chuck Palahniuk fans.” Lauren Sapala, author of Between the Shadow and Lo and The INFJ Writer
“Truly original and enthralling. Levin's blazing prose and acerbic wit capture the madness and the humanity of working undercover in the darkest corners.” —Radd Berrett, former Jump Team member, Operation Underground Railroad
“A sharp novel, both in action and in style, with fabulous dialogue and a flawed hero you'll love.” —Olga Núñez Miret, Rosie's Book Review Team
“There’s no escaping the adrenaline-packed punch of emotions that conclude with a thrilling ending. An unforgettable novel.” —Paul Falk, NetGalley reviewer
When Gage Adder finds out he has inoperable cancer,
things really start to look up for him. He leaves his
soul-crushing job, joins a nice terminal illness support group,
and takes up an exciting new hobby: serial killing.
Some "killer" lines from SICK TO DEATH:
“Over the previous six months, there was only one thing Gage had become more efficient at than killing… and that was dying.”
“Gage had never cared much for dark comic books. He was simply becoming the main character in one.”
“He never praised me whenever I’d hit a home run in little league, but I kill a few people and all of the sudden I’m his idol.”
“That’s the problem. They potentially have decades and decades ahead of them. A long and bright future. Too much life is getting in the way.”
“It was like picking teams for kickball at recess, only there were three team captains instead of two doing the picking. And getting picked meant you’d soon be dead.”
“Dying was the least of Gage’s problems.”
“Prison? You’re worried about prison? You’re already on death row, my friend.”
“It’s best to discuss mass murder behind closed doors, and Jenna lived the closest.”
“Learning he might not be dying really threw a wrench into Gage’s plans. He didn’t see how he could go on killing if there was a chance he’d go on living.”
“The problem with celebrating a birthday in a hospice center is all the oxygen.”
“Sitting in a hospice room staring at three uncommon zombies, the sickly triplets behind the most popular murder spree of the century.”
“That’s one way to lose your religion. Watching your deity vomit next to some road kill.”
"We’d be dead. Big deal. Death’s not such a long drop these days. Not for us."
Praise for SICK TO DEATH
“A tour de force dark comedy.”—Craig Clevenger, author of cult classics The Contortionist's Handbook and Dermaphoria
“A satirical thriller that says serious things as well as telling a stonking story. It'll appeal to readers who enjoy Dexter's adventures. For me, it ranks alongside Josh Bazell's Beat The Reaper.”—Rowena Hoseason of Murder, Mayhem & More
“Uniquely entertaining and captivating. Levin's prose is playful yet ominous, and the negotiation of this unique spectrum produces some truly great dialog and passages. He takes this story in bold directions that keep the pages turning. Definitely worth checking out!” —Bryce Allen, author of The Spartak Trigger and Idol Threat
“Darkly funny, with literary undertones. Look past the sharp wit and clever turns of phrase to find a novel that speaks to man's purpose in life, escalated by his impending death. When the third act begins to spin out of control, the author clinches it with a clever twist that leaves a very satisfying ending. I'd highly recommend this book to anyone ... except maybe the terminally ill.”—Scott Kelly, author of [sic] and the Keep the Ghost Trilogy
“Greg Levin has done it again with Sick to Death. As in his previous books, Levin weaves dark humor and a human touch into every chapter of this transgressive tale. Highly recommended.”—J.R. Hardenburgh, hard-to-please reader
Suicide should come with a warning label: “Do not try this alone.”
Eli Edelmann never intended on taking over his father's party supply store.
Nor did he ever intend on making a living through mercy killing.
But life doesn't always go according to plan.
Some "killer" lines from THE EXIT MAN:
“I wasn't some monster looking to feast on the weaknesses of salvageable souls. I saw myself as a noble purveyor, a humanist catering to the completely vanquished.”
“I was an equal opportunity executioner.”
“After a year or so of helping people die, I was really starting to reach my full potential.”
“The weekend had been interesting and eventful, but it was time for me to return to my normal life of selling party supplies and lining up suicides.”
“It’s hard enough meeting someone you find beguiling enough to want their contact information. Start nitpicking about a few past indiscretions or a police record and you’ll end up dying sad and alone.”
“A team was forming. And what a pair we were. Collectively we represented multiple consecutive life sentences—me for my illicit side job; her for a single mistake.”
“You get used to offering condolences and shaking hands with family members of the person you helped put in the casket or urn before you.”
“It wasn’t enough sneaking around helping sick people disguise their suicide as natural death. I needed some excitement in my life.”
