So, I’d like to take this space to offer my rebuttal to that criticism: When I was a junior in high school (Mount Horeb High School, to be exact), we had vocabulary assignment books in Mr. Van Natta’s English 11 class and every week, there were sentence assignments and a quiz. Ennui was a word in that vocab book, and that’s where I first learned that word. At that moment, it became one of my favorite words. I still use it whenever possible.
Mr. Van Natta was one of my top five, all-time favorite teachers. He was the advisor of the school newspaper (I ended up with a Journalism degree in college because of him), and he was also the drama department advisor (and I was a theater nerd who still likes performing to this day—seriously, get me to your town to talk about my books; I’m entertaining). Mr. Van Natta passed away from cancer a few years ago. He is sorely missed. He was a major reason I became who I am. I’m glad I was able to tell him that a few years back. I ran into him at a function. I was like, I became a journalist and an English teacher because of you! He was moved.
If you have a teacher who was an influence on you, let them know. Send them a card or something. It’s one of the nicest things you can do, and it’s appreciated more than you know.
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I.11.f: As it has been said on the internet so many times—we don’t deserve dogs.
This scene was one that was in my head from the beginning. I had always known that Rowdy was going to charge headlong into an unwinnable fight to help Twist, because that’s what dogs do. They do it without thought. They do it because they know they have to help us. That’s what makes them amazing.
I listened to an interview with Keith Olberman once, talking about how he became a dog person later in his life. He said that after owning dogs, he came to realize that we were put on this planet to help dogs. And they were here to help us. I firmly believe that. Dogs are the best.
Don’t trust people who don’t like dogs. (I’m looking at you, Mom.)
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I.12.a: Another anecdote based on a true story of my personal experience. It’s one of my earliest memories. I think I flushed the farmer, though.
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I.12.b: The third book in the Survivor Journals had a name other than All We Have. It was originally called Hope Builds Futures. I didn’t like it, though. It felt clunky and inorganic. When I was scanning the first two books for inspiration for the third book title, I came across this passage, and realized what the third book should be titled. It would have different connotations for the third book, but the meaning was still intact.
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I.12.c: There is no greater day in the Wisconsin calendar than that day when you walk outside and it smells like spring. There are the occasional mild days, or even warm days, but until it actually smells like spring, it’s just a ruse.
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I.13.a: This is a subtle nod to Margaret Weis and the Dragonlance book series that affected me so much. My mom gave me the Dragonlance Chronicles for Christmas when I was six. Between that and the Little House on the Prairie books, those were the foundational pieces of reading of my childhood. Obviously, The Long Winter is a major influence of After Everyone Died, but it was harder to get the Dragonlance influence into these books.
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I.13.b: Blue Mounds State Park is only about twelve or thirteen miles from where I grew up, and it’s only about five miles west of Mount Horeb. It’s a great park, and the towers at the top of the mounds are worth a visit if you’re ever in that area. It’s the best view of the county you’re going to find. On a clear day, you can see all the way to Illinois.
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I.14.a: This surprised me when I did the research. The survival guides say that when you don’t have medical care, a non-life threatening bullet wound (which seems like an oxymoron to me) is treated by just letting it close up naturally over time. Keep it clean. Watch for infection. When you look at the research on the Civil War—most of the soldiers who were shot didn’t die from the bullets, they died from the infection afterward. Human bodies are remarkably resilient.
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I.14.b: This was an interesting moment when I was putting myself in Twist’s spot. He’d gotten used to being alone, maybe even accepted it. And then suddenly, there is someone else. In some ways, I think it would be like an alien landing in the middle of Lambeau Field during a live game. It would be a fundamental change in our perception of reality.
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I.14.c: I am a master at saying stupid things that land like lead balloons.
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I.14.d: Looking back, if I had to rewrite this story today, I don’t know if I would use the Meri storyline. I think I prefer the story to be simplistic and empty. I think I should have just had Twist figure out leaving Wisconsin on his own. I think, in retrospect, I somehow knew that agents/publishers weren’t going to go for a book with so little action, so I wanted to add in a big summative action sequence at the end.
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I.15.a: I wish I knew who originated the line about glitter being the herpes of craft supplies, because it’s one of the truest statements ever spoken.
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I.16.a: I’m this way before a trip. I over-prepare and drive myself crazy with the details.
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I.16.b: I got the most negative flack for this moment. There are a lot of people out there who got mad that I let Rowdy (an imaginary dog!) die. I even got letters from people who told me that they stopped reading when that happened and will refuse to continue the series. I got one-star reviews the cited that moment in particular as the reason they gave me one-star.
I get why they’re upset. I get why they don’t like it. But, life—especially the life of a dog—is fleeting. A dog Rowdy’s size lasts twelve to fifteen years, usually. He was old at the beginning of the story. I foreshadowed his passing. What more would you want of me?
Rowdy was the last anchor holding Twist to Wisconsin. He needed to leave to give Twist a clear conscience moving on with his life. He was a good dog.
