The giant spilling over into my seat in row 43 glares at me like his overactive pituitary gland is my fault. The baby on the lap of the woman up in 42-C has been shrieking since our delayed take-off two hours ago. And my water bottle just rolled into some corner of pressurized oblivion.
But you won’t hear me complain. I’m too busy tapping away at my next novel seven miles up.
Writing fiction is a great way to escape the pain of everyday life. And since few things are more painful than flying coach, there are few better places to write than on a commercial flight.
Lucky for you, I’ve already had three miniature bottles of bourbon and thus am a bit too drunk for my novel, but definitely not too drunk for my blog. In other words, this is a good time for me to get more specific on why I love writing on planes:
The mild decrease in oxygen is great for creativity. I have some of my best ideas when my brain isn’t functioning properly. Thanks to the slightly lower levels of oxygen on a plane, I’m able to think up especially captivating character quirks and impossible plot twists, as well as make myself believe I can make a living as an author.
Strangers in uniforms risk bodily injury to bring me cocktails. Everyone knows a bit of alcohol enhances prose. And there’s something very satisfying about watching a flight attendant ricochet off aisle seats to deliver me a bourbon without spilling a drop. And since flight attendants are so preoccupied with ensuring the safety of everyone on board (except themselves), they often forget to charge me for the drink(s).
The in-flight magazine makes me feel like a literary genius. If ever my writing isn’t going well during a flight, I need only open up a copy of what’s tucked into my seatback pocket. Reading a couple of sentences on what to do in Newark or where to eat in Omaha is all it takes to make even the worst parts of my manuscript seem like they were written by Margaret Atwood.
It’s a “get out of small-talk free” card. We’ve all sat next to the overly chatty passenger who just won’t shut up about the weather and their family and how they need you to get up so they can go pee. This hasn’t happened to me since I started writing on planes. Once I break out my laptop and start talking to my characters while drooling, even an intoxicated salesman from Wisconsin knows enough to pipe down and hold it in.
It’s fun to mess with wandering eyes. It’s only natural for passengers to sneak a peek at a manuscript on a screen that’s mere inches from their face. And it’s only natural for an author of dark fiction to frighten the hell out of them when the peeking turns into staring. Whenever I sense I have an audience while working on a plane, I write them into the story right before their eyes. There’s nothing quite like the expression on the face of the person next to me when they read, “Suddenly, the head of the overly curious woman in 27-E exploded.”
Easy book promotion opportunities during the descent. The last 10-15 minutes of a flight, when the FAA requires me to stop writing and stow my laptop, that’s when I open for business. What better time to promote my books than when surrounded by people who have been starved for entertainment for hours on end and who are about to regain access to Amazon? So upon the initial descent, I hand out business cards (which list my titles) to everyone seated next to and near me. Then I tell them it’s been an absolute pleasure flying with them, and casually mention that if they don’t buy at least one of my novels the second we touch ground, I’ll write them into my next one.
TAKE OFF
So if you are a writer or want to be, I highly recommend selling your home and/or car and/or drugs and using the money to fly as much as you can. I’m telling you, it’s the best thing you can do to enhance the number and quality of words you produce. On the ground, there are just too many options and distractions. Unlimited streaming. Reliable Wi-Fi. Edible food. Plus open spaces and fresh air. Nobody can be expected to write anything worthwhile in such a comfortable environment.
Miles high in a 737, however, there’s just drudgery and elbows and cold drafts and babies. And the only way out other than the emergency exits is your imagination.
After publishing a novel about a guy who helps terminally ill individuals end their lives, and another novel about terminally ill individuals who become vigilante serial killers, I decided it was time to take a break from all the death and dying and murdering. I mean, there’s only so much a reader—and a writer—can take.
So you’ll be happy to know my next novel isn’t about any of that stuff.
Instead, it centers around child sex trafficking.
You can blame my wife.
She’s the one who just had to go on a noble humanitarian mission to Cambodia in 2016 to build an art center for young girls who’d been rescued from sex slavery. And she’s the one who came home and just had to show me all the inspirational and touching photos from her trip. All the smiles she and the women she traveled with brought to the faces of girls who’d endured months/years of unspeakable physical, emotional and psychological abuse.
After blubbering over the photos and telling my wife how proud of her I was, I said there was something I needed to know. “Who rescues these girls from the brothels?”
