Name of fiction work? And were there other names you considered that you would like to share with us? Two In The Head. I usually have a title before I begin writing and this one stuck the whole way through. It’s meant to be clever because in the book the lead character splits into two people, her good side and her bad side and it is also slang for putting two bullets in someone’s head to kill them, assassination style. Too clever? Not clever enough? It’s about as clever as I get. (Below: Painting Two Bullets In the Head. Credit and Copyright by Christal Ann Rice Cooper)
What is the date you began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of fiction? I went back to check the files and it looks like I started this one somewhere in spring of 2014. It took quite a while to get published. I don’t recall exactly how long it took to write but I usually take about 3 months and this one flowed pretty quickly once I had my outline set. It did require careful planning since there are so many potential plot holes with the slightly unreal plot so I had a fairly detailed outline for this one, and outlining can take about a month. I usually just think about a story for a while before I begin and that process can take several months before I know it is something that will make a full novel and I know I won’t get stuck midway through. (Below Two Photos: Eric Beetner’s writing space. Credit and Copyright by Eric Beetner)
Where did you do most of your writing for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. And can you please include a photo? My home office is a converted garage space. It’s half of the garage so it’s a room built into another room. It’s small and away from the rest of the house and my wife lets me keep all my stuff in here. I am constantly having to battle my lack of shelf space for all the books I own. And wall space too. I have several hundred film noir movie posters but can only display a limited number so I have to be very choosy what goes on the wall. But I like a visually dense work space, which I know a lot of people do not. I like to be surrounded by inspiring items and artwork. I have a lot of little knick-knacks including a real human skull, vintage cameras, creepy things in jars, and books, books, books.
Please include just one excerpt and include page numbers as reference. This one excerpt can be as short or as long as you prefer. I chose this section when Samantha first articulates what has happened to her, an unreal and inexplicable split. It begins on page 39 of the book.
—————
“Sammy, what the hell is going on here? Are you okay?”
I grunted in frustration. “Lucas! Listen to me. I’ll explain later but right now you need to go. They’re going to kill you.”
I looked right into his eyes, trying to get him to grasp the seriousness. Sometimes, though, things are truly unbelievable I guess.
“Calder and Rizzo are coming here right now to kill me?”
“Well, not them. Someone else.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter.” My voice rose in volume and pitch. “You need to get out of here and go someplace that isn’t obvious. Someplace I wouldn’t know about. And you can’t tell me.”
The door still hung open and headlights swept across the entryway as the car squealed its brakes to a stop at the bottom of the driveway. She made good time. As she started stalking toward the house I got another good look at her, minus the fire and debris from before. She still looked like me. But how? My head felt clearer, but something was still seriously wrong. No one on the bus looked like me. The woman who lost her purse, the driver. Only this woman felt like looking into a mirror.
I punched the door closed before he could see her get out of the car. I spun the deadbolt and shoved Lucas deeper into the house.
“Move. Grab what you need. Your wallet, keys, phone. But you need to move fast.”
“Shit, Sammy, you’re serious.”
“Yes.” I pulled on his arm and brought him to the bedroom, slamming the door behind us.
“What the fuck, Sam?”
“I told you already. You haven’t got much time.”
Two blasts announced her entry into the house. Gustavo’s gun made a hell of a lock pick.
“Lucas!” My voice came down the hall. My voice, but I hadn’t said anything. In a moment of clarity I understood.
EXPLAINING THE UNEXPLAINABLE
There was something beyond the fact she looked like me. It was me. Okay, she wasn’t me, she was only half of me. We were the same person, split in two. A copy. A clone.
She came into the entryway and I felt her look at me and I could sense she felt the same unspoken truth of it. There was a connection, an understanding. Even her face had the same knicks and cuts that I had after the explosion. A short cut on her right cheek bone right where my cheek hurt, a knick on her chin where I could feel the little indent. And up close to her now I could see that our outfits did match. It hadn’t been an illusion.
It’s so hard to explain, but what I can tell you is I split. Two halves, good and evil. I was the good. She was the evil. I’ll call her Sam, trying to keep things straight in my head when absolutely nothing in my world was straight anymore. Crookeder than a dog’s hind leg. (Texas again, thanks Daddy.)
And I recognized it because it had previously been my evil, my hate. Now it went untempered by the usually decent side of me. Nothing to keep my dark side in check, to throw water on the flames when they flared too high (as I’d been known to do).
Everyone has two sides. The good side holds the door open for a person on crutches. The bad side realizes the cashier gave you back too much change and says nothing. Even Mother Theresa gave the finger every now and then.
Why is this excerpt so emotional for you as a writer to write? And can you describe your own emotional experience of writing this specific excerpt? The crux of this book requires a huge leap of faith from readers. You need to go along with this world I set up where this thing could happen. I had to try to explain it and have Samantha understand it, but still be confused and dismayed by it. She couldn’t instantly know what’s going on. It’s almost 40 pages in so a lot has already happened and the reader, along with Sam, is piecing it together but this is where it gets laid out and hopefully a way that makes sense to the reader so we can move on with the rest of the story and accept this weird occurrence as fact and roll with it. (Below: Eric Beetner. Copyright granted by Eric Beetner)
Were there any deletions from this excerpt that you can share with us? And can you please include a photo of your marked up rough drafts of this excerpI don’t keep old drafts like that. But I also don’t rewrite a ton. I like to plan ahead and get it as close to right the first time. I’m just not big on revisions. I find it tedious and I have a hard time moving forward in a novel if I know I’m leaving problems in my wake. If I come across something I need to address I will go fix it then and not wait. So if there were many changes here, they were minor and it usually is word choice, grammar and tightening where I can. The changes from first draft to final edit would be very boring for most writers. But I have had at least one editor at a major publisher say the book I gave her (not this one) was “the cleanest manuscript I’ve ever gotten.” I take great pride in that. (Below: Eric Beetner. Twitter Logo Photo.)
Eric Beetner is the author of more than two dozen novels including All The Way Down, Rumrunners,The Devil Doesn’t Want Me, Dig Two Graves, and Two In The Head. His award-winning stories have appeared in over twenty anthologies including Unloaded: Crime Writers Writing Without Guns, which he created and edited. Beetner has been called “the 21st century’s answer to Jim Thompson.” (LitReactor) He lives in Los Angeles where he hosts the Noir At The Bar reading series and hosts the podcast Writer Types. For more visit
All of the Inside The Emotion of Fiction LIVE LINKS can be found at the very end of the below feature:
http://chrisricecooper.blogspot.com/2021/03/stephenson-holts-arranged-marriage-is.html