How a Monster is Made
By RaShell Lashbrook
Genre: Psychological Suspense/Thriller, Dark Domestic Thriller
About the Book
From the author of Hidden in the Dark comes a novel about the childhood of a man who will go on to commit unimaginable crimes against the most vulnerable in society.
Curious and energetic, Randy Carter is an ordinary enough little boy in the beginning. Born post-WWII in a sleepy Texas town, he is the middle child of an alcoholic father and a mother who suffers from bouts of severe psychosis. Forced to survive in an unpredictable world of violence and poverty, Randy develops into a calculating young man with a growing need for control.
Bad things happen when Randy is around.
Evil incarnate or just a broken child? Sociopath or victim? What is undeniable is the path of destruction left in his wake. There is a fine line between prey and predator, and Randy Carter is about to cross over it.
RaShell Danette Lashbrook was born in Wellington, Kansas. Her parents threw the television away when she was just two years old, so she spent her childhood in the little town of Mulvane, Kansas reading, exploring, biting her nails, and picking her nose.
Her deep love of reading always fueled a small flame of desire to write, but it wasn't until 2012 that she began to practice the craft of throwing words onto paper and rearranging them repeatedly.
She is blessed to share her life with her six magnificent children and their friends, parents that anyone would be envious of, the best siblings in the whole world, and a "top-shelf" circle of close friends and extended family.
RaShell's fascination with many different subjects has served her well in her writing. She prefers to think of her dabbling as "research". Her lasting passions have been organic gardening, music, cooking, murder, mysteries, aliens, and mental disorders.
Interview with author!
What do you find most challenging about the writing process, and how do you deal with it?
The most challenging part of writing for me is carving out quiet time to write. I have a full house with my children, their friends, and four dogs. I’m still operating my cleaning business, so the workday is full. Like most parents, the evening is filled with cooking, laundry, homework, and all the other tasks required to be a functioning adult. When I’m on a writing streak, I tend to cut my sleep short for days or weeks at a time. There’s only so much of me to go around, so my sleep suffers. My older children pester me to go to bed when I start to get cranky. It used to be the other way around!
When and where do you do your writing?
There is a small writing desk set up in the corner of my bedroom next to my window. When I placed it there, I thought the natural light would be great for my imagination. Unfortunately, I rarely see the light of day when I’m writing. Quiet time in our home is around five A.M. It does seem like I’m more creative first thing in the morning before all the chaos of real life takes over the day.
What have you learned about promoting your books?
I’ve learned that writing and promoting are two very different animals. For me, writing requires that I go into myself. I’m naturally reclusive, so I enjoy the process. Promotion demands that I tap into my social side. Although I love connecting with people, it takes more effort to be consistent. I’ve also learned that promotion can be a full-time job, especially on a shoe-string budget. The experience has been enjoyable, though. I think eventually, I might get it right!
What are you most proud of as a writer?
I’m proud that I stayed with it. There were so many times during the writing of my first book that I nearly gave up. My marriage wasn’t healthy, and the divorce was traumatic. Talking about the experience makes me a little squeamish, not because I’m still in pain, but because I don’t want to identify as a victim.
When I fled the marriage in 2014, I left with my van, our two youngest children, the clothing on our backs, and my old laptop which held my unfinished manuscript. Because we were self-employed, it was also the first time in my adult life that I had no income. I was absolutely terrified, not only of the situation that I ran from, but of the unknown future that I was running toward.
During the following year, I started my own business out of necessity. All the jobs that I qualified for wouldn’t have supported my family. The stress level was over the top during those years.
I’m proud of that frightened version of myself. I didn’t quit on myself or my writing.
If you could have dinner with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and what would you talk about?
Do I have to choose just one? There are so many writers that I admire, each for different reasons. I suppose if I were to pick only one, Stephen King would be my top choice. I admire his longevity in the business and his approach to writing. He has talked about developing the characters first, then seeing what kind of trouble they can get themselves into. The thought of constructing an outline sounds about as pleasant as digging ditches in a field of rocks. Stephen King gave me hope for myself as a writer. I’d love to pick his brain, to learn more about his approach to the business of writing.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RaShellLashbrook
Twitter: @PoppyJuiceBlog
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08835BVCY
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53356124-how-a-monster-is-made
Brief excerpt
The jagged edges of the stick burned deep in his throat, but he couldn’t turn away. The bitch had his head trapped between her feet. Arms and legs bound; he was at her mercy. No doubt, she was loving every second of this. Raine had always been a little off in the head, and this was just more proof.
The seriousness of the situation was sinking in. Randall had a fleeting thought that he might not make it out alive. He stopped fighting back in hopes she might ease up some - but no luck. She pushed even harder, and he could feel the blood trickling down the back of his throat. The damned stick was taking up all the space in his mouth, and swallowing was impossible.
She repositioned the rod, and with a grunt, shoved it in harder. The trickle turned into a gush, and breathing was no longer an option. Panic didn’t take over like he’d thought it would. The booze from earlier in the day helped make everything softer.
Strange, he thought, how calm he felt, knowing he was a goner. It was as if he could see everything from a distance. His last thoughts meshed with his first memories.
His mouth was full but not with the hardened, rough edges of the stick. Soft flesh filled his mouth. He suckled furiously, milk from his mother’s breast spraying the back of his throat with each swallow.
Her arms were around him, cradling him close. He was safe now. Warm and loved. He reached up for her face, and she smiled down at him, kissing the palm of his hand. Mama pulled the soft blanket up around his shoulder and began to stroke his head gently. When she did this, he could barely keep his eyes open. Drifting off to sleep, he left the cruel stick, the blood, and the last part of his life behind.
Thank you for the interview!
ReplyDelete