And when she told me, I knew I had my next novel. It’s not every day you hear about former CIA agents and Navy Seals pretending to be pedophiles to catch pimps and give little girls their future back.
I spent the next month learning facts while concocting plot details for my novel. As part of the research I did to get my lies right, I interviewed a man who spent over two years leading sex trafficking sting operations all over the world. What he shared with me via phone and email was unsettling, unforgettable, inspiring and invaluable. My novel is by no means the tale of his life, but I couldn’t have created what I’ve created without the detailed information and gripping accounts he provided.
I’m inches away from completing the book. It’s called In Wolves’ Clothing. Here’s the draft of the blurb that will appear on the back cover:
Zero Slade is not a pedophile. He merely plays one when saving children’s lives.
During his seven years on a team fighting child sex trafficking, Zero’s become quite good at schmoozing with pimps, getting handcuffed by cops and pretending not to care about the Lost Girls he liberates. But the dangerous sting operations are starting to take their toll on his marriage and sanity. His affinity for prescription pain medication isn’t exactly helping matters.
When the youngest girl the team has ever rescued gets abducted from a safe house in Cambodia, Zero decides to risk everything to find her and bring her back. Never mind he’s still recovering from a recent overdose—and an even more recent gunshot wound that should have killed him.
It’s the biggest mission of Zero’s life. Trouble is, it’s certain death.
Indecent Browsing, and Nuns Flying Coach
As you might imagine, this has not been an easy writing experience. Learning all about the horrors that occur in the international child sex trade – or just getting your head around the fact that such a trade even exists—is enough to turn you into a permanent insomniac. But I knew I had to write this novel, and I knew I could do it in a way that would respect the subject matter and inform readers without completely devastating and depressing them. So I pressed on.
Almost as challenging as the research was coping with the concern of getting arrested (or at least investigated) based solely on my browser history. How I managed to stay under the federal authorities’ radar during several months of highly questionable online searches is beyond me. You’d think googling “international sex-trafficking hotbeds” followed by “cost of roundtrip flight from LA to Phnom Penh” followed by “Cambodian kiddie brothels” would have at least resulted in a local police officer knocking on my door.
And then there was the issue of working on In Wolves’ Clothing on flights. While sitting in coach. With passengers practically sitting in my lap as I typed such lines as, “The trick to looking excited when children are presented to you for sex is to remember you are saving their lives.” And I’ve been flying a lot. From Austin to Portland and back every Monday/Tuesday for ten weeks to attend an amazing writing workshop led by Chuck Palahniuk (author of Fight Club and numerous other dark contemporary bestsellers). On these flights, I’ve sat next to (and tried to shield my screen from) mothers with young daughters, marines with arms as big as my legs, and, perhaps most harrowing of all, a nun with wandering eyes.
I guess what I’m saying is it should have been me and not that poor little Chinese doctor from Kentucky who got dragged off a plane for all the world to see. (Seriously. It would have been great publicity for the book.)
No Laughing Matter. But Laughing Matters
Perhaps most challenging, though, was the writing itself. Well, not initially. The first draft was actually easy. Surprisingly so. But then I read it from start to finish and realized, um, it was a little too, uh…and please forgive me here… funny.
It’s not that I’d made light of child sex trafficking in the first draft (not al ALL, actually). Rather, I found that the “voice” I’d brought to the story was a little too similar to the voice used in my previous two novels, which are both straight-up dark comedies. While it’s totally fine to be hilarious and witty in novels about terminal illness and murder, when your book centers around pedophilia and sex slavery, it’s best to tone down the humor a smidge. So, I had to tell my first-person narrator, Zero—who deep down is a good guy—that he was having a little too much fun describing and showing the nightmarish work he does.
Zero sort of listened to me during the second draft, but it wasn’t until Chuck Palahniuk said something to Zero and I during a recent workshop session that Zero really started to pay attention. Chuck said, “This is a terrific concept and I like what you’re doing, but be careful not to let funny and clever cut the tension.” Then Chuck said something funny and clever to cut the tension: “Remember, this isn’t ‘The Best Little Whorehouse in Phnom Penh.’”
That’s not to say the novel is now devoid of humor. Extracting every ounce of funny from the story actually would have made it less authentic. At least according to the real-life Zero I interviewed prior to starting the book. He told me having a dark sense of humor is a necessity in his line of work. It’s how you survive. After he read the first twenty chapters I sent him in March, he called me and said, “I read everything out loud to my wife, and when we weren’t crying, we were laughing. Man, you nailed it.”
