Lord Have Mercy: The Debriefing

Lord Have Mercy Part I: The Good Son has been live in the wild for a little over a week, and you know what that means: debrief time. 

Here are the purchase links if you haven't had a chance to grab it yet:

Kindle/Paperback

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Kobo 

I'm going to drop a page break here, so you can turn back if you haven't finished it or are waiting for the whole novel to be complete before starting. Execute an about-face unless you want to be spoiled!

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Okay. Here we go. 

The last few books in the Dartmoor and Lean Dogs Legacy series have focused on some of my very favorite characters and offered a chance to do some new and exciting things within the greater Dartmoor universe. Some genre change-ups and location swaps. But though I've tackled each new story with the same attention to detail and flare for slow-beat scenes, there's been a certain sense of the bigger picture looming over the action, a not-unpleasant shade cloud that serves as a constant reminder that there are larger forces at work. The overarching plot has been large-scale, and far less intimate, though each character has faced terrible, intimate, personal demons, figurative and literal. Overall, though, the club's problems have grown as the characters have grown, as their world has grown. 

I've blogged previously about the stagnation conundrum that comes with writing any long-running series. Over time, the stakes must be raised in order for the conflict and tension of each successive book to feel urgent for the audience. If the club continued to face off against the same sort of petty villain, again and again, never learning, never getting any stronger, then the drama would start to fall flat. Not only flat - the drama would then no longer serve as a reflection of the characters' inner struggles. A club that battles the same sort of baddie each book is a club that is static. In real life, organizations like the Lean Dogs probably are static to some degree: deal drugs, get caught, have a shoot-out, rinse, repeat. But a static environment is the kiss of death in storytelling. Characters who learn nothing, who repeat the same mistakes, who are mired in the same petty squabbles ad nauseam, are characters that begin to bore and grate on the nerves. This was the big problem with Sons of Anarchy. Not one character on that show ever learned a damn thing. All of them were stuck hip-deep in the quicksand of their own terrible decisions, and consequences were doled out like freak accidents and acts of God rather than deserved comeuppances. All that navel-gazing, and the end result was always "this is how things are." It was an incredibly frustrating ride as a viewer, which was why I bowed out midway through - what was it? The fourth season? I don't know. But it's the sort of nihilistic, post-modern storytelling I detest. 

So. No stagnation. New characters bring new baggage, new skills, new challenges, and the club and the story have grown to meet them. When I sat down to start crafting Lord Have Mercy, I had to take all of that into consideration. I wanted book ten to bookend book one; I wanted Lord Have Mercy to recapture that small-scale, Southern epic magic of Fearless. The trick was to do so while incorporating all the club's growth from the intervening books. 

For the time being, Abacus is on the back burner. It's not been obliterated, but it's been hamstrung, and can simmer away in the background, ready for a resurgence whenever I need it in the future. As with all the Dartmoor books, though, the battle against Abacus has consequences that will carry forward: here, it's Mercy's slaying of Agent Jansen, and the club's war with Abacus in general, two things that have put the club squarely on the radar of a few twisted, corrupted individuals in the FBI. 

Speaking of corrupted...I want to take a little sidebar here to touch on this comment I received on a previous post (nothing bad, I promise!):

I get why the lean dogs are weary with law enforcement but let’s be mature he a second and realize not all law enforcement is corrupt just like not all individuals who engage in illegal activities is “good”. I mean taking a life is still taking a life. 

I am very much an empathetic storyteller. I'm not someone who wants or needs fiction to reflect my personal beliefs or morals. Nor am I someone who thinks the purpose of fiction (adult fiction) is the promotion of all things good and morally correct. For instance, I don't agree with the assertion that a romance can only be classified a romance if the romantic relationship is morally sound. A fictional story isn't real, it's an escape: sign me up for those codependent, age gap, morally gray, WTF relationships. When I'm writing, my goal is not to teach anyone a valuable lesson, or promote a certain kind of behavior or lifestyle. Storytelling is my only goal: fleshing out a character who feels like a real person, following his or her journey, finding peace for them, whatever that looks like. No matter who that character is, it's my job to write from his or her perspective. I have to put myself squarely in his shoes and write in his voice; view the world with his prejudices, shortcomings, and insights. In the hours I spend at the keyboard, I'm not writing from the POV of a morally-sound, rather skittish shit-shoveler and flower-grower. I am a coldly furious Romanian prince ordering the impaling of his enemies; I am a newly-turned tsarevich who recalls the screams of his parents and sisters, hands wet with mud from the hole he's just crawled out of. In the Dartmoor series, I am a man who systematically, knowingly, unremorsefully breaks the law on a daily basis, or I am the woman who loves him and helps him do it. I cannot write a character if I'm not actively empathizing with them, and in the world of Dartmoor, that means all law enforcement is loathed and mistrusted. End of. 

