Yesterday, I finally finished the first draft of my third novel, tentatively titled CREEP CLUB. This was a tough one to get through for me (mostly because of outside circumstances, and not because of the story itself), so it felt better to bring this one across the finish line than it did with either of my first two. Perhaps a bit more sense of accomplishment, I suppose. And now that I'm three books into this whole Career Novelist thing, I'm getting some sense of perspective about it.

One thing I've noticed, and one thing I'm quite happy to report is: With each book, I find I'm trying to tackle some aspect of storytelling that scares me. I'm not talking about plot or story here; I'm talking about the man-behind-the-curtains stuff. With WAKING LAZARUS, I was terrified to write about a baddie (a child abductor) whose mind I didn't want to spend time in. But I did it, precisely because I was scared to. With THE DEAD WHISPER ON, I was scared to write a "big" story with stakes far beyond the characters involved. But I did it, again, because I was scared to. And with CREEP CLUB, I was scared to tackle a more intense, twisting plot--something with a more high-octane pace. But I did it, and you know why.

I'm also starting to notice some of the themes that are present in my work--the things I keep returning to again and again. And in a bit of self-reflection, I'm wondering why.

Tops on that list: I'm drawn to anti-heroes. A lot of authors, especially in the thriller and suspense category, tend to write what I call "Wish Fulfillment Stories." That is, their main characters are extensions of what they wish they, themselves, could be. That means the main characters are devastatingly good-looking, utterly brilliant, and filled with an unwavering sense of justice. Oh, sure, they may be tortured, with scarred pasts--a divorced alcoholic or a cop whose mistake killed someone are good bets--but overall, they're romanticized ideals. And I'm not complaining; I'm just observing. I read and love a lot of these stories.

I'm not like that, I find. I'd rather spend time inside the heads of people who are tortured loners. People who have mental problems. People who hate themselves. People who are slow to figure out what's going on. People who are janitors or garbage collectors or panhandlers.

So what does that say about me? I'm not sure. I'm sure Freud would have some ideas. But I do think I enjoy finding the spark of the divine, if you will, inside unexpected characters. Maybe that's it; if I can write a story about a guy who hides in ceilings and closets to spy on other people (the main character of CREEP CLUB), and make him discover something heroic about himself, maybe I feel like I'm in pretty good shape.

Or maybe I'm just twisted. That one works, too.