Category Archives: Guest Authors

“Fear and Intrigue: The Perfect Marriage” by Kerry G.S. Lipp

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t purchased a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

After an unjustified delay, I bring this series of articles back with Kerry G.S. Lipp’s fantastic essay that will probably hit us all hard, considering recent events in Isla Vista.

Kerry teaches English at a community college by evening and writes horrible things by night. He hates the sun. His parents started reading his stories and now he’s out of the will.  Kerry’s work appears in several anthologies including DOA2 from Blood Bound Books and Attack of the B-Movie Monsters from Grinning Skull Press. His story “Smoke” was adapted for podcast via The Wicked Library episode 213, and pioneered TWL’s inaugural explicit content warning.  He’s pretty proud of that.  KGSL blogs at www.HorrorTree.com and will launch his own website www.newworldhorror.com sometime before he dies. Say hi on Twitter @kerrylipp or his Facebook page:  New World Horror – Kerry G.S. Lipp.

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Fear and Intrigue: The Perfect Marriage

By Kerry G.S. Lipp

 

I think I was about 13 or 14, I can’t remember my age, but I do remember walking through Waldenbooks (do they even still have those?) in a mall and seeing a display of true crime books.  One caught my eye.  A simple cover, a black background with screaming red capital letters.  The title was Helter Skelter.  The subtitle was: The True Story of the Manson Murders.

I read that book, read it twice actually, within a couple years.  As a naïve barely-teenager, I went in totally blind.  Sure, I’d heard of Charles Manson before, but like most people, or at least most uneducated in the school of serial killers, (however you choose to define the term) I assumed he was like the most brutal killer of all time or something.  I based that assumption solely on the social stigma attached to him.

What I learned was that, at least according to Helter Skelter, he wasn’t exactly a murderer.  There was a hell of a lot more to the story.  Looking back on it now, I realize that it’s all about the story.

Everything is about the story.

Which is why every time something violent or crazy happens in America there are rampant conspiracy theories and “documentaries” immediately posted to YouTube.  We love our stories.  And we love making stories even if there isn’t much of one.  Especially the violent ones.  There’s always an angle and no matter how absurd, people will be interested.

There are a million elements to the Tate/LaBianca murders.  Manson, his followers, his ties with different musicians, his theories on race, drugs, authority, Spahn Ranch, how the whole thing unraveled over the years and the list goes on and on.  It’s as complex as any fiction out there.  But this, ladies and gentlemen, ain’t no fiction. This, this is reality.

And reality is more terrifying than werewolves or swamp monsters or any other dreamy bullshit.  I often hear people argue while trying to define horror or terror.  I’ve got a solution to that.  Get a time machine and live in Los Angeles at the beginning of August in 1969.  People in that area at that time know a thing or two about terror.  A gorgeous, pregnant, young movie star and a house full of quasi-celebrities one night.  Some normal folks the next night.  Both murder scenes chock full of undeniable similarities.  Utterly chilling.

Bring it forward to the present.  If you’re anything like me, you followed the Boston Marathon bombing and the subsequent manhunt about a year ago.

More horror, more terror, but it was hard to look away from it all wasn’t it?  Everyone watched!  It was the first manhunt captured on live television.  At least I think it was, and we all ate it up.

Go look at some of the pictures of Boston, one of the busiest cities in America and then go look at pictures during the manhunt.  It’s a ghost town.  I get a sense of dread just looking at those pictures.

This is something that books and movies can’t quite recreate because as horrible and scary as books and movies might be, they are safe.  You can close them or turn them off at any moment.  I suppose you can do the same with true crime, but it’s still a part of your world, your reality, and you never really know who’s on the other side of your front door do you?   Better keep reading, keep watching, just to be sure they got the guy.

Right?

It’s manufactured entertainment.  While true crime might be entertaining, it’s also real. The stories in the here and now like Sandy Hook and Aurora, Colorado remind you that it’s real.  And it scares you and it breaks your heart and it pisses you off.  Sadly, you never know what’s coming next, at least not in America.  Just when you think you’ve seen everything, some fucking lunatic will show you something new and leave you wondering why.

There’s a sense of intrigue here.

Whether we want to admit it or not, we’ve probably all dreamed of shooting up a building or setting off a bomb.  You can disagree with me here, but I don’t believe most of you.  We’ve all seen how people have done it and wondered, in the safety of our own minds, just how we might do it, where we might do it, and how we might do it better.  But it’s safe because we know we’d never act on it.

