One of my favorite reviews!

Killer Nashville Book of the Day

“Aftershock” by Philip Donlay / Review by Jonathan Thurston

http://www.killernashville.com/aftershock-by-philip-donlay/

 

 

Behind the scenes in the writing of Aftershock

I can remember clearly how much uncertainty I felt when it came time to write Aftershock. Though it was the fifth in my series, the first four had been written over a span of ten years. I wrote when and where I could while I was still working as a professional pilot and traveling the world. This was going to be different. Change had happened, and I didn’t particularly like the concept. I had one summer to write what would hopefully become the next Donovan Nash thriller. In the weeks leading up to my start date, I’d wake up at night worrying, having no real idea how long it actually took me to write a novel. If I did the math on the first four, it averaged two and a half years each (though the first one seemed like it took a lifetime). . Now I had three months. Would I be focused and disciplined, or would I burn out quickly and lay in the hammock all day waiting for happy hour?

 

I eliminated all distractions by renting a cabin on a quiet lake. I took my cellphone, but knew that there was no reception where I was headed. Upon arrival, I set up my desk in the corner of the bedroom. As is my custom, I fussed with my work area, creating order despite the certainty that it would be a complete mess within days. I connected the printer, and wondered if there would ever be anything to print. Once my environment was to my liking, I settled in to write. My daily commute was exactly six steps. I laid out months of research and story notes scribbled on random index cards. At the end of day one, I shut down the computer. I’d written nothing. Eighty-nine days remained.

The next day I wrote a paragraph or two, my characters and plot in complete chaos as page one finally staggered into existence. Leave it alone and keep going, I reminded myself, and page two followed. Some days it was easy, other days the process felt like a forced march. Around page one-hundred I had a complete collapse of conviction. Something felt off. I panicked, hesitated, wavered like a base runner who realizes he’s going to get thrown out at second and desperately wishes he could go back and start over. I did everything except stop and listen for the answers to my own questions. I’d been at this point before in other books, and knew that the answers I needed were out there somewhere. The question was, did those answers know about my compressed timeline? I glanced apprehensively at the calendar and pressed onward.

 

Mentally, I was always grinding on the story. The characters never left; this was full-immersion book writing. I asked myself a barrage of “what if” questions daily, and played out each scenario in my head, sometimes creating more questions than answers. The clock kept ticking. I’d decided long ago to never go back to page one until the entire first draft was written, as that’s the fastest way I know to lose momentum. Eyes forward – editing is for later.

It was during one of my late night musings that the first glimpse of a completely new idea flashed into my conscious mind, and then bolted off into the ether it came from. I nearly missed the gravity of the fragmented thought, discounting it entirely. Yet the idea lingered. The notion was virtually unthinkable – or was it? I’d never killed an important character before. Don’t get me wrong: killing characters is nothing new to a thriller writer, but I’d never killed a continuing character. Unconscionable, I thought. My characters are real, at least to me, and typically my job is figuring out ways to keep them alive. I couldn’t believe what I was contemplating.

 

In the past, I’d had days, or even weeks to make a major plot decision. Writing a book in ninety days eliminates that luxury. I had told people that the blitzkrieg book writing process was good, for it allowed me to be completely absorbed, but this was happening fast – too fast. As I continued to type, I drew closer to the point where a decision would have to be made. I slowed down, and then halted work completely. Keeping a careful eye on the time I had remaining, I contemplated the chaos I was about to unleash. I tried to calculate all of the far-reaching implications for not only Aftershock, but for the books to come. That first whisper of an unthinkable idea had evolved into what I now believed was a better book. I made the decision, and a fresh stack of scribbled notecards accumulated on my desk – the death warrant, if you will. I felt a little sick to my stomach. The next morning the writing resumed.

 

Damp-eyed, I made sure I did it right. I finished that one scene and called it a day. I honestly felt like I’d lost one of my close friends. Deep down I knew that I could go back to my desk, sit down, change the scene and move on as if nothing had happened. I would have been wrong had I done that. In books, as in real life, people die, and friends and loved ones feel the tragedy and mourn. The scene stayed.

 

It was all a bit of a blur after that, but inside of my deadline, I finally sat back and watched as the rough draft of Aftershock materialized from the printer. It was a messy first draft, but first drafts are supposed to be a bit of a disaster, like a dictionary hit by a tornado. But it was all correctable. In my hands was something I could, and would, make better. Finally, I sat in a comfortable chair, pen in hand, and read Aftershock for the first time.

Since that first read-through, I’ve gone over the manuscript many times, and although I know what’s coming, I’ve yet to escape the feeling of loss when I get to the part where my friend dies. Writing Aftershock in three months was a completely different experience for me, and I felt the stress and the pressure of the task at hand. Though I wobbled a bit on the home stretch, I never once questioned my actions. In the end, neither did my agent or publisher. The death of the character was the right move for the story, which is really what the craft of writing books asks of the author – I’m glad I’ve learned to listen.

Launch Day!

I'm excited to announce that Aftershock, my newest novel was launched today.  It's the fifth Donovan Nash thriller, and I'm very excited by the early buzz.  My tour schedule is on my website: www.philipdonlay.com  If I'm coming to your city please stop by and say hello.

