Mark W. Danielson's Spectral Gallows

Mark, how did your latest novel come about?

Oddly, this story was never envisioned, but rather came to me in my sleep.  What kept me awake was the paradox of how people accept drunken behavior, but shun the notion that the same mental state exists when you have been denied rest.  Exploring this notion gave birth to a down-and-out Vietnam Vet whose haunted past keeps him from sleeping, and has no credibility because of his drunk-like state.  His inability to persuade a friend that the actor who died in 1970 in the basement of Fort Worth’s Scott Theater was hanged, rather than the suicide the police claimed it to be, infuriates him to no end.

Enter Homicide Detective Maxx Watts and partner Blain Spartan where they are instantly drawn in as the two men argue over murder.  Further eavesdropping compels them to visit the Scott Theater where an unexplained voice whispers murder.  Other oddities convince them they must look into this case and resolve the question of murder once and for all.

Not being a paranormal or Quantum Theory expert, I solicited help from real ones.  Their expertise ensured my story was accurate while playing believers and non-believers against each other.  And rather than give the story away, I’ll leave you with some spectral thoughts.  Although I have never experienced anything paranormal, my wife has.  And by coincidence, I received the following from a dear friend who is also one of the most credible people I know.  Read his words carefully, and then try to sleep without thinking about who might be watching.   

“When the grandkids come over, I get turfed into the guest bedroom. There, I have witnessed three magnificent apparitions walking through the walls, completely benign and, in fact, kindly.  They are of Civil War times.  I think they had a house on this spot where our subdivision house is.  They wander around looking puzzled.  A housemaid with ironed folded linens across her arms (you can smell the warmth), she wears what I'd call a little Dutch linen headcap, kind of like the Amish.  She has a spotless apron and red dress.  She goes into the closet and disappears....  There is a boy about 16 years old, wearing a long leather apron that makes me think of a butcher's apprentice.  The apron is workmanlike, with half inch stitching along its edges, I think its cat gut.  Then there's the guy I want to tell you about.

I was again banished to the guest room when I awoke suddenly, sensing someone was there.  It did not bother me, for it had already happened a few times since we moved in.  I opened my eyes and looked where "something" had made a depression in the bed.  And then there he was, this bald man with a rim of spotless white hair, the loveliest blue eyes one could see anywhere, wearing a three piece suit with a watch fob on his waistcoat, a couple of buttons loose for comfort over his paunch.  He was looking at me, puzzled, like, ‘What are you doing here?’  No malice, just bewilderment.

This time I was prepared.  I closed my eyes, slowly counted to ten, and then opened them again.  This time I was spooked as the old chap was still sitting there looking at me!  After that, he literally dissolved, vanishing from sight.  Neither my wife nor I have seen any of them since.”

The above implies that my wife and friend are better spirit mediums than I, but since I cannot explain how Spectral Gallows came to me, wouldn’t it be ironic if the Scott Theater’s spirit subliminally planted it?  After all, the Scott Theater is only an hour away . . .   

_________

Mark W. Danielson is an international airline pilot and novelist.  Spectral Gallows is his fifth published novel, and second in the Maxx Watts detective series.  I encourage you to visit his web site at MarkWDanielson.com for information on his writings and worldly travels.

You can learn more about Mark Danielson and his books at:


http://markwdanielson.com and
http://murderousmusings.blogspot.com

Excerpted from Mysterious Writers blog.
Submitted by Jean Henry Mead

Is It Soup Yet?

By Mark W. Danielson

Remember the commercial where the kids keep asking if the soup is done?  The answer is never clear, but at some point their mom announces, “It’s soup!”  In writing, the same principle applies.  People keep asking when your next book will be out and then one day you announce it’s done.  Of course, how cooks, authors and publishers determine “when” will forever remain a mystery.

My latest novel was just released a week ago, so by chef’s standards, Spectral Gallows must be done.  I’m proud of the story.  It's a perfect blend of reality and fiction with a little help from the netherworld.  Of course, each reader will have to decide if the recipe suits their taste.

But let’s put Spectral Gallows aside for a moment and return to the writing process.  For most authors, it takes at least a year to write, edit, submit, review, edit, review, correct, and then resubmit a story.  By the time their book is released, the author has read so many times they are blind.  And it seems that no matter how many times proof readers have gone through the manuscript, someone always seems to find another typo.  Holding that thought, let’s compare this to picking mushrooms from a lasagna serving.  (Okay, I admit it.  I hate mushrooms.)  A person can spend an entire meal trying to pick those little suckers out, but inevitably one will end up in their mouth.  At that point you have two choices – swallow it or make a scene.  In writing, you either swallow your pride and accept a potential error or risk your career by ignoring your deadlines.  It isn’t until your reviews come in that you realize most people accept typos, so long as the story is good.  That’s why positive reviews validate your writing and warm the heart.  

Recently, I learned that several people were talking my book up and as a result I have a pending radio interview so I must be doing something right.  If you enjoy murder mysteries involving the paranormal and quantum theory, give Spectral Gallows a look, then settle into a nice bowl of soup.  Both are pretty cozy on a cool fall night.          

When Life Gets in the Way

By Mark W. Danielson

I haven’t been writing much fiction lately because life got in the way.  To write well, one must be focused on what they are creating, but I’ve been terribly distracted monitoring the construction of our retirement home.  Spectral Gallows, my latest Maxx Watts novel, which is due out this fall, may be delayed because I was severely late in approving the final draft.  In my defense, our builder sucked the life out of my wife and me.  Somehow we managed to survive.

Now that our house is finished and we are getting settled, murderous musings literally come to mind – as in how to kill a builder, and whether to bury him or make him part of the foundation.  In this regard, fiction writing remains wonderful therapy.  Whether I write Building is Murder remains to be seen, but I cannot stop these thoughts from needling my brain.

The benefit of life’s experiences is they broaden our perspective and provide us with tremendous character development.  Tangles with builders, subs, and spouses spark countless ideas for stories, settings and conversations.  You cannot put a price on that.  Even so, writing shouldn't be about getting even.  To live that way means the bastards win, and I never want that.   

Neighbors who have gone through similar problems said it takes two weeks to stop being pissed off.  I’m well past that two week mark and have yet to let go, but I’m getting there.  It’s only a matter of time before we are unpacked and have landscaping.  No doubt our house will grow on us once we hang some art work and stop to smell the roses.

Lately, my computer has been my Jiminy Cricket, keeping me sane.  After letting me pound its keyboard in anger, it will stare back at me and say, “There – feel better?  Now purse your lips together and blow.”  Suddenly, I’m whistling while I work.  Ah, yes.  Plotting murder can be fun . . .