We are most
fortunate to have Ann back again.
This is Ann’s third visit to the Scribbler. Her first visit in 2016, she shared her creative story – The Raft. GO HERE Her second visit in 2018, Ann chatted with us about writing and shared an excerpt from her novel – Nightshade. GO HERE.
This week,
she has kindly agreed to a 4Q Interview and is sharing an excerpt from her
latest work – The Assaulters.
Author of
six books: Battlefield, The Rising, Midnight Peak, The Rubix, Nightshade, and
The Assaulters; three screenplays: The Gold Dust Circle, The Assaulters, and
Holiday Spice; and one short story The Raft. Early start in choreography and stage
production.
4Q: Welcome
back Ann. Lots of incredible things happening with your writing. Let’s dive
right in and talk about The Assaulters. What can you tell us about it?
AK: Thank
you for having me back on the Scribbler.
The Assaulters is a psychological drama about
a social experiment that goes wrong after a member of an underground group
defects—and focuses his need for violent revenge on the remaining
members—taking ‘assault’ to a whole new level.
By day, psychologist Sam Blake helps assess
and treat mental, emotional, and behavioral disorders; but by night, he sends
his followers out on the streets to carry out specific acts of violence. Tired
of waiting for ‘ideal’ patients to walk through his door, he takes it upon
himself to encourage setups that will ultimately lead to more
opportunities—chance occasions that will allow him to delve into the mind
post-trauma. Dr. Blake wants to get inside their heads and discover just how
resilient their minds are. His goal is simple: shock the victim and study the pliability
of human character after suffering has taken place. His underground club
becomes an outlet for men filled with angst and overrun with testosterone—easy
pawns to manipulate.
Meanwhile, Sam’s personal life is not without
problems. His wife’s repeated miscarriages are cause for concern, and her
obsession to have a child add insult to injury. The cracks in their seemingly
‘perfect’ marriage begin to deepen. Ed is Sam’s closest friend, and an anchor
through it all—a wise advisor and loyal accomplice. He tags along as the
journey takes them deep into the nature of relationships, trauma, and
loss.
When Sam rejects an unstable young man from the club for taking an act of violence too far; he inadvertently becomes the object of a twisted game of revenge. A victim of the group’s attacks ends up in Sam’s office giving him the break he has been waiting for. But everyone who gets close to Sam becomes a target; his wife, his best friend, his club members, and his new client… No one is safe from the malicious criminal who has made it his mission to hurt that which has hurt him.
4Q: What
inspired this story?
AK: The
story evolved from the idea that sometimes human beings experience tremendous
pain and suffering and still find a way to move forward and reinvent themselves
against all odds. Post-traumatic growth versus post-traumatic stress. In the
same way, some minds don’t bounce back after trauma and the antagonist helps
bring that to light. The Assaulters was originally a screenplay. I decided to
write the book a year later. The story explores many themes such as love,
loyalty, friendship, betrayal, and revenge.
4Q: Please
share a childhood memory and/or anecdote.
AK: I
remember the moment I caught the writing bug; I was fifteen years old—and in my
high school graduating year. I was the youngest admitted to the screenwriting
program the next year, and I had worked hard to sharpen my skills as a
scriptwriter… and then tragedy struck—and 39 scripts were gone in the blink of
an eye. From that day forward, I believed that my writing career was over.
Eight years passed before I considered returning to the craft. I had a
recurring dream—it would not go away until I wrote it down. In doing that, I gave
the story a voice. Battlefield (my first book) was the result of that dream. I
am reminded of the quote by Nicole Reed, ‘Sometimes the bad things that happen
in our lives put us directly on the path to the best things that will ever
happen to us’.
4Q: On your previous
visit, we enjoyed an Excerpt from Nightshade. One of the three books in The
Rising Series. Can you tell us about the series?
AK: Imagine
living in a world free of disease, obesity, poverty, and murder—a perfectly
crafted world order led by one family. The cost—freedom of choice. Genetics
decide your diet, career path, and compatible partner. Rebel alliances are
formed, but those who oppose the new system of control are forced into hiding.
Children begin their training at a young age—future soldiers to serve the new
world leaders. If the rebels hope to overthrow the family in power and restore
their rights, the youth are their only hope.
And the
story begins with The Rising:
Being at a
medium-security training center high up in the mountains means that there is a
slight margin for things like… sneaking out of dorm rooms after lights out.