This review made my day.  It's from Booklist:

Donlay continues to deliver high-quality, character-driven thrillers with this latest in his Donovan Nash series. One of Nash’s closest friends, Stephanie VanGelder, is kidnapped  in Guatemala. A straightforward rescue goes horribly wrong, leaving Nash with the problem of coming up with an alternate plan. Estranged from his wife and daughter, Nash has another problem: convince his immediate family to let him back into their lives. This personal angle gives the story an emotional core, and a rumbling volcano sets the time clock on suspense and leads to a frantic turning of pages. Donlay is on the verge of breaking out ­and deservedly so. Readers who pick this fine thriller up will eagerly seek out the previous titles and wait impatiently for the next Nash adventure. --Booklist

03-03-15. A New Novel by Philip Donlay: Aftershock

Volcanic cloud induced lightning--while it's certainly one of the least threatening aspects of being in close proximity to an active Volcano, it clearly demonstrates that Mother Nature spares no expense while whipping up one of the most destructive events on the planet.  A force so cataclysmic it can destroy the landscape--or create a completely new one.  The last place anyone should be is within a hundred miles of an erupting volcano. 

Donovan Nash is never where he should be:  Available Tuesday, March 3rd, 2015

  

Volcanoes, ash plumes, and airplanes...

One of the things I get to do when writing a novel is research--the more the better.  My latest thriller stars a volcano, though as a pilot, I was already well aware of the dangers of flying through a plume of volcanic ash.    Aftershock comes out March 3rd.  Spoiler alert...volcanoes always win.

A little of the science:



On December 15, 1989, clouds of ash from an eruption at Mt. Redoubt Volcano in Alaska nearly caused a Boeing 747 jetliner (KLM Flight 867) carrying 231 passengers to crash land after losing power to all four engines.

As the crew of KLM Flight 867 struggled to restart the plane's engines, "smoke" and a strong odor of sulfur filled the cockpit and cabin. For five long minutes the powerless 747 jetliner, bound for Anchorage, Alaska, with 231 terrified passengers aboard, fell in silence toward the rugged, snow-covered Talkeetna Mountains (7,000 to 11,000 feet high). All four engines had flamed out when the aircraft inadvertently entered a cloud of ash blown from erupting Redoubt Volcano, 150 miles away. The volcano had begun erupting 10 hours earlier on that morning of December 15, 1989. Only after the crippled jet had dropped from an altitude of 27,900 feet to 13,300 feet (a fall of more than 2 miles) was the crew able to restart all engines and land the plane safely at Anchorage. The plane required $80 million in repairs, including the replacement of all four damaged engines.

How did it happen?

It's a process that's sort of like Mother Nature's version of a "Cash for Clunkers" engine getting killed. Volcanic ash normally contains glassy materials, such as silicates, whose melting points are 600 degrees Celsius to 800 degrees Celsius. Since internal temperature of in-flight jet engine exceed 1000 degrees Celsius, glassy particles in volcanic ash inhaled by the engines instantly melt. In the course of exhaust, the glassy materials are rapidly cooled down in the turbine chamber, stick on the turbine vanes, and disturb the flow of high-pressure combustion gases. This disorder of the flow may stop the entire engine in serious cases — such as KLM Flight 867.

And then the Government got involved...

 

My previous blog involved my running theory about Santa and the Wright Brothers--backed up of course by a sketch, and other evidence to further substantiate my claims, that perhaps Santa taught Orville and Wilbur how to fly.  It was a wonderful moment in it's simplicity and purity as the Wright's allowed Santa to take the Flyer for a spin.

 

 

 

 

 

I received this, and it's painfully clear that the FAA has been looking into the unlicensed jolly old man from the North Pole--and this is what happened.  Sorry Santa.  

 

Who taught Orville Wright to fly?



 

It's the age old question, which came first, the airplane or the pilot?

According to history, the airplane came first, because Wilbur and Orville Wright studied the science and built one--and promptly kept crashing the thing.  Was their machine flawed?  Or was it the lack of flying lessons?

I can promise that if anyone today was allowed to take the Wright Flyer out for a spin around the patch--they'd crash.  No doubt in my mind whatsoever that time after time, without an expertly trained pilot, the Flyer would wind up in an unrecognizable ball of tubing and canvas.  It's not an easy machine to fly.

My personal theory, is there was someone, a benevolent instructor.  The only high-time aviator in the world came forward, and taught the Wrights to fly.  This generous endeavor only worked because Kitty Hawk, back in 1903, was out in the middle of nowhere. This instructor typically remained unseen while working, and he wanted no share of the glory he knew was about to come--it was an early Christmas gift to Orville and Wilbur.

On December 17th, 1903, the instructor watched Orville make that fateful solo flight. His only request was that he wanted to demo the Flyer just once before he departed.  The Wright's happily obliged, and although there are no photographs of that particular event, there was one sketch artist who later chronicled the event.

Thanks to that instructor, in todays world, we fly airplanes using two lists.  We call them normal checklists, and abnormal checklists, aviation terms for good and bad.  The instructor had taught Orville and Wilbur all about the importance of lists.

When we see another airplane in flight, we call out: "Tally Ho!"  This evolved from the original Ho Ho Ho!

And finally, in todays world, we always put at least one shiny red light on our airplanes.  We all know why.

---Thanks Santa