The Story Behind the Story with Sheryl Doiron-Powers of Maugerville, NB, Canada.

 

Let’s welcome Sheryl back to the Scribbler.

 

Sheryl has a new book out and we are most happy to share the good news with all you visitors.

Plus, she’s sharing an Excerpt for you.

This is Sheryl’s second visit to the Scribbler. If you missed the first one, please go HERE.

Read on, my friends.

 

 

Sheryl Doiron-Powers is a disabled Canadian writer who has written for the youth, young adult, and adult markets. While she is a diverse writer who has dabbled in many genres, she leans heavily towards dark fantasy and horror steeped in Canadiana. She graduated from St. Thomas University in 2016 with a Bachelor’s Degree in Communications and English with a Concentration in Creative Writing.

 

Title: MacDonald’s Farm

 

Synopsis:

Sean Murphy has lost everything. His job, home, and marriage have all disintegrated in the past year, and he’s stuck sleeping in his uncle’s garage. When an opportunity to start over arises, he takes it.

An old farmhouse on a hundred acres, isolated but close enough for shared custody sounds like the perfect solution.

But there’s a catch. Beneath the stones of the old family graveyard behind his new home, an ancient evil stirs.

When a careless act cracks its earthly prison, Sean must confront the ravenous creature and fight for survival against an evil that should have remained buried forever.

 

The Story Behind the Story:

My writing leans towards dark fantasy, and often involves retelling or modernization of old tales many people have forgotten. When I chose to write about the Abhartach, I knew if anyone stood a chance against it, it would need to be a place where the people had gusto, tenacity, and had people who could stand together against it.

I grew up in the small town of Dalhousie, New Brunswick. Kids from neighbouring communities were bussed in to attend middle to high school, many of them from Nash Creek, Jacquet River, and Lorne. For some of us, those kids were the first ones we’d been exposed to outside of our small town. They were very much like us “Townies” in a lot of ways, but a little more rowdy and boisterous. They had fantastic senses of humour, were very loyal friends, they worked hard, and they were tough. They are a smattering of communities that has deep ties to each other, a fierce pride, and they know how to stick together and get through whatever life throws at them. 

The big cities may keep the world turning, but it’s the small town folk who can hold it all together when the going gets rough.

A more annoying story behind the story is that I somehow overwrote my final manuscript copy with a previous draft. That draft had all of its developmental edits, but absolutely zero grammatical editing. When or how this happened remains a mystery. I figured this out after it was published to Amazon. I then had to edit the entire thing over again, and get the corrections uploaded as quickly as possible, as the book was live and available for purchase. There’s no way to pause the sales while you correct anything. Your only options are to scurry to get it fixed, or unpublish it entirely. The second option often causes issues as Amazon’s system thinks I’m trying to publish copyrighted material, so I opted to scurry.

 

Website: Please go HERE.

Buy the book HERE.

Scribbler: A question for you, Sheryl. Who was your favourite author, or story, growing up?

Sheryl: I’ve been an avid reader my whole life, so that makes this a very difficult question, as I’ve read a ridiculous amount of books.

I guess Stephen King stands out the most from early on. I started reading his works at about age eleven. My favourite story prior to any of his stories was The Dollhouse Murders by Betty Ren Wright.

An Excerpt from: MacDonald’s Farm

 

Sean watched a chunk of melting snow slide down the window and felt both exposed and relieved at the same time. The house’s cozy atmosphere felt more like a tomb with the poor visibility, and it had left him feeling more than a little claustrophobic. Improving conditions meant that they’d be able to spot the creature approaching the house, and would allow them to go out for necessary support and supplies, but it would also mean their movements could be watched by whatever was stalking them. “I’m not sure how much help we’ll drum up. The storm’s winding down and looks to be just some rain right now, but it’ll take a while for people to get out of their driveways, and I’m not sure who will be ready to just run over here when we tell them there’s a monster running around Nash Creek. They’ll think we’re nuts and call the psych ward to come take us away.”

“We could always tell them there’s a rabid bear out here and then tell them the difference once they’re already here.” Darren considered his suggestion for a moment and knew that it wasn’t likely to drum up support either. People in these parts hunted and were comfortable taking down large game, but he doubted many wanted to wade through wet snow and ice to chase something with rabies around. “Might get a couple of the more adventurous residents out here, I suppose.”

“Nah. Anyone coming in has to know what they’re potentially getting into. Just wouldn’t feel right putting unwitting people at risk for who knows what. I don’t think it has showed up to welcome me to the neighbourhood, so can only assume it wants to kill us. Or eat us, which is even worse.” Sean shuddered with revulsion as images of the creature chowing down on his torn-off limbs popped into his brain. “As for what it is, who knows. Someone must, I guess.”

Darren stopped pacing and pulled out his cellphone. He began searching for creatures matching the description on his browser. “So many creatures, so little time. Some of these sound absolutely ridiculous, by the way. Like, who’s going to be afraid of a thing that’s half horse, half man? It couldn’t even get in the house.”

A clash of something slamming into the back door shook the windows, and they yelped in surprise.

“Sean, get over here and bring your weapon!” Randy yelled. Sean ran through the house and found both Randy and Earl leaning against the back door, which rattled on its hinges. “Grab that chainsaw!” The door rocked on its hinges, the sound of wood cracking as the door started to fail echoed through the house.

Sean grabbed the abandoned chainsaw off the kitchen counter and handed it to Earl. The three men pushed against the door with all their might, but he suspected it wouldn’t hold out much longer. All three were tossed forward and fell to their knees at the next barrage of the door, which popped open and slammed into their feet from behind. The creature shoved its emaciated arm through the gap, reached its gnarled skeletal fingers around the door, and managed to grip Earl’s pant leg.

“Get it off me!” Earl kicked at the withered arm and screamed.

Randy leapt to his feet and aimed his rifle, but couldn’t get a clean shot without shooting his cousin’s leg off in the process.

Sean rose to his feet and pulled the cord on the chainsaw, which sputtered but failed to start. Several more quick yanks on the cord later, the chainsaw belched out a cloud of dark exhaust and roared to life.

 Buy the book HERE.

 

Thanks for being our guest this week, Sheryl. Your novel sounds like a winner.

We wish you continued success with your writing.

 

Thank you to all our visitors and readers.

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