Personally, I have the utmost respect for not only the law, but those tasked with keeping the peace, especially the local deputies in my neck of the woods. I've conducted too much research on the Russian revolution to have anything like trust in federal police forces in general, but that's neither here nor there, and certainly not relevant for this book. 

When I first started writing Fearless, I noticed that most of the books that fell under the "MC romance" umbrella featured clubs that weren't truly outlaw. Some petty crime, a little drug-taking or dealing, some raucous parties, and a little light stabbing here and there. Some rough and rowdy guys on bikes who talked tough. But most were not actual 1%ers. 

I decided to make the Lean Dogs the real deal. I modeled them on one infamous club specifically. Even so, I've obviously bent some of the rules: the women have a much louder voice than they would in real life, and there certainly wouldn't be a Reese and Tenny in the Angels. But as far as the crime element goes, the Dogs run true to form. 

The very first outlaw clubs got started after WWII: disillusioned, shell-shocked vets returning from hell, damaged beyond the ability to fit into polite society. Their ranks swelled, and the clubs infamous today really took off after the Vietnam War. A generation of young men who did their patriotic duty, faced the unimaginable, and returned home to be spit on in the street. The way the ones who went outlaw saw it, they served their country, and then their country abandoned them. When a young man patched into a club, he stopped recognizing any authority save that of the president of his choosing, and the only law that mattered was that of the club. 

One-percenters are not the sort of criminals who rob liquor stores, or get caught up in high-speed Interstate chases. They keep a low profile; they do business in the shadows, and they've proved incredibly difficult to catch. A few guys go away here and there for lesser charges, but the feds can't ever bring down an entire chapter in one go.

Writing from the perspective of these guys means writing characters who are never going to say, "Well, the police are right, I have committed a crime." And they're never going to lose sleep over taking the life of someone who was a threat to them and theirs. Just as Alex says in the beginning of Lord Have Mercy: when you read these books, you have to leave your own morals and beliefs at the door. The Dogs know not all cops are corrupt - the corrupt ones are, in fact, their allies: Vince Fielding, Melissa Dixon, Dale Dandridge. It's the good ones who are going to work against them, and for the purposes of these books, that makes the police the antagonists. 

Safe to say there are definitely some corrupt feds in the book, just as there are in real life, and they're going to provide all the resultant drama that's about to unfold. But don't expect the Dogs to start respecting the law. 

They do have their own code, though. There are people more evil than them, and those are the people who have served as villains throughout the series. How do you make a crime ring seem like the good guys? Make the bad guys twice as heinous. The result has been some dark stories, but those have made the bright points shine all the more gloriously. 

That's definitely going to be the case with Lord Have Mercy. 

I posted yesterday about the little details I most enjoyed in this installment. I loved getting to start things a little slowly; to show the club functioning on a day-to-day basis in a domestic sense. I've been able to show that throughout the series, sure, but it felt different here. It felt like coming home, somehow. The kids, and the restaurant woes, and the excitement of a big day approaching. 

The slow start also offers the chance to show Alex on his own, which I think is important. We get to meet him on his own turf, and walk with him through glimmers of his past, his blood inheritance, before he ever knocks on Mercy's door. His chapters in New Orleans, trying to pin the murders on someone else, were some of my favorites to write. The last time we were in New Orleans, we glimpsed it through Ava and Mercy's POVs. It looks different through Alex's eyes: the nurturing, sheltering swamp of Mercy's childhood is a sinister, haunted place for Alex. He's as afraid of turning out like his father as he is desperate to feel some sort of connection with the man. That push-pull has always existed in him, and this scenario is going to bring it to a head. He's going to ask himself all sorts of questions about nature vs. nurture. Was there something wrong with Remy? And is it hereditary? How greatly does blood factor into the character of a person? That's the sort of inner conflict I love, especially in a series like this that focuses on a counter-culture. Can you be a Lean Dog - can you be a killer - and still be a good person? Questions he has to ask of himself, and his family. 

That's always been the toothy richness of Dartmoor to me: what does it mean to be good? Is it a legal definition? A religious one? Or is it more personal than that? I think it's up to the audience to decide for themselves, just as the characters must choose an answer that feels right for them. 

I had another comment: 

At the moment I was wanting to know if Alex had a love interest but when I asked that before the book release, you could not answer, sooooooo can you answer that question now that the first part is out in the world?

