‘This Deep Panic’ Book Trailer

I think a few of my friends were skeptical when I said I wanted to make a book trailer. I’d seen several on media sites and some were fantastic – like movie trailers – and some were not so great. I was lucky enough to know a fantastic cinematographer who was willing to take on the project. Because I couldn’t afford licenses for music, Sam went to friends of his, who created the soundtrack.

If you’re not familiar with Sam Nuttman, take a look at his website. http://samvisuals.com

We spent a lot of time getting ready, which was a learning experience for me. Sam read the book and pulled out the scenes he thought would translate to a short video. He then created storyboards and he worked on dialog and timing, since obviously a video that is less than two minutes can’t show a whole novel.

Kaiti Hylands created character sketches for our storyboards. https://www.artstation.com/kaitikat

I put out a ‘casting call’ for friends, asking them to come out in the rain for two days, for no pay, and just to hang out and have fun. And believe it or not, they did! An added challenge was making sure everyone stayed in their ‘pods’, kept their social distancing in place, and wore masks.

I couldn’t figure out antlers for the windigo monster, played by the only one with acting experience, Jim Burgess. But my friend Sabrina jumped in, finding antlers and showing up with a box of bones, ace bandaging, bags, rope, and moss. Jim showed up more prepared than I was, with costuming and props.

We shot scenes with the Windigo along a popular hiking trail. There were hikers that passed on the trail during the time that Jim and his antlers moved through the trees. I wish I could have known what they were thinking as they picked up their pace.

We need to applaud Beth, the sister of my friend Karen, who came to be in the video and got more than she expected. Sabrina and Karen had way too much fun using fake body parts. Beth had to lie on pavement in the rain for the shots. At one point, Sam yelled ‘cut!’ and those in the scene all wandered away. But Beth didn’t hear, so she kept lying there in the rain, perfectly still, true to her role. Next to her, Sam had the camera rolling for the next shots. Eventually he glanced down and saw her, asked if she was comfortable, and let her know she could get up. I have to admit, there was a lot of laughing. I’m glad her scenes ended up in the final cut. She deserved it.

The crew did an awesome job with makeup, not only creating injuries, but taking my friend Gloria Two-Feathers, who is a children’s author, and transforming her into the Stone Woman.

We shot scenes at night in the parking lot near the Index Town Wall where rock climbers go. We’d hoped to show a part from the book where a piece of scalp is on the hood of a car. So my husband took a hunk of chicken, rubbed in dog hair I collected from our floor, and topped that off with fake blood. After filming, instead of bagging it up to take home and throw away, he tossed it into the woods, thinking it would be raccoon food. Unfortunately, it was pitch black out there. He ended up tossing it so that it hung up on a branch at the edge of the climber’s trail, much to the consternation of climbers who later saw it. That scene didn’t make the final cut because the chicken just kind of went ‘splat’ on the windshield.

Angela and her wonder-dog Bailey, normally work ski patrol, with Bailey excelling at avalanche rescue. Angela had to run and fall at the right spot so that she landed in front of a severed leg (fake of course). Bailey loved this new game, running along with Angela. Sam was on the ground, camera in hand, and Bailey would get in front of him so her bottom was in his face, tail going madly. At one point she thought the leg was much better than a stick to shake and run around with. We wondered then if we could do some sort of blooper reel.

Having never been involved in something like this, I thought people would show up, say their lines, and go home. I didn’t realize that they would have to say their lines multiple times. That some would have to fall to the wet forest floor over and over, landing just right on their mark. That some would have to drive an old truck many times through shallow flooding conveniently provided by local beavers. All these friends ended up out there in the rain for two full days.

I started this wanting something to look forward to and something that would be a fun day with friends in a community I love. And that’s exactly what it was.

I now have a professional book trailer that I’m almost afraid is better than the book (being my own worst critic).

But more importantly, in this horrible year of 2020 with so many sad things surrounding us, there are two days that will be gems in my memory, filled with laughter and rain and woods and mountains and most importantly, friends.

So, if, after reading all this, you’d like to see the end result, here you go. https://vimeo.com/479128404

Pride and Parents

Several years ago when I was an emergency medical technician (EMT), we were toned out on a call about men in a fight at the local general store. When we arrived, the two men who had instigated the fight were gone. The two young men who were the victims were still there.

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There’s still a general store down there.

One was bruised but okay. My patient, however, had been kicked repeatedly, in ribs and in the head. He was talking to me with full cognitive abilities, but because of the mechanism of his injuries, we wanted to transport him to the hospital anyway.

I was in the back of the aid car working on him, asking him questions, getting a history, blood pressure, and so on. As a precaution, I’d put him on oxygen. I asked a question, and got no answer. When I turned to him, he was out. Completely unconscious. Within seconds. I yelled for the driver who called out the paramedics to meet us.

It was a lesson to me in three ways.

I was fairly newly certified at that time, and it was a lesson in how dangerous head injuries are, and how fast they can change for the worse. Even in someone who had presented no symptoms only moments before. It was scary, and a lesson I never forgot. He survived, and actually, a few years later, came back to town to thank me for being with him. He remembered my holding his hand, not being afraid to touch him. Of all the things that happened during his treatment, and that touch was what stood out for him.

