by Blake Crouch
When we originally expanded SERIAL into SERIAL UNCUT, we wanted to take it up a notch. You took characters from your books and had them meet, I took characters from mine and had them meet.
Then we went even further with BIRDS OF PREY. Now we completely intertwined our universes. My bad guys meet your bad guys, from over a dozen of our novels.
BLAKE: You and I write a lot of bad guys. It was so much fun doing the killer-killer interaction in SERIAL UNCUT, that with BIRDS OF PREY, we simply said, let’s bring every major villain we’ve ever written into the same book. And not only that, let’s have Joe’s villains and Blake’s villains share scenes together. And not just any old scenes. Scenes that perhaps set up or anticipate big events in our major works like your Jack Daniels series and my Andrew Thomas series. I think of SKU as a glove that fits into all the spaces left between our collective novels. So Charles Kork from WHISKEY SOUR has a scene with Luther Kite and Orson Thomas from DESERT PLACES. Donaldson and Orson share a scene. Alex Kork and Luther Kite share a scene. And of course, there’s the centerpiece of the entire thing, “An Unkindness of Ravens.”
JOE: That 16,000 word section features Javier (Snowbound), Luther Kite (Locked Doors), Mr. K (Shaken), Alex Kork (Rusty Nail), and Charles Kork (Whiskey Sour) on the side of evil, along with cameos by Kiernan (Run), Donaldson (Serial), Lucy (Serial), Dwight Eisenhower (Endurance), Isaiah (Abandon), Swanson, Munchel, and Pessalano (Fuzzy Navel).
They went up against the forces of good, Jack Daniels, Clayton Theel (Draculas), and Tequila (Shot of Tequila.)
It was like a greatest hits battle royale, and so much fun to write.
Which is part of the reason the end product is over 120,000 words long and took two years to complete. This double novel takes place between all of our other novels, filling in gaps, expanding back-stories, and revealing clues to our upcoming collaboration, STIRRED.
BLAKE: There are some huge clues in here, no doubt. To me, the benefit of writing something like this, is that we’re using characters who have already been battle-tested in other books. We know they work, we love to write them, and so instead of spending all our time inventing and developing brand new characters, we’ve taken this group and put them to work building an entire monster of a book.
JOE: I’m pretty sure this hasn’t been done before. Not on this scale. Not with two authors completely meshing their worlds together.
At least, not in horror fiction. Comics and TV shows have been doing this for years. Superheroes and Supervillains always appear across many titles, and who didn’t love the 70s when Magnum PI would appear on Simon & Simon, or Mork did a cameo on Laverne & Shirley?
BLAKE: Let’s talk about how our collaborative process has developed over the last two years. With SERIAL, we started out emailing each other back and forth until a scene was finished, and there was a big element of gamesmanship, of not knowing what the other guy was up to and using that energy to propel the scene into interesting places. Then with KILLERS, we started using Google docs, which we’ve talked about previously, allowing us to write in the same document at the same time. But what interests me most is how our writing style (when we write together) has changed. I think we’ve truly developed a Konrath/Crouch style that is quite different from our individual styles. It seems like we edit each other much less now, and I think that’s because I know what kind of a sentence will pass your bullshit test, and vice versa.
JOE: It’s become pretty seamless, and we’re often finishing each other’s sentences, or anticipating what the other will do next. As a result, we can write 3,000 words faster than it would take either of us to write 1,500 individually, because we’re rewriting and polishing on the fly.
I also like it when we divvy up workloads. “Blake, go and add description to the Porter intro, and I’ll work ahead on the first Alex scene.” It’s a lot of fun. Almost like a hive mind is writing the story. Since writing is such a solitary profession, to be able to create stories and worlds with a partner is like getting a new toy.
BLAKE: You write very fast on your own, but for instance, today we wrote about 5,000 words, which is an astronomical word count for me.
JOE: That’s because you’re slow, like a snail surfing on molasses. At the same time I was working with you, I was working with Ann Voss Peterson on FLEE, our spy novel. We did about 4,000 there, too.
BLAKE: Show off.
