When I was younger someone in my family, either my mother or grandmother, bought a book that was filled with haunting ghost stories from Appalachia. That book was how I learned about stories such as The Brown Mountain Lights, The Bell Witch, and others. Our Writer of the Week's book reminded me of those unforgettable tales. Meet author, John Rylan, author of Southern Gothic.
John Ryland lives in Northport, Alabama, and grew up about fifty miles away from that area in the same county. Northport is just across the river from Tuscaloosa, which is home to The University of Alabama home to the Crimson Tide, however, John said, "I am a fan of the rival team, Auburn University. War Eagle!!"
His work titled Southern Gothic has all the elements readers would expect for a collection of scary, edge-of-your-seat, hauntingly good stories. Many of them leave his readers wanting more as per one reviewer, they simply could not put the book down, and another claiming that each story takes, "you in a different direction...the author keeps you interested by making it hard to guess what's going to happen in the end."
"I generally stay within the dark/ gothic genre. I have written an action/ suspense and a Young Adult novel, but both have heavy gothic/dark elements."
Most of us are just born to write. We enjoy having the ability to share a great story with others while watching as they take the shape of a book. For John, it is not much different. He shared with us, "I have always made up and written stories. I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t a storyteller I write at home in my office. I don’t have specific hours but squeeze in plenty of time to write."
We asked John what inspired him to write Southern Gothic? "I had several stories along with the same genre that seemed to fit well together. Once I decided to publish a collection, I wrote the remaining stories in a few months, then began compiling them into Southern Gothic. The process he said took him about a year, "I would say the stories themselves were written over the span of a year. Then they had to be compiled and edited."
When we caught up to John Ryland he had just finished reading Ken Follett’s The Evening and the Morning. He shared with us that he was "currently reading Anthony Doerr’s About Grace," adding, "I don’t have a genre that I won’t read, but do tend toward historical fiction or horror. Sometimes, however, I find Doerr’s work to be a “pallet cleanser”.
Most of us have a great quote that keeps us inspired, one that we remind ourselves of from time to time for John Ryland he said his favorite quote came from "Emerson’s “Hitch your wagon to a star” has always stood out to me. I can’t say I’ve always lived by it, but I try."
Outside of writing, John told us he enjoyed being outdoors, "I am an avid gardener. I love making the world around me beautiful with flowers. Working on the earth also calms my mind and makes me become more patient."
If you enjoyed Southern Gothic rest assured John Ryland is working on a few more publications, "I have two books scheduled for release in 2022. Moonshine Cove press will release my action/ suspense novel The Man with No Eyes in march and World castle Publishing will release my paranormal suspense novel Peripheral later on."
For writers who are looking to publish John offered this piece of advice, "You gotta do the work. There are no shortcuts to producing a good novel."
Hear more about John Ryland, writing, and Southern Gothic on Wednesday, October 27th at 6 p.m. EST on our podcast. But first, here is an exclusive excerpt from Souther Gothic:
Ollie & the Stickman
As Ollie reentered her bedroom with an ice pack, she heard her phone vibrate. Grabbing it up, she found a series of texts from Rainie.
“Went by Julie’s house. Her mom wouldn’t let me talk to her. Went around back.”
“Her bedroom window had 10 stickmen drawn on it like the one on your arm, but bigger. They were in a line across it.”
“She came to the window and flipped me off. Had to go home. Sorry. Text me.”
She told him she was going to take a bath and try to sleep, then dropped the phone. Sitting on the bed, she looked at her arm again. The stickman she’d so carelessly doodled on her arm in English class was quickly becoming a problem. She laid the ice back on her skin, covering the figure.
After a few minutes, she removed it and stared at the stickman. It’s arms were folded to its chest. “Cold, little man?” she asked. The figure extended his arms and the skin around it began to warm quickly. Feeling the heat, Olivia replaced the ice pack, holding it tightly to combat the burning sensation on her skin.
The small circle of heat began to move beneath the ice pack, progressing down her arm toward her wrist.
“What the heck?” Olivia asked gripping the ice pack. She wadded it in her hand, noticing that the frozen gel had already thawed. She shook her head. Normally the pack would have stayed cold for half an hour easily. She tossed it aside and looked at the figure, now just above her wrist.
“What is your problem, dude? Just get the hell off me.” She grabbed her arm next to the stickman and squeezed. “That’s as far as you go.”