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We look so young. This was our engagement photo.

Why you might ask? That’s the second lesson I learned.

The two young men had come to our area of the woods because there was a large and well-known private campground, that actually was across the street from our cabin. And it was a gay campground. This was back in the 1980s.

The two young men had been sitting outside the general store, waiting for an order. The other two men pulled up in a truck and asked them if they knew where the campground was. When they gave directions, those two men got out of the truck and attacked them.

Those men knew about the campground and had come to the mountains specifically looking for those who camped there. Looking for gay men to attack and beat up. I was shocked by the cruelty and bigotry. (They were eventually arrested.)

That campground was busy on weekends. It was in the woods and our place was the only neighbor. The road was narrow with trees to the edges and not much shoulder, so on weekends the road was crowded with cars on both sides.

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Which meant that in the mornings, those cars would have slashed tires, broken windshields, and nasty graffiti painted on them.

My father, from a generation when being gay wasn’t as well known, was angered by this. He took to patrolling the road in the evenings, an old man in bib overalls and black-framed glasses, with his thinning flat-top haircut, and an old Savage short-barrel shotgun over his shoulder.

Dad

He’d decided all those going to the campground were ‘his boys’ and he took on the job of watching out for them.

It quickly became known in the campground what my dad was doing. It didn’t take long before campers, men and women, were crossing the street to visit. They would sit in that tiny cabin and have coffee and cookies with my mom. They would potter around with my dad. They helped stack firewood. My parents became their surrogate parents, an old couple accepting them, not judging them, and loving them. Several long-term friendships were created.

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The cabin before a face-lift. That’s an old metal door nailed to the wall to cover where a window used to be. My dad was innovative…

I remember one man, Jeff, who became a good friend of mine, and who ended up moving permanently to the neighborhood. When I first started going out walking with the man who would become my husband, Jeff took him aside and had a talk with him. Told him if he ever hurt me, he would have to answer to Jeff.

Another friend from the campground, Kevin, had a huge crush on my husband. And my husband, being the strong and wonderful man he is, was flattered rather than horrified or embarrassed, or threatened.

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He’s not short; that’s deep snow.

Which leads me to lesson three. For as much bigotry and hatred that still exists today, and seems to be growing, there are still those who care. As Pride Month draws to a close, I hope those who love continue to outnumber those who hate.

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Beginnings

For the past three years I’ve been writing a new story. I’ve mentioned it here a few times, but only briefly because I’m superstitious that if I talk about an infant story too much, it dies and I never finish it.

Three years. Granted, I’m a slow writer in the best of times. But this has been hard because I’m trying to stretch my wings as a writer and am not sure if I’m succeeding. This one has multiple perspectives and story lines. It’s darker than I’ve written before, and it’s scary. Well, my goal is to make it scary. I’m not sure it’s scary enough.

My editor has her fingers in the story now, and she’s challenging me to delete chapters, strengthen motivations, and work on the scene/sequel process. It became obvious the beginning was very rough and needed a lot of work. No surprise there because beginnings can be the hardest thing to write as they have so much to accomplish.

The idea for the story came from a news event, but I don’t think I could have written it without being in a darker place myself. Without saying, ‘these are the things I’m afraid of in this world’ and then trying to place those fears on paper.

Anyway, I am hoping to have the book available by the end of summer. Cover art is in the process and I’ll share versions here to get opinions. But in the meantime, below is the beginning. The prologue. It’s still in edit but I’ll share anyway. Comments, first impressions, and opinions are appreciated.

And of course it’s copyrighted.

Prologue

The Hole in the Wall wasn’t really a hole but a dead-end shaft with a steel door that could be barricaded from within and locked from without. And the Wall wasn’t really a wall, but a granite mountain deeply fissured and hung with a dark and shadowed forest curtain. One that went straight up, creating a sense of severe vertigo overwhelming anyone leaning back, and back, and back, to see the top. Here and there, stunted fir and cedar and hemlock twisted and bent waiting to fall.

Occasionally the Wall would free boulders to plummet down and leave deep impact craters in the forest floor.

Few rock climbers, hanging with harnesses and bandaged knuckles, knew the door was there, far below them where the forest washed up at the base of the Wall.

Curtis Jonason locked himself in the Hole five days a week. Some days he imagined himself a climber suspended in the heights, able to see for miles, see the rushing white water of the Skykomish River, speckled with daredevil kayakers. Or to gaze down on the tiny, tiny town of Index, Washington nestled a mile off Highway 2 in the Cascade Mountains. But he wasn’t an adventurer. And he had long ago come to terms with the reality that his adventures were only found in imagination and books.

Instead, each day, in cold weather gear, he unlocked the Hole with his smooth scientist’s hands, slipped into the dark, and bolted the door behind him. There, he would spend fourteen hours alone burrowed into the granite, a small stream rushing under his workstation, a flashlight his only illumination.

Alone with his machines.

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Morningstar climbing route on a small portion of the Wall