So we’re going to finish the last piece of this puzzle, STIRRED, this summer. That’s going to be the conclusion to your Jack Daniels series and my Andrew Thomas series. In a way, writing SKU has laid the perfect groundwork for how we’re going to approach writing that novel together. It’s going to be a blast.
JOE: Hopefully the fun we’re having will translate to the page, and give our fans—both new to us and long-time readers—something to enjoy.
Do you believe tools like Dropbox and Google docs are going to change the way writers write?
BLAKE: Not on a massive scale, no. I still think most writers are solitary beings, introverts by nature, and that most books will continue to be single-author. It’s a wonderful thing to collaborate, but you have to find the right partner, not only someone who thinks like you and tells stories like you, but who you respect enough to let them change your words. That’s a tall order, and without getting all sentimental and shit, we’re very lucky to have crossed paths.
JOE: I dunno, man. I’ve done this Google docs thing with you, Ann, and Barry Eisler, and we’ve all enjoyed it. I think it’s just a matter of time before we see big shots giving it a try. Especially since ebooks have made it so easy to release work.
It’s worth mentioning here that there is no way we would have been able to do this in the traditional publishing environment. This is a 120,000 word double-novel, published in segments over the course of twenty-four months, where the protagonists are mostly serial killers. Our agents would have laughed at us, and no publisher would ever have taken on this project.
BLAKE: Except Brilliance Audio. Yay, Brilliance!
JOE: They’re very forward-thinking. But they also pay attention to the market. The previous installments we’ve written have sold very well, and readers seem to get what we’re trying to do.
Would you call this metafiction? Experimental? Or am I being big-headed (well, more than usual) in thinking this is a natural evolution of narrative structure?
BLAKE: No, I think it’s all of that. But mainly, it’s just two guys writing the kind of book they would be totally geeked to read if their favorite writers ever attempted such a project.
JOE: We have truly been liberated by technology here. I can’t emphasize that enough. There have always been writers who collaborate. Ellery Queen was two guys. Preston and Child are bestsellers. But with SKU, we were literally on the same page, at the same time, adding to each other’s sentences before they were finished. We couldn’t have written the gunshow scene on two separate typewriters. We couldn’t have even written it via email, as we did with SERIAL.
I believe DRACULAS, and SKU, represent a new way of creating stories.
But then, I’ve also been drinking.
BLAKE: Well I haven’t…yet…and I agree with you. I just want to see more writers doing this sort of thing. Imagine if Stephen King and Dean Koontz did something like this.
JOE: Better yet, imagine if King, Koontz, and Kilborn did something like this? Or Crouch, Patterson, and Harris?
BLAKE: I’d buy it.
JOE: So would I. As long as it was less than $5.99. Now let’s talk about the sex scene…
BLAKE: Um yeah…you and I have written quite a bit together, but nothing like this. And I was actually staying at your house when we wrote this, so it was a bit strange being in the same room, writing the Alex/Luther conjugal visit at the same time.
JOE: I wouldn’t call it uncomfortable, exactly. But it was a pretty hot scene, and there were certain points where I didn’t want to make eye contact with you. That said, I think we did an admirable job of not succumbing to chil
dish giggling. Mostly.
BLAKE: Think we’ll ever release a single work containing all novels, stories, and novellas in this combined universe, which we’ve written to date? It would be something like 1,500,000 words.
JOE: That would require us getting the rights back—rights currently held by our legacy publishers. I don’t see that happening anytime soon.
Last question. Are we really, truly done with this story?
BLAKE: I think we’re done for the time being, but I don’t want to say that a continuance is completely out of the question. Our characters seem to have this strange habit of never really dying…
The Crouch/Kilborn/Konrath Universe…
Want to read every book, novella, and short story in the Crouch/Kilborn/Konrath Universe in chronological order?