Here lies the reason that we are so attracted to reading and watching stories about violence, murder, crime, terrorism and tragedy.

We’ve all THOUGHT about it, even if only for a fleeting moment.  Ever play a video game? I’ve heard games called a controlled murder fantasy, and I’m cool with that.  Fine.  I enjoy them.  The more violent the better.

Hell, like those video game designers and those moviemakers, us fiction writers have even planned it ourselves and ordered our characters to carry it out for us. But these sick, real world motherfuckers are actually following through.

Why?  What’s the difference between them and us?  What exactly have they done? How did they do it? Why did they do it? Etc. Etc.

And as soon as the first shot is fired, the hypnotic media makes it irresistible to look away.  Fear sells and so does intrigue, just go look at how movie trailers are put together, and the news has done a fantastic job of marrying fear and intrigue to the brilliant point where a simple red font on a black book cover with a catchy hook can suck the average person into devouring 800 or so pages of Helter Skelter or a million other true crime books.  And that’s just reading.  The sensational headlines of Fox or CNN or whatever require zero effort.  Murder documentaries are all over prime time television.  Lay on the couch, eat chips and try and stay awake as they interview victims and bring in “experts” to speculate motives.  It’s hard to get away from this stuff, so we find a way to enjoy it.

The news pulls us in with it every day and I guess in a way I’m glad, because I can read it and watch it and wonder how I would do it if it were me.

But it never will be.

Jesus, I’ve never even shot a gun and about shit my pants when someone let me hold an unloaded one for the first time.

So instead, I give that to my characters for an hour or two a day and pray that someday I write something good enough, scary enough, and honest enough that it can compete with the cutthroat reality constantly shoved into our faces and so hard-wired into our brains that we seek it out for pleasure.

And when it’s a slow day for news we’ve got all kinds of books, movies, and games to, as Stephen King eloquently puts it in an old essay, “keep the gators fed.”

“Rationalizing Crime” by Jessica McHugh

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today Jessica McHugh destroys my blog with her essay about rationalizing crime. For those who are new to Jessica’s work, I highly recommend picking up her stripper serial killer novel, PINS, which completely rocked my stripey socks off. I will be publishing her surreal bizarro novel, The Green Kangaroos, through my own small press this August, so be ready for that. Stay updated with Jessica’s work over at her website and Facebook fan page.

What do you have for us today, Jessica?

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“Rationalizing Crime”

by Jessica McHugh

Why are criminals so fascinating? Because they’re our neighbors. Because they’re our friends and family. Because they’re us.

We think we could never sink so low, never be anything but “good people,” but anyone can become a criminal when the right shade of desperation beats down the door.

There are obvious motivations behind the choices we humans make when it comes to committing unlawful acts. Sometimes we choose poorly because we’re selfish and shortsighted. Sometimes we choose poorly because we honestly see no other way out. But the obvious motivations aren’t always the strongest.

A knot of history and desire fuels every decision we make, the individual threads of which might remain mysteries—even to ourselves. Those threads are lifelines to criminals and the people who care about them. Tug the right thread, untangle and liberate it, and you might just save someone’s soul. Tug the wrong thread and doom two people in the process: the criminal, who falls harder into the pit, and you, who get to live with the guilt of pushing him over the edge.

The division between good and evil isn’t always clear, especially when it comes to the people we love. Some of us think we can help through enabling, while others think we can help by letting go. It isn’t surprising we get the runaround during those times. We’re flustered, doubting, praying, mourning…and after making an “educated” decision about how to deal with the crimes, our hopes sometimes get so high we don’t notice the criminals continuing to pick our pockets.

It’s why criminals are not the only fascinating ones. By existing, the unlawful world bleeds into the rest of life, notably the lives of those for whom love and hope persists. It’s amazing what crimes we’re able to justify, and what we’re willing to ignore for the right kind of criminal. When your son steals the chainsaw that cost you thousands of dollars and hocks it for fifty, what do you do? When he’s an addict who sold the chainsaw so he wouldn’t feel withdrawal sickness for a day, what do you do? When he’s become an addict because heroin helps him cope with the depression and anxiety that could’ve otherwise been treated with medication he can’t afford, what do you do? Call the police? Call the doctor? Believe him when he says, “It was just this once?” Or do you push it down deep, hoping the horror and sorrow won’t sour your own soul?

