My guest today is Rick McQuiston with a horror novel that’s right up my alley. 🙂 Love the cover!! Please help me welcome Rick…
Please tell us a little about yourself, where are you from? Where do you live now? Family? Pets?
I’ve lived my whole life in Michigan (not by choice, I daresay) but traveled extensively when I was younger. I’ve used memories of these adventures for my books more than once, and vow to myself that I will take the next step and one day make a trip to some exotic far-off land for the sole purpose of writing a novel.
I’ve been married to my loving wife for nearly 30 years and have two children and one grandchild. We enjoy movies, exercise, music, and literature, as well as a variety of creative endeavors ranging from painting to sewing. I also play several instruments and write my own music, and when I’m not working for the development and management company that employs me, I can usually be found trying to create something.
Where did you get the idea for When Only the Nightmare Remains?
I like isolated settings for a book and the one I used for When Only the Nightmare Remains fostered the outline of the story. From there I drew upon an experience I had as a boy to flesh out the remainder of the tale.
Why did you choose this genre (is it something you’ve written in before)?
Horror has always been my mainstay for genre. I delve into others on occasion but always slide back to horror. To me, the thrill of being scared refreshes my imagination and the realization that it’s a big world out there and anything can happen.
What is the most difficult thing about writing a book?
Making the interaction between the characters believable and seamless.
Do you have another occupation, other than writer? If so, what is it and do you like it?
I work for development and management company. It’s fulfilling in different ways, but I can’t deny that I’d rather be writing. I find myself squeezing in some paragraphs on whatever project I’m working on whenever I have time.
Do you collect anything?
I’m kind of a collecting nut. I have sports and non-sports cards, music, books (naturally), movies, coins, stamps, etc.
What do you want readers to come away with after they read When Only the Nightmare Remains?
The realization that just because something is impossible doesn’t mean that it can’t, or won’t, happen.
Your most prized material possession? Why?
Probably my drum set. It is given me countless hours of fun, and helped define my creative side when I was growing up.
Have you written any other books that are not published?
I self-published my first two novels (To See as a God Sees and Where Things Might Walk).
Are your characters based off real people or did they all come entirely from your imagination?
With a few possible exceptions (notably the protagonists in my novella: The Nightmare Begins, who was modeled after myself) I create all my characters. Sometimes I base a story around them, and sometimes I base them around a story, but they are all my own creations.
What do your friends and family think of your writing?
They support me with my writing presumably because they can see that I am passionate about it.
About Rick McQuiston:
Rick McQuiston is a forty-six year old father of two who loves anything horror related. By day, he works for a family-owned construction and management company. By night, he churns out horror fiction.
Rick has well over 300 publications so far. He’s written seven anthologies, one book of novellas, and edited an anthology of Michigan authors. He’s also a guest author each year at Memphis Junior High School, and is currently working on his fifth novel, a Cthulhu-based anthology. Rick currently has two novels with Class Act Books: Fear the Sky and When Only the Nightmare Remains, which was voted #2 in Horror for 2015 by the Paranormal Romance GuIld’s Reviewer’s Choice.
Find out more about Rick at:
Publisher’s website: www.classactbooks.com
Author’s website: www.many-midnights.com
A town sheriff and three young boys manage to overcome an evil entity threatening their town.
Emily nudged closer and closer to the spider-webbed pane of glass. The window offered little in the way of a view—being octagonal and no larger than a dinner plate— but what it did reveal was adequate to say the least. It allowed anyone gazing through it to see the lush rolling landscape surrounding the house…and all it contained.
Feeling her already weak heart pound heavily in her chest, Emily scanned the grounds intently, watching for any signs of movement, for any hint of life. For any signs ofWilliam. She held the Book tightly in her small hands, refusing to relinquish it to anything or anyone. She had only scratched the surface of its contents, but that was still enough to impart its importance to her.
Her eyes moistened with tears as she thought of earlier, happier times in her life and her marriage to William. She should have been thinking about raising a family and planting flowers around the front porch of her home. She should have been thinking about what to cook for dinner when her husband returned home from a hard day’s work. All these simple notions, ones so many young people took for granted, were well beyond her grasp. In their place were terrifying visions of a dim future. Or worse—no future at all.
Movement caught her eye, sending a fresh batch of fear down her already frail spine. She rubbed her eyes to clear them and stared at the spot where she thought she had seen something. It took only a few seconds before her fears were confirmed. Something had moved. She was sure of it, but it was not easily noticeable. Whatever was lurking in the dense foliage was crafty and using stealth to its advantage.
Despite expecting it, Emily found herself cringing from the implications. She knew what it was, slithering around the fields, worming its way closer and closer with each passing minute. She also knew that eventually, inevitably, it would reach her house.
Her house. It was her house and hers alone since her beloved husband died earlier that year. Nearly eight cold, empty months had passed since that fateful day when a
bullet found its way into his forehead, killing him instantly. Some said that it was a suicide. Perhaps it was, but Emily was not so sure. William had no reason to kill himself.
The pain of that day pushed its way into Emily’s heart, so slowly at first as to be almost unnoticeable, but gradually increasing in its intensity. William had been a good man and a good husband, at least he was before he had changed into a cold, cruel person wholly incapable of compassion or love.
Emily stepped back from the window and slumped into a small, worn leatherback chair. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and the alluring thought of sleep entered her mind more than once. She ignored it. She had too many problems, too many things to think about to be able to enjoy a good rest. Not that she didn’t deserve it.
Outside the house, nestled snugly within the green vegetation of the fields, something waited for its chance to move, to advance toward the house and reach a solitary figure huddled in the attic of the building, and end her life.
Buy links for When Only the Nightmare Remains:
Paperback available from the publisher’s website: www.classactbooks.com
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