Having someone who has lived through most of what my fictional character has experienced react in such a positive manner, that meant more to me than any praise even Chuck could have provided. (Chuck, if you are reading this, I merely said that to create more tension. Of course your opinion matters more.)
I expect In Wolves' Clothing to launch early fall 2017, so mark your calendar. (Just write “Buy Levin’s new novel!” all over September and October, to be safe.) Between now and then, I’ll be sure to post an excerpt or two so you’ll have a better idea of what you’re getting yourself into.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. My wife just told me there’s a man at our door who says he’s with the FBI.
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Whenever submitting one of my novels for an award or to a potential publicist or promotion service, invariably I am asked to check a box indicating what genre the book falls under. It’s harder than it sounds.
Mystery? Nope.
Thriller? Not exactly.
Suspense? Close, but nuh uh.
Romance? No, my darling.
Fantasy? Dream on.
Sci-Fi? Does not compute.
Young Adult? Whatever.
After scanning and rejecting all the major genre categories, I end up doing the same thing my wife – who is half-Indonesian and half-Australian – does whenever answering the ethnicity question on a form or application. …
I check “Other.”
I’m proud to be an Other. I find it more interesting than being another. Another mystery writer. Another romance writer. Another fantasy writer. Not that I’ve got anything against those who write in the most popular genres. It’s just, what’s the fun in creating books that sell easily?
Being an Other does come with its set of challenges. Namely, a smaller reading market. If I had a dime for every person who has asked me why I don’t write more like Stephen King or J.K. Rowling or George R.R. Martin – or at least more like writers who try to write like those writers write – I’d have enough money to hire a hitman to take out the next person who asks me that.
Now that would make for a good novel. One that wouldn’t fit easily into any major genre category.
I get that most readers are partial to a specific genre. But it seems many readers are completely unwilling to read outside of that genre. Or will start reading something they think falls within that genre only to stop the second a sacred rule is broken or bent, the minute a familiar formula begins to morph. I’m not saying these readers don’t want to be shocked and surprised. They do, as long as it's in a way they expect.
Call me a freak, but when I’m reading or writing a novel, I simply don’t think in terms of genre. I think in terms of STORY. If I’m totally engrossed in a book (or a movie or a TV show), not once do I stop and think, “Wait, is this a thriller or a mystery?” or “Is this dystopian fantasy or sci-fi?” I just keep reading (or watching) and allowing myself to be immersed in the captivating reality the writer (and/or director) has created. At least until my wife wakes me up on the couch, puts my empty cocktail glass in the sink, and escorts me to bed.
Some of my favorite novels cannot be cleanly categorized: Fight Club (and just about every other novel by Chuck Palahniuk); Slaughterhouse-Five (and just about every other novel by Kurt Vonnegut); Geek Love; Trainspotting; We Have Always Lived in the Castle; The Contortionist’s Handbook. These peculiar books thrill and delight me, and naturally they and others (un)like them have had a significant influence on my own writing. What can I say? I brake for broken rules. I heart inventive. I get off on oddly original.
I’m pretty sure you do, too. So, if you’ve never tried it before, grab the wheel and veer recklessly outside your genre lane. Get off at the wrong exit. Drive down an unpaved road. Then just continue on and see how far you can go, keeping the pedal to the floor until you arrive somewhere so mesmerizing and new, it doesn’t even have a name.
Most people assume it takes a ton of talent to succeed as a novelist. But you need only read a few bestsellers to know that isn’t true.
If you want to be a novelist, there’s something much more important than talent. Something much easier than mastering the craft of writing.
Being utterly indestructible.
Every year, thousands of fiction writers are hospitalized or die – or worse – because they are unprepared for the tremendous physical and emotional strain of finishing, submitting and begging friends to buy their novel. That’s why I’m in the process of establishing the world’s first survival camp for aspiring novelists. I feel the best way to stop the suffering of rookie fiction writers is to put them through training that will make them wish they were dead.
Following are a few of the key components I plan to incorporate:
Core and gluteus training. All camp participants will be required to do an hour of planks, squats, crunches and lunges everyday. This will help dramatically reduce their risk of injury and horrific posture once they start working on their novel and are forced to sit on their ass for days on end. (Few people know this, but Stephen King’s tremendous productivity has less to do with his writing prowess and more to do with his CrossFit obsession.)
