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****Brian
Moreland’s THE DEVIL’S WOODS is #54 in the never-ending series
called INSIDE THE EMOTION OF FICTION
where the Chris Rice Cooper Blog (CRC)
focuses on one specific excerpt from a fiction genre and how that fiction
writer wrote that specific excerpt. All INSIDE THE EMOTION OF FICTION links are
at the end of this piece.
Name of fiction work? And were there other names you considered that you would like to share with us? The Devil’s Woods – while writing the manuscript over many years it was titled Skinners. Then a series using that name came out, so I changed my title to Tricksters, which reflected the Native Canadian mythology. Eventually, I chose to title the book based on the nickname for the haunted forest where people keep disappearing.
Has this been published? And it is
totally fine if the answer is no. If yes, what publisher and what publication
date? Yes, The Devil’s Woods was originally
published by Samhain Publishing in December 2013. The next year an audio book
version was published by Audio Realms. I eventually got the rights back. The
novel was published a second time in June 2017 by Rising Horse Books.
What is the date you
began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished
the piece of fiction? A very early
version of this novel was my first manuscript that I wrote when I was 19, a
freshman in college. It’s the book I cut my writing teeth on. At age 21, I
attempted to sell it to a publisher, but was unsuccessful. The novel wasn’t
good enough yet. I stayed persistent. Over the course of the next 20 years, I
revised, edited, and did research for the book. At times I put it aside and
wrote other books. I believed in The Devil’s Woods and kept improving
it. The mystery, characters and monsters evolved many times over into something
very different than my first manuscript. After successfully publishing two
novels, I eventually sold The Devil’s Woods. I was 45 when it
finally released.
Where did you do most of your writing
for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. And can you please
include a photo? I began writing this novel in
college at the University of Texas at Austin back in 1988. I didn’t own a
computer yet, so I would go to the school’s computer room. Imagine a room full
of thirty students sitting at old IMB stations. I reserved a computer and wrote
for hours until they kicked me out at closing time. This was before Windows, so
MS Word was a black screen with green letters. I wrote the first draft in a
creative frenzy during my freshman spring semester. I printed the manuscript
out on dot matrix paper where you had to rip the perforated edges off. I was so
proud of writing my first novel (all 113 typed pages), I took it to a printer
and had it hardbound. Over the course of 20 years, I worked on countless drafts
of this novel in many places, at every home I lived in. I wrote part of it
while living in a college dorm, a noisy frat house, a dozen different
apartments and houses. I completed the final polished draft at a friend’s cabin
in the woods where I like to do writing sabbaticals. I wish I had
photos of me writing. All I have is one from a book signing at a horror
convention in Las Vegas the year The Devil’s Woods first released.
What were your writing habits while
writing this work- did you drink something as you wrote, listen to music, write
in pen and paper, directly on laptop; specific time of day? Over
the years, my writing habits have been all over the place. I wish I were more
disciplined and wrote every day.
I’ve mostly written in creative sprints a few
days or weeks, then I’d get distracted by client work (to pay the bills) or
personal matters or socializing (writing can be a lonely business). I also like
to binge-watch Netflix, go to movies, hang out with friends, watch sports, and
go hiking. There were times I went days or weeks without writing, especially
after finishing a manuscript. 
I’ll also write before bed, so I wake up eager to continue from
where I left off. That helps me get into the writing zone where the words and
plot ideas just flow. Sometimes I listen to movie-theme soundtracks to put me
in the right mood. Often, no music at all. I’ve brainstormed handwriting in a
journal and on index cards. I write on my laptop. I drink coffee or protein
smoothies in the mornings and water throughout the day.
What is the summary of this specific
fiction work? The
Devil’s Woods is part
ghost story, part mythical monsters-in-the-woods mystery thriller that involves
three siblings, Kyle, Eric, and Shawna Elkheart. When they were children, their
mother took them away from their First Nation Cree Reservation. They’ve been
estranged from their father, an archaeologist obsessed with the legends of a
nearby haunted forest. Now, as troubled adults, the siblings return to the
Reservation to heal old wounds and face the horrors that haunt their
nightmares.
Here is the synopsis:
Fear wears many skins.
Deep within
the Canadian wilderness, people have been disappearing for over a century.
There is a place the locals call “the Devil’s Woods,” but to speak of it will
only bring the devil to your door. It is a place so evil that even animals
avoid it.
When their
father’s expedition team goes missing, Kyle Elkheart and his brother and sister
return to the abandoned Cree Indian reservation where they were born. Kyle can
see ghosts that haunt the woods surrounding the village—and they seem to be
trying to warn him. The search for their father will lead Kyle and his
siblings to the dark heart of the legendary forest, where their mission will
quickly become a fight for survival.
Can you give the reader just enough information for them to understand what is going on in the excerpt? I’m including an excerpt of the prologue. The story kicks off with Kyle, Eric, and Shawna’s father, Jon Elkheart, searching the infamous woods for the missing people from his expedition.
Please include just one excerpt and
include page numbers as reference. This one excerpt can be as short or as long
as you prefer.
