Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Clyde Barrow Talks to You From the Grave (seriously!)

In my dual MC (main character for you non-writers out there), Clyde alternates chapters with Monroe Baker, a teen waiting tables at her dad's 1920's style, speakeasy dinner theater. Clyde Barrow was one of the most bizarre/unique characters I've ever (re)created in my writing career thus far. I  have to admit that I had a blast imagining his dialogue and would often linger over my words, disturbed (okay, and sometimes delighted) at what I made him say––which may mean I have a criminal mind lying deep inside of me. Be scared, people. (Mom, don't worry. I don't blame you.)
Here is a peek from Chapter Two from Wanted:  Dead or In Love (in which Clyde Barrow first awakens in his coffin). Strange, I know, but I swear it'll make sense if you read the book.

A drum roll please...

Oh - and make sure you read with a Texan twang in your head. That's how I imagined him anyway.

*Excerpt from Chapter Two
* Clyde *
A sudden jolt runs through my bones, swift as lightning and strong as a Texas twister in May. I blink twice, three times, but I can’t see nothing. I must be in the bottom of a mineshaft on a moonless night because it’s dark and I’m cold. Real cold. I concentrate hard as I can to move my body, one finger even, and finally, after what seems like forever, I give up.
I search my brain trying to figure how I got trapped down here. Last thing I remember was me and Bonnie heading down Potter Lane to go pick up Henry at his pa’s house in the middle of nowhere. We’d all visited our kin for two days but we needed to get back on the lam. I slowed down to drive around a fool truck driver who lost his load, when––Christ. It’s all coming back.
As I veered past the crates, rounds of gunfire blasted through my head, my neck, my arms and legs–-jolting me right outta my seat. Bonnie’s spine-chillin’ scream was the last thing I heard before blackness came. It’s obvious to me looking back now that the sheriff’s posse brought along enough ammo to shoot a herd of buffalo. Cold-hearted bastards never even offered us a chance to surrender.
Not that I would, but they dint know that. At least I coulda taken down a few of the laws before me and Bonnie got smoked.
I realize then that I ain’t in any mineshaft––I’m in my final resting place.


  1. I love Clyde's voice! Thanks for sharing the teaser.

  2. Thanks, Cherie! He was a fun one to write, for sure. :)



Writing suspenseful stories often leads me to investigating creepy places and  gruesome stories of real events.  Oftentimes what the adage s...