Hi and welcome to my blog, M.R. Gott. Please make yourself at home and grab a drink from my hunky cabana boys, Zeke and Jake. So tell us a little about yourself.
First, Please tell Zeke to bring me your darkest porter and Jake to follow it up with a stout. I am a recently published novelist. My goal in writing is to elicit a reaction from my audience and leave them with an experience that is not soon forgotten.
To get us started can you tell us a little about what you are working on or have coming out?
My first novel Where the Dead Fear to Tread was recently released from Untreed Publishing. It is the first in what became a trilogy that I am referring to as the Legacy of the Devourer. The second two books are completely drafted. The tentative title for the sequel is Where the Damned Fear Redemption.
How would you describe yourself using only five words?
I am an evolved fatalist.
If you could write a warning label for yourself as a person or an author, what would it say?
I write horror tales with the intent to make you squirm, and elicit fear as a response. Marc Nocerino, of She Never Slept called my novel, Where the Dead Fear to Tread “frantic, horrific, brutal, and without doubt the darkest thing I have read in years. Maybe in my life. Noir doesn’t even come close to describing it, not even in the most literal translation of noir as Black. This book is darker than black, it is the color of the void at the center of a singularity. Where The Dead Fear To Tread makes the Satanic Bible read like a light Sunday romance in comparison.”
Overall the reviews I have read share this sentiment to various degrees. I work to develop situations that test my characters both physically and emotionally.
All authors have their favorite rejection stories. One I would share is that a horror publisher had a short story of mine kicking around their office, for quite some time. I kept getting cryptic emails about this editor sending the story to that editor, as though I understood their office politics. The final email I received was that the story was just too much. The final editor told me they were physically shaking as they read it.
Do you have any guilty pleasures?
All pleasures are guilty. The most decadent for myself would probably be ice cream cake while watching obscene cartoons such as Venture Bros, and American Dad.
Name one thing readers would be surprised to know about you.
Despite the graphic violence in my work, I abhor the all too common violence in the world around us. As a bit of a news junkie (better than smack) I am constantly appalled not only by acts of physical aggression but the usage of words used only to harm and defame.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
This may be a copout but I would say it’s not where you are, but who you are surrounded by. Though if there is too much snow I may just abandon you.
How do you get yourself in the mood to write?
I need to have enough physical energy to focus, but not so much that I can’t sit still. Ideally I like to write after exercising. My senses feel sharp and I am still running off my endorphin high.
Can you share with us your typical writing day. Is there anything you have to have while writing?
Coffee, and music. I cannot abide silence. My mind cannot be turned off, so I need music in the background. Coffee doesn’t give me the buzz it gives others, it actually helps me focus.
Who are some of your favorite authors?
So many, and it is an eclectic list. I have learned to appreciate various authors, not for who I wish they were but who they are. Clive Barker and Raymond Chandler would come to the top for me as well as Ian McEwan and Phillip Roth.
What is in your To Read Pile that you are dying to start or upcoming release you can’t wait for?
This Book Is Full of Spiders: Seriously,Dude,Don’t Touch It by David Wong. John Dies at the End blew me away, so the sequel has my attention.
Is there something special you do to celebrate when one of your books is released?
I ordered a coffee mug with my cover art on it.
Do you have a favorite TV show you can’t miss?
I have been watching the Simpsons for two decades and will probably have a difficult time adjusting whenever it is cancelled.
If you could date any character from any book, who would it be and why-no it doesn’t have to be from your books?
Judy from Edward Lee’s The Golem. She is attracted to nerds, plays video games passionately and likes to walk around the house naked.
What is the strangest source of writing inspiration you’ve ever had?
I draw constantly from the world I see around me. Sometimes it is the look of a person, or a sentence fragment I hear from them.
If your muse were to talk behind your back, what secrets would he/she tell?
He/she would probably expose the dark cynical nature of my work stems from an inability to truly comprehend the dark, vile despicable way humankind treats itself.
Teaser of Where Dead Fear to Tread by M.R. Gott
Horror, Mystery, Contemporary
Buy at http://store.untreedreads.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=6_205&products_id=205
A police officer and a serial killer search separately for a missing child while running a malevolent labyrinth populated by creatures they never knew existed.
Former prosecutor William Chandler, disgusted with his past inaction, spills the blood of those who victimize children to correct the ills he sees in the world. A self-admitted serial killer and uncomfortable with his actions, Chandler attends the funerals of those whose lives he has taken in an effort to retain a true understanding of the nature of violence.
The carnage left in his wake is investigated by Detective Kate Broadband, who becomes progressively more comfortable with the corpses left by Chandler. Envying the power she sees in him, she pursues Chandler as each search for Maria Verde, a missing eight-year-old girl.
As Chandler and Broadband draw closer to discovering what happened to Maria they are forced to confront The Devourer, an unnatural being trafficking in stolen children.
