"The Source" is Coming

Excited to see we are only five weeks from The Source's release date (June 3rd)! If you liked The Line, The Source will knock your socks off. (And if you didn't like The Line, well, then chances are you aren't reading this anyway.)

The Mercy we meet at the beginning of The Source is a tad different from the young woman she was in the first pages of The Line. Betrayal has forced her to mature and look at herself and those she loves in a very different way. The boy troubles that at one point seemed so important to her, she now sees as trivial. She believes the worst surprises are behind her, and is determined to work on setting things right and moving on. In her mind, step one of setting things right is to find her missing sister, even though the line's other anchors have forbidden her to search. 

Mercy's single-minded determination to rescue Maisie leads Mercy into an alliance with Mother Jilo Wills, and frankly, the relationship that forms between these two women is my favorite part of the entire Witching Savannah series. The wonderful thing about their unlikely friendship is that each of them  makes the other a better person. 

We have only caught a glimpse so far of the true Jilo. We learned in The Line that the facade of the crotchety uneducated conjure woman is a fiction Jilo herself created. Well, at least the uneducated part. The crotchety part is certainly real. 

Jilo was born into a world not ready for her. She graduated with a degree in chemistry in an age when African-Americans still had to drink from separate water fountains. Her dream had been to become a medical doctor, not a "root doctor," but our society at the time would have none of that. 

Jilo Wills combined her education in chemistry with the knowledge of Hoodoo magic she got from her grandmother to turn herself into a powerful conjurer. (I have this wonderful back story in mind that one day might be written. It features a young, modern, scientifically-minded Jilo fighting with her Hoodoo practicing grandmother, only to return later to study at her feet.)

The bitterly disappointed young woman decided to turn the superstitions and prejudices of the world around her to her own advantage. Her prospective clients were willing to pay good money for an ignorant swamp witch, so that's what she'd give them. Over time Jilo became trapped in the persona she created.

Even though, the Witching Savannah series is Mercy's story, The Source is Jilo's book. I hope you enjoy, and remember, when Jilo knocks, you damn well better answer.

Shivaree Update

Thanks to everyone who has asked about the availability of SHIVAREE (A NOVELLA). As the characters continue to deepen and gain their own voices, the story itself is taking on more depth and texture. Yes, that is my way of confessing that I am still working to complete the first draft.

SHIVAREE (A NOVELLA) is set in fictional Conroy, Georgia--situated near the edges of the Georgia, Tennessee and Alabama borders--in the early fifties, some months after the end of the Korean War. Conroy is a a moral cesspool, a corrupt little fiefdom run by Judge Ovid Lowell. Ovid, or "The Judge" as everyone in town knows him, should be the guardian of justice in the community, but it's Ovid's manner to corrupt those things he should protect.

In an attempt to escape both her father and Conroy, Ovid's daughter, Ruby, falls into the hands of a conman who promises a new life in golden California, but ends up coercing her to prostitute herself to finance his own addictions. Ruby finds herself sold to a group of jaded degenerates who take their pleasure from drugs, sadism and experimenting with black magic. By the time Ovid's detectives manage to track Ruby down and return her to Conroy, she has been changed in ways her father never could have imagined.

And this, folks, is just the back story.

Above is my mind's image of  the Lowell's house.

Charleston's ABC TV (WCIV) Lowcountry Live Interview

Lowcountry Live Interview -

Click on the above link to see my interview with Lowcountry Live's Jon Bruce. This was my first TV interview ever. Jon did his best to make me look good, but alas, no one can stop my cartoon facial expressions. Still it was a lot of fun, and I didn't pull the "deer in the headlights" expression I was so afraid I would. :)

Author J.D. Horn to sign urban fantasy that is set in Savannah | savannahnow.com

Check out my interview with SavannahNow.com's Linda Sickler!



Author J.D. Horn to sign urban fantasy that is set in Savannah | savannahnow.com

When I feel kicked, Jill Scott picks me up.

Ever have a day when you just can't catch a break from folk who seem so determined to tear you down? Most of us have. Well, Jill Scott's powerful song has become my anthem, a song that reminds me to keep picking myself up and putting myself out there, no matter what. To focus on the positive, and let the negative slide like water off a duck's back. (Thank you, Jinkx Monsoon!)  And that is what this week is all about.

Visiting Charleston today and tomorrow, and doing an interview on Lowcountry Live (Charleston ABC Channel 4). I am really excited and more than a bit nervous, as I have only done a handful of interviews so far, and never one with a camera pointed at me. But be it deer in the headlights, or suave and cool, I will feel pride in knowing I put myself out there, in spite of my fears.

Friday, I am heading down to Savannah to visit the city I have fallen in love with, the city where I have lived in spirit, if not in body, for the last three years. If you are in the area, I would love to see you at Bob's Your Uncle on River Street, Saturday at 2 PM.

