In the spring I confess,
I don’t want to write,
or blog,
or tweet
or even pin.
I want to create a little village in the garden, carving out roads, driveways, homesteads. A happy place where no one gets sick, no one’s heart is ever broken, and no one has to wonder where the next meal or smile will come from.
I was raised in Reno, Nevada, which I always thought I could put behind me, but you know how these things go. Nevada just keeps popping up in my writing, as a setting, a dreaded past, or even as a character.
First edition of FLIPKA, set primarily in rural Nevada
When you mention Nevada, most people think of Las Vegas. And is it true, hundreds of contemporary novels have been set in Sin City and Sin CityNorth (Reno). Apparently there are more than enough greedy millionaires, soulless gangsters, cunning thieves, pretty heiresses, hard-nosed detectives, and clueless tourists in those towns to satisfy a multitude of writers.
Somewhere between Fallon and Eureka. It took almost an hour to get to the mountains on the horizon.
However, there is another Nevada. Long straight lonely roads, dotted with the occasional town. Side roads leading to … well, just about anything.
And this Nevada has inspired the writers of science fiction and horror. Travelers trapped in isolated desert towns where they are toyed with by evil forces (Skin and Desolation), UFO encounters that lead to strange maladies and mental afflictions (Strangers), and doomsday thrillers generally involving the military or CIA.
I am no different. When I think of rural Nevada, all of the above themes seem remarkably plausible to me.
Coming soon: More about Nevada. Whorehouses, giant red-haired cannibals, the many uses of bat guano, and aliens, of course, aliens. You can’t talk about Nevada without mentioning aliens.