This is why we tell their stories: to rationalize their crimes against us. Did they really want to hurt us, or was every bad move made for just one moment of silence before mad desperation continued beating their doors? We hope fiction can give us some insight into those minds, as well as our own. Because although some wouldn’t admit it, we desperately want to know how much we, the “good people,” will tolerate before we answer the rapping at our own doors.

“Kill Whoever You Want, As Long As It Is Not Me” by Shane McKenzie

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today Shane McKenzie takes the blog spotlight with a highly entertaining essay about murderers and teddy bears. McKenzie’s newest novel, Parasite Deep, was just released this month, and you can find the rest of his massive writing collection over at his Amazon page. 

What do you have for us today, Shane?

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“Kill Whoever You Want, as Long as it is Not Me”

by Shane McKenzie

Imagine this.

You’re sitting on your couch alone. Bored out of your skull. You’ve flipped through all the channels, scrolled through Netflix, tried reading a book, but nothing is catching your attention. You toss the book aside, go back to channel surfing because you don’t know what else to do with yourself. You come across the news, and in the upper right hand corner just above the talking head’s ear is the graphic of a teddy bear spattered with blood. In its right paw, it holds a fireman’s ax, the blade soaked and dripping with more blood.

“A man in a teddy bear mask was found today by local police after neighbors complained about loud screams erupting from the woods. Officials say they found the man sitting on a limbless torso in front of a fire, sucking on a grape lollipop. Split and hacked limbs were used as firewood and let off a savory scent as they burned. The rest of the remains—six victims total—were nailed together into ghastly configurations arranged around the deranged madman like gory campers listening to a ghost story.”

Now, maybe it’s just me, but I’d perk up right away, probably turn up the volume on the TV, lean in close as the reporter told the rest of the story. Why is that? I don’t like murder. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, and I don’t think people who do hurt others should be celebrated or idolized.

So then, why do these violent criminals fascinate us so much? I don’t fucking have a clue. They probably fascinate different people for different reasons. I’m no psychologist. I’m just a dude with a dark imagination who loves telling stories. Shit, I just had to use Google to make sure psychologist was the correct term. But in my uneducated opinion, I’d say we are fascinated by criminals because they excite us. Again, I’m not saying that I think we should look up to or idolize murderers or serial killers. And when I say exciting, I do not mean arousing. But you can’t deny that the idea of someone doing those awful things to someone is, if nothing else, interesting.

Maybe it’s because each and every one of us is so caught up in our own routine. The same thing each and every day. For me, I wake up, make breakfast for my daughter and I, we play for a little while, maybe go to the park or watch a movie, then I get her ready, drop her off at her grandfather’s house, and I go to work. When I get off, I go home, eat dinner, watch a show, read a book, and go to sleep. Exciting stuff, right? Notice that nowhere in my day did I have any run ins with mass murderers in teddy bear masks. Remember that psychologist I Googled? That guy’s day is probably much different than mine. When he hears a news story like the one mentioned above, he might roll his eyes, say something like, “Same shit, different day.” But for us normal folks, we only hear that kind of stuff on TV or in books. People capable of performing acts of violence in that way aren’t real to us. They might as well be monsters or aliens or demon robots. So when this does happen in real life, maybe it’s fascinating because it’s like fiction coming to life. It’s like Jason Voorhees stepping out of your television and dicing up your neighbors.

Something about true stories gets us really excited. Let me lay out another scenario here. What if I told you a new movie was coming out about a woman who gave birth to a litter of hippopotami. You would more than likely chuckle, shake your head, wonder how stupid ass movies like this keep getting made. But then I tell you it’s based on a true story. That changes everything. It’s still not real. It’s still a movie. But just knowing that somewhere at some point in time, someone went through this for real just makes it that much more exciting.

We like stories. We like drama. As long as it’s happening to someone else.

And I think maybe that’s the key. It’s happening or happened to someone else. Someone that is not you, not anyone you know or that you’re close to.

Think about it like an offensive joke, right? You and your buddies have been making fun of retarded people your whole life. You don’t do anything cruel to these people physically, and even the mean jokes are kept private between you and your friends. The jokes are hilarious, right? Now, imagine your wife gives birth to a mentally challenged child. Those jokes aren’t so fucking funny now, are they? Because now it’s personal. Now when someone makes a joke about it, you think about your child, you get offended and pissed off and homicidal!

