Welcome to the web site of Douglas Wynne
author of The Devil of Echo Lake, Steel Breeze, and assorted short fiction.



Red Equinox by Douglas Wynne cover artMy third novel, Red Equinox, will be released by JournalStone on Friday, January 16th in trade paperback and a bunch of e-book formats. It’s about Becca Philips, an urban explorer and photographer who discovers malign forces seeping into our world from a parallel dimension in the flood-ravaged Boston of 2019.

Equal parts horror-thriller, urban fantasy, and sci-fi, the book riffs on the mythology of the late, great H.P. Lovecraft, but you don’t need to be familiar with his work to enjoy it. I set out to pay homage to his influence (while defying some Lovecraftian tropes), but my main goal was to tell a suspenseful story with characters I cared about.

I hope you might come to care about them too.

I’ll be doing a couple of signing events to celebrate the release: Jabberwocky Bookshop in Newburyport, MA on Friday 1/30 and Water Street Books in Exeter, NH on Saturday 1/31. Both kick off at 7PM.

I can’t wait to get out and talk about the story, read a creepy scene from it, and doodle some tentacles on title pages.

And if you need help getting off the fence and giving this one a try, here are a bunch of nice blurbs from writers and editors who were kind enough to preview it:

“Douglas Wynne has accomplished a rare feat in Red Equinox. He has written a thrilling action-adventure story while at the same time melding it with hints—and more than hints—of chilling Lovecraftian cosmicism. Vivid characters, a keen sense of place, and a cleverly executed plot contribute to making Red Equinox one of the more notable novels in the Lovecraftian tradition.” S. T. Joshi

“No Lovecraft fan—or horror fan for that matter—should miss this one! Philosophical and creepy, RED EQUINOX is a Mythos tale set in the real world. I enjoyed it immensely. Douglas Wynne is definitely a writer to watch.” Mike Davis, editor, The Lovecraft eZine

“RED EQUINOX is an enjoyable book touching on the unique legend of H. P. Lovecraft’s Nyarlathotep, that most mysterious of Outer Gods. Cleverly plotted, with engaging characters and wonderful Lovecraftian touches, the book reveals Douglas Wynne a true acolyte of Eldritch Horror!” W. H. Pugmire, author of The Strange Dark One

“In RED EQUINOX, Douglas Wynne has done what countless authors have tried—and most have failed—to do; he’s brought Lovecraft into the modern world. And he’s done it in such a plausible and unsettling way, you’ll wonder what lurks just beyond the understanding of man and you’ll fear the coming of darkness. A love letter to Lovecraft, no fan of the Mythos should let this one pass them by.” Brett J. Talley, author of That Which Should Not Be

“Douglas Wynne’s RED EQUINOX is a propulsive, edge-of-your-seat supernatural thriller that drop-kicks H. P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos into the 21st century. Wynne summons dark, ancient horrors into our hyperconnected, high-tech era with taut prose, captivating characters, and refreshing originality. The Great Old Ones will surely be pleased.”—Michael M. Hughes, author of The Blackwater Lights trilogy

Want to know more? Head over to JournalStone for the back cover synopsis.

Ice Bucket Doggy Style

In which I take the Ice Bucket Challenge for ALS.



What a writer is writing about is seldom the main point. It’s what he’s doing with his left hand that really matters.

-Thomas Mann


I posted this quote on Facebook yesterday. Like any quote, it’s open to interpretation (hey, get your mind out of the gutter), but outside of any context, it might have befuddled a few people, and after mulling it over for a day, I think it’s worthy of a blog post.


To me this quote sums up the job of fiction. Non-fiction is all about what the writer is saying on the surface. But in fiction, good fiction anyway, we get subtext, suggestion and inference; an opportunity for things not literally stated by the author to form nonetheless in the reader’s mind. It’s a process of completing a circuit in the reader’s imagination by not saying all that we mean.


People who dismiss genre fiction think that Tolkien was just writing about elves, but readers who see The Lord of the Rings as literature know that he made some of the greatest statements of the 20th century about war and the nature of power, obsession, and addiction. Themes that are still relevant today precisely because they’re set in a mythic world apart from the particulars of our own. And that’s not the same thing as allegory. It’s subtler.


To take an example from the other end of the quality spectrum in genre fiction, Stephanie Meyer (who lacks subtlety in all other aspects of her writing) didn’t sell a bazillion books to teenaged girls because she was writing about vampires and werewolves. She had a runaway hit because those girls recognized a story about the animal and social tensions surrounding their virginity dressed up as a story about vampires.