The Siren Call of a New Series Idea

The Siren Call of a New Series Idea-

I took a walk today. A walk intended to clear out the cobwebs that have latched on to my imagination and are interfering with the completion of Shivaree (A Novella), my post-Korean War Southern Gothic take on the ever-popular vampire.

The Source (Witching Savannah #2) is off to production. The Void (Witching Savannah #3) is in the capable hands of my editor, and I am awaiting notes. I have no excuse, absolutely no excuse, not to pull out all stakes (sorry for the pun) and get the novella finished. Except I’m getting ready for a short promotional tour for The Line. Oh, and  it’s sunny, so I need to get outside. Oh, and I feel the need to binge watch True Crime all in one sitting. Oh, and…well, you get the picture. Pure procrastination.

It isn't like the universe isn't screaming at me to finish what I've started. This morning Facebook showed me a picture of an adorable child who shares a none too common name with one of Shivaree’s main characters. Then on my walk, I met a friendly Mastiff who, you guessed it, also shares the same name. 

“So okay,” I say to the universe, “I  get the message.” I begin stomping off the last hundred or so yards toward home when it hits me. What hits me? Only the greatest ever idea for a new series. One set right here in Portland, in my own neighborhood even. Stop the presses, right? Writer finds inspiration in his own backyard. 

Well for me this is news. Even though I am currently living in the Pacific Northwest, I am a southern boy. Cut me and I bleed fried green tomatoes. I live and breathe Southern Gothic. Portland is a nice, clean and pleasant place to live, but somehow until today it has failed to speak to my imagination. Then boom, I get a complete novel just dropped on my head in the matter of ten, maybe eleven steps. I wish Portland could have held its tongue for just six more chapters of Shivaree (A Novella).

Pareidolia

Pareidolia - 

When I first stumbled across photos on the internet of Savannah’s deserted gunpowder magazine, I knew I had to find a way to work the structure into the Witching Savannah series. I set out one drizzly February morning to visit the crenelated red brick building, but finding it proved no small feat.  My imagination began to convince me that it was under some enchantment, as even though I had seen pictures and found old news articles that mention the building, the magazine itself seemed to have faded from the memory of nearly every local. I knew it was located off Ogeechee Road—actually an article I found said that it was plainly visible from that stretch, nestled in among a grove of trees. What I had failed to consider was the age of the article. Those nestling trees had grown up and filled out since publication,  and now screened the magazine from view.

 I spent what seemed like hours traveling up and down Ogeechee Road, peering out through fogged windows, stopping once at the side of the road when I thought for sure I had finally found it, only to realize I was sorely mistaken. The sad thing was I even had the exact longitude and latitude for the structure, but alas, my GPS system wanted nothing to do with degrees, minutes and seconds. It wanted good, solid street addresses or nothing. Nearly frustrated to the point of giving up, I pulled into the parking lot of an auto parts store that I knew had to be in the magazine’s general location.

 I went in and spoke to a clerk, describing the building, its history—as best I knew it—and its appearance. He was sorry, but he had never heard of the place. He did offer to ask someone who was working in the back if she knew of it. The young woman came out, and I launched anew into my spiel, when she smiled and pointed over my shoulder. “I think you are talking about the building next door.” And, yes, as it turned out, the gunpowder magazine was sitting a few yards away on the far side of their parking lot. Needless to say, learning it was next door to an auto parts store did strip away some of the building’s romantic glamour. But still, I had gone to all this trouble to find the place, so I crossed the lot and managed a four point landing in the ravine that separates the wooded area that houses the magazine and the auto parts establishment.

I felt convinced I had wasted my time, until I caught sight of the single story red brick castle. Like much of the rest of Savannah, it was so accessible and surrounded by the everyday, but somehow still magical and haunting. I hadn’t even finished brushing the dirt from my knees before I began imagining Jilo and Mercy hiding out here, working magic together. Even with the sounds of a steady flow of traffic coming off Ogeechee, this place seemed secluded, somewhat out of sync with both its mundane surroundings and the year in which I had come to visit it. A misty Savannah morning paired itself with this writer’s overly active imagination to convince me that even though there was no one else around, I was not alone. In that moment, Savannah wore down what remained of my healthy skepticism, and I found myself taking photos, convinced that one of them would show more than had met my naked eye.

         Let me make one thing clear: I am not a believer that orbs are in any way supernatural.  I chalk them up to dust or insects or pixilation, but just as there are few atheists at 30,000 feet, Savannah had a way making me question this. I will leave you to be the judge.  The building was locked, but there was a gap large enoughfor me to put my camera through and snap a couple of photos. The following is a blown-up version of an orb caught in one of these photos.

In it I see the face of a man with a shaved head and mustache. He appears to be wearing sunglasses. Pareidolia, you say? I’m certain you are right. At least I am right now, sitting thousands of miles away from Savannah. Still, haunted or no, you will encounter this setting in the very first pages of THE SOURCE (Witching Savannah #2) coming out on June 3rd.