So remember that news story I talked about before? What if your mother was murdered just last year? Would you still feel intrigued by this story? Probably not. Now that you’ve experienced the reality of this kind of thing, whatever fascination was there before is gone.

I mean, the reason we watch horror movies or go bungee jumping or ride a rollercoaster is to experience that thrill of being in danger, but in a controlled, safe simulation. We want to feel afraid, but only if we know we won’t actually be killed. So we pretend to be chased by murderers, we pretend to jump off a bridge. Because when it’s all over, we get all the adrenaline that comes along with a near death experience, and still get to keep our fucking lives.

So I guess what it all comes down to is that we are fascinated by criminals because they are larger than life, based-on-a-true-story, safe and controlled adrenaline rushes. We hear the story, and we think, “Holy shit, I can’t believe that psycho did that.” And that thought is probably followed by a variation of, “Better them than me.”

So a criminal is fascinating as long as their victim is a stranger. Or more importantly, as long as their victim is not you.

But again, what do I know? I’m just a dude who Googles things.

Now if you’ll excuse me. I need to go wash my teddy bear mask.

“Murder on the Market” by Nikki Hopeman

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today Nikki Hopeman stops by with one hell of an essay. I suggest grabbing something tasty to drink before settling down for this one. Nikki is the author of Habeas Corpse, a zombie novel that even I–a person who typically hates zombie books–loved. You ought to pick it up.

What do you have for us today, Nikki?

NHopeman 1 small“Murder on the Market”

by Nikki Hopeman

Not long ago, eBay banned the sale of “murderabilia” from the auction website. You know, stuff like a greeting card signed by Ed Gein, artwork from Richard Ramirez, an unfinished bag of cookies that belonged to Charles Manson. Independent sellers quickly opened their own websites, and the sale of such items continues. Prices are crazy on this stuff—that bag of Charlie’s cookies is going for over $600. There is a select group of people out there who would rather have a piece of Jeffrey Dahmer’s freezer for Christmas than a sweater. Interest in criminals runs deep in our culture, from my grandmother, who adores the show Matlock, to the person who bid $30,000 for cannibal Albert Fish’s autograph.

Why are these things interesting? Why are crime dramas the hottest thing on TV? What is it about the owners of the “murderabilia” items that intrigue us so much?

It’s not Matlock or Jessica Fletcher. It’s the crime they’re solving. It’s the puzzle of who and how and why.

It’s not the owners of things like the greeting card or cookies. Charles Manson as a man isn’t very interesting. He’s a short, unassuming dude who can’t sing well. Charles Manson as a cult-ruling murderer, however, is fascinating. His actions are what make his Chips Ahoy a collectible. His role in unspeakable acts is what makes him attention-worthy.

If you subscribe to popular theories of psychology, you might recall that Carl Jung said humans need to confront and understand our own hidden nature in order to grow as human beings. If we don’t understand the wicked side, we cannot hope to understand the good, either. People who want to be “good” and follow the rules, struggle to understand the “bad” side to suppress it effectively.

Sigmund Freud believed that humans are inherently antisocial and cruel, driven primarily by the id, the selfish side of every person, the part of our psyche with the basest of desires. Most of us choose to suppress the id and instead live according to the mediating ego. But the id is always present. The primal, cruel part of humanity simmers just below the surface, sometimes boiling over with terrible results. Some of us strive to discover what allows the id to break free in order to avoid these triggers.

With theories like these, it’s not difficult to see why criminals, especially the really deviant ones, fascinate us. Their actions take them to the edge of what is considered humane; they push the boundaries of what it means to be a human. There is, of course, a practical reason to examine deviant actions. If we can understand them, we can predict and possibly prevent them.

Our fascination goes well beyond the academic. Just turn on the television. Shows like Law and Order, CSI, The First 48, and Breaking Bad all prove that we seek out deviance not just to prevent it, but also to be entertained by it. Lots of people claim they enjoy crime shows and fiction as a brainteaser, a puzzle, and a whodunit kind of question. That’s part of it, but I don’t think it’s the whole story.

Just think about it. We play crime-oriented games like Clue (it was Colonel Mustard in the ballroom with the lead pipe!), we host mystery dinners and take murder mystery train rides. We give our most evil serial killers nicknames like BTK, Son of Sam, and Jack the Ripper. Even child killers, considered the worst of the worst, have the media camped outside their homes and get their own hour-long show. How many people followed the Andrea Yates or Susan Smith sagas with great interest? Why is Lizzie Borden just as popular as Mary Poppins?

