331 pages, 60,643 words. Now comes the hard part: selling the blasted thing.
I first discovered the concept of a “Graveyard of the Innocent” while living in Medina, Ohio. A local Catholic church, St. Francis Xavier, used to put up the display every Halloween (see the photo to the left). The crosses were supposed to represent the total number of fetuses killed in abortions in one week in the city of Akron. Needless to say, I’m glad I don’t live in frickin’ Medina, Ohio anymore.
That image of the mini-tombstones, so like the cover of Metallica’s Master of Puppets, always stuck with me as a symbol of small-town religious lunacy. So when it came time to start writing No Tears for Old Scratch, a novel set in the Holiest Town in America, I had knew there would be a Graveyard of the Innocent in there somewhere.
As I wind down on the final rewrites for No Tears for Old Scratch, as if on cue, another Graveyard of the Innocent jumped into the public eye. This time it was a drawing by Scott Roeder, the man convicted of murdering Dr. George Tiller because he performed abortions. As Bill Hicks said, “Pro-lifers murdering doctors, it’s irony on a base level, but I like it.” Apparently, supporters of Roeder decided to auction off some “drawings” from him on eBay (rendered in that wonderful 5th grade style). One of which showed a biblical David holding the severed head of a Goliath George Tiller (again death obsession). And sure enough, Roeder had drawn a Graveyard of the Innocent. Ironically enough, in a move that Bill Hicks would have cackled at, Roeder included the inscription, “Woe to those who call evil good and good evil.” Like convicted murders and their Christian supporters perhaps.
I have officially started on book #2. Without giving away any details, one of the main characters in the book is everyone’s favorite mischief maker and all around swinging guy, Satan. The idea for the book actually came to me one morning while listening to “Up Jumped the Devil” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. Those pounding piano chords, Cave’s voice growling at that low register, the overall vibe of the dark one lurking mischievously up the street — the plot of the book laid itself out instantly in my head.
On the rare occasions when I do finally plop my ass in the chair to tap away at the keyboard, I always listen to music. Some folks find this odd as they usually require peace and quiet when writing. But I prefer to have music blaring, preferably something that gets me in the mood of the story. When I wrote The Love Book, I listened to really heavy Doom: Black Sabbath, Cathedral, The Obsessed, Spirit Caravan, St. Vitus, Grand Magus, Candlemass, Trouble. The music fit the dark stories I was firing out.