IGMS Issue 50 (20 page)

Boooooooooorrrrrrrriiiiiinnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg.

I dislike any story where the antagonist (or, in some cases, protagonist) is evil simply because s/he is the Evil Ruler/Wizard/Homeboy/Whatever and it says they're evil right there in the script. It's lazy writing. One of the overriding themes in the Kara Gillian series is that evil is often a matter of perception. Many people who we might label as "evil" don't see themselves as evil.

As for my demons, they're actual characters, not simply monsters to throw into the mix when things need spicing up. They have their own reasoning and motivation and, just like humans, they have moral codes and standards of behavior. Rules of engagement, you might say. Or honor.

So, yes, I wanted to explore the concept in human society. And I also wanted to separate myself from the more traditional vampire and werewolf fodder, but only because I wanted to have plenty of interesting, multi-faceted characters. Even the monsters.

Schoen:
You've mentioned in previous interviews that you had a pretty middle class upbringing and didn't experience more disadvantaged populations until you spent time as a blackjack dealer, but that the real consequences of privilege didn't hit home for you until you saw it first hand in your time as a police officer. This has obviously been a great starting point with your Angel Crawford books. But that's only part of their origin story. What else are you drawing on, and trying to accomplish, with this series, or is your goal just to tell an entertaining tale?

Rowland:
Obviously, telling an entertaining tale is the number one goal. But a lot of things can happen along the way. Readers want to engage with the story, and when there's an issue or subject they can identify or sympathize with, it adds to that immersion. The White Trash Zombie series in particular deals with issues of class, addiction, mental health, and domestic violence--all of which I witnessed or dealt with both in law enforcement and with the coroner's office. Because I've seen the consequences and fallout, it resonates with me, and I try to pass that on to my characters. We all know that perfect characters are boring. But at the same time, characters who have shortcomings that feel picked out of thin air feel just as shallow and uninteresting. A character's imperfections need to be intrinsic to who they are and how they react to the world around them. Addicts will rationalize
everything.
Abuse will escalate. We know these things because we've seen it time and time again. What I find fascinating is why and how and what gets a person to that point. Basically, I enjoy writing Angel Crawford because she's complicated and messy and fun as hell, and I hope to keep doing so for a long, long time.

Schoen:
One of the things that fascinates me about your Zombie series is the use of the metaphor of addiction. Am I reading into this? Was this something that you deliberately intended from book one, or just something that your unconscious snuck in when you weren't looking?

Rowland:
It was very much intended from the very start, but the challenge was presenting it in a way that wouldn't be depressing. (I like to think I succeeded.) In book five, the metaphor becomes reality, and Angel has to truly face her addictive nature.

The absolute coolest thing for me was when I'd get emails or messages from readers telling me they had loved ones who were addicts and that reading Angel's story made a difference in their own lives. That's the best award a writer can ever earn.

Schoen:
Switching gears a bit, I want to return to your background, specifically, your education. Back in my professor days, I used to tell my students that nothing is wasted, that every class you take (whether in your major or not) feeds into your understanding of the work you want to do. In my own fiction, I've found this to very true. According to one of your bios, you earned a bachelor's degree in Applied Mathematics from Georgia Tech. Have you found any of that filtering through into your fiction, either in terms of specifics topics or more generally in the kind of perspectives that come from hanging with mathematicians?

Rowland:
It's more like a perspective that comes from hanging with (and growing up with) science nerds in general. My dad worked as an engineer in the space industry for close to 40 years, and my mother was an absolute whiz at math and had a deep love of science and science fiction.

I'd say the biggest influence that my math/science background has had on my fiction is that I tend to be a little obsessive about having my worldbuilding make logical, consistent sense. While logic and consistency is generally a good thing, it can be limiting if you're not careful. I've had to stretch my brain at times to explain to myself that different worlds could easily have different physical/quantum rules, and therefore stuff can be logical and make sense in different ways.

But the cool thing about science is that it's still, and will always be, an area of exploration and discovery. And when you look at the world as a place that still has plenty of mysteries and secrets, it's really easy to ask the "What if?" questions that form all stories.

Schoen:
Given the many and varied occupations that have shaped you--and presumably shaped your fiction as well--I have to ask what triggered the writing bug in you? Was there some book, some film, some event that at a particular moment in time made you realize this was something you wanted to do, something that you could do and could learn to do well?

Rowland:
I've always loved to write, even from a tender age. I didn't know the first thing about story structure or character development or setting, but I had fun writing the stuff in my head. My notebooks in college had scene fragments or story snippets scrawled around my class notes. (Which might have factored into why I had to take Real Analysis twice and Abstract Algebra three times.) At some point in my thirties, I finally realized that the people who wrote the books I loved to read were just
people
who'd buckled down to write good stuff and then gone on to sell it.

So I buckled down and wrote--and finished!--a book. A sprawling, messy, 150K epic fantasy that was so Mary Sue the main character's name was ZIANA. OMG. Oh, and it had ALL the clichés and tropes.

But I'd written a novel. A big, silly novel, but still way more than most people had ever accomplished. Of course I didn't really know what to do with it next, but that was about the time the Internet was starting to become an actual, viable Thing. I found an IRC channel called WritersCafe, and I learned all sorts of cool things, such as how there were workshops where you could learn how to make your writing BETTER. I loved writing, so it seemed logical to get better at it, right? I did Clarion West in 1998, filled my brain with more stuff than I could possibly process, came back home and wrote some stuff, took a break from writing for several years and filled up the ol' Well of Life Experience, started writing again, sent a story to Writers of the Future and won, then wrote another novel:
Mark of the Demon
.