“She had become an integral part of my life—just not the part with all the death.”
“There’s nothing quite like a perfectly executed suicide to get you feeling right again.”
Praise for THE EXIT MAN
“The sharpest, funniest voice in U.S. literature since Carl Hiaasen. Greg Levin's second novel is a corker.”—If These Books Could Talk
“Imagination-capturing and fresh. I highly recommend reading The Exit Man, but strongly advise: Do not try this at home!” —TNT Reviews
"The Exit Man is black humor at its best. If you like dark humor, buy it now." —D.E. Haggerty, author of Life Discarded and Buried Appearances
“A surprisingly delightful and exciting read. Levin’s deft wrangling of the language lifts the subject matter from macabre to entertaining, from WTF to LOL, from “you’ve got to be kidding me” to “I’m sticking around for the ride.”—Michael Smart, author of the Dead Reckoning, Deadeye, and Deadlight
“Smart dark humor wrapped in an inventive story. Levin handles the topic of assisted suicide with respect while busting conventional thinking with clever humor and quirky characterization. A unique, inventive, and well-written novel.” —Lisa Haneberg, author of the Spy Shop Mysteries
Thank you very much for stopping by. I’m truly humbled by you letting me show you how amazing my books are. Don’t forget to take advantage of the very limited time offer—just 99 cents for each of my three novels! Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.
DO IT!
(For those of you in the UK, you can take advantage of the book sale by clicking here.)
Oh, and tune in next time, when I (expect to) share some exciting news about my upcoming novel, INTO A CORNER.
My novels explore some really dark stuff. Stuff like terminal illness, voluntary euthanasia, serial killing, sex trafficking, drug addiction, dementia. Yes, I have sought professional help. No, it hasn't stopped me from tackling such grim topics. And here’s the thing: When reviewing a novel of mine—whether the book is about a terminally ill man who kills people, or about a man who kills terminally ill people, or about a man who pretends to be a pedophile to catch sex traffickers—most readers mention they found the book funny. Many say they laughed a lot. Some say they peed a little.
Those of you who’ve never read any of my books (and I know who you are—I’m making a list, checking it twice) may be thinking, “What kind of sociopath writes books that make light of such horrific topics and issues? And what kind of sociopaths read such books and laugh enough to need an adult diaper?”
First of all, go easy on my readers—they’re good people. Secondly, allow me to explain:
I don’t make light of people dying or killing. I don’t make light of cancer or the people suffering from it. I don’t make light of sex trafficking or drug addiction or dementia. What I do (or try to, at least) is show how humans—when stuck in the darkest of spaces—will scratch and claw at the walls until even the tiniest speck of light breaks through. Humor is a natural survival mechanism, sonaturally I try to weave some into books about people facing serious adversity. My aim isn't for readers to laugh at the darkness but rather to laugh in it. I never try to force “the funny” (like I sometimes do on my blog or when trying to embarrass my daughter in public). Instead I try to use the funny to appropriately juxtapose the frightening and the fierce.
If you were to ask me what I’m most proud of in my writing career, I’d make no mention of awards or Hollywood options or major book deals (especially not that last one, since I’ve never had a major book deal.) What I’m most proud of are the times when readers—particularly those who’ve personally experienced the same/similar tragedy or peril featured in a book of mine—reach out to say they appreciated how the book’s humor elevated the story rather than detracted from it. How it elicited laughter without disrespecting the dire straits the characters faced. As a writer, there’s only one thing more rewarding than hearing that a reader “got” exactly what you were going for: Hearing that what you were going for made a lasting impact on a reader and helped to ease their suffering, relieve their grief, make their day (or even just their hour or minute).
That’s what novels by the likes of Chuck Palahniuk, Kurt Vonnegut, Elmore Leonard and Sara Gran do for me. Such books break my heart while making me bust a gut. They show humanity at its worst yet somehow manage to restore my faith in it. They cause me to cringe and clench and cheer and laugh in equal measure. A few other authors who effectively pepper their powerful, gritty fiction with humor are Joe Clifford, Rachel Howzell Hall, Nico Walker, and Will Christopher Baer.
If you look at the reviews for any of my novels, you’ll see plenty of readers starting off with something like, “I didn’t know what the hell I was getting myself into with this book” or “I was a little nervous about cracking this one open,” but what soon follows is usually something like, “I couldn’t believe I was laughing along with and rooting for these characters” or “Hilarious and delightful, though also heart-wrenching.” (For a perfect example of such a review, click HERE.)