The best stories are about more than what they appear to be about on the surface. Harry Potter isn’t just about racism, but it wouldn’t have the same resonance if it didn’t address the issue in a variety of subtle and not so subtle ways.


That’s why the old myths have endured. They seem to be about gods and monsters, but they’re really about what it means to be human. All good fiction can tap into that, but I would argue that genre fiction is especially well suited to the task.


Visual arts can also use the powers of suggestion and subtlety, but usually to a lesser extent. Is Breaking Bad so compelling because it’s about drugs? No, it’s about a million other things, some of them barely mentioned. It’s about marriage and mortality and subverted male empowerment and the economy and healthcare and lies, lies, lies. The story is compelling because it’s a tragic character study that forces us to infer Walter White’s shifting motives at any given time despite what he’s telling himself and the people around him on the surface. It’s the closest I’ve ever seen a TV series come to tapping into the powers of the novel. Vince Gilligan has a very adept left hand.


I think the most compelling TV encourages the audience to come to their own conclusions. It invites us into the process. True Detective comes to mind as a great recent example. But in fiction we are already engaging the reader in a process of filling in the details in her own mind. A book is a collaboration between writer and reader. The writer sketches lines and the reader embellishes that sketch with the details of her own experience. She even renders the tone of voice of each line of dialog in her head. And writing fails when the writer fails to make it easy for the reader to do this.


But a writer also fails when he makes it too easy for the reader to know what it all means. The right hand tells you what you need to know. The left hand knows what to leave out.

A few years ago I was out grocery shopping when I noticed a helicopter circling the parking lot and sweeping out over the surrounding streets and fields. I would later learn from the news that it was a police chopper scanning the bushes for heat signatures in an effort to find a masked man who had pointed a gun at the attendant of the local tree dump before running off in the direction of the middle school.


On this outing, I needed to hit two different supermarkets and a drug store, all in the same plaza. At the checkout of the first supermarket, I heard the cashiers talking about a guy with a gun on the run somewhere between the middle school and the stores.


Needless to say, this added a bit of an edge to my second stop. I gathered my groceries in a heightened state, worrying about my toddler, who was spending the afternoon at his grandparents house in the same neighborhood, and wondering exactly what I would do if a maniac appeared around the bend and started popping people in the produce section.


By the time I entered the pharmacy to the sound of rotors from a not-so-distant stretch of gray sky, my heart rate was up and my breath was shallow.


But then…walking over the electric doormat, I was enveloped in the incongruous sounds of Steely Dan playing loud and clear through the overhead speakers. The song was “Hey Nineteen,” with its laid back, feel good groove, and my tension melted away.


It’s just not a song people get shot to.


It wouldn’t even be ironic or blackly comic to get shot with that relaxing grove playing in the background. And I realized in that moment that it is physically impossible to feel fear while listening to Steely Dan.


I don’t know what you can do with that information; if the Department of Homeland Security can utilize the fact as part of some kind of mass panic prevention strategy, I just know it’s true.


The guy with the gun was never found and no one was hurt.


Now, I’ve been playing guitar since age ten, I’ve been to music school, and worked in a studio for a while, but I learned something that afternoon about the power of music to hijack the autonomic nervous system and change your emotional channels instantly. Something I already knew intellectually (same as anyone who takes note of the tension in a horror movie soundtrack), but in that moment I learned it anew on a more visceral level.


So I could never write horror to Steely Dan, but I do sometimes use the emotional energy of music as fuel for writing. Especially when starting a book, I’ll loop a playlist of songs that capture the feelings and themes I’m going for, and invite them to get under my skin for the duration of the project.


My current book is an urban Lovecraftian thriller titled Red Equinox, and it has been fueled almost entirely by Tool. In particular, the song 46&2 is the leitmotif of my main character, Becca Philips.


Now that I’m digging into the final drafts and deepening her character, I’m finding this cover version with female lead vocals especially inspiring. Check it out. These kids will take your breath away.



This winter I grew a beard because I work outdoors and was too busy writing a book to shave. Those are good reasons to grow a beard, but I’ll probably have to shave soon because it turns out hipster douchebags everywhere now have beards to go with their cubicle jobs and $6 lattes.


Apparently they even put product in their beards. This is all kinds of wrong. It’s an affront to those of us who know that the whole point of growing a beard is to not have to waste time in front of a mirror, doing shit to your face.


And so, gentlemen, I present this handy checklist to help you determine whether or not you should grow a beard.