Many people, not just the ones who write about this stuff for a living, are drawn to the worst among us. I present a lecture on deviance in fiction, and its popularity even among non-writers always surprises me. Everybody likes deviance!

But why?

Being bad is easy. It means giving in to the demon on your shoulder, letting the genie out of the bottle, finally acting on the impulse to strangle your cube mate. Fortunately, the majority of us have learned through maturation and societal instruction to repress those urges, but we all imagine that there must be satisfaction in committing these acts. When the car in front of you cuts you off after you waited your turn to merge or your neighbor lies about stealing your paper again, the frustration is intense. Even the most tolerant of us can be driven to fantasies of retribution, but few of us act on them.

We are fascinated by and often study criminals to determine what makes us different or “better,” to try and understand what caused the release of the id, to delve into our own dark sides without actually performing the deviant act. For some it’s a release, a means of living vicariously and satisfying that wicked side without the societal retribution. For others it’s a way of identifying the breaking point in order to avoid it. Some of us see the existence of criminals as validation of our own goodness, an “I would never” moment.

There is also an element of the worst criminals that seems to transcend fear of mortality. Most humans avoid death, prefer to sterilize it and ignore it in general. Murderers, especially those that kill again and again, hold life in their hands and deal in death. What kind of person enjoys being the harbinger of death? What does it take to be above the fear of death in order to kill? For a species programmed to fear death, a person who seemingly enjoys it is an enigma.

Some people, I think in particular the folks who collect the “murderabilia,” look at the notoriety of some criminals and want to be close to their fifteen minutes of fame. The group of women willing to marry serial killers from behind the bars of prison is an extreme example of this kind of behavior, and I believe deals in a psychosis of its own, something separate and far more confusing than my grandmother’s admiration of Matlock’s detective skills.

I could write a book on people’s fascination with crime and people that commit it. For “normal” people who live within the confines of society’s rules, criminals seem to have transcended the fear of breaking the rules. Those of us who fear death and punishment look upon those who deliberately kill and break the rules and cannot comprehend. We hope that by identifying the triggers that release the id, we can prevent it happening in our own psyche. We use the poor behavior of others to validate our own goodness. Understanding the actions of the truly deviant helps come to grips with who we really are, and, possibly, learn to predict and prevent crime.

“Why are we Creatures with Madness at the Center of our Hearts?” by Billie Sue Mosiman

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today the great Billie Sue Mosiman drops by my blog. Mosiman is a published author of fifteen novels and more than 160 short stories. She is an Edgar and Stoker Nominee. Her new suspense novel, THE GREY MATTER, is due out from Post Mortem Press in April/May 2014.

What do you have for us today, Billie Sue?

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“Why do criminals fascinate us so much?”

The question might as well be, “Why are we creatures with madness at the center of our hearts?”

Humans are made of light and darkness with the potential for creating great altruistic deeds and, at the other end of the spectrum, despicable acts of pure evil. I think criminals fascinate us so much because we could be one, just as we could be a hero or a saint. We have inside of us the seeds of both destruction and elevation to the height of the best of our species. Just as a cat will purr in the arms of its owner, so will a cat slip out the open door and stalk a mouse, play with it, and in the end break its neck. Most of us do not become criminals, though nearly everyone commits lesser deeds in his life that he’d rather not confess.

Yet as we read of criminals in fiction or non-fiction, as we watch films portraying criminals, we know (if we’re honest) that there but for the grace of God we walk. I explore this dichotomy in the human soul often in my own works. Some of the more interesting and entertaining pieces of art show us just how dark the heart can beat. As we consider criminal activity we are able to ask ourselves, “Would I do that?”

Let’s say there is a bag left on the park bench where we go to have a sack lunch. We notice the bag, we look around for the bag’s owner, wondering if someone accidentally left it behind. What might be in it? What if we open the bag and inside are dozens of packets of hundred dollar bills? There’s no name, no address, no indication who this bag might belong to. We might take that bag and turn it into a police station so it can be returned to the rightful owner. Or…we might simply pick up the bag and walk away. In a split second many people who have never attempted a criminal act might decide to commit one at that moment. Would you do that? What if you needed the money, needed it so desperately you can’t help stealing it? What if your loved one is dying without health coverage and isn’t getting treatment that might save his life because of a lack of money? What if your child is in danger in some way and a great deal of money will save him? Would you take the money then?

