Author: Alexandrea Weis & Lucas Astor
Print Length: 366 Pages
Published by: Vesuvian Books
Publication date: October 2nd 2018
Genres: Horror, Young Adult
Topic: What kind of research do you do and how long do you spend researching before beginning a book?
In writing any story, I spend hours doing research. I always strive for accuracy in my portrayals of the characters, places, and events. In Death by the River, my medical background helped tremendously with the telling of Beau Devereaux’s descent into madness. Having medical experience, and a history of seeing people at their best and worst, made me a better writer. Nursing also taught me to research my tail off. And that, too, has carried over to my writing. Research is key to any story. If it is as close to reality as possible, it will draw the reader in and hold them throughout. Many times, I read a book and people have not bothered to get proper medical advice or looked up even the simplest of details related to medicine or the human body. Do your research as a writer. If you don’t, you will lose your audience. Seek out people who know the industry you are writing about, or at least check with Google. I have many writers who contact me to help them with medical questions, and I am happy to give them advice. This need for research also applies to locations.
I live in New Orleans, one of the most written about cities in the world, but checking websites and looking at pictures or webcams of Bourbon Street does not give you the subtle nuances that make up a city. You must immerse yourself in all the senses: the sights, sounds, tastes, and experiences of the people who live there. I do not mean you have to travel, but do your homework on a city or setting. To engage the reader, they need to feel they are there. For example, you can’t stroll through the French Quarter without describing the music coming through open french doors, the essence of cayenne, paprika, or alcohol lingering in the air. How do the people act? What is the weather like? What are their favorite foods, their culture, their heartaches as a community? To place a character in a hometown, know that town and the people in it. A reader who travels through your words to that destination and gets lost in the story will know you have done your research. In the end, being dogmatic about everything you put into a story and checking all the facts twice will benefit you and your audience. And you never know, something you learn might lead to a new plot twist, a new book, or even a great series.
A High School “American Psycho”
SOME TRUTHS ARE BETTER KEPT SECRET.
SOME SECRETS ARE BETTER OFF DEAD.
Along the banks of the Bogue Falaya River, sits the abandoned St. Francis Seminary. Beneath a canopy of oaks, blocked from prying eyes, the teens of St. Benedict High gather here on Fridays. The rest of the week belongs to school and family—but weekends belong to the river.
And the river belongs to Beau Devereaux.
The only child of a powerful family, Beau can do no wrong. Handsome. Charming. Intelligent. The star quarterback of the football team. The “prince” of St. Benedict is the ultimate catch.
He is also a psychopath.
A dirty family secret buried for years, Beau’s evil grows unchecked. In the shadows of the ruined St. Francis Abbey, he commits unspeakable acts on his victims and ensures their silence with threats and intimidation. Senior year, Beau sets his sights on his girlfriend’s headstrong twin sister, Leslie, who hates him. Everything he wants but cannot have, she will be his ultimate prize.
As the victim toll mounts, it becomes crystal clear that someone has to stop Beau Devereaux.
And that someone will pay with their life.
WARNING: Readers of Death by the River will encounter situations of violence and sexual abuse which could be upsetting to the reader.
Abandon hope all ye who enter here …
Leslie clung to him, wishing they were outside. “What is this place?”
“The cells.” Derek kept his voice low.
She squeezed his bicep. “I’ve never been inside The Abbey.” Leslie peered into the dim, cavernous corridor ahead, with only patches of light coming through the thick stone walls. “I wish we hadn’t come.”
“It will be fine, I promise.” He patted her hand. “Nothing will hurt you. I won’t let it.”
They crept along, their feet hitting sticks and fallen pieces of plaster from the crumbling walls around them. Puddles of water dotted the uneven stone floor and dampened Leslie’s tennis shoes. Mounds of dead leaves lay swept to the side. The low ceiling had roots coming through it, and the walls were cold and slimy to the touch. Derek shined his flashlight into the first room on the left. It was a depressingly small space composed of four walls and no windows.
