Kevin Provance

An update regarding “Scorpion,” the follow-up to “Scarecrow.”

It’s official! After four months and nineteen days, I have completed the principle writing for the follow-up to “Scarecrow,” titled “Scorpion.” (You’re looking at the last page of Carrie Beck’s fictional “Debunking the Bunker” article for WMC’s newspaper about the Lewis Hall bunker).

Now the fun part begins. Revising and editing. This monster is 166,968 words. That was expected. I know after combining scenes, deleting repeated information (that happens when writing scenes months apart), and cutting irrelevant material, I can scale that back.

Scorpion is a wild ride. I genuinely think if you enjoyed “Scarecrow,” you’ll dig this, too. I always promised myself I wasn’t going to write a ‘sequel’ unless I could craft a story I liked, one that would make you say, “Wow, this would make a fantastic movie!” While it’s not a murder mystery like its predecessor, it’s a different type of mystery with crazy action and adventure with familiar characters, and amazing new ones, like Carrie Beck, Elizabeth McDaniel, and Susannah Linnell. Despicable villains Conrad Burke and Abaddon du Plessis will assuredly have you cheering for their comeuppance.

Now, here’s the TL;DR portion you can skip if you choose:

The past four months of writing this novel began a therapeutic adventure for me. One I didn’t know I needed. Much like my “Tales of a Gen-X Nothing” blog helped me identify and embrace my Aspie awakening, “Scorpion” helped me identify some lifelong behaviors I need to learn to overcome. Specially, looking back and romanticizing the past. It’s been an issue I didn’t know I had until I began doing research for this novel. It started with diving into the mysterious sub-basement of Lewis Hall at Western Maryland College (yeah, McDaniel…whatever), which I thought would make a great mystery. It’s a real thing that happened decades ago. Since the novel is set in 1995, I figured, why not? It’s a great MacGuffin. Multiple conversations with Dr. David Lightner, a retired professor of mathematics at WMC and college historian, were the first shovels of dirt that became a massive rabbit hole that would leave Alice green with envy. Unlike “Scarecrow,” this time, I could research the college and its layout for a more accurate setting. And, of course, Westminster, Maryland, as it was in 1995. This involved using Google Maps quite a bit. So much so that I found myself becoming homesick. Not unusual. It’s happened before, many times. As I wrote over the months, I was constantly researching little things, diving deeper into a life I left in 1999.

Meanwhile, Taylor, a friend from those days, was doing everything he could to escape the State of Maryland. He hates the place. He always has. He was only there for family. I told him he was nuts, listing all the things I missed (excluding high taxes, winter, and the sad fact that Maryland is now a blue state). The deeper I dove into that rabbit hole, the more I found myself considering moving back to Westminster, Maryland, after my parents pass away. It certainly would be less traffic and people I’m forced to deal with currently.

After many conversations, Taylor said to me I have a massive habit of romanticizing the past. Such as my ex-wife, whom I dated post-high school, the last woman I dated for six years, whom I’ve known since 1991, and now life in Maryland as I remember it in the 90s. He duly informed me that life didn’t exist anymore, as it didn’t with those former relationships. I was holding onto things that weren’t real and that if I actually moved back, I’d regret it after the first winter, much like if I’d stayed with that ex. That life wouldn’t have been the Utopia I imagined it would be because it was all based on lies, broken promises, and a past that was decades away from here. Stop looking over your shoulder, he said. The good old days shouldn’t be memories of things you wanted or missed. They should be the now.

That’s easy for him to say, being happily married. However, my station in life is a different topic entirely. The point of this dissertation is to identify one of many bad habits and make a concerted effort to stop it. Easier said than done, I assure you. Writing “Scorpion” and heart-to-heart chats with Taylor was basically therapy, as was “Tales of a Gen-X Nothing.”

What happens with that remains to be seen. What I do know is I need to cough up four hundred bucks to get the book cover for “Scorpion” completed while I revise and edit. I won’t break even on this novel either, as I didn’t with “Scarecrow.” But, you know what? That’s okay. I write because it’s what I love to do, and the end result brings me immense satisfaction as I’ve created something people will enjoy.

And hopefully, this spring, you’ll enjoy “Scorpion” as much as I loved writing it.