The stickman responded by walking to her fingers and pushing against them. Tiny points of pain began, like two needles pricking her skin, but she held tight. Grimacing through the pain, she watched as he pushed harder.
“This ends now, stick man. Do you hear me?”
The stickman drew back one hand and punched the side of her finger. Olivia gritted her teeth, struggling to keep her hold. The stick man released a torrent of punches, each one producing a stabbing pain, until Olivia finally gave up.
She shook her hand, then wiped a tear from her cheek. Olivia stared down at the man, her breath coming in angry pants. This was a violation of her body, and she didn’t have to stand for it. It was time to end this game.
Picking up the knife, she slid it quickly across her arm. A thin red line of blood formed on her skin that ran across the tip of the stickman’s left arm. Despite the pain, a smile came to her face as she watched a section of his arm fall away.
“Now what?” she asked with a grin. “You’re done, Stickie.” She pulled the razor across her arm again, but the stickman hurried out of the way. She sliced at it again, but again it avoided the blade.
“Nimble, aren’t we?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the figure. She slid the knife across her arm again, this time in front of the figure. It stopped just before running into the blade and retreated. She pulled the blade across her wrist in front of it, and again missed.
Olivia stared at the stick man, bent over her arm as it rested in her lap. “I got you, you little bastard.” she mumbled with a laugh. “I got you now.”
She chased the stick figure up her arm with the knife, determined to catch him. Halfway up her forearm she became aware of the blood running onto her lap, but only vaguely. The cuts would heal, if only she could get rid of the stickman. If he would leave everything would be fine.
Just above the elbow, she almost caught him. The blade sliced through her skin, lopping off half of its right arm and a piece of his leg. The stickman turned and hobbled away from her blade, moving to the fresh, unmarked top of her arm.
“You’ll not get away that easily,” she said with a grin. She followed him, slicing wildly, as he ran down her arm and rounded her thumb. Cornering him in the palm of her hand, she made four quick slashes and boxed him in.
“I got you now,” she said, watching as blood began to pool around the stick figure. She changed her hold on the knife and gripped it in her hand, point down. She stabbed at the stickman’s head several times as he ducked and jumped around the tiny box of cuts.
Finally, she cornered him. He stood looking up at her defiantly next to the pool of her own blood. She clenched the knife hard and drove the blade into the palm of her hand, right through the stickman’s head.
She growled in pain as the blade pierced her skin but managed a satisfied smile. The stickman struggled momentarily against the blade, then fell still. Still smiling, she watched as her palm filled with blood, covering the man completely.
“Okay, sweetie, I’m going to bed now. If you- oh my God!”
Olivia looked up to find her mother running toward her.
“What have you done? Frank! Frank!” She wrestled the knife from her daughter and threw it across the room just as her husband entered the room.
“It’s over,” Olivia said with a smile as her mother hugged her. “It’s okay now, mom. I fixed it.”
Author Bio:
John Ryland grew up in a large family in rural Alabama, then joined the U.S. Navy and traveled the world before returning home. Today he lives in Northport, Alabama with his wife and two sons. He has published nine short stories in journals such as Otherwise Engaged, Bewildering Stories, The Eldritch Journal, The Chamber Magazine, and others. His latest poetry has appeared in The Birmingham Arts Journal and Subterranean Blue Journal of the Arts. His novels Souls Harbor and Shatter and the collection Southern Gothic are currently available on all major markets, with Southern Gothic also available on Audible. He has two novels slated for publication in 2022. The Man with No Eyes will release in March 2022, with Peripheral following later in the year.
Follow John Ryland on Social Media:
If you would like to see more of his work, follow him on Twitter @johnryland10, on Instagram @ryland364, or check out his website at gspressbooks.com where you can read his blog, subscribe to a monthly newsletter, find all buy links for his work, read all about his past and future works.
A new Writer of the Week is featured every Monday at 8 a.m. EST on the blog. Please follow The Writing Wall on Twitter or on Instagram for updates and announcements. Readers may also tune into the podcast every 2nd and 4th Saturday of the month at 6 p.m. EST on Anchor, Spotify, Google Podcast, Apple Podcast, and more. Visit LinkTree for more platforms. Followers can now become a supporter or sponsor on BuyMeACoffee for exclusive behind-the-scenes at Season 3, promotion, events, and more.
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