Bladder strengthening. Nothing ruins the flow of writing like the flow of urine. That’s why each camp participant will be given only one bathroom break a day. It will be painful and seem inhumane to begin with, but after a few days, happy campers will be able to “hold it in” with ease for chapters at a time. Those who cannot will be welcome to follow in the tradition of Charles Bukowski, who took great pride in soiling himself every other paragraph.
Sun-staring sessions. For eons, mothers have been telling their children, “Never stare directly at the sun.” That’s because mothers never expect their children to become novelists. (Or want them to.) The truth is, looking straight into the center of our glorious fiery star without the aid of sunglasses (in moderation, of course) is an excellent way to build the corneal strength authors need. Without such strength, a novelist cannot be expected to tolerate gazing endlessly at a blank computer screen during periods of massive writer's block. Camp participants who absolutely refuse to take part in the daily sun-gazing sessions will be given slightly less intense alternatives, such as staring directly at a shirtless Norwegian, or staring directly at George Hamilton’s teeth.
“The Rejection Room.” To better prepare camp participants for the crippling sense of failure and self-doubt they’ll experience as novelists, each will sit in a special “Rejection Room” where, for five straight hours, they will be forced to listen repeatedly to a recording that says, "Thank you for your submission, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to pass." The next day they will be placed back in the room for another five hours of even harsher rejection – total silence.
Simulated squalor. Just as important as preparing aspiring novelists for constant rejection is getting them accustomed to living in constant squalor. My survival camp will take care of that by providing participants with just one small plate of plain boiled pasta per day, an old dirty mattress to sleep on, and all the bottom-shelf liquor they can drink. The bountiful supply of cheap, horrible liquor is intended to serve a dual purpose: It will teach campers how to use alcohol to cope with constant squalor and rejection; and it will loosen their inhibitions, thus freeing them to write more boldly and daringly when not vomiting.
I’m currently seeking investors to help get my proposed survival camp for aspiring novelists off the ground. Only serious individuals with ample financial resources to contribute need contact me. In other words, I don’t want to hear from any writers.
An expert on author platforms recently told me readers love it when writers provide answers to frequently asked questions (FAQs). I’m not usually one to challenge authority, unless I’m conscious, but I’m afraid this expert doesn’t know his ass from a hole in a plot.
Things that are frequently asked are rarely interesting. “Is it hot enough for you?” “How’s the chicken?” “Are you off your meds, Greg?” It’s almost impossible to provide an intriguing response to such common questions. Unless, of course, I’m off my meds.
So, rather than following the aforementioned “expert’s” advice and doing an FAQ post, I’ve decided instead to do an FAQ post. No, I’m not off my meds – the “F” in the latter acronym stands for “Favorite,” not “Frequently.”
Below are some of the best questions interviewers have posed to me during my six years as a published novelist begging to be interviewed.
You write about issues that others would normally tiptoe around. Where does this dark humor come from?
First off, I don't see the point of always tiptoeing around touchy topics. Tiptoeing can cause painful cramping. Sometimes it’s better to dance on top of such topics – just as you would atop the grave of an evil nemesis or a gun lobbyist.
As for where my dark humor comes from, I guess you could say it’s a survival tactic. I don't use dark humor to offend – I use it to defend. Humor is a magnificent weapon, one that, instead of destroying, keeps us from being destroyed. Nietzsche said, "We have art in order to not die of the truth." I feel humor serves the same purpose. In fact, humor – when deftly wielded – is art.
How has your upbringing influenced your writing?
I had a pretty happy childhood, which normally dooms a writing career. But I managed to overcome all the unconditional love and support and still become a tortured writer of twisted tales. That’s not to say my upbringing didn’t help me at all. I was a very talkative kid (surprise!), and when all my family and friends finally got sick and tired of listening to me, I turned to the written word. Nobody can shut you up when you're alone in a room typing... except for my cat, Dingo, who loves to sit on my laptop keyboard right when the prose is flowing.
Is there an underlying message you wish to relay about basic human nature through your characters?
No, I don’t really try to relay any underlying message or universal truth about basic human nature. I don’t pretend to even understand basic human nature – especially after the last election.
With my latest novel, Sick to Death, my intent was solely to spin a captivating and entertaining yarn. To explore what could happen if some terminally ill folks with an otherwise solid moral compass decided dying gave them a license to kill.