British Columbia, Canada
Lake Akwâkopiy Cree Indian Reserve
Five days
after the tragedy, Jon Elkheart returned to the forbidden forest. With a
vengeful glare, he challenged the looming wall of aspen, spruce and vine-choked
pines that guarded this unsacred land. The only entrance was a trail that
disappeared into a black hole inside the jungle-thick brush. The darkness
within Macâya Forest was an impenetrable void, a shadow world of
shape-shifters, and yet its mysteries beckoned him.
There are places in the world where
lost spirits never rest, Elkheart thought with a coppery taste in his mouth. And man is considered prey. Standing by
a swamp at the edge of the rainforest, he peered through the scope of his
assault rifle, searching the woods for sudden movement. He listened for the
slightest snap of a twig or brush of a leaf. The June morning was still and
windless, as if all of nature sensed what he was about to do.
You should turn back. You
can’t do this on your own. The scholarly part of Elkheart understood this
logic. As an archaeologist, he had always put his research first, above all
else. Until this last mission went haywire. Now the guilt and anger pumping
through his veins would not let him rest. You
have to go back in there, spoke a voice that was not ruled by logic. You have to find Amy.
Elkheart
looked up at the sun creeping over the mountains. Clouds drifted across the
valley, as if shielding the forest from the approaching light. Soon only the
tips of the branches pierced the white smoke. Stretching out his arm, he turned
a small video camera toward his face. “June 10th, 7:00 a.m. My name is Jon
Elkheart. I am a professor from the University of British Columbia. I am also
one of the last surviving members of the Lake Akwâkopiy Cree band. Most of my
people abandoned this reservation years ago. Those who stayed behind have suffered
nightmarish visions from a forest that has haunted our reservation for more
than a century. A week ago I led a documentary film crew and four mercenaries
into Macâya Forest, an uncharted patch of rainforest located at the
northeastern tip of the reservation.” A heaviness burdened Elkheart’s chest as
he remembered that tragic night. The screams and gunshots echoed in his mind
and guilt twisted his guts. “Most of my crew was slaughtered by something that
attacked us from the woods. My assistant, Amy Hanson, was taken alive. I’m
going back into Macâya Forest to search for her. I pray the spirits of my
ancestors will guide me.”
Never enter Macâya Forest with impure
thoughts, Grandfather
Two Hawks had warned. You must call in
your animal spirit guide and enter with the heart of a warrior.
Elkheart
blessed a large knife with an elk-horn handle. Grandfather had given him the
hunter’s blade on his thirteenth birthday after killing his first elk. He had
eaten the slain animal’s heart and earned his name. Now, Jon Elkheart dipped
two fingers into a coffee can of elk’s blood and wiped red streaks across his
cheeks, as if a mask of war paint could channel the ancient warriors of his
tribe. The ceremony did nothing to settle his nerves. He faced the mouth of the
forest where few men had survived before him. “This time I will not run.”
Nervous
whimpers broke the silence. Elkheart’s German shepherd pressed against his leg.
He stroked his dog’s bristled neck. Should
have left him back at the cabin. “Scout, run on home.” He shooed the dog.
“Go on.” But Scout refused to leave his master’s side. Elkheart sighed. “You’re
just as foolish as I am.”
Taking a
deep breath, Elkheart sheathed his knife. He gripped his M4 Carbine. The
semi-automatic assault rifle had belonged to one of the mercenaries who had
died for this mission. Trying not to think of the soldier who had been
decapitated, Elkheart turned on a flashlight that was attached to the barrel. A
long beam pierced the dripping green-gray gloom that shrouded the rainforest.
Wary of every sound, he passed through the threshold. His dog followed.
As Elkheart
crept down the narrow path between spiky pines, firs, and cedars tangled
spruce, ghostly voices filled his head, pulling his thoughts in every
direction. His Cree ancestors would not give him peace until he returned to
these unsacred woods and exposed its secrets.
A blanket of
dew covered the bracken and surrounding leaves. Only splinters of sunlight
lanced the dense canopy. The morning fog drifted between the trees, making
visibility even more difficult. Elkheart could only see a few feet around him.
Scout
sniffed along the ground a few feet ahead, a silhouette in the haze. They
weaved between trees, crossing cold-water creeks and climbing up fern-covered
hills. The darkness faded into a gray gloom, as the morning sun finally
filtered through the tops of the trees.
Untying his
green parka, Elkheart loosened the hood to cool off. Sweat soaked his
black-and-silver hair. Slightly winded, he inhaled the pine-scented air. A branch
shook above him, dropping pinecones onto his shoulders. He jerked the rifle
upward. An owl swooped from its perch and disappeared into the mist.
Elkheart
released his breath. Okay, stay alert. Be
ready for anything.
Steadying
his rifle, he stepped through a thicket. Large fern leafs and dangling vines
made his efforts difficult. Only the twisting path separated the trees and
underbrush enough to travel through the woods. To venture from the trail would
be like wandering into an uncharted jungle.
