Interview David L. Wallace Author of Preordained
Pull up a chair, grab a drink of your choice from the cooler, a Chocolate Chip or Peanut Butter cookie from the plate, and let’s find out a little about David L. Wallace and Preordained. Psssst… don’t forget to enter the Rafflecopter giveaway below!
Why did you choose the cover concept you did?Preordained is a supernatural, crime thriller and I wanted a cover that would set the right tone and expectations for readers. I chose the angel hair oak tree because, by the light of the moon or against the backdrop of an overcast sky, the branches remind me of Medusa’s hair. The hooded man with a concealed face represents the zealous superstitions, religious beliefs, and supernatural / paranormal predilections in the story.
Why should we read this book/series and what sets you apart from the rest and makes your book/series unique?
There are many layers to that question. The setting of Preordained is in an interesting and unique part of South Carolina that’s steeped in superstitious, paranormal, and supernatural beliefs systems – a fact that limited people in the world at large are aware of about that area. When the idea for Preordained came to me and as I started to flush out the skeleton of the story, I realized it was shaping up to be a combination of a whodunit puzzle with thriller, supernatural, and psychological elements. Because of the number of genres, which set it apart from many novels I’ve read, and before embarking on a year plus journey to compose it, I decided to seek feedback on my idea. I flushed out the outline, put it in book form, and then sent a copy to Kirkus Reviews, Clarion Reviews and Publisher’s Weekly BookLife Prize in Fiction to get their take on it. Their positive feedback reinforced my belief that readers would enjoy and connect with the story.
Who would you recommend this book to and what should readers be aware of before reading it?
The major warning is that if you wear a pacemaker, don’t read it at night. Lol. On a serious note, readers who like novels with any of the following aspects would enjoy Preordained: a whodunit puzzle; thrillers that place the main character in jeopardy with rising escalation throughout; supernatural or psychological leanings.
Do you see yourself in your characters?
I’ve written and published two thrillers. Both have aspects of my character built within the main protagonist. And since I write from within by becoming each of my characters, a part of me is reflected in each of them. This can be difficult sometimes if a scene takes on a sadistic or gory nature, such as in the opening scene of Preordained. For the aspects of the characters that are not part of me, I’m forced to imagine how that character would act. And since what I write comes from my imagination, characters that do bad things in my stories are also a part of me.
Tell us something about yourself and allow us to get to know you. If writing is your first passion, what is your second?
I have a few things that I enjoy. My guitar is one of my closest friends and due to working feverously to complete Preordained, I haven’t touched her in a while. Your question presented me the perfect opportunity to get reacquainted with her.
the vein of Seven and The Devil’s Advocate, it’s the book that launches the
series: a tech billionaire, foretold in biblical events; a cop, ordered to
sacrifice his soul to save his son…
close-knit Murrells Inlet, S.C., a small-town, coastal community with deeply
held spiritual and supernatural belief systems. A serial killer has shattered
his peaceful existence by abducting multiple victims within his county. Young
thugs, backwater drug dealers and the occasional murderer are the most Art’s
had to deal with, but now he must apprehend a predator who FBI profilers can’t
find.
blood to the case and uncovers evidence that calls into question his long held
spiritual and supernatural beliefs. Abraham, the father of faith, had to choose
to either sacrifice his son or disobey a direct order from God. Art must now
make a choice – sacrifice his soul to save his son.
under the echo of his heavy breathing in the night air, he watched his favorite
family’s movements inside their small brown home.
thought about the impression his outfit would make, he’d decided it was festive
enough for the occasion. The complete ensemble consisted of a red and black
head mask, aligned perfectly to the holes for his eyes, nose, and mouth and a
form-fitting, black bodysuit with white wings painted on the back.
contemplated a befitting name for himself and finally settled on Star of David
killer. He liked the way the alias reverberated in his head. It revealed a lot.
It concealed everything. It hinted at his purpose and yet – it withheld the
true essence of his aspirations, keeping them covered in a shroud of secrecy.
He hoped an insightful reporter would have an epiphany and bestow that nickname
on him. It was far more interesting than the one his parents had given him at
birth. He breathed deep and exhaled slowly, taking in the ambience of the
moment. He flexed his muscles. It was time to initiate the events that would
lead everyone to recognize him by his self-appointed moniker.
released his toes on each of his hospital footie–covered feet. Through the
sheer curtains of the dimly lit dwelling, he watched the boy pick up the used
plates from the table, which signaled the parents and their twelve-year-old son
had finished their dinner. He knew them well. He’d cased their dwelling for
years, observing every nuance of their behavior. He sat flushed as he watched
them for the last time, shivering from time to time from the thrill of the
thought of what he was about to do.
bullfrogs kept him company, along with the thought that all he’d longed for,
all that he was meant to be, was about to be on full display on the world stage
in a matter of hours. Like Heinz ketchup, he’d been waiting in anticipation for
a long time for this moment.
the scavengers in the clear sky above him, each casting its shadow across the
moon as it circled. They were his favorite creatures—the redheaded,
black-feathered, and partially white-winged turkey vultures of the Carolina skies.
