Today, guest author Anthony Hains talks about writing
his new horror novel Dead Works. If you like a good mix of psychological
suspense and supernatural horror, you’ll like Anthony Hains’ stories. I also
enjoyed his novel, Birth Offering.
The final version of Dead Works is only remotely similar to
the original version. My initial plot for the novel involved the mishaps of
ghost hunters exploring a 100 year old mansion situated in a glorious setting
on Long Island Sound in New York. One of the characters had a back story that
involved him in therapy as a child - an account that may have topped out at 800
words. So, this wasn’t a huge focus, but rather an interesting tidbit to
illustrate a character.
The only problem with this
back story idea was that I couldn’t shake it from my mind. The issues involving
the therapy became more complex, even if I didn’t start out with the intention
of putting them on paper. It was only a matter of time until this back story
became more interesting than the original plot. I realized that I needed to jettison the ghost hunter notion and go with the
kid-in-therapy narrative.
Since I am a psychologist
and a professor of counseling psychology, I immediately knew the angle I was
going to take. The main character was going to be a graduate student – a
counseling psychologist in training. The young man would be in a practicum
class where students are placed in a clinical setting and conduct therapy under
the supervision of an on-site psychologist and a university instructor. After
all, I live this stuff on a daily basis. I have taught at least one practicum
class a year for the past 25 years. I know how students think and act. And,
even though it has been a very long time, I still remember what it is like to
be a graduate student. The client, of course, needed to be a kid – again, no
problems since my professional area of focus is pediatric psychology and I have
been studying and interacting with adolescents most of my professional career.
While this group can be a pain in the butt for many professionals, I rather
enjoy the population.
The challenge came with
making the process authentic without losing a reader. Losing a reader can
happen a couple of ways with this type of narrative. First, if I wrote an
accurate account of therapy, the layperson would become increasingly
frustrated. Unlike screen portrayals of therapy, there are rarely (if ever)
those dramatic eureka moments when the client gains insight and the problem is
solved within minutes. In most cases, the problem and the goals of therapy are
identified early, and the difficult work involves the client learning and
practicing new ways of coping or behaving to address personal concerns. This
takes time, depending on the nature of the problem.
Second, if I did go for the
dramatic denouement and make the therapy passages unrealistic or simplistic, I
would run the risk of personal embarrassment if my colleagues or students
actually read my fiction (so far, none have as far as I know). Pure vanity (or
maybe self-respect?) on my part, I know.
So, I provided excerpts of
five therapy sessions involving my graduate student protagonist, Eric, and his
thirteen year old client, Greg. I deleted some of the more mundane interactions
between them, and stuck to the more “thrilling” proceedings. By the way, the
boy sees ghosts, so much of the interactions involve the kid learning how to
make sense of these events. I portrayed my student character as being competent
at this level of training. He makes all the “correct” responses in therapy and
his inner narrative is consistent with what graduate students might be
thinking.
Finally, you can’t get
around the fact that this is a ghost story and the topic of therapy involves
seeing ghosts. Most problems addressed in actual therapy are not
“other-worldly”. The terrors, fears, and concerns of clients are grounded in daily
realities. Sometimes these horrors exceed our experience, but we know about
them anyway: abuse, addiction, suicide… You don’t need ghosts when you have
these things to deal with. Nonetheless, every once in a while something rather
strange appears on the radar screen in therapy. I can think of three or four
times this has happened in my work. How do you address it? There is no one way
of doing it, but I think Dead Works
provides some indications. Curious? I hope you read Dead Works to find out.
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Anthony Hains is a university
professor in counseling psychology, with a specialization in pediatric
psychology – his research involves working with youth who have a chronic
illness.
Here is the link to my website: http://www.anthonyhains.com
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