I love receiving reviews like those. Not because they’re positive and full of praise (though sure, that’s nice, too); rather because I love it when readers take a chance on books with topics that worry or rattle or frighten them—books they fear may cross the line or trigger painful emotions or memories. And I love it even more when those readers, after diving into such books, walk away rewarded for their risk—feeling not only entertained but also touched and moved. Perhaps even inspired.
Just like how I feel every time I discover a novel that dares to laugh in the dark.
How about you? Have you ever bought or borrowed a book you thought might scar you for life but that ended up moving you to tears and laughter? I’d love to hear about it—please share in the comments section below.
You know how, when you call the homicide division of your local police department to ask for assistance with a murder you have in mind, and they put you on hold for a good five or ten minutes and tell you to stay put?
No?
Oops, my mistake. I forgot most of you are respectable citizens with respectable jobs—not crime novelists.
It’s okay. I’m not judging.
I will say, though, it’s too bad you don’t get to experience the adrenaline rush that comes from having disturbing conversations with important people who possess the dark, gruesome knowledge you need to get your lies right.
The best part is, it’s a symbiotic relationship: The cop or FBI agent or medical examiner you chat with gets an intriguing diversion from the stark realities they live and work in each day, and you get the excitement of causing serious concern among total strangers.
I’m very fortunate to have a mind twisted enough to keep me from being able to hold down a real job, but not so twisted that I need to be locked up and prohibited from contacting as many authority figures in the medical and law enforcement communities as I want.
Following are some of the more notable subject matter experts I’ve spoken to, without whom none of my novels would have ever come to fruition. So you have them to thank or blame.
Dr. Patricia Rosen. Dr. Rosen is an experienced toxicologist who provided me with ample amounts of expert info on cyanide and other deadly poisons featured in my novel, Sick to Death. Truth is, when I contacted her and told her the plot of the book, she expressed a little too much interest in helping me. Naturally, I made sure to cite her on the Acknowledgements page—she’s not the kind of person you want to forget to thank.
A party supply store manager (whose name I forgot to jot down). The knowledge and insight I gleaned from this manager—whom I interviewed as part of my research for The Exit Man—was so indispensible and eye-opening, I can’t tell you who he was or where he worked. I got so busy and excited scribbling down his answers to my questions about balloons and party tents and helium tank rentals, I completely forgot to jot down his name. I do, however, remember his friendly customer service tone changing dramatically when I asked what size tank would supply enough helium to kill a man. Nevertheless, I went easy on him and didn’t bother to write a negative review on Yelp. I couldn’t—I didn’t know the name of the store.
Deputy C. Williams. The anonymous party supply guy above wasn’t the only expert who helped make my fiction true in The Exit Man. Deputy Williams of the Travis County Sheriff’s Department (in Austin, TX) spent a good half hour on the phone with me verifying the accuracy and plausibility of the police work depicted in the book. He then probably spent a good couple of days creating a task force to track my activity and make sure I wasn’t seen with any helium tanks in my possession.
Radd Berrett. Radd is the guy on whom the protagonist from my novel In Wolves’ Clothing is loosely based. Radd spent over two years putting his life at risk while traveling the world to help rescue victims of child sex trafficking. He’s both a badass and a sweetheart, and my interviews with him—in addition to being heartbreaking and terrifying—were invaluable. And considering he has the strength to bench-press my entire family, there was no way I was going to leave him out of this blog post.
A thoracic surgeon. While In Wolves’ Clothing doesn’t contain any major plot holes, there’s a gaping hole in the main character’s torso—a bullet wound that occurs midway through the book. To make sure that recovering from such trauma wasn’t D.O.A. from a feasibility standpoint, I spoke to a thoracic surgeon (who requested anonymity) before writing the scene. And I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when the surgeon told me I could totally get away with shooting my protagonist in the solar plexus at point-blank range. Happy day!
Andrea Perez. Andrea is an attorney specializing in art law, and has been an amazing resource in helping me keep my upcoming novel Into a Corner (launching in September!) from jumping the shark. Andrea has not only answered my many questions regarding art forgery and the legal ramifications surrounding it, she’s provided me with some very interesting facts and tidbits about the underbelly of the art world. I’ve incorporated much of this info into the book, resulting in a more captivating narrative and even a wild plot twist or two. Best of all, she offered her assistance pro-bono. That said, when I asked if she would represent me pro-bono—in the event I got caught committing some of the crimes featured in the book for research purposes—she laughed at me and hung up.