I just hope, in writing such a book, the underlying message isn’t that I should be committed to a mental institution.
Do you recall how your interest in writing originated?
Dr. Seuss infected me at a very young age. I blame him. For everything. Especially whenever I receive a royalty check and can’t decide whether to laugh or to cry. Aggravated people often mutter, “Thanks, Obama.” I often mutter, “Thanks, Seuss.”
What do you consider the most challenging part of writing a novel?
The biggest challenge for me is remembering to feed my cats. Also, remembering to kiss my wife and hug my daughter every now and again. What I’m saying is I really get into the writing process. So much so, I often forget about the living process.
Besides writing, what secret skills do you have?
I can’t say I have any secret skills; if I’m good at something, I make sure to tell everyone all about it. I will share one of my more surprising skills, though: Freestyle rapping. You probably wish I were kidding, but I’m not. I suffer from chronic hip-hopilepsy. I contracted it when I was about fourteen. At least I’ve learned to apply it to my writing career. For example, here’s a rap about being an author:
My hopes are set high, my prose I let fly
Don't wanna be a writer who just mostly gets by
I wanna be a writer getting checks that let my
chauffeur and my butler go and get my neckties
I’ll give it my best try, I've authored this rap storm
You might be like, "What's an author doing a rap for?"
I'm hoping it will elevate my authoring platform
I have a couple readers but I need to attract more
Your previous book, The Exit Man, was quite successful. Did you ever fear that Sick to Death would suffer from second novel syndrome?
Not at all, mainly because Sick to Death is my third novel. The reason you didn’t know that is because my first novel was very much a first novel. I did things smart – started with a mediocre book so that all my subsequent ones would seem decent.
In all seriousness, as an author there’s no point in worrying if your latest book will live up to those that preceded it. If you’re writing scared, you’re not “bringing it.” And readers today demand you bring it.
Tell us a bit about your writing habits. (Granted, this isn’t a very intriguing question; however, my response is astonishing.)
I’m kind of like Rain Man with my writing. Every day from 8:30 a.m. till 3:00 p.m., yeah. 8:30 till 3:00, gotta write, yeah.
I’m EXTREMELY fortunate to have a wife who not only allows me to write full-time, she insists on it. When I speak of getting a real job, she beats me. I used to have a real job (a writing job, actually, but not a particularly exciting one), and my wife beat me until I quit and focused entirely on fiction. I’m the luckiest victim of domestic abuse alive. (There’s that dark sense of humor again. #SorryNotSorry.)
If you could choose one character from your latest book to spend a day with, who would it be? And where would you take him/her?
Funny you should ask. Not too long ago I tweeted, “I spend all day with my protagonists, but I wouldn't want to be seen with any of them.” Hmmm, I guess if I had to actually hang out with one of the characters from Sick to Death, I’d choose Gage, the main character – even though this might piss of Jenna, the second most important character in the book and someone you really don’t want to piss off.
I’d probably take Gage out for a couple of drinks, then to a Trump speech and just see what happens. Pretty sure after that, the whole world would know about Gage and my book. Call it a PR stunt. Thank me later.
What would you say is your greatest strength as a writer?
I’d say it’s my ability to bring humor to controversial and dark topics while simultaneously revealing the heart and humanity of my protagonists. I love getting readers to root for a sociopath or a serial killer or just a plain loser, and getting them to laugh and cry while doing it.
What are you working on right now?
A bourbon, neat. Oh, and my fourth novel. It centers around a guy who serves on an elite team that goes undercover across the globe to rescue victims of child sex trafficking.
The story was inspired by a humanitarian trip my wife took to Cambodia in 2015. And while the book is technically a dark comedy, I assure you there is no making light of what the girls who are rescued go through. Instead, the humor comes from how the undercover “pedophiles” cope (and struggle to cope) with the extremely challenging and critical missions they carry out, and the odd role they must play during those missions.
As part of my research, I interviewed a lead member of an actual undercover rescue team. When he found out what kind of writer I was, he said, “I’m glad to hear it. There’s no way one can survive what we do without a dark sense of humor.” I aim for the book to do right by him and all the other people who dedicate their lives to liberating victims of child sex slavery. Without depressing the hell out of everyone who reads it.
If you have a question for me about anything even remotely related to writing life (and death), by all means post it in the comment section below. If I can’t come up with a good response, I’ll have my ghostwriter do so.
