Guest Post : Jonathan Janz Lives in a House of Skin!
First of all, I want to thank Hunter for hosting me today. His Forest of Shadows and Evil Eternal are an amazing one-two punch, and if you haven’t picked them both up yet, you ought to. Here’s what I had to say about Evil Eternal:
Hunter Shea has crafted another knockout. At turns epic and intimate, both savage and elegant, Evil Eternal is a harrowing, blood-soaked nightmare.”
Yep, I guess you can tell I’m a fan.
And speaking of books you should buy…
My new novel (my first book was titled THE SORROWS and can be found right here) is called HOUSE OF SKIN. Here’s the stunning cover art and a short description of my novel:
“Myles Carver is dead. But his estate, Watermere, lives on, waiting for a new Carver to move in. Myles’s wife, Annabel, is dead too, but she is also waiting, lying in her grave in the woods. For nearly half a century she was responsible for a nightmarish reign of terror, and she’s not prepared to stop now. She is hungry to live again…and her unsuspecting nephew, Paul, will be the key.
Julia Merrow has a secret almost as dark as Watermere’s. But when she and Paul fall in love they think their problems might be over. How can they know what Fate—and Annabel—have in store for them? Who could imagine that what was once a moldering corpse in a forest grave is growing stronger every day, eager to take her rightful place amongst the horrors of Watermere?”
So the character not mentioned in that description is the one I’m going to tell you about today.
Pretty logical, huh?
Sheriff Sam Barlow is one of a long line of well-intentioned lawmen in horror fiction. One of my personal favorites is Stephen King’s Alan Pangborn, but there are plenty of them to choose from.
Michael Rooker and Ed Harris both played Alan Pangborn. I figured Rooker deserved the extra publicity.
So what makes my sheriff different?
Well, the structure of my novel, for one thing. Like my debut THE SORROWS, HOUSE OF SKIN has the Gothic structure that I love—where a story in the past affects and ultimately merges with the story in the present. Books like Peter Straub‘s Ghost Story and George R.R. Martin‘s Fevre Dream take on an extra resonance because of their use of the frame story and the manner in which those authors use their back-stories to advance their present stories.
The Finest Ghost Story Ever Written
HOUSE OF SKIN does that. And Sam Barlow is a central figure in both the past and the present.
In the present he’s a grizzled veteran cop who lives alone and does his best not to hate my protagonist Paul Carver, who has the bad luck to look just like the man who ruined Sam Barlow’s life. Sam also has a special bond with my “co-protagonist” Julia Merrow, which is explained in the “past” story.
Many of the book’s surprises involve Sam and his entanglement with the novel’s two main villains, particularly a woman named Annabel. I’ll write about Annabel at a later date, but I’ll just say now that she’s fearsome and beautiful and absolutely evil. Sam is the man who understands this the most, and he’s determined to prevent her resurrection.
But Annabel has other plans.
The last thing I’ll say about this character before I close is that if HOUSE OF SKIN ever becomes a movie, I’ve got some thoughts about who should play my sheriff. Josh Brolin would be great if he were older. Assuming the movie gets made in the next five years (I’m pretty certain it will—hah!), Brolin would be too young. But he does have that world-weary look that would work well for Sam. Guys like John C. McGinley (one of the Office Space Bobs) and David Morse (Brutal from The Green Mile) would also be great, but my first choice is the man pictured below…
Ash, Elvis, and…Sam Barlow?
Bruce Campbell would kill this role. Then again, Bruce would probably kill any role, but I think he’d do a particularly wonderful job as my sheriff.
So, Mr. Campbell, if you’re reading…my people will call your people soon.
And please don’t threaten my people with your prosthetic chainsaw.
Big News and a Weekend Giveaway
The month of May has been flat-out crazy. And I mean crazy in a good way. I’ll start off with the great news. I signed a deal with Samhain for the sequel, yes, I said sequel, to Forest of Shadows. The next book is called Sinister Entity and takes several characters from the first book, over a decade later. Who made the cut to book two? You’ll have to wait until April, 2013 to find out. Until then, I can show you the amazing cover that just got into my hot little hands 2 days ago.
This wait is going to kill me!