That’s what Rachel does to go meet Leo, her annoying, yet devilishly handsome
pain-in-the-rear friend. He makes her life difficult and enjoys every minute of
it. Leo always manages to get under her skin, but it doesn’t matter because
they are drawn to each other like a moth to a flame, and they love to push each
other’s limits.
She has
everyone fooled. It was the only way to get ‘inside’ and become part of the
elite. She is the daughter of the resistance—their greatest threat. They raised
her, trained her, and made her the best.
Rachel knows that if her
secret identity gets out it will endanger the lives of the people she cares
about. This game of deceit takes its toll, but she has no choice other than to
slam shut her emotional window and avoid attachments at all costs.
The rebels
have people on the inside watching over Rachel. Getting through the finals, she spends a weekend with
her supposed father—the Chief. During the visit, she meets Matt, a detective
who captures not only her interest, but also her heart. Is a rebel supposed to
fall in love? What will this mean to her mission? The internal
conflict rages as she continues to deceive her peers.
To make matters far worse, Rachel
attracts the interest of the youngest Rothwell heir; son of the world leader.
Johnny is strong, powerful, and he represents an opportunity—an irresistible
chance to sway the scales and help her family out of hiding. They made her
smart, strong, and resilient. All she has to do is play a part, and she's
already done that for most of her life. But little does Rachel realize
that she is entering a web so thick and impenetrable; she may not be able
to find her way out of it. Being on the arm of a Rothwell will come
at a price—one that she is not entirely ready for...
The adventure continues with
Midnight Peak:
On
assignment under the watchful eye of her acting father, the Chief of law
enforcement, Rachel continues to gather precious Intel for her family in
hiding. When Johnny returns, so does the responsibility of playing an
affectionate lover. Being with Johnny means she can’t be with Matt—the only man
who has truly won her heart. Remaining focused on her mission proves impossible
when a favor from the past suddenly comes back to hurt her. A rebel trades a
secret for the release of his pregnant wife, endangering Rachel’s life, and
complicating an already difficult situation.
With his
father’s health deteriorating, Johnny is destined to become the new world
leader. The young heir has a lust for power unlike any Rachel has ever
encountered, and he’ll need to secure a wife if he hopes to rob his older
brother of his birthright. A union with Johnny means that Rachel will never be free.
Rachel has
to face all of her fears; she has to dig deep down and find the strength to persevere
or they will crush her. Struggling to overcome everyone else’s expectations of
her—what they want for her life—who they want her to be—the truth finally sinks
in. She’s not just a rebel’s daughter. She’s not Johnny’s puppet. She’s a
soldier. They can beat her to her knees, but she won’t stay there. She’s going
to unravel the secrets and dismantle this system of control or die trying.
Nightshade is the third book
in this series, and previously featured on the Scribbler.
4Q: Favorite
authors? Novels?
AK: Tough
question! I enjoy the way authors lure me into their worlds, and I fall for certain
‘baiting’ and techniques but… it is too difficult to choose one that I prefer
over the rest.
My favorite
books include: Love Anthony, by Lisa Genova; Charlie St. Cloud, by Ben
Sherwood, and The Cuckoo’s Calling, by J.K. Rowling.
4Q: What’s
next for Ann Knight, the author?
AK: I
am entering uncharted territory with my newest project; a ghost story with an
uncommon twist. An upcoming fourth installment to The Rising series is pending.
A sequel for my first book, Battlefield, is in the initial stages of the
writing process, and a prequel for The Rubix is also in consideration.
4Q: Anything
else you’d like to share with us?
AK: In
addition to writing, I have been coaching first time authors since 2019
(writers can contact by email: annknightfiction@gmail.com).
Writers have great ideas but at times struggle with tone, flow, and other
challenges. It is difficult to unearth answers when we dig alone. Sharing our
answers can help others find theirs.
An Excerpt
from The Assaulters.
(Copyright
is held by the author. Used with permission)
The dreaded morning commute wasn’t something
most people enjoyed. The city bus was crowded, as usual. A man folded the
newspaper he was reading and placed it on the empty seat next to him. The
headline was bold and in all caps: ASSAULTERS ATTACK AGAIN, 2 MORE VICTIMS.
