Welcome to our Author Spotlight! This is where you can find guest blogs from a vast array of writers. We’re thrilled that bestselling novelist Robert Liparulo is joining us for the Fiction Addict launch.
Robert Liparulo is a former journalist, with over a thousand articles and multiple writing awards to his name. Currently, three of his novels for adults are in various stages of development for the big screen: the film rights to Comes a Horseman were purchased by the producer of Tom Clancy’s movies; and Liparulo is penning the screenplays for Germ and Deadfall for two top producers. He is also working with the director Andrew Davis (The Fugitive, Holes) on a political thriller. Liparulo’s bestselling young adult series, Dreamhouse Kings, debuted last year with House of Dark Shadows and Watcher in the Woods. Book three, Gatekeepers released in January, and number four, Timescape, is in stores now. He is currently working on his next thriller, which for the first time injects a bit of the supernatural into his gun-blazing stories. The story is so compelling, two Hollywood studios are already in talks to acquire it—despite its publication date being more than a year away.
Why I Write Fiction
By Robert Liparulo
Stories are powerful, fascinating things. Good ones transcend cultures and even time. They mirror our emotions and lives. They show us, vividly, the world in which we live and how to navigate through it. They are sad and joyous, enlightening and, ultimately, thrilling.
I love stories, always have. I remember teachers as far back as elementary school telling my parents that my “learning style” was through stories. Laying out a mathematical equation and telling me someday I would need it just didn’t work. Put the same equation into a story (the old “One train leaves the station at 2:11 and travels at 90 miles an hours . . .”) —and bingo! Got it! I learned about hard work through Dickens, tenaciousness through Hemingway, the unfairness of life through Steinbeck (as if Dickens didn’t offer enough of that, too), the wo
nder of imagination through Tolkien and Heinlein and Bradbury.
My love for stories didn’t stop with books. Like Xander, the teenage protagonist of my Dreamhouse Kings series, I’m a lifelong movie buff. Before video tapes, I’d set an 8mm camera in front of the TV to capture movies. I use to host showings of movies in my parents’ basement. At 13, I started The Cinema Company, which purchased stills, posters and press kits from theaters and resold them to fans around the country. At 14, I made a documentary on the social impact of Jaws, which found its way onto a few PBS stations.
Of course, I was a comic book nut as well: Superman, Batman, Tales from the Crypt. I LOVED Plop!, which gave me my first glimpse of what happens when horror and humor have babies. I’m thrilled to be a friend of Larry Hama, who wrote the best of the Wolverine and G.I. Joe comics. Our conversations are naturally laced with stories: It happened like this . . . I love the way this author pulls you in by doing this . . . what do you think of this story idea . . . . He’s a man after my own heart.
Going a little deeper, where did my inclination toward stories come from in the first place? I like to think that’s just the way I was wired. But then I think of my mother. She is an incredible storyteller. Every trip to the grocery story or bank results in an elaborate tale of some crazy driver or someone who tripped, spilling a bag of whatever everywhere . . . it’s how she communicates, and that must have rubbed off.
No doubt this early and long fascination—obsession?—with stories shaped the direction of my writing. Even so, I can pinpoint the exact moment I vowed to become a novelist. When I was 12, I read Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend. For about half the book, the main character, Robert Neville, tries to get a sick dog inside his home. When he finally does, he spends the night nursing it and recognizing it as one of the last living things not affected by the virus that had wiped out humankind. Stroking the dog, he recalls the way things used to be. Then came last line of the chapter: “In the morning the dog was dead.” Not only was the dog cool, its death was symbolic of the death of life as it had once been. I started crying, and I thought, If words—WORDS!—can make a pretty tough 12-year-old kid cry, imagine their pow
er. I want to do that.
What’s puzzling is how I ended up in journalism and magazine writing. Oh, I know why I started writing nonfiction, having to do with the short story market drying up as publications cut pages and sought brand-named authors whose monikers sold issues. But like the memory of your first kiss, fiction stayed in my heart and deep in my subconscious. Even my articles worked in stories: Bruce Springsteen didn’t just give audiences everything he had, he “came off the stage as out of a downpour. His clothes clung to him like wet leaves, his hair wild and dripping . . .”
Until finally, I came back to my first love. I didn’t want to be a seventy-year-old man in a rocker, daydreaming of the one that got away. I started getting up at three in the morning to work on a novel. At eight or nine, I’d return to my day job, writing nonfiction. I did that everyday for almost a year. What came out of it was my first published novel, Comes a Horseman. Eventually, its success allowed me write novels fulltime, and eight books later (after Horseman, came Germ, Deadfall, Deadlock, and the Dreamhouse series), I’m in storytelling heaven. I can only hope my passion for story—cultivated over a lifetime—comes through in every one I tell.
As for why my fiction leans toward thrillers and adventure . . . well, that’s another story.