As you all know, my second book with Samhain, Evil Eternal, was released at the beginning of the month. The promotional wheels have been spinning and I’m gearing up for the big Books Without Borders fair on June 9th. Word is there will be thousands of folks attending. I’m just offering up a few prayers to the sun god to keep it bright and dry.
I saw the first official review for Evil Eternal this week and it was a doozy. It’s from the folks at Ginger Nuts of Horror. Here’s just the beginning:
“Some horror books are excellent because they delve into the deepest parts of our psyche, and try and shed light on what makes us us. Some are excellent because the author has an amazing talent for writing wonderful prose, and some books are just excellent, because they entertain the reader with a blockbusting balls to the walls story. 
I’m happy to say that Evil Eternal is one of the most refreshing entries in the balls to the wall type of horror novel that I grew up reading, in many a long year.”
Click here if you want to read the rest of the review.
I fininshed the first draft of an all new novella that will hopefully be out in the Fall this year. First revision starts right after I post this.
And now on to the fun part. I’m giving away signed prints of the cover for Evil Eternal to anyone who comments on this post. If you were a fan of Forest of Shadows, let me know what you think of the cover for Sinister Entity and take a guess at who the star of the show will be. If you read Evil Eternal, let me know what you think of it. Hell, just come by and say ‘what up’! I’ll start sending out the signed covers this coming week.
Dreadful Tales Samhain Celebration Wrap-Up
The wonderful folks at Dreadful Tales were nice enough to dedicate an entire week to Samhain Horror, with interviews, reviews and articles with authors (such as myself) and editor Don D’Auria. If you’re a fan of horror, this is a treasure trove of insight and hopefully a reason to add to your “to read” pile. You can catch up on everything right here! Dreadful Tales Samhain Celebration Wrap-Up.
It’s Here! Evil Eternal vs. The World
It’s a great day here in the Shea neighborhood. My second book with Samhain Publishing, Evil Eternal, is now available and can be had a pretty damn good price (under $5!). I’m honored to be part of the Samhain family and have been impressed every step of the way since they took this orphan in last year.
Now, I’ve already given you an excerpt in a previous quote, breakdown of the book on my Books page along with some advance reviews. So, what the heck esle do I have to talk about (other than the various posts and article on my blog tour—see previous post)? I figured I’d give you a little Shea family snapshot and show you how Evil Eternal grew from a tiny idea to a full-fledged, demon-killing novel.
Way back when Bill Clinton was asking the world to define the word ‘is’, I got a spanking new computer. The best way to test drive that Gateway was to write a short story, preferrably something with larger than life characters, demons and gore. Hey, it’s what I was in the mood for at the time. Well, I cranked out a short story about this undead priest called Father Michael who stumbles upon scenes of carnage wrought by a demon called Cain (he of Cain and Abel infamy). 
I wrote it, I read it, I liked it. So did other folks I showed it to. I went on to write another story, placing Father Michael in the NY sewer system seeking demons in dark, filthy tunnels. About a year after I had written both stories, a Bram Stoker nominated horror website came to me to see if I had any ideas for a monthly e-serial. I thought, hey, I’ve got just the thing!
So for a few months, I wrote new chapters for the website, leaving each on a cliffhanger. It was great fun. Alas, the website shut down well before the story was finished.
There were plans to make it a graphic comic and a great friend started preliminary artwork. Comic publishers were contacted, but no one took the bait. Oh well. I may be a big comic book reader, but I was never too saavy about the business side of the medium.
I had an ending that was just itching to be written, so I went back and finished what I started and had a dandy novella. And that’s the way it sat for quite a while.
Enter Samhain, stage right. As I was digging through my drawer of misfit manuscripts, I showed my editor the novella. The next question was, “Can you flesh it out and make it a novel?” Hell yeah, I can! I dove back into the Evil Eternal world and added a new beginning, ending and beefed up everything in between. I had a ton of fun writing it. This is ‘let your freak flag fly’ territory.
And now it’s finally here. Be sure to check in at the ‘ol blog and chain and the various blog tour stops for giveaways and fun. Next time you’re in church, thank a priest. They may save you from death at the hands of a demon some day. 😉
Evil Eternal – A Sneak Peek
It’s hard to believe that my next novel with Samhain Publishing, Evil Eternal, will be available May 1st as an ebook, with print coming in early September. It feels like Forest of Shadows just came out a week ago and here I am gearing up for another round of horror-fueled madness.