I submit we are weak creatures with wayward hearts and we don’t always know what we might do under pressure or during devastating periods of our lives. We too might become criminals. I think that’s why they fascinate us. Because we know that person and that person could be us. We might attend church, we might worship devotedly our God, we might never have done a wrong thing in our lives until one day…we do.

Yes, I think criminals fascinate us because even if we aren’t criminal and never intend to be, there are circumstances in life that could turn us as quickly as a cloud scuttling across a thunderous sky. Most of all we ask ourselves, as we read about criminals or watch criminals in dramas, “Could that be me, would I ever do that? Surely, I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I am a good person, a law-abiding person.”

We are, of course, law-abiding.

Until we aren’t.

“A Crippling Case of the Fuckits” by Patrick Freivald

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today Patrick Freivald drops by my blog with a crippling case of the fuckits.

Patrick Freivald is an author, high school teacher (physics, robotics, American Sign Language), and beekeeper. He lives in Western New York with his beautiful wife, two birds, three dogs, too many cats, and several million stinging insects. A book reviewer for BuyZombie.com and a member of the HWA and ITW, he’s always had a soft spot for slavering monsters of all kinds.

He is the author of Twice Shy, Special Dead, Blood List (with his twin brother Phil), and the forthcoming Jade Sky, as well as the novella Love Bites, a growing legion of short stories, and an as-yet untitled graphic novella (with Joe McKinney) for Dark Discoveries magazine. There will be more.

What do you have to say today, Patrick?

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Why do criminals fascinate us so much?

Let’s approach this not only from the most jaded position in existence, but the most jaded principle possible: that of a high school teacher.

Have you ever actually listened to “Hot for Teacher”? As in, like, actually listened to the lyrics with an ear for understanding where the (ahem) artists are coming from, man? Because if you have, you don’t need a lesson on the fascination of criminal behavior, your apotheosis is already complete.

Novelty feeds the brain seratonin and dopamine—the only two things you’ve ever enjoyed—and nothing is less novel than staying within the lines. Those who do as they should, stay within the law, and comport themselves as upstanding citizens are wonderful and vital to society, but they’re also dull. There’s never been a newsworthy story about a person who effectively managed their time to maximize their efficiency at work, and thus truly earned their paycheck.

And there won’t be.

Criminals buck the system, and as much as we hate to admit it, back-talk and spitballs and flouting your homework is “cool”. Getting thrown out of class is cool. Cherry bombs in the toilet are cool. They’re not cool because you’ll end up an uneducated loser who hates his job and life up until it ends in poverty and misfortune, it’s cool because you’re giving a double-middle-finger to the man. It’s cool because it doesn’t take too much imagination to rob a liquor store or sell meth.

Anybody can do it; but not anybody dares.

Criminality takes a certain combination of chutzpah and stupidity that we can’t help but admire. The phrase, “I’d rather be bad than dumb” comes up a lot in teaching circles, and as a truism it hits the mark rather too well. If you’re not good at something productive, constructive, interesting, and intelligent, you can always be good at being bad. Chick’s will dig it—not all chicks (like maybe not the ones who don’t want to be called “chicks”)—but the ones willing to be bad with you will.

We like criminals even though we go apoplectic when they exercise their criminality on our persons or property, or on our loved ones. (Or on the chairs/tables/lab equipment in our classrooms.) We like them because sometimes we’d like to flip that double-middle-finger. Sometimes we’d like to develop a crippling case of the fuckits and just go do whatever we want and damn the consequences. But most of us don’t, because we have some capacity to think long-term, and long-term we recognize the value of playing by the rules, not just out of self-interest, but because of those emotions and notions all-too-human: duty, honor, respect, loyalty, friendship.

But even so, we always admire those who do what we can’t or won’t. Even when we shouldn’t.

“Anyone Can Commit a Crime” by Marshall Stein

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today Mr. Marshall Stein drops by my blog with his take on the subject. Stein is a retired lawyer. Early in his career he was an Assistant United States Attorney in Boston, and later served as the Chief Staff Attorney for the First Circuit Court of Appeals. During 28 years in private practice Marshall has tried both civil and criminal cases and argued appeals in state and federal courts on every level. Since retiring from his law practice Marshall has been selected for master level fiction workshops at Grub Street Writers in Boston, Massachusetts. He currently lives in suburban Boston with his wife. His novel, Rage Begets Murder, is currently available from Post Mortem Press.