It reminded Leslie of a jail cell rather than a place where a person would choose to live.
Scraps of paper littered the ground of the next cell they came across; another had a rusty metal frame of a bed. Several of the rooms had cracks in their plaster ceilings along with patches of mold. When they stumbled on a few rat skeletons, Leslie turned her head into Derek’s shoulder.
At the end of the passageway, sunlight snuck through a break in the wall. The intrusion of light was a welcome sight and Leslie’s fear abated. The jagged opening allowed green leaves from the plants outside to reach in, and a few creeping vines jutted up toward the ceiling. Along the floor, a thick pile of dead leaves hid the lower part of the opening.
“There was a cave-in along the wall here.” Derek brushed the leaves aside, revealing a fairly large breach able to accommodate one person at a time. “The other cells past this point are too dangerous to explore. We can get out here and avoid going back through The Abbey.”
Derek turned off his flashlight and handed it to her. He pushed the leaves back, pulled the vines down, and kicked the debris at the bottom away, trying to clear the opening.
While he worked, a glimmering light from inside one of the cells farther down the corridor distracted her. She flipped on the flashlight and angled it into the tight quarters beyond the cave-in.
The walls in this portion of the cells had deeper cracks than the rest of the structure. The fissures ran along the entire ceiling and down to the floors. Patches of black mold were everywhere. What struck her as odd was the lack of debris. It appeared as if it had been freshly swept without any leaves or rat skeletons littering the ground.
Derek came up behind her. “What are you doing?”
Leslie headed toward the room where she’d spotted the strange light. “I saw something.”
The smell of rot and mold filled her nose. Her skin brushed against the slimy walls, and she cringed. But something compelled her to keep going into the section Derek had deemed too dangerous to explore.
Naturally, she ignored him and pressed on, testing the floor with the toe of her shoe as she carefully progressed. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, but this time a tingling sensation of excitement went with it. She felt like Indiana Jones exploring a lost tomb and waiting for a booby trap to jump out at her.
Her beam of light filtered into the room, and her heart crept higher in her throat. She rounded the edge of the wall and halted.
The cell was small without any windows, but this room appeared lived in. Along the far wall, below a pair of rusted pipes where a sink had once been, a green cot—army issue—had a pillow and green blanket neatly stacked on top. At the foot of the cot was a blue ice chest; on top of it, an assortment of red and white candles.
Leslie went up to the cot and caressed the blanket and pillows. Her foot tapped something beneath. She bent down and discovered an old CD player.
Footfalls came from behind her. She swerved the flashlight around to Derek, fuming.
“Did you do this?”
“Do what?” He shielded his eyes from the light and stepped inside.
She wanted to believe he had no idea any of this was here, but her suspicions couldn’t be silenced. The whole scenario seemed so well-planned.
“What the hell?” Derek came up to the cot and lifted the pillow.
She stood back, studying his reaction as he browsed the contents of the room. “I thought you said this portion was dangerous.”
About the Author
Lucas Astor is from New York, has resided in Central America and the Middle East, and traveled through Europe. He lives a very private, virtually reclusive lifestyle, preferring to spend time with a close-knit group of friends than be in the spotlight.
He is an author and poet with a penchant for telling stories that delve into the dark side of the human psyche. He likes to explore the evil that exists, not just in the world, but right next door behind a smiling face.
Photography, making wine, and helping endangered species are just some of his interests. Lucas is an expert archer and enjoys jazz, blues, and classical music.
One of his favorite quotes is: “It’s better to be silent than be a fool.” ~Harper Lee (To Kill a Mockingbird)
Enter To Win:
This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Vesuvian Media Group. There will be 1 winner of one (1) Amazon.com Gift Card. The giveaway begins on October 1, 2018 and runs through December 3, 2018. Void where prohibited.
I would like to thank Alexandrea Weis, Lucas Astor, Vesuvian Books and Partners In Crime Book Tours for allowing me to be a part of this blog tour. If you would like to visit the other blogs on the tour check click here to view the other participants