Living Research

Free writing article. Under the rules, you can publish this anywhere
you like as long as my byline and web address are included. Coming
soon articles on screenwriting and "Walking the walk." Happy pumpkins
to you.
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Consider The Source: Living Research
By Scott Nicholson

If you want to catch a fish, you have to think like a fish.
If you are writer, thinking like a fish is not good enough. You have
to be a fish. Since it's impractical to suddenly sprout gills, and
quite difficult to type with fins, the next best thing is to swim with
the fish.
I met Alan Brantley in 2004 when I did a newspaper story on him. A
retired FBI behavioral scientist, he had moved to the area and now
operates a consulting business. Like any self-respecting author who
had a fondness for Hannibal Lector and the dark psychoses of serial
killers, I managed to combine business with personal interest, probing
him on cases such as The Railroad Killer and the D.C. snipers.
Brantley worked under John Douglas, the noted agent who served as the
model for Thomas Harris's fictional FBI profilers. Primarily a
researcher, he interviewed a number of captured killers and endured
personal threats and manipulative taunts. He also had field experience
and underwent the typical tough training required at Quantico.
At the time I met Brantley, the novel that became "They Hunger" was
not even a grain of sand in the folds of my frontal lobe. A year
later, I was casting about for the next novel and wanted to do
something in the remote Southern Appalachians where I live and play.
Fortunately, my initial idea of a bluegrass band composed of banshees
fell by the wayside, since it could only have worked as a comedic
story—yokels with fangs.
I then came up with a rafting expedition, but I also decided to draw
on the FBI manhunt for Eric Rudolph, the Olympic bomber who hid away
in the mountain wilderness and eluded capture for nearly three years.
Oh, yeah, and my editor was also salivating for a vampire book. Since
I believe vampires have been done to undeath and back again, I wanted
to prop my story on other things and let the supernatural creatures
serve as little more than spice.
A key character in the story is Ace Goodall, undereducated religious
militant and abortion clinic bomber. Because of a copycat bombing
across the country, my FBI shifts resources, sending a pair of
undervalued agents to the wilderness to follow up on a long-shot tip.
That's where I brought in Brantley, first telling him the rough idea
and asking his thoughts. He drafted a typical partnership for such a
mission: a piss-and-vinegar "Super SWAT" guy paired with a more
bookish but still well-trained new recruit, as well as the type of
process they'd go through to predict Goodall's behavior. He also gave
me a run-down of the equipment they'd likely carry, including firearms
and communications gear. Though I was hesitant to take up more of his
time, he volunteered to read the parts of the book where the agents
appeared.
I expected him to notice that I'd modeled the bookish agent on his own
background, including the education level and the fact that he'd began
his career as a prison psychologist. Nope. An author of a number of
research articles, he had good insight into grammar usage, though his
most helpful hints focused on technical accuracy. We met at a coffee
shop to go over his notes, and I quickly realized he preferred the
agents to look polished, heroic, and pretty much dignified, which was
definitely not my interest. In fact, one of the richer elements of the
story is the crack-up of the veteran agent, who becomes as delusional
as the killer he is chasing.
Most fascinating was when Brantley upbraided me for certain phrases.
"Your agent cusses too much," he said, though I noticed he worked a
few expletives into our conversation. He edited my cop-out
"clusterfuck" to the preferred nomenclature of "boondoggle." He also
said, "Agents referred to headquarters as `HQ' or simply
`headquarters,'" though later on, as he relaxed, he called it "the
Puzzle Palace in D.C." Of course, I put that phrase in the book before
the coffee was cold!
I needed my characters isolated, unable to punch a radio and call in
the cavalry. The FBI has some of the finest equipment in the world, so
it took a little creativity and a clear portrayal of the agents'
situation. Again, Brantley's advice not only brought realism to the
work, it added an extra plot twist that helps build to the payoff.
In retrospect, he may even have served up the original slumbering seed
of the story.
Brantley said in our original newspaper that myths of vampires,
demons, and werewolves grew from gruesome murders, with people
ascribing the deaths to supernatural forces because that was easier to
understand. "They couldn't accept that another human being could do
that," he said.
I'm fortunate as a journalist to meet a wide array of people, and I've
found they love to talk about their professions. Most are willing to
help when they hear I am a writer, though I usually get a fairly
sanitized version and still must rely heavily on my imagination. But
those people provide details, language, and philosophy that you'd
never find in a textbook.
I've never wanted to be an FBI agent, as admirable as those agents
are. Thanks to Alan Brantley, I got the benefit of 30 years'
experience for the price of a few phone calls instead of relying on
the agents I'd encountered in books and movies. He's the first person
listed on the acknowledgements page of "They Hunger," and while it's
my name on the cover in big letters, Brantley and hundreds of other
people have shaped and informed my worldview. They play no small part
in bringing my stories to life.
And I don't have to get my tailfins wet. Except now I have this idea
about a fisherman who wanders into the remote Southern Appalachians…

(Scott Nicholson is the author of six thrillers, including "The Farm"
and "The Home." He's also a freelance editor and journalist, as well
as screenwriter. His web site is www.hauntedcomputer.com)