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I.17.a: I have seen a couple reviews that spoke negatively about Twist’s thoughts here. Maybe they’re right. Maybe he should have been more willing to end Adam’s life. No matter how good we view ourselves, there are sometimes in this world where logic and reason will simply have no effect, and what do we do then?
However, I think it’s fundamental to Twist’s nature that he at least try the diplomatic route, that he clings to the hope of diplomacy and brotherhood, because otherwise he would go to a very dark place very quickly, and then you’re left with a protagonist that you don’t necessarily want to route for. That’s not the book I wanted to write. That’s not the protagonist I wanted to write. There are enough of those guys other there. I don’t think I would enjoy writing a book where Twist de-evolves into Frank Castle.
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I.18.a: When I wrote this, I named this chapter in direct response to the end of the theme song for The 70s Show, and hearing Robin Zander of Cheap Trick scream out, Hello, Wisconsin! I love Cheap Trick. That’s as great American rock band as it gets.
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I.18.b: I love the Addams Family. The movies, the TV show, the cartoons—you name it. Great series. As I’ve lost my hair, I’ve started to look like Uncle Fester myself. The world comes full circle.
Still working on getting a lightbulb to light up with my mouth, though.
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I.18.c: Fester is based off a cat that roamed my family’s farm when I was a kid. Panther was his name. He was a big, brute Tom with a squeaky little meow. He was very vocal. He would follow you and try to have a conversation with you. He was fond of my dad, who is not a cat person, but for Panther he made an exception.
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II.1.a: It was a daunting task to start the second book. I had known that there was going to be a second book, and I had known that I wanted it to be a road book. I knew that it was going to be Twist’s journey to the South, but once I started writing it, I found that like most road trips,
it gets dull pretty quickly if all you’re doing is looking at scenery. When I started writing this book, I got about four chapters into it and just stopped for a few months. It took me a long time to piece together the journey in my head. I knew where I wanted him to go, and I knew how he was going to get there. I just did not really know what to expect along the journey.
Sequels are difficult in general. It’s hard to get them to meet the level of the first in the series, and in books that in a trilogy, they tend to exist as bridges to the third book. I needed this to be a standalone adventure, but also to bridge to the third, and I just hope I did that well enough to keep people interested, even if they hadn’t read the first book.
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II.1.b: It’s surprising how quickly roads get taken back by nature if no one drives on them in the north. There was an abandoned road out in the sticks where I grew up. Within three years, it was a sea of weeds. In ten, it was all trees, grass, and scrub. If the apocalypse ever does it, the roads will go far more quickly than you might think.
On my way to work, the road I take was undergoing construction. They had the two-lane highway cordoned off to one lane. The center lines were not driven over the entire summer. By October, there were weeds growing from cracks in the road that stood over four feet high. Nature doesn’t play.
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II.1.c: I’m a hardcore Wisconsin Badgers fan. However, you don’t grow up Irish Catholic without learning an appreciation for the boys in blue from South Bend.
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II.1.d: As a side note, are we as a society crazy with the photos now, or what? That’s one thing that struck me when I put myself in Twist’s place. We really take those photos to show others. They’re not for us. They’re status symbol. If no one ever looked at your Instagram account, you’d simply look at the meal you’re about to eat at that fancy restaurant, and then enjoy eating it. No one needs to know you’re about to have a blueberry muffin at Starbucks. Writing that passage made me really cognizant of how much I use my phone nowadays. I resolved to use it less, especially when I’m watching TV or movies at home. It became a big distraction. I feel better with less cell phone time. But, you do you.
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II.2.a: This is another personal habit. I love maps. If I’m bored, I play with Google Maps online, or look at my atlas of state maps of America. I love old maps. It’s nerdy, sure, but harmless. One thing I love doing when I travel is finding towns with silly names. Shipshewana was a town name that jumped out at me last time I crossed Indiana on a trip out to New Jersey. I resolved to use that as a town where Twist has something major happen in the book. Shipshewana is just fun to say.
Then, after my buddy, Dave, read the book, he texts me. He has extended family in Shipshewana and has been there more times than he cares to count.
Small world.
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II.2.b: I’ve gotten to go to De Smet a couple of times in my life. It still is nothing more than a little town on the prairie. There’s a bunch of houses, a gas station, and a few other buildings, but not much else. However, if you’re a Laura Ingalls Wilder book fan at all, it’s a must-visit.
Ma, Pa, Mary, Carrie, and Grace are all buried in the cemetery at De Smet. As is Mr. Boast, Rev. Brown, Florence Garland, and Genevieve Masters (one of the two girls who were the inspiration for the Nellie Olson character—who never truly existed). You can stop by and pay your respects.
The town holds a Laura Ingalls Wilder celebration ever year, too. I’ve never gotten out there for that, but perhaps someday.
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II.2.c: Culver’s is a Wisconsin-based fast food place. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. They’re not fast food like McDonald’s fast. They’re somewhere between McDonald’s and a diner fast. You order and wait a few minutes, but not too long.