Here’s how you do it…
ALL CAPS = Novels
Italics = Novellas and Short Stories Contained within SERIAL KILLERS UNCUT
A Watch of Nightingales by Blake Crouch (1969, Orson Thomas, Andy Thomas)
A Day at the Beach by Blake Crouch (1977, Luther Kite, Maxine Kite, Rufus Kite)
A Pitying of Turtle Doves by JA Konrath and Jack Kilborn (1978, Donaldson and Mr. K)
The One That Stayed by JA Konrath (1983, Charles Kork, Alex Kork)
A Night at the Dinner Table by Blake Crouch (1984, Luther Kite, Maxine Kite, Rufus Kite)
Cuckoo by Blake Crouch (1986, Luther Kite, Rufus Kite)
SHOT OF TEQUILA by JA Konrath (1991, Jack Daniels, Tequila)
A Wake of Buzzards by Blake Crouch and Jack Kilborn (1991, Orson Thomas, Donaldson)
A Brood of Hens by Blake Crouch (1992, Orson Thomas, Luther Kite)
A Glaring of Owls by Blake Crouch and JA Konrath (1993, Orson Thomas, Luther Kite)
A Murder of Crows by Blake Crouch and JA Konrath (1995, Orson Thomas, Luther Kite, Charles Kork)
Bad Girl by Blake Crouch (1995, Lucy, Orson Thomas, Luther Kite, Andy Thomas)
DESERT PLACES by Blake Crouch (1996, Andy Thomas, Orson Thomas, Luther Kite)
The One That Got Away by JA Konrath (2001, Alex Kork and Charles Kork)
LOCKED DOORS by Blake Crouch (2003, Andy Thomas, Luther Kite, Violet King, Sweet-Sweet & Beautiful)
An Unkindness of Ravens by Blake Crouch, JA Konrath, and Jack Kilborn (2003, Luther Kite, Alex Kork, Charles Kork, Javier Estrada, Kiernan, Isaiah Brown, Donaldson, Mr. K, Swanson, Munchel, Pessolano, Jack Daniels, Tequila, Lucy, Clayton Theel, Barry Fuller, Sheriff Dwight Roosevelt)
WHISKEY SOUR by JA Konrath (2004, Jack Daniels, Charles Kork)
The One That Didn’t by Blake Crouch and JA Konrath (2004, Luther Kite)
FAMOUS by Blake Crouch, (2004, Lancelot Blue Dunkquist)
Break You by Blake Crouch (2004, Luther Kite, Andy Thomas, Violet King)
BLOODY MARY by JA Konrath (2005, Jack Daniels, Barry Fuller)
RUSTY NAIL by JA Konrath (2006, Jack Daniels, Alex Kork)
SNOWBOUND by Blake Crouch (2007, Javier Estrada)
DIRTY MARTINI by JA Konrath (2007, Jack Daniels)
Truck Stop by JA Konrath and Jack Kilborn (2007, Donaldson, Jack Daniels, Taylor)
Serial by Jack Kilborn and Blake Crouch (2008, Lucy, Donaldson)
Killers by Jack Kilborn and Blake Crouch (2008, Lucy, Donaldson, Luther Kite, Kurt Lanz, M.D.)
A Schizophrenia of Hawks by JA Konrath and Blake Crouch (2008, Luther Kite, Alex Kork)
AFRAID by Jack Kilborn (2008, Taylor)
DRACULAS by Jack Kilborn, Blake Crouch, Jeff Strand, and F. Paul Wilson, (2008, Clayton Theel, Kurt Lanz, M.D.)
FUZZY NAVEL by JA Konrath (2008, Jack Daniels, Alex Kork, Swanson, Munchel, and Pessolano)
ABANDON by Blake Crouch (2009, Isaiah Brown)
CHERRY BOMB by JA Konrath (2009, Jack Daniels, Alex Kork)
TRAPPED by Jack Kilborn (2010, Taylor)
ENDURANCE by Jack Kilborn (2010, Sheriff Dwight Roosevelt)
SHAKEN by JA Konrath (2010, Jack Daniels, Mr. K, Luther Kite)
Lovebirds by JA Konrath (2011, Lucy, Donaldson)
STIRRED by Blake Crouch and JA Konrath (2011, Jack Daniels, Luther Kite)
RUN by Blake Crouch (2013, Kiernan)
And now an excerpt from the horror novel AFRAID by Jack Kilborn, featuring Taylor…
The hunter’s moon, a shade of orange so dark it appeared to be filled with blood, hung fat and low over the mirror surface of Big Lake McDonald. Sal Morton took in a lungful of crisp Wisconsin air and cast his Lucky 13 lure toward the shore once again. The night of fishing had been uneventful; a few small bass earlier in the evening, half a dozen Northern Pike—none bigger than a pickle—and then, nothing. The zip of his baitcaster unspooling and the plop of the bait hitting the water were the only sounds he’d heard for the last hour.