Evil Eternal has all the subtlety of a Cat-5 hurricane. I had originally designed it to be a graphic novel but over time it morphed into a full length novel. It’s been described as ‘rip-roaring grand guignol’ and an over-the-top battle royale of good vs. evil.
So, to get you all revved up and ready, put on a little mood music (I suggest anything by Wagner or White Zombie), sit back, and enjoy the follow excerpt…
EVIL ETERNAL – Ante
Hot sand blew into the stranger’s face as he crested the dusty hill. He refused to blink, refused to admit even the slightest defeat to the power of nature and the one who birthed it. He spat on the lone tuft of grass that clung to the hilltop, laughed as it turned a bilious brown, wilting back into the dry earth.
He was surprised to find a small orchard of fig trees lay nestled in the valley below, a lush land fed by the runoff from the surrounding hummocks. At the outer edge of the orchard sat a clay home, baked hard in the sun, big enough to house three, maybe four people. The leaves of the fig trees chittered in the breeze, mocking him. He’d see to that.
Using his gnarled, wooden staff, he descended the hill in a matter of minutes, his bare feet finding a solid grip with each step. The sun was strong and burned the back of his neck. He pulled his woolen hood over his head, pausing a moment to take in the orchard from eye level.
Available for pre-order now!
Five rows of a dozen trees each were spaced out evenly across the valley. Thousands of ripe green figs hung from the branches. They looked, to him at least, like swollen scrotums. He reached up to pluck one, grimaced as it discolored in the palm of his hand, turning a mushy black and melting between his fingers.
The tree followed suit, the figs dying and falling in a rain dance of heavy plops, bursting as they hit the ground. Leaves shriveled up, became brittle, while the branches sagged as if saddled with the weight of the moon.
Crack!
The trunk split in half, the bisected tree collapsing in opposite directions.
The verdant soil around the tree transformed to a cancerous black, spider veins stretching to its neighbors, the scene of rapid decay and death replayed again and again until the orchard was a killing field, the soul of the land corrupted beyond measure.
This made the stranger smile.
Two men erupted from the house, hands on their heads, wailing in shock, anger, fear. Their life’s work had been destroyed in a matter of minutes, struck down by an unseen plague. A woman holding a child to her breast emerged. She looked across the demolished field and cried. The baby fidgeted in her arms as if it too could sense that something had gone terribly wrong.
One of the men met the stranger’s gaze, pointed.
“You did this?” he cried. It was more a question than an accusation, for the moment. The strange man in his former orchard was the one thing that did not belong. If he was not the cause, and how could one man do this, then perhaps he was witness to the death of his beloved fig trees.
To the man’s amazement, the stranger bowed and said, “Yes, I did.”
Fire flashed in both men’s eyes and they disappeared into the house. The woman turned away from him, shielding the baby from his view. The men emerged brandishing long swords. They held them high above their heads, charging.
He waited for them to come to him, to wear themselves out running across the barren field. They swore curses as they rushed headlong, prepared to maim this stranger who had taken their life from them through some power they did not and could not understand. But they did understand retribution, the swifter the better.
The stranger waited until they were several steps away before raising his walking stick above his head. It caught both swords as they swooped down to cleave him from shoulder to hip. With a flick of his wrist, both swords were torn from their hands, buried in the unyielding wood of his staff. He tossed it aside, grabbing for their throats.
He closed his eyes, in the throes of an orgasmic rapture as he felt their windpipes crush between his fingers. They swatted at his thick forearms to no avail. He squeezed tighter, cutting off their supply of oxygen, demolishing the inner workings of their respiratory system. They wouldn’t be needing them much longer.
Their throats collapsed one after the other with an audible rending of cartilage and muscle. He released them, looking on in amusement as they dropped to the ground, their eyes distended, tongues swollen and lolling from open mouths.
The woman sobbed, falling to her knees. He came to her in slow, steady strides, confident that she would not run from him. She looked up as his shadow loomed over her.
“What kind of monster are you?” she asked, defiance in her eyes. Her baby had grown silent, tucked within her robes.
