Barry Lyga's Blog: The BLog

It’s Thanksgiving here in the States, and so it is time for that most rote and cliché of all questions: What are you thankful for?

And honestly, it’s cheesy as hell, but as my wife likes to say, the world’s on fire, so what’s wrong with a little cheese? And what’s wrong with actually taking a moment to think about what we’re thankful for?

When you get asked this question at the Thanksgiving table, you’re sort of put on the spot. We all know the question could come, but we’re somehow still not expecting it, and then we spit out something really trite (“My family!”) or really ludicrous (“Gravity!”)

So, hey, you’re not on the spot here. Take a moment. Think about it. And then go ahead and drop a comment down below and tell me what you’re thankful for. Heck, I’ll do it, too, and I’ll even go first.

Skipping the expected answers (my wife, my kids, my readers…), and going in no particular order:

My grandfather. He passed away 12 years ago, but somehow he manages to keep influencing my life, usually when I least expect it.My neighbors. I never wanted to move to the suburbs. I grew up in the suburbs and hated it, so when Morgan and I decamped from Brooklyn for the swamps of Jersey, I was not thrilled. But my neighbors make it so worthwhile. Great people, with great kids who make my kids happy.Mark Waid. This guy wrote some of my favorite comics thirty years ago…and is writing some of my favorite comics now. Comics are my happy place, my succor, my soothing soaking tub of pop culture. When there are good comics in the world, I’m a lot happier, a lot more chill, and Mark Waid is making very good comics!Therapy. ‘Nuff said!

OK, y’all — your turn!

Mark Waid and Chris Samnee have just wrapped up Batman & Robin Year One, a twelve-issue story recounting the first year of the titular Dynamic Duo. And can I tell you something? They NAIL IT.

The general plot — a newcomer to Gotham launches an intricate scheme to suck up the city’s wealth and power — is good on its own, but truly where Waid’s tale shines is in the nascent relationship between the Darknight Detective and the Boy Wonder. For decades, fans and critics alike have taken potshots at the notion of a wealthy playboy taking on an orphan as a ward, to varying degrees of deviance. Well, the Waid/Samnee team makes it work in no uncertain terms, with wit, style, and pathos. The series just finished, but a collected edition is forthcoming.

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I’ve always liked Lisa Gardner’s books, which I discovered late, so there’s quite a backlog for me to catch up on. Lisa was kind enough to say nice things about I Hunt Killerstwelve years ago (!) and did me the honor of blurbing Every Hunter is Hunted. So I’ve been dipping into her backlist lately and digging it, especially Love You More, which has more twists than a snake eating a pretzel. Check it out.

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Baltimore’s own Joe Metheny was only convicted of two murders (only…), but claimed to have killed many more. So we’re going to go ahead and call him a serial killer for our purposes.

Joe says he was neglected and often pawned off on other family members. His mother denies it. Joe also says he served in Vietnam, but no one could ever dig up paperwork to prove or disprove it. He was in the army, to be sure — it’s just they couldn’t say for certain if he was in ‘Nam or not, which seems like a very un-army thing, but 🤷‍♂️.

Joe said…a lot of things. He claimed to have killed a lot more people than he was convicted of. He claimed to make hamburgers out of dead bodies. But there’s no proof of some of it.

But we do know that in one instance, he killed a woman, buried her, then six months later decided it would be a good idea to dig her up and relocate her head. OK, Joe.

At one point, a victim escaped his clutches. Joe, realizing that she would turn him in, decided it was time to relocate another body of his, just to be safe. He asked a friend to help him in this endeavor, and to the friend’s credit, dude immediately broke the Bro Code and testified against Joe.

Joe confessed to multiple murders, but there was only enough evidence to indict and convict him on two of them. I imagine that is less about Joe being a criminal mastermind and more about dumb luck.

The state of Maryland sentenced him to death since one of the murders had been committed as part of a robbery. But a later court found that the robbery was incidental, not motivational, and so his death sentence was commuted to life in prison. Which is exactly what he served, as Joe Metheny died in custody in 2017. Good riddance. 

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I really hate preorders, actually. I mean, I like that they exist and that there’s a way for people to be sure to get their books on Day One. But I hate that publishers have turned this into a data-driven thing.

But this is the world we live in. So, look, quite honestly: If you’re looking forward to this new Jasper Dent book and would like to see more of them, please preorder EVERY HUNTER IS HUNTED. When publishers see robust preorder activity, it’s their cue to invest in the promotion and sale of the book, which means a better chance of more down the line!