The man scratched at his shaggy beard, his
bloodshot eyes warily taking in the other passengers. His pudgy cheeks were
riddled with broken capillaries. His construction boots were unlaced, his pants
worn at the knees, and the bottom hem of his plaid shirt was torn in a few
places. He carried the burden of life on his shoulders. The bus stopped and the
man followed the line of other exiting passengers to the door. Outside, he
squinted against the bright light that affronted his vision. Busy bodies all
went their separate ways. The stocky man stopped by the bus shelter and lit a
smoke. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.
“Hey it’s Troy,” he said after Rory picked up.
“I’m here.” He looked across the street at the Asian Appetite. “Alright I’ll
meet you there.” He ended the call and took another long drag. Rubbing out the
fairly new cigarette on the aluminum shelter framing, he placed it back in his
pocket and walked towards the restaurant with an air of distrust in his
expression.
Troy waited for twenty minutes for Rory to show.
Sitting at the small round table, he fiddled with the chopsticks until his
wife’s younger cousin joined him.
“You look like crap,” Troy started, “like
usual.”
“Buy me lunch man, I’m hungry.” Rory sat back in
the chair, his dark eyes somehow becoming magnets of empathy.
“Sure,” Troy told him. They ordered and then
skipped the small talk.
“So why did you get mixed up in all this?” Rory
asked him.
“What do you mean?” Troy frowned.
“I mean, does my cousin know that you’ve
enrolled in the criminal fists unit that has fun after dark?”
Troy picked out the sarcasm in Rory’s tone, but
it still irritated him. “No—hey Rory I have four mouths to feed and another on
the way. I don’t need you coming here and hassling me—”
“Whoa,” Rory stopped him, “hold on. Just you
hold on a minute cousin. No one forced you to join the night crawlers.”
Troy exhaled. “What do you want?”
“Matt Mulligan,” Rory said. “Do you think that’s
his real name?”
“I don’t know,” Troy answered. “All I know is I
want out now.”
Rory leaned forward. “Not yet you don’t. I need
you in there. I’m gonna take him down. I want him to lose everything he
has—starting with his messed-up underground group.”
Troy slid his elbows across the small table,
bridging the gap between them. He kept his voice hushed. “No. Just leave it
alone. There’s too many of them Rory. It’s crazy. Let it go.”
“Let it go?” Rory’s face reddened. “Would you
let it go? They kicked the crap out of me and dumped me in the middle of the
highway.”
Troy’s palms came up. “Walk away from it. It’s
easy.”
Rory’s fist came down on the table. “You’re not
listening to me.”
They straightened in their seats as the server
placed their orders on the table and left. Rory wasted no time digging in. He
hadn’t eaten all day. He was between jobs and between places to crash.
“Where are you living these days?” Troy asked.
Rory didn’t look up from his food. “Nowhere.”
“Nowhere?” Troy’s brows scrunched together. “Are
you homeless?”
“I’m not one of your kids. Mind your damn
business,” Rory grated.
Troy looked down at the plate in front of him.
Thai was his favorite, but he didn’t like to eat at restaurants. Today he was
paying for two meals and his wife would wonder who he was meeting for lunch.
She counted every dollar he made. Frowning, he took the fork and dug in without
another word.
“Thanks for lunch.” Rory covered his mouth and
stifled a belch.
Troy finished his last bite and looked around.
Most of the tables were taken now. “I have to get back.”
“My car,” Rory said, his eyes darkening. “That’s
where I’m living.” He stood and balanced his fist on the edge of the table. “I
need you to give me the inside scoop on the meetings—on Matt.”
“You know I can’t,” Troy started.
“You should think it over, you know, for your
kids. For my cousin. You don’t want them involved in this.”
Troy’s chest tightened at the words. He didn’t
know how far Rory was willing to take this, but he could judge that it was
pretty far. “Alright.”
Rory turned to leave. Troy picked up on the fact
that Rory walked with a bit of a limp. He wondered what Matt’s group had done
to the poor kid. He knew Mick and Andrei, the two men who acted as the club’s
bouncers. They would have let Rory have it—they would have beaten him without
mercy. Though his wife’s cousin deserved a good pounding, no one deserved to be
outnumbered by two big fighters and then dumped on a highway like roadkill.
Troy hung his head. What the hell had he done? He had four little kids and a
good woman to go home to. Somewhere along the way it hadn’t been enough. Life
lacked adventure, adrenaline rushes, and midnight escapes. The enticement of
the secret group had been too good to pass up, and now he was in too deep to
turn back.
