by William Bebb
Storytelling: The very word conjures images of an old man, perhaps with a long white beard, sitting beside a fireplace sharing tales. Perhaps he's spinning out stories to a group of children, their faces upturned, eyes wide, listening with fascination. That is... IF the story is any good.
What makes a good story?
I subscribe to the following recipe: Characters should be people the reader can identify with facing challenges and circumstances outside the scope of everyday life. A logical progression of the plot along with actions that would make the most sense given the situation is also essential. Believability is perhaps the most overlooked of elements in many novels, and yet it is perhaps the most important. Why would a character do something? What motivates them? Would their actions be successful?
The last ingredient that I can't resist using is a sprinkling of humor. Note I used the word sprinkling- just a small amount, where and when it would make sense and be reasonable. Valley of Death, Zombie Trailer Park is not a story made with the intent of getting you to laugh, but in the midst of life's tragedies and horrific events I believe humor is often present.
Think for a moment of any major national or personal disaster and you will probably remember something that was funny about it. Not in all cases, but sometimes from tragedy comes humor.
Want an example?
Sure you do.
Back in 2002, about the time I first started on this novel, my wife left me. It was truthfully the hardest time in my life, but something happened as a result that still makes me laugh. My coworkers knew I was hurting badly and wanted to do something nice for me.
Several of them chipped in some money and bought me a Playstation 2 video game system.
I imagine the thought was something like, Gee, sorry your wife left you. But now you can fill that empty hole in your heart with hours of video games. To me that was as sincerely touching as it was hilarious.
Valley of Death Zombie Trailer Park is a novel written not as just another horror story. It has spent a very long time percolating in the swampy regions of my brain. The story was written with great care, love and frustration and I hoped you enjoyed it. But in truth, part of me doesn't really care if anyone ever reads or likes it.
It was a great deal of fun to create and to me that's the best part of this novel. It let my mind wander and hang out with a friend I rarely get to play with anymore; my sick and twisted imagination.
I just finished revising this novel for the absolutely last time (Maybe). The experience was more fun than I remembered, in any of my previous revisions. I really like this story quite a bit and thought I’d comment on a few of my favorite parts and issues some readers have raised in emails and reviews.
My favorite scene is one that almost drove me crazy when I wrote it. Billy, Boris, and the well with zombies was a great scene and I loved it, once I figured out something that was causing me a huge problem.
I write free flow style, which is just like it sounds like. Billy gets foot stuck in well and manages to get loose, but then Boris almost falls in the well. I got to the part where the kid’s desperately trying to hold on to the dog and realized I had absolutely no solution for their predicament.
Sure, Billy could just let go of the dog and continue on his way. BUT that’s a level of horror I never want to stoop down to in my writings. Some readers might not like it, but I’d absolutely HATE myself for doing that.
So, I was stuck; horribly badly stuck, in point of truth. I could have gone back and rewritten the scene, but that’s a cheat move (At least to me) plus I really liked everything about the scene and didn’t want to lose any of it.
I spent days pondering and trying to come up with a reasonable solution. I don’t remember how the solution of the zombie pulling on Billy came to me, but I was thrilled when it finally came.
Some reviewers have called my writing “predictable.” Perhaps some of it may be, but at least in that particular scene I believe it was anything but predictable.
What else can I say about this story?
I guess what caught my attention was the number of times I almost cried while editing it again. Some scenes just make me feel oddly choked up. (And I wrote the thing!) The colonel and Billy’s relationship always makes me feel mushy. The grandfather’s sacrifice was hard to write, but in the end it just felt right. (Some jerks would say ‘predictable’ but I don’t care)
I got an email where a reader asked why so many good people died, and Charlie Farro lived? It’s a reasonable question and a hard one to answer. Without getting too philosophical or religious, I think the question is similar to the one that asks, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” The sad fact of life is simple; bad things happen all the time. It’s hard to write a novel full of crazy undead people where bad things don’t happen to good people. I don’t think I could do it.