Here are some preorder links…
➡️ Amazon
➡️ Apple Books
➡️ Barnes & Noble
➡️ Bookshop.org
➡️ Kobo

And also: I’ve heard from some folks wondering if there’s a way to order a signed copy of the book…and there is! Visit either of the links below, which will take you to the site of [words] Bookstore. When you check out, there’s a field where you can put in instructions or comments. (See below). Just go ahead and say you’d like your copy signed. If you want it signed TO yourself or someone else, be sure to say that, too!

➡️ Every Hunter is Hunted — Hardcover
➡️ Every Hunter is Hunted — Paperback

Look, as the world crumbles to dust around us, we all need to find joy where we can. For me, right now, I am loving my classic Crime Syndicate of America action figures.

These are the original versions of the characters, from Earth-3 in the Silver Age and Bronze Age, and they’re the ones I had in mind when I wrote them into my Flash novels. I’ve always loved these characters and it took me a while to track down all of the figures. I’m really glad to have them — when I look over to my action figure cabinet, they make me happy.

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In my September newsletter, I talked about how much I’ve been enjoying Alan Moore’s BBC Masterclass on writing. Inspired by that, I decided to reread his Promethea, which I hadn’t read since its publication a couple of decades ago. I had forgotten how verbose it is! And honestly, the core subject matter — the history and meaning of Tarot, as applied both universally and personally — isn’t of much interest to me.

But the ART…

Click for larger image!

My God, the art in this book…! The DESIGN of it…! J.H. Williams III knocked this one out of the park. His skill in this game is unparalleled. Even if you aren’t at all interested in magic to the level that Moore clearly is, check out Promethea just for the art. You won’t regret it! And the final book in the series is mind-blowing in more ways than one, as Moore and Williams play with the form of visual narrative in ways no one has attempted before or since.

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OK, so a million years ago, I wrote some middling comic books set in the Warrior Nun universe. (Yeah, the same Warrior Nun that eventually ended up on Netflix, and no they didn’t use any of my stuff and no I didn’t get any money.)

Anyway, there was a character called Shotgun Mary, who was a former Warrior Nun who now went around killing demons with her holy shotgun instead of a holy sword. My editor was looking for short stories to fill an anthology, so I wrote up this little script. I kinda liked it, but it never got used…

SHOTGUN MARY

 in

 “FIVE MINUTES”

PAGE ONE: We set the scene, throwing the reader into a bizarre and incomprehensible situation right off the bat. This page consists of three panels. Panel 1 is a large panel, taking up 2/3 of the page from top to bottom. The second two panels are equally-sized, along the bottom of the page.

Shotgun Mary is in a threadbare room. The floors are naked wood, dusty and ill-kept. This is the living room area of an apartment in a bad part of town, part of an apartment complex that has been neglected and forsaken for years. The furniture is patched and sagging. On the floor are two dead bodies—a man and a woman. Both died from shotgun blasts. The man’s chest is a gaping cavity, trailing viscera and blood. The woman’s head is a single wound, bleeding profusely from a variety of holes made by the close-range shotgun blast. The entire head seems scraped and blasted raw.

Mary herself is in the center of the room. She is in what looks similar to a push-up position, with her legs stretched and her body straight at an angle to the floor. In her right hand, she holds a wicked knife. She has the handle of the knife firmly planted on the floor. The point of the knife is perhaps half an inch from her throat. Mary’s left hand is palm-down on the floor, steadying her in her precarious position. Her whole body trembles and she is sweating. Her teeth are clenched tightly and her eyes are closed as if she is warding off a frightening vision. We get the impression that the slightest move could send her collapsing onto the blade.

TOP CAPTION: Stop fighting. Stop fight—MARY: You better—MIDDLE CAPTION: Let me in. I’ll do it any—MARY: You’d better not—BOTTOM CAPTION: —do it anyway, you know I will—

Now close up on Mary’s face. She concentrates mightily, focusing all of her mental energy on one task.

TOP CAPTION: Come on, Mary, make it easy.BOTTOM CAPTION: Maybe we can make a deal. Would you like that?

Now Mary’s concentration breaks. She screams, filled with anger and rage.

TOP CAPTION: A deal, yes. We’ll—MARY: Shut up! Shut up! I won’t let—!