An organic biochemist from the University of Texas. When I called the Department of Chemistry at UT a couple of months ago to ask about the proper way to dissolve a human body (for a scene in Into a Corner), I got put on hold and passed around so many times, I lost count. Hopefully the organic biochemist I ended up speaking with actually was an organic biochemist and not a janitor posing as one. Nothing against janitors, it’s just, I’d like to be certain the morbid science in my novel makes sense. More importantly, I’d like to be certain there isn’t a janitor running around UT with intricate knowledge of how to dissolve a body.
For you fiction writers out there, what’s the weirdest/darkest/creepiest conversation YOU’VE ever had with a subject matter expert? Actually, I’m even more interested in having those of you who AREN’T fiction writers answer that question.
E.A. Aymar has been described as “one of the most promising and talented hard-boiled crime writers of his generation.”
I’d like to add “hardest-working” to that description. In addition to recently launching his latest critically acclaimed crime thriller, The Unrepentant(Down & Out Books, March 2019), Aymar’s writes the monthly column “Decisions and Revisions” for the Washington Independent Review of Books, and serves as the Managing Editor of The Thrill Begins—the International Thriller Writers' online resource for aspiring and debut thriller authors.
Add to all that the fact that Aymar also runs the Noir at the Bar series in the Washington, D.C. area and is often invited to speak at a variety of crime fiction/writing events nationwide, and you begin to wonder how in the hell he had any time to speak to me for the following interview:
Welcome, E.A.—great to virtually speak to you!
Thank you for interviewing me, Greg! A few people have recommended I read your work, and I’ve since started (more on that later), and I’m really pleased we’ve had the chance to meet.
Cool, and ditto! Now let’s jump right in:
Many would consider humor and sex trafficking to be oxymoronic (trust me, I know), and yet your new novel, The Unrepentant, has garnered much critical acclaim in spite of—or perhaps dueto—it’s bold blending of humor with unspeakable crimes. What compelled you to write this book in such a way?
I think it needed the humor, you know? It was such a dark topic and, in the early drafts, a dark book. One of the early readers was the writer Alan Orloff, and his first note back to me was, “Well, that’s depressing.” Which is a very Alan Orloff thing to say.
But he was right, and that was helpful. Because I’d forgotten an important element of writing—the reader. I wanted to create a no-holds-barred story, and I included moments of graphic violence, but those instincts originally overwhelmed me. We don’t read fiction for an exhaustive portrayal of unforgivable actions—and, even if I’m wrong about that, it’s not what I want to write. You need to include hope.
I keep thinking of this book as a dark canvas, but one cut with moments of light. Humor offers light.
When someone in an elevator hears you have a new book out and asks you what The Unrepentant is about, what’s your quick pitch to get them hooked and to keep them from calling security?
“A young woman escapes a group of criminals and realizes, to fully free herself, she needs to kill them all. If you liked Kill Bill but didn’t think it went far enough, you’d like this book! …Wait, why are you getting out of the elevator here? This isn’t even your floor.”
Spending months researching and writing about dangerous topics can be emotionally and psychologically taxing. Do you, like me, self-medicate and watch rom-coms to cope with it all, or have you found healthier outlets (meditation? yoga? a sensory deprivation chamber?) to help you endure the darkness you put on pages?
What I wrote was nothing compared to what I read, or the experiences that were relayed to me. And that helped a great deal. My job was much easier than the men and women who work with victims of trauma, and I never forgot that.
But there are always the scarring images or stories, or the things you hear and realize you won’t forget. And that can be very tough to deal with. I can usually distance myself emotionally from that, but I know a lot of writers who can’t. Particularly if they’ve experienced a similar trauma in their lives.
But it does help to realize that the horrors you’re writing about are never as bad as the horrors people experienced. And it becomes a duty to relay them, as best as you can. I’ve said before that I think writers have a duty not to look away, but that depends on what you write about, of course. I managed to gaze at this issue steadily…even though there were times when my gaze broke.
I saw that one of the stops on your current book tour was your old high school. That’s pretty cool. But what kind of principal brings an author of a book like yours in to speak to an auditorium filled with raging hormones and not-yet fully-developed frontal lobes? More importantly, did the cool kids from the school invite you to sit at their cafeteria table afterward?
It was a lot of fun! And I invited myself—a teacher at the school is a friend, and I reached out to her about the idea. Joe Clifford had recommended it, and I took his advice…and it was bad advice. Why did I ever listen to Joe Clifford?