Until the helicopter crashed.
It was already over the water before Sal even noticed it. Black, without any lights, silhouetted by the moon. And quiet. Years ago Sal had taken his wife Maggie on a helicopter ride at the Dells, both of them forced to ride with their hands clamped over their ears to muffle the sound. This one made a fraction of that noise. It hummed, like a refrigerator.
The chopper came over the lake on the east side, low enough that its downdraft produced large eddies and waves. So close to the water Sal wondered if its wake might overturn his twelve foot aluminum boat. He ducked as it passed over him, knocking off his Packers baseball cap, scattering lures across the boat’s floor, lifting several empty Schmidt beer cans and tossing them overboard.
Sal dropped his pole next to his feet and gripped the sides of the boat, moving his body against the pitch and yaw. When capsizing ceased to be a fear, Sal squinted at the helicopter for a tag, a marking, some sort of ID, but it lacked both writing and numbers. It might as well have been a black ghost.
Three heartbeats later the helicopter had crossed the thousand yard expanse of lake and dipped down over the tree line on the opposite shore. What was a helicopter doing in Safe Haven? Especially at night? Why was it flying so low? And why did it appear to have landed near his house?
Then came the crash.
He felt it a moment after he saw it. A vibration in his feet, as if someone had hit the bow with a bat. Then a soft warm breeze on his face, carrying mingling scents of burning wood and gasoline. The cloud of flames and smoke went up at least fifty feet.
After watching for a moment, Sal retrieved his pole and reeled in his lure, then pulled the starter cord on his 7.5 horsepower Evinrude. The motor didn’t turn over. The second and third yank yielded similar results. Sal swore and began to play with the choke, wondering if Maggie was scared by the explosion, hoping she was all right.
Maggie Morton awoke to what she thought was thunder. Storms in upper Wisconsin could be as mean as anywhere on earth, and in the twenty-six years they’d owned this house she and Sal had to replace several cracked windows and half the roof due to weather damage.
She opened her eyes, listened for the dual accompaniment of wind and rain. Strangely, she heard neither.
Maggie squinted at the red blur next to the bed, groped for her glasses, pushed them on her face. The blur focused and became the time: 10:46
“Sal?” she called. She repeated it, louder, in case he was downstairs.
No answer. Sal usually fished until midnight, so his absence didn’t alarm her. She considered flipping on the light, but investigating the noise that woke her held much less appeal than the soft down pillow and the cool satin sheets tucked under her chin. Maggie removed her glasses, returned them to the night stand, and went back to sleep.
The sound of the front door opening roused her sometime later.
“Sal?”
She listened to the footfalls below her, the wooden floors creaking. First in the hallway, and then into the kitchen.
“Sal!” Louder this time. After thirty-five years of marriage, her husband’s ears were just one of many body parts that seemed to be petering out on him. Maggie had talked to him a
bout getting a hearing aid, but whenever she brought up the topic he smiled broadly and pretended not to hear her, and they both wound up giggling. Funny, when they were in the same room. Not funny when they were on different floors and Maggie needed his attention.
“Sal!”
No answer.
Maggie considered banging on the floor, and wondered what the point would be. She knew the man downstairs was Sal. Who else could it be?
Right?
Their lake house was the last one on Gold Star Road, and their nearest neighbor, the Kinsels, resided over half a mile down the shore and had left for the season. The solitude was one of the reasons the Mortons bought this property. Unless she went to town to shop, Maggie would often go days without seeing another human being, not counting her husband. The thought of someone else being in their home was ridiculous.