Amanda folded her hands in her lap. She waited
for Sam to review his notes from their last sessions. The leather chaise seemed
less giving today and she felt stiff, uncomfortable.
“How are you feeling?” Sam asked.
“Umm,” Amanda inhaled. “Good, I guess.”
Sam looked up from his notes and read her body
language. She wasn’t as relaxed as the last time. He wondered if it was due to
the fact that they were meeting after hours, after everyone else in the
building had gone home. Her shoulders were tight and a bit forward. She averted
his gaze, and her hair was down, hiding most of her face.
“How many times did your mind replay the attack
today?” he asked.
She swallowed and turned her hands over in her
lap nervously. “Like a dozen times,” her voice was a barely louder than a
whisper.
Sam nodded. “Is that pretty regular?”
Her eyes watered. He took that as a yes. “The
reason I’m offering these late sessions, Amanda, is because I think that you
are making great progress and I would hate for that to change.”
Her shoulders eased back into their natural
place. It dawned on him then that she was suggestable. He knew how to
manipulate a mind like that—to open it, shape it, sculpt it like clay and make
it strong again.
“We’re going to find the key to your healing,”
he said, “and you will use it to unlock your future.”
Her lips twitched; she almost smiled. The words
healing and future in the same sentence were homey, reassuring. She was really
starting to like this man in front of her. It was his approach. He didn’t talk
at her like the other therapists had done. He talked with her. She felt like
she still had one hand on the wheel when she was here. He stood and walked
around the desk, telling her something, but she only heard a muffled sound. Her
attention was on his features. Amanda couldn’t help but study him as though he
were the subject, and she the researcher. His hair was dark blond with a tinge
of red, and was getting a bit long on top. It naturally curled which would seem
like nothing short of an annoyance for a man, but it did him well. Blue eyes
were perfectly set beneath thick eyebrows and a straight nose. His skin looked
like it tanned easily; there was a sun-kissed shade to it even now, this late
into fall. She tilted her head, following the contour of his chin.
His throat cleared. “Amanda?”
She snapped back to reality, realizing to her
embarrassment that her jaw had dropped open. “I didn’t hear the question,” she
mumbled, regaining her composure. Her cheeks felt hot.
He smiled. “I didn’t ask a question.” He
wondered what she had been thinking moments ago. “I want you to notice what it
feels like in your body when the trauma emotions rise up. I don’t want you to
suppress anything that wants to be felt.”
“But,” Amanda looked down at her hands. “Isn’t
the whole point of this to make sure I don’t relive what happened?”
“The only way past trauma is to go through it
not over it. Ignoring what took place won’t bring you out of it. It won’t
empower you in any way to play victim.” In response to the desolate look on her
face, he added, “I know you were a victim and I am not taking that away from
you. I am only suggesting that you don’t have to be a victim for the rest of
your life.”
She took a deep breath and sunk back into the
cushions. She felt like making herself more comfortable. Sam watched the change
in her demeanor, in her posture. The subtleties pleased him to no end. The way
the mind triggered the body and vice versa. Amanda turned and placed her feet
up on the chaise, leaning back into the headrest. “I hate what happened. I hate
what they did to me. I don’t want to forget it happened. It makes me so angry
inside that I couldn’t fight back.”
Sam listened. She was so different. “Trauma is
complex. It rewires the brain. The good news is that we can change the wiring
as many times as we want. It just takes work.”
Amanda pondered that. Her idea of life had
certainly changed after the attack. The world had become so bleak, so negative.
She needed a new outlook, a new way of thinking.
“If you can trust me,” Sam’s voice was level, as
was his gaze. “We can do this work together. You won’t be doing this alone, I’m
here to support you every step of the way. But you need to trust me.”
No other professional had spoken to her of
trust. Not one. They expected her to be responsive, to be a robot, in a sense.
They didn’t want to understand her or take the time needed to rebuild her. She
glanced over at the notepad on the desk. Sam hadn’t taken any notes during
their session. He had been more interested in her, and somehow this left an
impression. The sessions with Dr. Blake started just a few weeks ago, and they
were already making a world of difference. It was stupid to think that someone
who was banking on her presence every week actually cared about her, but she
could tell he did.
Thank you,
Ann, for being our special guest this week. Wishing you continued success with
your writing.
Much
appreciated, and always a pleasure!
For all you
awesome visitors wanting to discover more about Ann and her books, please
follow these links:
https://www.annknightfiction.com/