Well...I don't want to answer that yet. Heehee. No, but, seriously: the real answer is I'm not 100% sure. I've thought about it, and some ideas are percolating, but Alex's main journey in this book is about discovering who he is and what he thinks, and I'm afraid a focus on romance would take away from that. His central story here is a fraternal one, and I don't plan on him having anything like a serious romance play out here. 

Re: the old ladies:

I love the ladies having lunch together and Ava filling them in on what's happening before the men know. MC books typically focus on the brotherhood and that's fine and all but the bonds between these women really shine for me.

Yes! I loved getting to write some girl time scenes, and plan to work in more as we go along. While writing the scene with Ava taking the kids to the farm, her sitting and talking with Emmie, I realized I don't think I've ever had those two have a one-on-one moment?? In general, the old ladies have been a bit wary/suspicious of new wives and girlfriends, but that's to be expected in this world: anyone who wasn't totally committed could go running off to the police and cause all sorts of trouble for all of them (Emmie's intro comes to mind). But once trust exists between them, as it does now, it makes sense for the girls to stick together. Theirs is a very unique sort of existence, and they need one another's support and sanity. 

With regard to Mercy:

There are so many great moments with Mercy - where he shows compassion and understanding while being a total badass. I love the relationship he is building with Grayson. Just like he did with Reese and Tango, and to some extent, Tenny. This scene with Roman was funny but it speaks volumes about Mercy “And I have been working with Grayson in my lunch breaks…I Can squeeze you in if you need some “how to a person lessons”…. “ empathy, consider getting some”. Lord have Mercy I love this character.

This is the joy and reward of writing Mercy. From his inception, he's been modeled on a Doberman Pinscher: utterly devoted, wholeheartedly loving, stuck to his person like Velcro...remorselessly murderous and gleefully violent when the occasion arises. I've been asked SO many times by readers if I know anyone like him in real life. Yes: my dogs. 

He's also a little Heathcliff inspired. His and Ava's love is definitely, and intentionally Gothic in nature. For all of his emotional intelligence, he's also this horribly traumatized man, who never really stood a chance socially, growing up as he did in the swamp, with only his father and grandmother. The whole point of him, and of his love for Ava, is that it isn't by any means "healthy" by normal societal standards. We are attracted to their love because it's taboo, and shocking, and obsessive. I love writing him because he can pull out a man's tooth with the same dedication he'd use to change his baby's diaper; his hands are as killing as they are kind, and he is both things at once, harmoniously. 

I loved this observation from Gray:

And then there was Mercy. Who was big, and kind, and gentle in a way that Gray thought confused a lot of people, but which he found comforting. Whether he was wrapping the tailpipe on a bike, or flipping a pancake in a skillet, or cleaning a gun, Mercy moved in that special, delicate way particular to very large men who were very capable, and very aware of just how large and capable they were. A keen, hyper-understanding of their own power to inflict harm that spoke of discipline and training, and which had instantly silenced Gray’s inner alarm bells. In Mercy, he’d spotted someone who knew his own strength, and the value of properly-applied force and violence. Listening to him, learning from him, had felt as natural as breathing.

Speaking of Gray...he's Mercy's newest little duckling, and the poor thing is, obviously, floundering a bit. The very reason Reese is now mature enough to be of help to him - Tenny - is also the reason he can't get close to him, because Tenny is both protective of Reese's heart, and childishly terrified that having a brother will somehow lessen his relationship with Reese. Who's the stupid tit now, Tenny? He'll get over it. Eventually. In the meantime, Mercy is there to be the guiding light that he himself never had. I love the idea - and it carries through this book, a slow understanding for Mercy - that the father he's always revered was just a man, who made mistakes, and that he himself has become the kind of lighthouse, beacon-in-the-night figure he thought Remy was growing up. 

Special mentions:

I had a lot of fun writing Dale, who I think managed to fool Alex at first, and who we'll be seeing more of as our crew heads back to the swamp. 

I can't wait for the truth about Boyle - and the briefly-mentioned, but not-met-until-next-book Fallon, who's equally terrible - to come out. It's going to get so fun. My goodness. Y'all. It's gonna be good. 

Thank you so much for reading part one! I'm thrilled to have you on the journey. Thanks to those who've left a review - they help get more eyes on the book, so I can sell more, and then write more - and thanks to everyone who's reached out, left a comment, etc. Your love for these characters powers me through the long stretches in the Uncomfortable Purple Chair of Backpain Doom. 

I'm working away on part two as we speak.