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“Anyone Can Commit a Crime”

by Marshall Stein

There are many kinds of criminals: some are losers, ending up dead or in jail; some are wealthy, escaping punishment for years or forever; others commit unforgivable acts, and we struggle with what is the appropriate punishment; others we know only through their crimes, like following footprints in the snow where we never catch up with who made them. Some hold themselves out as Robin Hoods or Freedom Fighters, committing crimes in the name of the common good. The one thing they all share is the commission of a crime. That’s where the fascination begins.

To commit a crime is to exercise power over others in an act of destruction, leaving aside for the moment that it is also likely to destroy the criminal. The power of harm fascinates us. While some have power other than through crime, very few do. There are only so many Bill Gates or Warren Buffets, only one sitting U.S. President, only a handful of Nobel laureates, etc. But anyone can commit a crime. The weakest, the poorest, the least gifted, anyone has the capacity to destroy something: to take a life, to set fire to a building, to rob, to do something that creates harm. That is what draws our attention, makes our palms itch. Each of the different criminals fascinates in different ways. Professor Moriarty by his intellect; the Butcher Boy by his unlimited violence; the Boston Marathon terrorists by the unforeseeability of turning a festive sports event into pools of blood and body parts. But all of them fascinate by their power to harm.

Once focused on this power to harm, it becomes irresistible to try to figure out why a particular criminal acted as she/he did: for money, for anger, to follow what the voices in his head commanded; to try to sooth an unhealable pain, to have a moment of control in a life without control. The need to figure out what caused the criminal to act provides us with the illusion that there is reason and order in the world. Sometimes it is the mirror of what motivated the criminal’s need to be seen in a world in which he is otherwise invisible.

It is no accident that there are so many crimes, often murder, described in the canonical books of Western civilization, whether it is Cain and Abel or Clytemnestra and Agamemnon.

“Writing about Criminals” by T. Fox Dunham

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today some bastard named T. Fox Dunham takes over my blog. Fox resides outside of Philadelphia PA. His first novel The Street Martyr was published by Gutter Books this October, followed Professional Detachment, a literary erotica from Bitten Press. He’s a cancer survivor. His friends call him fox, being his totem animal, and his motto is: Wrecking civilization one story at a time. Site: www.tfoxdunham.com.  Twitter: @TFoxDunham

What the hell did you have to say then, Fox?

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“Writing about Criminals”

T. Fox Dunham

(With Louie Fedder –Imagined Criminal Pug-Asshole)

I selected a crime story as my first novel, The Street Martyr, because I needed characters that would act outside of the law, the social compact that we all sign when we are born into a civilization: Respect each other’s shit. Don’t stab someone in the heart. Pay taxes. We all spin round the merry-go-round together with shit-eating-grins. I was doing quite well as a horror author before I turned to crime writing, and I made this change because I had a philosophical requirement to employ literary devices that represented the themes and causes I needed to represent in my art. I’m a Bard. Writing is a spiritual mission for me, one to aid and heal and help. Horror couldn’t do this for me as well as literary-crime writing.

“Won’t you shut the fuck up?” Louie just said to me, clutching his metal bar in the pocket of his green Eagle’s hoodie. “Always fucking talking, but you don’t say shit.”

I look at him and ask him: “All right asshole. Why am I always writing about you two jerk-offs?”

“Because we’re rebels, heroes. Robin ‘Fucking’ Hood.”

“Robin ‘Fucking Hood,’” I asked. “When the hell did you ever give something back?”

“We’re the assholes doing the stuff everyone wishes they could. We break society’s rules. We fuck up the system. Working stiffs have protect the shit they got. But we stick a cactus up the government’s ass. People love to read about us. They want to be us, but they’ve got families and cars and shit.”

“I don’t want to be you,” I said.

“And you need us to do the necessary evil against evil. Like you did in that shitty book you wrote about us.”

“I did need you. There is evil in the world that is protected by a fair and balanced system. Our law and order paradigm punishes, but it’s often too late. People are hurt. The damage is done. And often the offender is free to wound again. We don’t live in a perfect world, and at least in our stories we control the villains. You possess a freedom most of us do not possess, and you risk your own freedom for it. You have torn up the social compact . . .”

“And wiped our asses with it.”