As to Charlie Farro, everyone’s most reviled villainous goober, I did a pretty sneaky thing with his character. When readers start learning about him, I like to think most people can’t help feeling bad for him. He’s a war veteran who lost both legs and an arm, and then falls in love with a girl who shreds his heart and steals his van full of great 8 track music.
But then I turned the tables and readers learned just how much of a despicable person he actually was. (Like I said, “Pretty sneaky”)
So, why did Charlie live?
Simply put, “I believe death would be much too easy and quick a punishment for the back stabbing, double dealing larcenous perverted worm. Hanging is too good for him, burning is too good for him. He should be torn into little itsy pieces and buried alive!”
–That last quote was borrowed from the excellent early 80’s motion picture Heavy Metal.
Agonizing pain for the rest of his life seemed more than reasonable a punishment than just a quick death to me. Anyway, that’s why he lived.
Why didn't Charlie Farro become infected with the virus?
I have gotten this question a couple of times in e-mails and thought it weird that people wondered about that. If he'd been bitten, spit on, or had any other kind of bodily fluid transfer from his infected attacker, Charlie definitely would have become infected and transformed. BUT he had his eyeball plucked out and face peeled off then eaten. There really wasn't a way for the virus to transfer given those circumstances or at least that's my story and I'm sticking with it.
Was Carl really a ghost or a figment of Charlie’s imagination?
I wrote the story and don’t know the answer to that, so I’ll let you decide for yourselves.
How stupid is Josey? That’s a question someone wrote to complain about. Principally the complaint regarded his trying to pull the colonel’s trailer out of the park. The writer said something to the effect “No one’s that stupid.”
I don’t think it was a particularly bad idea, given Josey’s worries about some nameless general ordering a nuke to be dropped on the valley. Was it a GREAT idea?
No, but it was reasonable to Josey’s character and that’s good enough for me.
For those who may have noticed, yes, both Colonel Lester and Josey give Billy very similar advice at different points in the story. I think it’s fairly valuable advice, personally. And I suspect it would be reasonable for both of those men to say something very similar to Billy given the circumstances in the story.
It all boils down to this: “It doesn’t matter if you screw up when you’re trying to do something. Trying is always more important than succeeding, because if you never try you can never succeed.” I subscribe very much to that bit of philosophy, as well as the two tidbits Mrs. Phyllis Remlap’s dad told her after he lost an arm in a traffic accident. “It could always be worse,” and “It will all work out eventually.”
A very long time ago, back in 2002, after my wife got sick of me and our two kids I was a very depressed and sad single full time father. It took me quite a bit of time to overcome what had happened to my world, but eventually I realized Mrs. Remlap’s dad had it right.
On the
bright side or the “It could always be worse” side of Life’s Ledger, unlike some mentally disturbed women who have wanted out of a marriage bad enough to drown or somehow otherwise murder their children, my wife merely took off one day and chose to ignore them. Her departure could have always been much worse and I’m grateful every day that, as bad as it was, it wasn’t any worse.
The idea that it will all work out meshes nicely with what I just wrote, I think. Every time something horrible or just really bad happens in my life, I always try to remember that “Things always work out... eventually.”
A flat tire on the side of the interstate sucks but rarely is the end of the world. Getting chewed out by a supervisor at work because you screwed up is never pleasant, but eventually things tend to get better. Even being diagnosed with a horrible incurable disease does not mean things won’t work out.
I can hear some people who read that last sentence shouting, “What did he just say?!”
But, I stand by the belief that no matter what happens, everything works out. Let’s say I was diagnosed with some horrible inoperable cancer tomorrow. I have no doubt it would be a very depressing and sad thing. But I hope I’d eventually come to realize, “Everything will work out.”
Everyone dies in life. It’s just a matter of when and how. If I were given six months to live, before cancer killed me, I’d hope I would have the good sense to be grateful for each remaining day and try harder to be a good person and get my affairs in order before the Grinning Reaper (I don’t think he’s particularly grim, really) comes for me.
People die every day in car accidents and other unexpected ways. On the bright side, with a terminal disease I’d KNOW that death was coming sooner rather than later.