He leaned on his staff, regarding her with cold curiosity.
“I’m the best kind of monster.”
————————————————————————————————————————-
You can pre-order Evil Eternal or add to your Wish List by clicking any of the following links:
The Book Tour Has Begun!
I’ve been gearing up over the past week for the launch of my book tour. It was tough waiting for winter to vacate the premises so I could get started. Big thanks to Monster Man Jack Campisi who worked his tail off creating a special Monster Men episode just for the tour. It’s a ‘best of ghost stories’ that will spark some interesting conversations with those who come down for the fun. I’ll also talk about some of my own experiences with the unknown and how they inspired Forest of Shadows. 
So, if you’re in the Yonkers, NY area on Saturday, March 24th, come on over to the Barnes and Noble at 2614 Central Park Avenue at 7pm.
I’ll be adding more dates in more states very soon, so stay tuned. If you have a bookstore in mind, let me know and I’ll see what I can do about getting there!
Good news is always elusive, but I have 2 things to be happy about today. My story, ‘Commandment Eleven’ is in issue #7 of Dark Moon Digest. You can get a copy for under $8 at Amazon. There are a lot of great writers in this issue. You won’t be disappointed.
Here’s a little snippet to get your horror engine running:
Commandment Eleven
A sparrow sang just outside the basement window and it almost made Norm’s heart break. He could still smell the sharp, sulphuric odor of burnt matches riding hard over the musty pall of the cramped underground room.
He strained to catch the tune of a song as it warbled from the transistor radio he’d left on upstairs. Was it Frank Sinatra or Tony Bennett? What he wouldn’t give to be up there with that radio. Man, that voice sounded like heaven.
Since the incident, he loved just about any sound: kids fighting, garbage trucks rumbling, the buzzing of a curious bee. The thought of losing all of those delicious, everyday melodies sickened him with dread. Acidic rivulets of bile hit the back of his teeth and seeped from the corners of his mouth. Instinctively, he went to wipe it away but his hands were held fast by duct tape.
There was a shuffling of slipper-clad feet on the unfinished cellar floor and a stack of old wood boxes went clattering to the ground.
“Son of a biscuit eater!” his wife Chastity yelled.
God, even her infantile cusses (because good Christians don’t cuss) were glorious to hear.
“Didn’t I tell you to move these somewhere else? You do have working legs and arms, don’t you? Just because I’ve made you right with Jesus doesn’t mean you’re right with me.”
Ready for more? Click the cover to get your copy today!
A Monster Day for The Monster Men
Yesterday was a very busy day here on the Ponderosa. My Monster Bud, Jack Campisi, came over so we could film a boatload of Monster Men podcasts. We made it through 7 before fatigue and too much beer consumption wores us down, where we then sat on our asses for the rest of the night watching two movies (the sad Not Your Typical Bigfoot Movie and the tense, Aussie shark drama, The Reef). Then it is was on to random episodes of Tosh.0 (always hilarious and politically incorrect), Monster Quest, and a few more beers.
Despite all that, Jack did manage to get up early and finish the edits for a quickie rant we did on the new Underworld flick, and the franchise in general. Just click on the Monster Men logo below to see what we think. If you like it or hate it, please forward it so we can get the villagers good and rankled. It’s been a while since I saw a procession of torches coming up the lane.
Underwhelmed by Underworld
Interview with Author Jonathan Janz
Jonathan Janz is new to the horror scene, just like Tim Tebow is to the NFL, only JJ is a hell of a lot better at what he does. Now, I’m not saying we’re lifelong buds or neighbors, but from getting to know him over the past 6 months, I’m pretty secure in saying they invented the phrase “he’s the salt of the earth” to describe this guy. His debut novel with Samhain Publishing, The Sorrows, is the real deal. Think The Haunting meets the early work of Phil Rickman (and if you have never read a Phil Rickman novel, you can return your Official Horror Fan Membership Card). This book has the iron jaws of a pit bull, except this is one angry dog you’ll be happy to cross.
Jonathan was nice enough to answer my sometimes bizarre questions. Here they be, in all their gory…glory.