1. Do you work outdoors?


2. Can you drive a stick shift?


3. Can you ride a horse or motorcycle without breaking your fucking neck?


4. Can you play a convincing blues lick on an electric guitar?


5. Can you break shit with your bare hands or feet using some kind of Kung Fu?


6. Are you a rugby player, a Muslim, or a bathtub meth chemist?


7. Have you written a goddamned book? Yes, this gets you into Beard Club. It doesn’t even have to be a good book, or a published book, but it does have to have a beginning, middle and end, and be taller than the head of foam on a douchebag’s latte when printed on paper.


Those are my criteria. Tell us yours in the comments.



 If you take the easy path, life is difficult

If you take the difficult path, life is easy

-Japanese proverb



I’m currently working on the revisions for my third book, working faster than I ever have before in an effort to get it out this year. Usually I don’t let anyone see the first draft of a novel, but this time I’ve been handing the marked-up pages over to my wife before even typing in the changes.


She’s making her own notes on the same pages. A few days ago she said to me, “I hope I’m not being too hard on you.”


“Too hard?” I said. “There’s no such thing. And somebody has to be before the reviewers are.”


I’m a big believer in beating the hell out of a book before submitting it to the editor. Stress testing your story with a few trusted readers and running diagnostics on it with a few good writing manuals can make the difference between a book that lives up to its potential and one that doesn’t. And once you click “submit,” it can get harder to make big changes.


If you’re a writer revising a novel, I can’t give you my five or six beta readers (they’re mine! Mine!) but I can give you six writing books that will kick your novel’s ass and toughen it up before it has to fend for itself out in the world.


You know those talks you have with beta readers where you’re trying to justify your weak execution of your underdeveloped idea? Yeah, you don’t want to be doing that in response to Amazon reviews. Take the beating now, in private. And if you feel like you have to explain or justify something, there’s a good chance it’s a weak point that needs to be worked harder.


I liken it to training in a martial art. If your dojo buddies go easy on you, how will you ever be prepared to handle a real altercation with a stranger?


So here they are: Six black belts who won’t let you off easy. Click on the images for Amazon links.
1. Self Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King – This book changed the way I write, but I still go through a checklist of its main points when polishing a novel.





Breakout Novel2. Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook by Donald Maass – This one was recommended to me by Jonathan Maberry, who said he buys a new copy and fills in the exercises before starting any novel. Yeah, we owe him big time for not keeping that to himself.





Revisingfiction3. Revising Fiction by David Madden – Chock full of great diagnostic questions.






FirstFive4. The First Five Pages by Noah Lukeman – An agent gives you a point-by-point look at all of the things that will get your book rejected in the first five pages. And guess what? Most of them apply to the rest of the book, too.





Those four are for strengthening the book; these last two are for strengthening the writer.


KickAss5. The Kick Ass Writer by Chuck Wendig – Wendig is your personal trainer. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll break a sweat…and maybe vomit.






ArtWar6. The Art of War for Writers by James Scott Bell – Strategies for everything. I love it for it’s wise overview of the writing life and what it takes to go the distance.

NOS4A2 Review

photos by Jen Salt

photos by Jen Salt

I read NOS4A2 on summer vacation last year and had meant to review it sooner, but then I lost track of my notes on the book. I’ve learned to keep pen and paper handy when reading Joe Hill because invariably there are brilliant lines and passages that I want to go back to later, and I don’t want to underline or highlight in a hardcover. In this case I was lucky enough to attend the launch event at Water Street Books, so I definitely wasn’t going to mark up a signed copy.


But some of Hill’s best lines are like classic song lyrics; they stick in your head so well that you don’t even need to jot them down to remember them later. Like this one from his second novel, Horns: “Talking to her now was like flailing his hands at a storm of hornets. It did nothing, and it stung, and yet he couldn’t stop himself.” Pretty fuckin’ awesome, huh?


Anyway, I finally found my notes right after NOS4A2 was nominated for a Bram Stoker award, which it totally deserves. It was the best horror novel I read in 2013.


DSC_6770_2_2  DSC_6782_5_2_2_2_2_2


A friend asked me recently, “What’s the premise? Is it about a vampire?”


That’s not exactly an easy question to answer. Yeah, it’s sort of about a vampire, but not like any vampire you’ve seen before. It’s a big, deep, rich book about a lot of things. That’s why it’s so good.


The monster at the heart of the story is Charles Manx, a creepy old bastard who abducts kids and takes them to a dark fantasy realm called Christmasland. He’s your nosferatu, but he and his demonic Rolls Royce Wraith don’t consume blood, they consume souls. Children who end up in the back seat of Charlie’s car are drained mile by mile until there’s “nothing left in them but hate and teeth.”