Actually, it wasn’t a bad experience at all, but it was an exhausting one. I talked to groups of about 60-80 kids for the entire day, and I was WORN when it was over. The thing that surprised me was that the kids actually asked questions afterward. I thought they’d sit there, kind of sullen and bored, but they were really engaged. And their questions were sharp! Do I worry about a likable protagonist? What were the steps I took to having a published book? How do you know when to curtail violence?
The principal actually did a show up for one of the talks, and she walked out. And I didn’t swear or anything! But that’s okay. It seems like a very “writer” thing for a figure of authority to disapprove of you, right?
And, no, the cool kids barely acknowledged me. Which, to be fair, is also a very writer thing.
When not busy writing and traveling around corrupting young minds, you serve on the board of the International Thriller Writers (ITW), are the managing editor of The Thrill Begins (ITW’s awesome online resource), and run the Noir at the Bar series for the D.C. area. So my question is, do you rely on caffeine, amphetamines and/or some other performance-enhancing substance to get everything done?
You know, I do drink too much caffeine. I’m really trying to get better about that.
Right now it’s all fine. Everything I do is something I enjoy doing, and that helps a lot. If I didn’t like it, it’d truly be a burden. But I love writing columns for the Independent and working with ITW and running the N@Bs for D.C.
It took me a long time to get published. I started writing seriously in 1997, finished my first book in 2003, and my first book was published in 2013. And The Unrepentant is the first book I’ve written to be widely reviewed and read. So this is all wonderful for me. I’m forever grateful, and excited to call writers I long admired peers and friends. It’s never tiring.
What authors have been your biggest influences as a writer? In what ways, if any, has your Panamanian heritage informed your writing?
The two biggest influences are probably Anne Tyler and John Updike. They’re not the most likely candidates for crime fiction, but I loved their use of prose and domestic drama.
And then, for crime fiction, I love Lawrence Block and Megan Abbott. I can’t think of two other authors I have such urgency to read, or who continually put out wonderful work.
I was born in Panama, and half my family lives there. I went there a lot growing up, and it’s important for me that my son has those same experiences. But Panama as a country doesn’t factor into my writing; rather, the experience of being mixed, or a minority, does.
Because of my mixed race, I’ve always been cast just outside or barely inside social or racial circles, and that relationship has given me a good perspective on people…and I think good training as a writer. I’ve never really belonged somewhere, and that used to be an isolating feeling. That’s changed. I go to malls nowadays, and I see interracial couples everywhere. It’s lovely, and gives me hope that my son (himself Asian and Latin) will never feel that type of isolation.
But for me, that “outsider” status has never left, and it continually informs my characters. Often in ways I’m not conscious of, which I think is helpful.
Who are you currently reading? Are there any up-and-coming authors of crime/noir/thrillers you are especially excited about and see a big future for? What do you mean I’m not one of them?!
Right now I’m reading Jeffery Deaver because I’m moderating a panel he’s going to be on, and I need to get my shit together.
But there are a lot of writers nowadays that mean a lot to me. Gabino Iglesias, Nik Korpon, Sujata Massey, Eryk Pruitt, Jen Conley, Sarah M. Chen, Jennifer Hillier, Shannon Kirk, Tom Sweterlitsch, J.J. Hensley (really anyone who contributes to The Thrill Begins as one of our regular bloggers is a writer I hold in high regard, which is why I chose them)…I could easily go on.
And, honestly, as I mentioned earlier, I’m reading your novel In Wolves’ Clothing and digging it! I had to stop to read Deaver for this panel at the Washington Writers Conference, but I’m excited to come back to your work. The only reason I haven’t finished it is Deaver. Blame him.
Care to tell us a little about what you’re working on next?
I got a new thriller in the works, but my next thing will be a sequel (of sorts) to The Night of the Flood. Sarah M. Chen and I are working on the edits right now and it’s exhausting and, even worse, she doesn’t seem willing to do most of the work this time. But that will hopefully be out in 2020. It all depends on how much I can convince Sarah to do everything and give me all the credit. Fingers crossed!
Well, Sarah and I are virtual friends (and she was part of a feature on this blog a couple of years ago), so I’ll see if I can help convince her to carry all the weight again. But don’t get your hopes up—I’m not very convincing, plus Sarah’s too wise to ever listen to me.
Okay, time to wrap this up. Thank you very much, E.A., for taking time out of your insane schedule to chat. (It’s rare, and possibly even illegal, for two men who’ve written novels about sex trafficking to converse.) Here’s to the continued success of The Unrepentant, and to you claiming a seat at the cool kids table sometime soon!
To learn more about E.A. Aymar and his work, visit his website, or check him out on Amazon or Twitter.