His outfit mimicked theirs. The birds squawked in the sky, seeming to know his
plan for that evening. They’d followed his vehicle from his home until he’d
parked, and now they circled directly above him. He could feel their hunger and
impatience.
outside his home and scraped the remains of their dinner plates into a slop
bucket on the back porch. He picked up the hog’s food and headed out to the
pigpen, which was located near the backend of their yard.
David killer watched the boy make his evening trek on pigeon-toed feet that
turned inward with each step. Ever since the infant pigs were born, the boy fed
the adult male hog an extra feeding at night to prevent him from dining on his
offspring. That’s right, the daddy hog ate his own children. What a disgusting
breed of animal.
undertakers began to shriek and shrill as the boy moved across his lawn, their
voices echoing in the night.
at their sound and looked to the skies. He stared into the woods directly below
them.
David killer remained as still as a stone as the kid’s gaze seemed to linger on
him for a moment. The last thing he needed was for the boy to detect his
presence and yell out for his daddy. The papa of the family had an itchy
twelve-gauge finger that he didn’t want to deal with that evening.
satisfied, the boy stopped searching the woods and continued his walk.
David Killer glanced overhead at the vultures, angry with them for almost
giving away his position. For their carelessness, they wouldn’t be feeding on
his handiwork that evening, and if they didn’t atone for their misstep, they
wouldn’t partake in any of the festivities on his planned itinerary.
first night—the evening of his coming-out party and the kickoff of his personal
pilgrimage. It was the acknowledgment that the presence within him, who had
compelled him to plan and now execute the initial steps of his mission, had
chosen the right vehicle for the job.
something biting him on his lower legs. Glancing down, he saw by the light of
the rear porch that ants were advancing up his calves. He remained silent and
didn’t move, not wanting to sound the alarm that he was out there in the dark.
A small green garden snake slithered out of the brush toward him. He stepped on
it and crushed its head.
male hog reveled in the slop the boy had dumped into his pen. The female hog
stood to the side with her five remaining piglets cowering under her.
frowned at the stench of the hogs. It wasn’t the last smell he wanted on his
mind before he began his body of work. To get past it, he closed his eyes and
thought of the fragrances inside the boy’s family home, smells that he knew all
too well. He’d
nights there while they slept, enjoying their scents, with his favorites being
the individual smell of each of their worn clothing. The laundry room was a
treasure trove of delights. Each of the family members left their own unique
and enjoyable stains in their underwear. He’d gotten to know the other families
in just as much detail, meticulously taking in their routines and schedules,
getting to know every nuance of each of them.
blade from his waistband and watched Rueben, his first victim, as he rinsed out
the slop bucket with a water hose attached to the rear of his home. He squeezed
the black-handled blade. The paring knife felt perfect in his hand, after
having gone through an exhaustive testing process to find the right cutting
instrument—one with just the right shape and size for optimal carving control
against a moving body. He’d practiced his skills with it for many hours,
initially on cantaloupes, cucumbers, and other fruits and vegetables, until
he’d graduated to successful tests on small gerbils, kittens, and puppies he’d
purchased at various pet stores.
lights went out in the shack. It was time. As usual, Rueben’s parents were more
than likely already fast asleep. Rueben, on the other hand, should be
wide-awake in his darkened room, surfing Internet porn sites by the light of
his laptop. The little fella loved to look at online pussy, but he wouldn’t
live long enough to enjoy any.
step of his preparation process, he extracted a bottle of removable glue from
the front waistband of his outfit and placed another coat over his hands. It
was an additional layer to guard against him leaving fingerprints behind, but
he knew he didn’t need to worry on that score. Over the past year, he’d used
razor blades every month to remove the top layer of skin on each of his
fingertips, making them as smooth as a baby’s ass.
fingerprints.
easily used gloves, but he wanted to touch them, to feel his prey with his bare
hands. He blew on the glue until it dried. Satisfied, he stood, stretched his
legs, and approached Rueben’s home on silent feet.
troubled himself to brush the ants from his lower torso. The stinging sensation
of their bites would serve as a reminder that before that evening, he was once
human.
the Author:
in 2016, he served over 27 years as an information technology professional
working initially for the US Navy, and then the Department of the Navy and
various fortune companies. He’s a UCLA writing program alumnus who writes
mystery thrillers and children stories. He has three wonderful kids who he enjoys
immensely. Writing is his passion and his goal with each story is to capture
the imagination in the opening pages and keep it engaged to the story’s
riveting conclusion.
It was wonderful having you with us today. Please feel free to stop by anytime. Good Luck with Preordained!
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Posted in Authors' Secrets Blog and tagged Crime, David L. Wallace, Paranormal, Thriller by Tena Stetler with 2 comments.
