Author Robert Creekmore is back and we’re chatting about Prophet’s Death, his newest noir supernatural elements novel.
During his virtual book tour, Robert is giving away a $10 Amazon or Barnes and Noble (winner’s choice) gift card. To enter for a chance to win, use the form below. To increase your chances of winning, feel free to visit his other tour stops and enter there, too!
Bio:
Robert Creekmore is the Author of LGBTQ+, southern gothic, thrillers:
Prophet’s Debt (2022) – Manly Wade Wellman Literary Award finalist.
Prophet’s Lamentation (2023) – Lambda Literary recommendation, July 2023.
Prophet’s Death (2024)
Robert Creekmore is from a rural farming community in Eastern North Carolina.
He attended North Carolina State where he studied psychology. While at university, he was active at the student radio station. There, he fell in love with punk rock and its ethos.
Robert acquired several teaching licenses in special education. He was an autism specialist in Raleigh for eight years. He then taught for four years in a small mountain community in western North Carolina.
During his time in the mountains, he lived with his wife Juliana in a remote primitive cabin built in 1875. While there, he grew most of his own food, raised chickens, worked on a cattle farm, as well as participated in subsistence hunting and fishing.
Eventually, the couple moved back to the small farming community where Robert was raised.
Annoyed with the stereotype of the southeastern United States as a monolith of ignorance and hatred, he wanted to bring forth characters from the region who are queer and autistic. They now hold up a disinfecting light to the hatred of the region’s past and to those who still yearn for a return to ways and ideas that should have long ago perished.
Welcome back to Reviews and Interviews, Robert. Please tell us about your newest release.
Prophet’s Death is the third book of a trilogy. The overarching theme is a love story between two women that began when they were teenagers. However, it’s also about the fight to maintain it. Much of book three is an allegory about the rise of Christian Nationalism and the bamboozlement brought within its wake.
What inspired you to write this book?
The rise of fascism in the United States.
Excerpt from Prophet’s Death:
From Chapter 2:
Blankets of rain crash onto the car with so much force that Nate can hear the sheet metal ping. He drives with the hazard lights blinking, well below the speed limit. Police cars are stationed at the bridge. They wave Nate on. They’re not present to keep residents from leaving but to prevent thrill-seekers and looters from coming on.
It takes two-and-a-half hours to reach Highway Forty. Even then, the fastest Nate can safely travel is forty-five miles per hour.
Malcolm begins coming to.
“Where am I? Who are you?”
“I was with the woman who saved you.”
“She died. I remember the other woman telling me.
“That was Rebecca. The woman who saved you was named Naomi.”
“How did she die?”
“I’m not sure I understand how but it was Joseph Proffit who caused it.”
Hearing Joseph’s name makes Malcolm shudder.
“Don’t worry, he can’t hurt you any longer. Naomi killed him. They killed each other.”
“The man I was with, Sam, he’s dead isn’t he?”
“Unfortunately.”
“I’d say Naomi did the right thing, then.”
“She usually did.”
Nate realizes that this is the first time he’s referred to Naomi in the past tense.
“My mom was killed by a drunk driver when I was twelve. Dad did his best with me and my younger brother, but things were never the same. There will always be a void. He died last year, leaving another. I haven’t seen my brother in ten years. He won’t ‘tolerate my lifestyle’ as he so inarticulately puts it.”
There is a pause while Nate processes Malcolm’s words.
“Where are we headed?”
“I’m taking you to Tysons Corner, Virginia. It’s where I live. That way you can go to a hospital where the Apostles can’t find you.”
“Apostles?”
“They’re a cult. They kept Naomi prisoner for a year-and-a-half when she was a teenager.”
“It was that bastard, Levi, who kidnapped me. I met him at Legends nightclub in Raleigh. That was months ago, I think. I don’t know. I was locked up for so long. What day is it?”
“September sixth, two-thousand-seven.”
“He took me in June.”
“Jesus,” Nate says.
“When I met Levi at the club, he was nice enough and rather handsome, I thought.”
“He wasn’t an ugly man.”
“Past tense?”
“I stabbed him in his face with my dive knife for what he did. I showered his blood off my body and out of my hair just a couple of hours ago.”
“Thank you for not leaving me there,” Malcolm says, tearing up.
“Why would I?”
“More people than you realize might have,” Malcolm says, beginning to cry.
“It’s okay,” Nate says, reaching his right hand out to Malcolm’s left.
They quietly hold hands for the next two hours. It’s been so long since Malcolm has felt any sense of human connection. It’s refreshing to feel as though his life matters to someone. The simple gesture of Nate’s touch gives him that.”
As they travel north, the rain begins to slack off. Nate pulls his hand away and takes the exit at the Virginia border rest station on Interstate Ninety-Five.
“I can’t go in. I look like a vagrant,” Malcolm says.
“I know. But, I have to go pee. After all that Gatorade, I’m assuming you do too?”
“You would have guessed correctly,” Malcolm says jokingly.
“Don’t worry. I won’t leave you,” Nate says as he encourages Malcolm to lean on him to help him walk.
Because of the oncoming storm, the parking lot is nearly empty. Besides Nate and Malcolm’s Corolla, there’s a white dually crew cab pickup truck and a bright red, two-door Mercedes coupe.
Five people mill around in the rest area outside the bathrooms, smoking cigarettes. Four of them are men who are filthy from a hard day’s work. One is a clean-cut college-aged boy with dark hair, wearing an expensive, cornflower-blue button-up shirt, cargo shorts, and leather flip-flops. It’s not difficult to ascertain who drove up on which vehicle, but what unifies them is their disapproving stares.
They see Malcolm as a transient. His clothes are ragged and filthy. His hair is unkempt and he has a long beard. Not only that, but he smells horrendous.
The stare-down Nate gives them says he will do anything it takes to protect Malcolm. Bullies are weak. They want victims who fold easily. Nate’s glare is a warning that he isn’t made of paper but of thick plate steel.
Luckily, the men’s restroom is empty. They take adjoining stalls. Nate’s is the larger one at the end, making his door ninety degrees from Malcolm’s.
What’s the next writing project?
Currently, I’m writing a literary fiction book named, Diary of Attrition, about a young woman’s descent into madness.
What is your biggest challenge when writing a new book? (or the biggest challenge with this book)
Generally, the first one hundred pages are the toughest. Afterward, the book almost writes itself.
If your novels require research – please talk about the process. Do you do the research first and then write, while you’re writing, after the novel is complete and you need to fill in the gaps?
I write about the things I know. I grew up in the fishing industry in the rural intercoastal waterways of North Carolina. As an adult, I lived in a primitive cabin in the remote Appalachians where I subsistence hunted, fished, grew my own food/chickens, and worked on a local cattle farm in exchange for meat. A lot of my writing revolves around those experiences.
What’s your writing space like? Do you have a particular spot to write where the muse is more active? Please tell us about it.
I write at a desk with two monitors. That provides me enough space for three open documents. I don’t believe in the idea of a muse. I just write.
What authors do you enjoy reading within or outside of your genre?
Kurt Vonnegut, Albert Camus, Sylvia Plath
Anything additional you want to share with the readers today?
If you’re interested in being a writer, sit down and write every day.
Links:
Website | Twitter | Amazon
Thank you for coming back to Reviews and Interviews!
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Thank you so much for hosting today.
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Sounds like a great read.
This looks like a great read.