“High Pay Out, Low Risk, and Rules Are Stupid” by Jay Wilburn

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today Jay Wilburn stopped by to talk about this subject. To be honest, I didn’t ask him for his opinion. I just woke up today with an email from him that said “Post the attached document on your blog or I’ll blow up your house”. So I guess that’s what I’m doing. He also wrote, in the email: “If 50,000 people don’t buy my new horror novel, Time Eaters, I will blow up the planet. They have until tomorrow morning.”

Uh, um, well…

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“High Pay Out, Low Risk, And Rules Are Stupid”

by Jay Wilburn

I’m a fairly ethical person by nature or by repeated choice. I appear to be so on the surface by most people that pass through my life. I’m even Biblically sound by a surface evaluation. I h

ave never drunk alcohol, smoked, or used illicit drugs ever in my life. That’s impressive even to other Baptists. The Internet porn and dirty horror stories probably cancel it out, but who knows?

After a few traumatic incidents peppered throughout my life, I spent a little time in therapy. Without going into too much detail, my therapist proposed the theory that I had a highly functioning borderline personality disorder. He even went so far as to say that the terms psychopath and sociopath are not really used that often anymore. I score borderline on all those quick evaluations for those personality issues.

I apparently have used my personal fundamentalist interpretation of the Bible as a code of rules and ethics to keep myself out of trouble. It turns out this is more of an intellectual practice for me than it is a feeling of doing what is right or wrong. If my former therapist was right, it would be very easy for me to flip a switch and do wrong. I suppose that is true of everyone in degrees.

I think about turning criminal a lot. I’m no great fan of authority or government involvement. I have heavy libertarian tendencies, but I also have a darkness in me that wants to see the system collapse. I’m too lazy to turn anarchist or revolutionary, but I have an intellectual curiosity about disorder.

I spend a lot of time thinking about getting away with crimes and these thought experiments lead to stories. Part of it is just the thrill of living outside of rules that bind others. Some of it comes from the possibility of getting money that will provide the lifestyle we want or dream of having.

The trick is having a crime that provides high pay out for low risk. The truth is that most criminals are willing to take higher risk and sometimes for lower pay out than many would risk from the world of rule followers. If we look on criminal achievement with disdain or even jealousy, we must remember that we don’t do what they do so we don’t get what they get.

When we read about a Mexican drug lord conquering Chicago and the entire Midwest, a part of us wants to twist the storyline into an antihero that beat the system. We despise the man and everything he stands for, of course, but we picture ourselves being part of a world that far outside the rules with everything that might come with those possibilities.

One has to wonder. But when you are done wondering, remember to behave yourself.

Talking Crime with Jonathan Maberry

WHY DO CRIMINALS FASCINATE US SO MUCH?

I’ve asked a number of authors I admire to answer the same question–why do criminals fascinate us so much?–and I will be posting each response here on my blog. It’s a question all writers–especially crime writers–should consider every once in a while. In my debut novel, Toxicity, I’ve dug deep into the minds of criminals. I have written about the bad guys. The ones we love but hate at the same time. If you haven’t pre-ordered a copy yet, I highly recommend you doing so for purely selfish reasons.

And now that you’ve done that, we will pass the time hearing what other writers in the industry have to say about the posed question.

Today I am honored to have Mr. Jonathan Maberry himself stop by with his thoughts on the subject. For those who aren’t aware of Maberry’s work, shame on you. Maberry is a New York Times bestselling author of too many books to name here. Just go over to his Amazon page and buy everything.

All right, Jonathan. Take it away.

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Why do criminals fascinate us so much?

We are not naturally moral beings. Morality is something we’ve acquired in order to live together in meaningful and productive groups. Society and civilization are byproducts of our desire to overcome our natural predatory and inherently selfish emotions. Laws were created to enforce these ‘agreements’. Over the centuries we’ve come to value those rules and laws, and we view adherence to ethical codes as proof of an evolved and civilized mind.

That said, many people wonder what it would be like to live outside of those laws. We imagine it as being something liberating and empowering. Those fantasies often omit the elements of guilt, shame, compassion for victims, and so on.

Other folks are fascinated by those things they don’t understand. If they are staunchly moral people they may view lawbreakers and villains as totally alien. It’s as interesting as reading about life on an distant world or in another age of our own world. When folks like this read fiction, often they are disturbed by what these criminals do (even while being fascinated) but instead of secretly wanting to be a criminal, they want to see those criminals get their comeuppance.

People who have been victimized, or who have felt deep emotional connections to victims, often want to see harsh justice in popular fiction. The real world doesn’t often provide satisfying conclusions. Fiction does.