Here Ed explains his own, unusual take on the zombie genre, in his story for The Big Bad II.
The Story Behind “Feels Like Justice to Me”
I’ve long avoided writing about anything within a thousand
miles of the zombie genre because I felt like there wasn’t anything new to say
on the subject. I’ve run into a few great stories, a slew of bad ones, and
enough competent ones to feel like what ought to be said on the subject already
has been said. I’ve immensely enjoyed
the best of them (the original Night of the Living Dead was brilliant, Carry
Ryan has done exceptional work in both novels and short stories, and I’ve devoured
(pardon the pun) The Walking Dead, both the TV show and the graphic novels). But
a lot of writers are beating what’s starting to feel like a dead horse, and
even if that horse comes back to life and starts eating people… well, okay, I
think I would actually consider reading a story about that, but you really do to
have to go that far out there to hold
my attention any more.
Inevitably, tragically, karmicly, once you express a sentiment
like that, the muses will punish you with what feels like an original idea that
you simply must explore.
So there I was, with an angle I could get excited about. But
then, I always have a variety of ideas nibbling at the fringes of my ADD-riddled
brain, and although I dabbled with a draft or two of this particular idea,
nothing seemed to come alive for me in that way I need it to in order to see things
through to the end.
That’s when an open submission call for Big Bad 2 was
announced. The first book had already been published and I really wanted an
opportunity to work with the editors, John and Emily, as well as to see my own
stuff in a table of contents along with other invited authors whose work I
admired. I also immediately saw that it would not be difficult to shift the POV
character in this zombie-idea of mine from the ‘good guy’ to the ‘bad guy.’ In
fact, the more I thought about it, the more I knew that switching POVs would
make for an even stronger story. Getting inside this ‘bad guy’s’ head and
seeing him commit extreme acts of violence against his fellow humans in order
to protect a zombie—and feel completely justified in doing so—was a darkly
fascinating exercise. I’m not sure what that says about me as a writer or a human
being, but it was absolutely fascinating.
So a big thanks to Emily and John for conceiving the Big Bad
concept in the first place. You always hear the advice that every character should
be the hero of their own story, even the bad guy, so as anthologies go, The Big
Bad is one of those ideas that seems simultaneously brilliant and obvious—so
obvious that you have to ask why no one else thought of it sooner. But then
that’s the true test of genius, isn’t it? It always seems so obvious… in
hindsight.
I also have to give a shout out of thanks to Emily, who,
during the editing phase, pointed out that the revelation of certain
information would be more effective if presented later in the story, and she
was 100% correct. It may seem like a small detail, but the details can make all
the difference. Her (accurate) argument was that revealing key information too
soon ran the risk of making the main character sympathetic, and we weren’t
going for sympathetic, we were going for horrible-but-relatable. That’s
actually no small detail; it’s a vital one.
In a similar vein, many thanks go to James Maxey, who read
an earlier draft of the story and pointed out the absence of other key piece of
information: the main character’s underlying motivation for doing what he was
doing. On one level I felt justified in making the argument that since the primary
‘good guy’ never finds out, the reader ought not to know either. But James
correctly observed that since we were seeing this story unfold through the mind
of the man committing such inexcusable acts of violence, it would feel to the
reader like a cheat not to know, too. Plus, it wasn’t really all that difficult
to let the reader know without revealing anything to the other characters.
I hated James for that. The problem there—for me as an
author, anyway—was that I honestly didn’t know the answer to James’ question.
Why? Yes, I knew the surface reason for his killings, but not the story behind
the character’s story. So back to the
drawing board I went. The new material I produced only amounted to a paragraph
or two, but it was the hardest part of writing this story (which is probably why
I was subconsciously avoiding it). (Writer’s Tip #413: If you ever find
yourself writing a story but avoiding something, take that as a clue: it’s
important stuff and your brain knows it--and has gone into hiding to avoid the
accompanying difficulties.)
So…
I’m sure by now you’ve noticed that I’ve bent over backward
trying to provide insight into the creation of my story without providing
spoilers. This is simply one of those stories that works best if you don’t know
ahead of time what’s coming. Well… let me restate that. You pretty much know
exactly what’s coming. Corpses, and lots of them; both the living variety and
the dead variety. The joy is digging down into the ‘why’ of the thing. That’s
the part I want you to discover for yourself; the part I’m being so intentional
about avoiding.
But then that’s kind of the point of these essays, isn’t it:
to make you want to read the story. I hope you do, because I honestly feel like
it’s one of the best things I’ve written in a long time. I can always tell when
a story is going to turn out well because I have a lot of fun writing it.
Hopefully you’ll have as much fun reading it.
Of course, if you do, you’re a sick fuck. But there’s not
much I can do about that.