I have nothing but love and respect for the place. It started not too far from where I grew up, and I’ve been a longtime patron. I was unemployed while I wrote and edited both Long Empty Roads and All We Have, I did the overwhelming majority of the writing and editing from a booth at the Culver’s in Sun Prairie. It’s my favorite place to write.
If you’ve never had the pleasure of going to a Culver’s, please do so. I’m not being paid to say this. (However, if they wish to pay me for the free advertising, I would not say no.)
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II.2.d: I love Pink Floyd. David Gilmour, for my money, is one of the top three guitarists of all time. However, I did not choose to put the old man in a t-shirt because of my personal allegiance to the band. I just thought it would be a good look for a cool old dude who no longer cared about his appearance.
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II.3.a: This is a line from the movie The Man from Snowy River, one of my favorite films. It’s just a great coming-of-age-tale, and I think Kirk Douglass probably deserved an Oscar for his dual performances in it. But, I’m biased.
This line is from when Spur meets Jessica, his niece. In my head, Doug’s whole persona and manner of speaking was a complete homage to how Douglass performed in the part of Spur in that movie.
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II.3.b: This line is a tribute to my sister, who says this phrase a lot. Because she’s a different sort of weirdo.
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II.3.c: My sister insists her cat speaks in a Mexican accent, however there is nothing to make you assume the cat knows anything about Mexico outside of the scraps of Taco Bell meals she’s had over the course of her life.
I think a lot of pet owners hear their pet’s voice in their head at times. I’ve done it for my pets here and there. My old, beloved (and sadly passed) cat, Macbeth, spoke in the same voice as Daria from the MTV cartoon in my mind.
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II.4.a: I feel like this is a universal trait for most writers. We tend to be an introverted lot, good if we’re the raconteurs with a spotlight, but in a situation of equals, there’s a lot of awkward pauses and strange conversation bends. It’s hard for me to get comfortable talking to someone I don’t know. I have worked in sales for more than twenty years, off and on, and I probably shouldn’t have. I am good in front of an audience, but really bad one-on-one. I envy guys like Doug. I know guys like Doug Fisk’s character in this book, and they tend to have a lot of friends and contribute well to their communities. I envy that.
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II.4.b: This is a universal trait endowed in all of us, I think. In my own head, on my best days, I still feel like I’m fourteen or fifteen. I don’t know what this says about my maturity. I think we hit a point and that’s sort of where we stay. When I was just starting out in life, a friend of mine—pretending to be an adult—invited me to a wine and cheese party. I declined. That sounded like a horrible time to me. Twenty years later, that still sounds like a horrible time. No thanks. Call me when you’re going to play MarioKart 8 for four hours. I’ll show up for that. I really hope I never get to that point where I have to pretend I’m an adult all the time. That sounds depressing.
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II.4.c: This is a fun game I play with myself while I’m bored and driving. My mind wanders a bit and I start to try to think of what comes next, after we’re done with this world. Might be Heaven. Might be residence in a world made of Nerf and Jell-O. What do I know? I’m not a theologian, and I’m not a physicist. I can only hypothesize.
However, if there is some sort of world where we end up on the next plane, I hope we can meet people we admired on this plane. I’d like to have dinner some night with Mark Twain, Groucho Marx, and George Carlin. That ought to be good for a few laughs.
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II.4.d: Writing a post-apocalyptic survival story really made me aware of how much we take for granted in the first world. Simple things that are always just there, like toilet paper, street lights, and convenience stores—if those go, this world becomes a pretty bleak place. It sounds romantic in a way, surviving the virus and continuing to live like our ancestors would have, carving a life tooth-and-nail out of Nature, itself. However, when it comes to brass tacks, I th
ink I’d rather stay in the world where Charmin is abundant, thanks.
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II.5.a: I think Cleveland gets a bad rap. Sure, it’s not the prettiest place on the planet, but it’s Cleveland. If you’re from there, you wear that fact like a badge of honor. It’s a tough, bare-knuckle sort of town. Any place that gave us Harvey Pekar, Halle Berry, Drew Carey, Tim Conway, Jim Backus, Carol Kane, and Joe freakin’ Walsh can’t be all bad.
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II.5.b: It’s pretty surprising how quickly animals would adapt to a lack of human influence. I remember reading an article a few years ago about the acres upon acres of abandoned homes in Flint, Michigan, and how bears are beginning to take back those homes. There were actually bears who were using old, falling-apart houses as dens. If humans do go elsewhere all at once, nature won’t even miss us.
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II.5.c: I always say this. When I look around at how mundane my life is now—a job, a wife, a kid, a dog, watching TV at night, rarely doing anything fun—I always think about how disappointed my seventeen-year-old self would be. I have all the freedom he wanted, and I’m doing nothing with it. We all make our choices in life, I guess.
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II.5.d: I’ve actually talked to a couple of producers about optioning The Survivor Journals as a series. Really small-time, independent producers, but theatrical people nonetheless. Nothing has ever happened beyond initial feeling-out talks. I’ve spoken with dozens of producers about my books over the years, but nothing has ever happened with any of them, sadly. It’s so hard to get a major book turned into a movie, and even harder to get an almost-unknown book done.
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