1.Your debut novel, The Sorrows, is now out through Samhain Publishings new horror line. Tell us a little about your book, you know, something that will compel us to buy it as much as terrify us to sleep with the lights off.
To borrow a question from my favorite horror novel (Peter Straub’s Ghost Story), “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” If you’re imagining it, I now want you to imagine the face of the person you wronged. Then imagine that face growing dark with rage and pursuing you…even after death. That dread is at the heart of The Sorrows.
The novel is set on an island, and this island (called the Sorrows by its long-dead inhabitants) is haunted by events nearly a century old, as well as a bestial creature that might or might not be a Greek god. If you travel to the island, you better hope your slate is clean because any soul you’ve ever wronged will find you there…for violent and unholy retribution. 
Also, The Sorrows is about two composers (and two female companions) traveling to one of the most haunted places in the world (the island) to find inspiration for a big-budget horror movie being shot by the most demanding director in film.
2.If you were guaranteed to be an overnight sensation writing in another genre, what would it be and why?
Whoa, great question. I think I’d write readable literary fiction. By that, I mean stories that people can actually understand without having to squint at the page for an hour trying to figure out what the hell the author’s laboring to say. I think of writers like Cormac McCarthy and Ian McEwan…man, I love those guys, and I’ve heard them called all sorts of things, but to me they’re both deeply literary and fantastically skilled. So I’d like to write stuff that exhibits both those qualities. In fact, I’m already working on a couple of things…
3.OK, you’re invited to spend the night in a haunted castle, say Leap Castle in Ireland, with the stipulation that you must be alone and have no source of light. Do you go? If you do, what do you expect to happen?
Truth? Or something that will make me sound manly and virile? The truth is, I’d never spend a night away from my kids (I’ve got three of them under the age of six) because I’d miss them and worry about them.
But let’s say, for the fun of it, that I’m ten years older, and my wife and kids and I are vacationing in Ireland. Some guy says, “Hey, Lad, I’ll put a thousand bucks each in your children’s college funds if you spend the night alone at Leap Castle.” I’d do it then, and I’d spend the rest of the night scared out of my mind imagining all sorts of things.
Do I think I’d really see something? Other than the puddle of urine pooling around my feet? I don’t know, and that’s what makes the prospect of spending the night in a place like that so frightening. I might see nothing, though my imagination would conjure all sorts of awful things. I might also see something real, which is truly terrifying.
4.For the aspiring writers out there, can you describe your road to publication? Also, do you have an agent and how did you connect with him or her?
My road was very Beatlesesque—long and winding. I’ve been rejected so many times I’ve come to tense my stomach muscles like Houdini every time I open my inbox because a gut punch is always on the way. That sounds cynical, but it’s the truth. You’ve got to be determined, you’ve got to accept that you don’t know everything, and you’ve got to have enough stubbornness and confidence to stay with something that most days brings you nothing but negative feedback. And silence.
I don’t have an agent at the moment, though I’m about to start shopping again. I once had one, but that’s a long, dull story that I’ll spare you for today. Having said that, I fully believe an agent is necessary to maximize a writer’s success, and I’d very much like to find one. The key, though, is compatibility. She/he has to like your work, and you have to have faith in her/his abilities. So yes, I do want an agent and believe I’ll get one when the time is right.
5. Quick, in 30 words or less, describe your current work in progress.
What if the two traditional depictions of vampires—the romantic, haunted loner, and the monstrous, insatiable beast—were only phases in the transformation into something far more terrible? And infinitely more powerful?
That was thirty-two words, and you still don’t know the title (Loving Demons), or who my protagonist is (Ellie Crane) or how her husband Chris becomes obsessed with a beautiful woman who lives in the forest where he and Ellie move, or how Ellie conceives a child but soon learns she can’t leave because the forest and the spirits that live there won’t let her leave, or how a demonic cult once sacrificed—
Okay, I cheated a little, but that’s a start. (Hunter : Dude, you cheated a little??)
6.What is your favorite horror movie and novel? Aaaaand, whenyou were a kid, what was your all time favorite cartoon?
Movie: Jaws or The Exorcist. The former is better-made, but the latter is scarier.
Novel: Peter Straub’s Ghost Story. The gothic structure of that book changed my writing forever, even though I didn’t even try to write until five years after I read the book.