The fog
thickened. Smokey plumes circled his feet, covering his boots and the
moss-covered trail. Scout began to fade in the mist. Elkheart bird-whistled the
German shepherd to come back. Elkheart’s heavy backpack burdened his spine.
Easing the pack off, he leaned against a tree. Scout sat on his haunches,
watching the forest.
Fishing into
his backpack, Elkheart retrieved his video recorder and a bottle of Stoli. The
vodka had been a birthday gift from Wynona, his…what? Ex-girlfriend? No, their
relationship had never been that formal. Ex-drinking partner was more fitting.
“Friends with benefits,” his students would say.
Studying the
clear liquor, Elkheart felt a brief tightness to his chest, remembering the
drunken, lust-filled nights he and Wynona had shared before the whole mess
started. He still loved her, still caressed the empty spot in his bed where she
once slept. But some pasts just couldn't be healed. And Wynona’s wounds ran
deep as canyons. Letting her image fade, Elkheart swallowed a gulp of vodka. He
glanced around warily, thumbed the camera’s record button.
“So far, so
good. I’m about a half mile deep and all’s quiet.” Elkheart paused to listen to
the forest a moment, turning his camera toward the surrounding trees. “For over
a century, my people have feared Macâya Forest. The landscape here is different
from the woods that surround the reservation’s compound. Here, the trees tower
to enormous heights and intertwine with one another as if trying to conceal
something the land never wanted man to discover.” He gazed up at the giant
trees, the sacred elders, wondering if they were listening. He felt as if eyes
were watching him. “I’m about a quarter mile from the strange ruins my team and
I discovered before their deaths. I only got a glimpse, but what I saw was
beyond belief. I should be there shortly, where I hope to find Amy. If I come
across what killed my crew, this time I’m prepared.”
Elkheart hit
the stop button. A strong wind blew along the trail, and the fog began to
swirl. He half expected an ancient trickster to emerge from it. Or a threat
much more real.
Elkheart
rubbed the antler handle of his knife, drawing courage from his spirit animal.
When that didn’t work, he drank another fiery gulp of vodka. He then slipped
his backpack over his shoulders, grabbed his rifle and stepped toward the
swirling fog. Scout sniffed the trail a few feet ahead.
As Elkheart
grew closer to the ruins, his asthma kicked in. The fifty-year-old professor
started wheezing. Fear paralyzed him as questions rolled through his mind.
What the hell are you doing here? Why
is revealing the secrets of this forest worth more than your life?
Part of him
wanted to return to Vancouver with the evidence they had found. He had plenty
of artifacts and footage to open up an investigation. He would be on CNN and
every major talk show around the world. Time
and National Geographic would cover
his story. He would finally be respected in his field, and more importantly,
earn the respect of his three grown children. But Elkheart couldn’t leave Amy
behind. He took another step, a warrior’s vengeance surging through him. He
jerked his rifle at a sudden sound. Low, huffing grunts.
Scout
growled.
Elkheart
tensed, raising the rifle. “Shh, boy.”
The shepherd
silenced, but remained poised to attack.
Ahead,
something lumbered through the pines with heavy footfalls that sounded like a
grizzly. But this predator had run off all the bears from these woods.
Why is this excerpt so emotional for
you as a writer to write? And can you describe your own emotional experience of
writing this specific excerpt? While writing this
opening scene I got into a heightened state of suspense. I felt every emotion
Jon Elkheart was feeling as he combed the woods in search of a young woman he
cared deeply about. He felt a deep regret that he’d failed his expedition team,
when he knew the dangers. He’s failed a lot of people, including his kids. In
spite of fearing what he might encounter, Jon Elkheart is driven to risk his
life to expose the secrets of this forest.
Were there any deletions from this excerpt that you can share with us? And can you please include a photo of your marked up rough drafts of this excerpt. I only included half of the prologue. Unfortunately, I do not have any marked-up rough drafts.
Other works you have published?
Novellas
The Witching House
Darkness Rising
The Seekers
Novels
Shadows in the Mist
Dead of Winter
The Devil’s Woods
Amazon Link for The
Devil’s Woods: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B071JSR6ZR/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i3
Anything you would like to add? Later this year, I plan to release a short story collection and novella called They Stalk the Night. I’ve also completed two more books (Tomb of Gods, a novel and Savage Island, a novella) that are currently going through the publishing process.
Brian Moreland writes a blend of mystery,
action-adventure, thriller, and horror. A gypsy spirit who loves travel and
adventure, Brian is currently vagabonding around Florida, enjoying the
sunshine, beaches, palm trees, and writing scary books. (Right: Brian in the Fall of 2018)
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Brian-Moreland/e/B002BM3020?ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1&qid=1557246451&sr=8-1
Follow on Twitter: @BrianMoreland
INSIDE THE EMOTION OF
FICTION links
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004 11 29 2018
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and
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054 06 28 2019 Brian Moreland’s
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Woods
https://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2019/06/54-inside-emotion-of-fictions-devils.html
https://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2019/06/54-inside-emotion-of-fictions-devils.html
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