Schoen:
What's the status of the new series involving a different homicide detective (specifically in New Orleans)? There's no shortage of police procedurals in fiction--and no indication that they're going away--other than the specific charms offered by the wonders of Cajun cuisine and Mardi Gras, what separates this from the rest of the herd? Is this going to be Urban Fantasy or more of a straight Mystery/Thriller?

Rowland:
Ah, yes,
The Good Man.
Well, at the moment it's simply a stand-alone novel, and it's going to be more of a straight Mystery/Thriller. Sort of. ::sly grin:: There are definitely a couple of cool twists involved. I've had that book outlined since the Reno Worldcon, when Daniel Abraham and I sat down for an extended breakfast to plotbreak it. A few years back I wrote the first 17K and a detailed synopsis for the Rio Hondo workshop, where it received quite the positive reception.

And I've simply had NO time to sit down and really dig into writing more. It's not the kind of book that can be written in bits and pieces here and there in between other projects, and I also don't want to try and sell it on proposal. I want to get the whole thing written the way I want to write it without being rushed by a deadline.

Schoen:
For the last few years, it seems like you've been flipping back and forth between your two series. Is this simply a function of deadlines and publishing schedules, or a deliberate choice that gives you a break from one universe so that branching out into the other is a welcome breather?

Rowland:
Definitely a function of deadlines and publishing schedules. When I sold the two series to DAW, the original plan was for me to write the three Kara Gillian books under contract and then move on to the three White Trash Zombie books. Fortunately all parties involved quickly saw the many pitfalls to that approach, e.g. if I wanted to write more Kara Gillian books after those three, I'd have to wait until I finished the three zombie books, thus losing any series momentum. Therefore, we changed it to an alternating schedule with me writing two books a year, which I firmly believe was the best plan.

That said, it's tough, especially after five years of it. (After that first six-book deal, I sold another seven books to DAW--four Kara Gillian and three White Trash Zombie.) Writing two books a year is difficult enough--especially while doing the whole wife and mom thing--but flip-flopping between two series that have very distinct voices/tones has more than its share of pitfalls. Yes, it's nice to get a break from a particular universe, but I also lose a lot of my series "flow" each time I switch. Because of that, it takes me at least a month to recover from the last deadline, reacquaint myself with the other universe, and sink back into the story. And with only six months to plot, write, and polish the book, that means each deadline tends to be a grueling crush to finish on time . . . or at least not
too
dreadfully late. It also doesn't help that the Kara Gillian books have grown in complexity and length:
Touch of the Demon
clocked in at ~150K while
Fury of the Demon
was close to 175K. ::whimper::

Fortunately, the people at DAW have been absolutely
amazing
and supportive. The (so far) two times I knew there was simply no way I'd hit my deadline, they pushed my publication dates back as far as I needed.

Schoen:
As someone who has successfully managed five (or more) books in two separate series, what do you see as the particular difficulties and purposes of different books in the sequence? Obviously the first book has to grab a reader in ways that subsequent books don't have to work quite so hard at, but what else have you found to be true? Is there some special role that, for example, the third book in a series holds for you?

Rowland:
I think book series fall into two different camps. There are the series where each book has its own distinct story and there's not much of an overarching plot, or there's a plot that sort of drifts along in the background and kind of vaguely ties the books together, or there's a storyline that spans several volumes, but not every book. A TV series like Buffy is a good example of that kind of storytelling. And then there are the series where each book has its own story, but there's a main plot thread that's an integral part of the entire series, and where each book drives that plot forward a bit more. Think Breaking Bad.

While White Trash Zombie is probably a hybrid of the two, the Kara Gillian series is definitely the second type. It's going to be nine books total, and it breaks down very much like a three act structure. The first three were very much setup, worldbuilding, introduce the characters and the issues. Book four started really digging into the deeper mysteries and had things starting to go badly. Book five was where everything changed, a lot was revealed, the real stakes were laid out, and things went completely tits up. Books six and seven dealt with the consequences of book five and started to establish the battle lines. Book eight brings the threads together, reveals all the connections, and sets the stage for the final showdown. And, of course, book nine is where everything comes to light, the big conflict happens, the princess is rescued from her tower and the dragon slain.

Now I'd be lying through my teeth if I were to say that I knew all this from the very beginning. While I
have
always known how the story as a whole resolves in the end, the getting there has changed drastically in the eight years I've been writing this series, and it wasn't until about book four that I had a vague understanding of how it all needed to play out. (Which, coincidentally, is when I asked DAW if I could sell them books six through nine so I could do what I wanted to do.)

Schoen:
Your fiction is generally labeled as Urban Fantasy, but given the vagaries of marketing you get lumped in with Paranormal Romance. And despite you having been nominated for a RT Reviewer's Choice award, I don't tend to think of your work as romance. What are your thoughts on the whole sub-genre labeling, and if you had your druthers, how would you like to see your books positioned?

Rowland:
Sub-genre labeling is both wonderful and awful. On the one hand, it makes it mega-easy for fans of a particular type of book to find more like it. That's super fantastic for both readers and writers. On the other hand, any popular sub-genre tends to get glutted very quickly with authors and publishers trying to jump on the success train. As a result, more "just like Bestselling Title but different!" books get put out along with the inevitable less-than-stellar quality ones. Not only does that make it harder for the fans to dig through and find what they want, but the sub-genre as a whole risks getting labeled as being comprised of nothing but the worst and most derivative examples. E.g. "Urban fantasy is all bad vampire porn." From there you get broad swaths of readers who proudly declare that they would never read anything in that sub-genre because it's all so terrible and derivative.