Okay, that’s enough personal philosophy.
A few words of thanks also seem in order so here it goes.
Derek Stack has been a life-long friend and without his deviant mind's many deeply disturbing facets, Charlie Farro would have suffered far less. Thank you, Derek.
Jerry Shoemaker is a good friend who also has a twisted streak that is almost as disturbing as his freakishly long hair.
Hadden Smith IV, deserves a cookie for his unwavering support and his most excellent cover art.
And Billie Bunn is an awesome guy as well as a good friend.
And a special thanks to my children and all my other friends who suffered through the birth of Valley of Death, Zombie Trailer Park.
Feel free to visit my website for updates on future projects at:
https://sites.google.com/site/hoppublications/home
Or you could send me an email at [email protected] and say "HI!"
SELF SERVING FAVOR BEGGING & SOME LAST THOUGHTS
If you've read this far I'd like to ask you for a favor. YES, I know you already read this long weird story and have much better things to do, but I'm going to ask for the favor anyway. I've heard other writers describe creating a story as going to a well, lowering a bucket and trying to crank the winch to haul up something worth putting down on paper. Sadly, that analogy doesn't work particularly well for me.
A better one is where my brain is a cow. (An old surly sometimes lazy beast that doesn't like being milked) It would rather run and play in verdant fields of clover or just watch TV and eat some ice cream. (Which most respectable cows just don't do)
Anyhow, the point about hating to cut or lose something I've written is simple- After milking my surly brain for the words I absolutely abhor the idea of tossing away a bucket of the hard earned stuff. (Sorta rambling, aren't I?)
I really do enjoy milking my surly cow of a brain and squirting out stories. It's actually quite a bit on fun when the juices are flowing, so to speak, but...and this is hard for me to write...The cow likes to feel appreciated. I know you already read this story and probably feel that should be thanks enough for such a bovine beast. And you're absolutely right, but if you could take a few minutes to write a review wherever you downloaded a copy and share your thoughts on what I've written I would feel like a truly contented cow. Also, you might suggest to some of your weirder friends that they take a gander at some of my stuff.
And, who knows, maybe the milk in future stories will be richer and creamier. I realize it's a lot to ask but I truly appreciate it.
Everyone likes to feel appreciated, even me. I always try to remember to say thank you and please when I pick up a bag of cholesterol laden treats at the various restaurants my children desire. Usually the employees give me a weird look as if to say, “No one ever thanks me. Why did you say that? What's wrong with you?”
I think that's kind of a sad commentary on modern society.
Even my son usually remembers to say something to the employees at the pizza place after we eat. Sometimes it's short and sweet like, “Mmm, thanks. That was great.” And sometimes he goes into a long rambling (sort of pointless, actually) compliment regarding the pepperoni and cheese.
And if your truly hated whatever I've written, (Hard to imagine, yet possible) go ahead and write that. I'm a big boy and can take the heat; although sometimes the criticisms don't make much sense.
Example?
Alrighty. One reviewer, who apparently truly despised Valley of Death Zombie Trailer Park, wrote that the idea of a tornado shelter being in New Mexico was stupid or something to that effect, even in a trailer park.
I laughed so hard when I read that it hurt, but in a good way. When I was writing the story I actually did research (hard to believe, but true) and found between 1950 and 1995 tornadoes in New Mexico caused almost 26 million dollars in destruction and killed over a hundred people. The research didn't say how many that died were in mobile homes or trailers at the time, but I'd guess a few. And if I did live in a trailer park, anywhere in the world for that matter, I'd like to have a shelter nearby just in case.
Also, I don't mind when people say things like “The character wouldn't be so dumb to do something like that,” because that always makes me laugh even harder. Perhaps I just hang out with remarkably stupid people, not counting my children, but I see people do idiotic things nearly every day. Heck, I do dumb stuff as soon as I wake up in the morning and usually don't stop until collapsing in the bed again.
So, in closing, drop me a line telling me I'm wonderful or suck, whichever way you truly feel.