So it’s also a demonic car story, but again, not quite like any you’ve ever read, although it does consciously riff on that and other themes frequented by Hill’s father, Stephen King, along with a treasure chest of other geek culture references and Easter eggs. It’s a fun ride.


It’s also about motherhood, and madness, regret and redemption, and the nature of art.


It’s about Vic McQueen, a tough chick who was the only one of Manx’s victims to escape, and who has since spent her life thinking she might be insane because of the things she’s seen. You see, Vic has a magical vehicle too, a bike that enables her to travel through the Shorter Way Bridge and traverse the distance from Lost to Found. She starts out using this portal to locate lost objects, and later uses it to track down Manx after he has abducted her son.


It’s a high concept, big metaphor story that never gets bogged down in all that meaning, because it moves like a high-octane muscle car.


NOS4A2 has a rock n roll heart, but I found myself hearing “Amazing Grace” while riding with Vic, because she’s fighting to keep her shit together while moving from lost to found on many levels.


One of the big themes of NOS4A2 is that we all have an inner world, and with the right tool some people can turn their inscape into an external, tangible thing that others can experience. It’s what Manx does with his car to manifest the realm of Christmasland, what Vic does with her bike to find the bridge, and what Hill does with his pen to immerse you in this crazy, dark, utterly believable fantasia.


Like David Mitchell, Joe Hill is a master of writing about two things at once with subtle economy. Check out these lines from a scene in which Vic and Lou (the father of her child) finally talk about her past at a Fourth of July picnic:


Lou was waiting for something to detonate—it was coming, any moment now—when Vic wandered over with her hands shoved down in that army jacket of hers and said, “This chair for me?”


The emotional potential of the scene is front-loaded in the setting, a fireworks display, which presents an opportunity to do a whole lot of story work with just a few razor sharp lines of dialog because of the association to her father, a demolitions expert.


“ANFO. It’s an explosive. What my dad uses to take out stumps and boulders and bridges and so on. It’s basically a big, slippery bag of horseshit, engineered to destroy things.”


“What is? ANFO? Or your dad?”


Just one example of a scene that does more than you realize at the time because of how entertaining it is. It’s also the scene that Hill featured in a great blog post he wrote about his drafting process. That post actually got me to start re-typing my late drafts in full because I’m a masochist and Joe is my Sensei.


Joe Hill demonstrating the "teaching mudra" at Water Street Books.

Joe Hill demonstrating the “teaching mudra” at Water Street Books.


The man has some serious chops and NOS4A2 gives him the room to use them. It’s a tour de force that finds him at the top of his game, simultaneously scaring the shit out of you and making you laugh. You can tell he’s having fun when the language can shift from the road poetry of this passage…


How she loved the smell of the road: asphalt baking and soft in high July, dirt roads with their dust-and-pollen perfume in June, country lanes spicy with the odor of crushed leaves in sober October, and the sand-and-salt smell of the highway, so like an estuary, in February.


…to this image of Vic in a leather jacket and no pants scaring away a pack of yuppie bikers just a few paragraphs later:


She raised her bottle of whiskey to them and wolf-whistled with her free hand, and they grabbed their throttles and took off, tailpipes between their legs.


We get pretty deep into Vic’s character: her backstory, her creativity, and her rough-around-the-edges persona. The supporting cast is also well developed. I adored the geeky, overweight Lou, and found Bing (aka the Gas Mask Man) at times more terrifying than his boss, Charlie Manx. But it never feels like all of that character exploration slows the story down.


And that might be the author’s greatest accomplishment. At almost 700 pages, with a story that spans decades and the breadth the continent, NOS4A2 is an epic. But oddly, it doesn’t feel like one. It’s almost like an optical illusion. You never feel like you’ve spent 700 pages slogging toward Christmasland with the crawling pace of a trip to Mordor. I suspect it’s because we flip back and forth quite a bit in both time and space. Hill even breaks chapters in mid-sentence and titles the next chapter with the end of that dangling line just to keep moving the reader forward into new places, speeding along with barely a breath to notice the transition. In the end the book itself becomes a kind of Shorter Way Bridge from Near to Far, and from Lost to Found.



NOS4A2 features some wicked illustrations by Gabriel Rodriguez.


Joe Hill knows exactly what he’s doing, and comes closest to commenting on it in the voice of Maggie Leigh, a librarian who uses magical Scrabble tiles for divination. Here she is about to consult them near the climax of the book:


She had a brief window in which to use the tiles, to force sense out of gibberish: a minute or two at most. It seemed to her sometimes that this was the only fight that mattered: the struggle to take the world’s chaos and make it mean something, to put it to words.


Amen, brother.


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