Where the Dead Fear to Tread is a tale of hard-boiled macabre, bridging numerous genres to reveal a story of horror, crime and revenge.
William Chandler knows the outcome of the situation is fixed. He sits in a restaurant dubbed “The Mighty Hammer” in a building inhabited by some of the worst this city has bred. The restaurant is closed but five men remain and William sits down at a table to negotiate with them. He’s never met any of them yet he recognizes them, he knows what they are. Their names are not important, he knows their past and that means he knows their futures. The unknown yet familiar men have frisked William and taken his large duffel bag full of children’s clothes at the door, but they have not examined it. They all wear expensive clothes in an effort to appear more important than they are and each man slouches, jacket hanging open, displaying a shoulder holster and the eight pound piece of metal that gives him a sense of security. The visible weapons give William a sense of security as well, because he believes a man with a hidden weapon is more dangerous than a man using one as a decoration.
They want William to see their guns, to be intimidated by them. In the darkened dining area the weapons catch and reflect what little light there is and are illuminated in the shadows. William does not in any way match his companions at the table. He is wearing a simple white shirt tucked into black pants and the top button of his shirt is open, allowing his powerful neck room to breathe. William’s elbows rest on the table and his fingers are interlocked, fidgeting with his wedding band. His fingertips caress the metal band as he decides, step by step, each action he will take to achieve the outcome he is committed to.
The men around him have their hair greased and slicked back. William has shaved both his face and skull that morning, as always. None of the five men mention the scar that begins under William’s left eye and works its way around his ear, down the back of his neck and beneath his shirt collar.
Staring at the glass of whiskey before him, William ignores the noise his hosts make. The five men are explaining why he should pay such a high price per “unit.” Men such as these, devoid of a true education, tend to create their own language in order to make what they do seem more important. William hears only fragments of their conversation.
“…96 month old female…”
“…recently acquired shipment.”
“…may be young but knows enough to moan while you’re inside ’em.”
Two of the men sit on either side of William, sandwiching him in a further attempt to make him feel vulnerable, while the three on the opposite side of the table continue their sales pitch. Their words are worthless. William has already made all the decisions he is going to make tonight. He will not be persuaded or deterred by the likes of such men. The man to William’s left puts his still lit cigar in the ashtray, unaware that he will be the catalyst of what is coming. William closes his eyes, breathing in deeply, filling his lungs before he opens his eyes. He slowly releases his breath, fully aware of his body.
Reaching for a bottle of whiskey at the table’s center, William deliberately spills the contents and curses for effect. The men beside him both scoot back, raising their hands to avoid the spill. The contents of the bottle flow across the table. William apologizes as he reaches with his napkin to control the mess, and knocks the ashtray over. The napkin is lit from the burning embers of the stoked cigar. William drops the burning napkin into the whiskey and a flame erupts from the center of the table.
All five men instantly move back, shielding their eyes from the sudden flames. William reaches into the exposed jacket of the surprised man on his left and grabs his pistol with his right hand. As he drags the barrel across that man’s neck he fires. The force knocks the man out of his chair and the bullet removes a quarter of his neck from his body. Blood pours onto the flaming table as the corpse falls backward and onto the floor.
William swings the revolver toward the man on his right while watching the men across the table. Without taking his eyes off them William fires into the temple of the man beside him, shattering his skull and erasing his existence. The smell of burnt blood fills the air as the flames leap higher and cast flickering shadows across the chaos.
The second man’s remains drop and so does William as the three men across from him draw their weapons. Their guns erupt, bullets flying across the table through the growing flames, aimed towards where William no longer sits. Crouching beneath the table now, William systematically fires three rounds, catching each man in the stomach. Bile and digestive acids spill into their bodies and their guts split and burn from within. The three men clutch their stomachs in agony.
The revolver William holds contains only a single round and he needs more ammunition. Reaching toward the second corpse, he finds and removes an automatic pistol. With a pistol in each hand, William stays crouched under the table as the three wounded men fight their pain and attempt to locate their assailant. The trio curses each other, themselves and William, especially William, the stranger that has so unexpectedly turned them into victims. They speak in a butchered language of broken dreams, as their time draws to an end.
Their hollow threats calm them while betraying their location. William rises deliberately with a gun in each hand, one aimed at the man on the left, the other on the man on the right. Both weapons fire simultaneously, catching their respective targets in the face and silencing their curses.
William drops the revolver and aims the automatic at the remaining man, then extinguishes him as swiftly as he did the four others. The evening’s last shot echoes. Surrounded by the bloodshed he has created, William feels neither accomplishment nor guilt. To him this is simply the inevitable conclusion to a violent life. William stares for a moment into the growing flame, his heart slowing against his heaving chest.
He crouches, frisking the corpse he took the automatic pistol from. William removes a spare clip from the holster he finds on the body, ejects the used magazine and replaces it with eight new rounds. With the chambered round he has nine bullets. His hand, holding the warm weapon, drops to his side as he surveys the burning restaurant.