Cartoon: Bugs Bunny and Tom and Jerry. No wonder my stories are so violent!
7.Last one. Whats the weirdest thing you’ve ever written and did you ever let it see the light of day?
The weirdest thing is probably a novel called Blood Country that I actually reference in my debut novel The Sorrows. It’s a bizarre hybrid of a crime novel a la Elmore Leonard and a bloody horror novel by someone like Richard Laymon. Actually, it’s far bloodier than most of even Laymon’s stuff, so I guess the title is apt.
I did indeed let it see the light of day about three years ago when I finished it and began querying agents about it. The responses went something like this: “I really like your writing, and there’s no doubt you can do suspense very well. And I know I stated in my guidelines that I wanted dark. But…well…not this dark.”
I plan on reworking it after my next three novels are done (the aforementioned Loving Demons, another I’m about eighty-percent done with called Native, and the novel I’m going to write this coming summer). Blood Country is weird, dark, and disturbing. But I like it, and I think readers will, too, once I get it right.
Thank you so much, Hunter, for having me on your blog and for asking such awesome questions. Forest of Shadows was OUTSTANDING, and I’m proud to be published alongside you!
**If you want to read a truly insightful, sometimes hilarious, but always honest blog, check out Jonathan Janz, the Blog!
The Haunted Well at the Manhattan Bistro : Affirming the Eternity of the Soul
Sometimes, writing has its perks. A couple of months ago, I was asked to be on a radio show (Working Things Out hosted by the lovely Diana Navarro) that usually broadcasts out of a midtown Manhattan restaurant. For my interview, the venue was moved to Soho in a place called The Manhattan Bistro. What’s so special about the Manhattan Bistro? The small restaurant houses a well that dates back to the 1700’s and has been reportedly haunted since 1800. My perk? The owner gave us rare permission to go down after the show to see the well and do a little paranormal investigation! 
Right from the get-go, the Manhattan Bistro looked like a place out of time. The structure is far older and smaller than all the other surrounding buildings and stores. You can tell that the entire neighborhood has grown up around it. When I first stood across the street, it made me think of the Little Red Lighthouse living under the shadow of the George Washington Bridge.
A little on the background of the well: The unhappy ghost of Elma Sands has been seen and heard in and around the old, deteriorating well ever since her murder in 1800. It’s believed the 21 year old was killed by her well-to-do fiancé and stuffed in the well and was the scene of the city’s first murder trial. The fiancé was defended by Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton and the prosecution never had a chance.
So now we have the perfect locale for a haunting. A woman violently slaughtered and a crime without a punishment. People have been seeing her ghost rising from the well, ala The Ring, for centuries.
Three of us walked into the cramped basement to see the well. I’m not a tall guy, and my head almost touched the ceiling as we shuffled down the tight corridor that was straight out of The Amityville Horror. 
I was shocked to see that the well itself rose well over six feet out of the ground. The sandy stone has crumbled in some spots but carries the weight of history. We turned out all the lights. It was as dark as a tomb. After asking a few questions, we just let the silence take over. Pictures were flashing and my audio recorder was placed on the lip of the well. I didn’t feel anything supernatural around the well. Not even one tiny goosebump.
I asked, “Do you want us down here? Would you like us to stay or leave?”
We waited expectantly, the darkness covering us like a burial shroud. There was a knock on the ceiling, but I quickly realized someone had dropped something upstairs.
All and all, we left feeling that the well, this night, was benign. Poor Elma Sands was elsewhere, hopefully with her family or maybe out enjoying the sights.
Later in the night, I slipped back down to the well. This time, I didn’t feel alone, though whether it was due to the paranormal or just human nature when one finds oneself in a dark room standing next to a well that everyone has said is haunted is highly debatable. No matter the cause for my discomfort, it was worth it for the chill that danced down my spine. 
And that is why I write about ghosts, and why I run to the things that go bump in the night. Ghost hunting is an extreme sport, with one difference; the payoff is beyond comprehension. Affirming there are ghosts in our midst is proving the eternal nature of the soul, thus eradicating the fear of death. There aren’t many other human endeavors greater than that.
Hungry for more? Check out this video of the most haunted buildings in New York City.
Hunter Shea 