PAGE TWO: This page is a flashback page. All panels should have rounded corners.

Mary is sitting in a seedy diner, smoking a cigarette. Across the table from her is a priest, Father MacMahon. MacMahon is nervous, fidgeting. He is obviously uncomfortable being here with Mary. Mary, for her part, is calm and cool as always.

MACMAHON: You came quickly. More quickly than I had expected.MARY: The email address you used is one I check pretty frequently.

Mary stubs out her cigarette in the ashtray.

MARY: Plus I was only a hundred or so miles away.

MacMahon leans in close, almost whispering.

MACMAHON: I don’t mind telling you that I feel a bit nervous doing this. Going outside channels, I mean.

Mary sneers.

MARY: Look, if you play this by the book, no one wins and you know it as well as I do.MARY: Resources are scarce, Father. And with the regulations the Church has got in place…MARY: It would take weeks for them just to confirm that there’s something worth looking in to. And then it would be another month before anyone got around to sending a Magic Priest or even a Warrior Nun to check things out.MARY: By then, the game would be over.

MacMahon nods slowly. He knows that she’s right but he still feels dirty circumventing Church procedures.

MACMAHON: Yes, I know. That’s why I notified you.MACMAHON: It’s a—

MacMahon breaks off as the waitress comes over and puts a cup of coffee down in front of Mary. He fidgets as the waitress slaps down a check, relaxing only after she’s left.

MACMAHON: No one has been seen going in or out for weeks. Some of my parishoners have heard some mighty strange things. But since it’s the Projects, no one seems to care.MARY: And?

MacMahon slides a folded piece of paper across the table.

MACMAHON: There’s the address. God be with you.

PAGE THREE: Back to the apartment and the present.

Mary is in the same position as before.

MARY: Shut up! I won’t let—!MIDDLE CAPTION: Oh, but you will…BOTTOM CAPTION: You will…

Mary’s eyes snap shut again. She scowls with intense concentration.

MARY: I’ll do it. I don’t care. I’ll do it.MIDDLE CAPTION: You won’t. Not you. You’ve fought too long to give up now.MARY: It’s not surrender. It’s victory.We see the scene from above now—the bodies, the apartment, Mary in the bizarre position in the middle of it all.MARY: Victory over you. Get it?MIDDLE CAPTION: Mary, what did I ever do to you?MARY: Nothing. But what you did to the people in this building sucks.MARY: And I’m not going to forget about it.

Now close in on the knife, which is trembling mere centimeters from Mary’s exposed throat.

TOP CAPTION: What makes you think you’ll have a chance?MIDDLE CAPTION: What makes you think I’ll let you?MARY: You haven’t won yet.

Back to Mary’s face. Beads of sweat are collecting on her forehead.

MIDDLE CAPTION: But it’s only a matter of time…

PAGE FOUR: This page is a flashback page. All panels should have rounded corners.

Mary pulls up to the building on her motorcycle. It’s dusk, and the sky is purplish-pink through the haze of smog. The street is dirty, cluttered with garbage. Rusted cars line the street. A wind stirs Mary’s hair as she takes in the building.

MARY: Uh-huh.

She looks down at the piece of paper, now unfolded in her hand.

MARY: This is it.

Mary dismounts her motorcycle. She pushes a button on the chassis and a monitor lights up, reading “DEFENSIVE MODE.”

Mary climbs the steps to the building carefully, wary of her surroundings. Then, cautiously, she pushes the door open and enters the lobby.

Mary immediately recoils, a look of shock and disgust on her face! She draws her sawed-off shotgun immediately.

We swing around behind Mary so that we can see what she is looking at. There in the lobby, on the wall, is a teenaged boy, nailed in an upside-down crucifix. Dried blood covers the wall behind and beneath the body.

MARY: Oh, sweet God…

Mary steps over to the first door and pushes it open with the barrel of the shotgun.

MARY: Hello? I’m a friend of Father MacMahon’s. I—

As Mary enters the room, a man lunges at her! Swinging a knife, he attacks her, a mad glare in his eyes.

MARY: No! Don’t—

But the man is beyond listening. As he slashes down, Mary brings up her shotgun and shoots him in the chest at point-blank range.

The man goes down, twitches. Mary crouches down near him, examining the body.

MARY: What on Earth—

PAGE FIVE: This page is a flashback page. All panels should have rounded corners.

Suddenly a woman comes running from an open doorway, a broken bottle in her hand. She leaps at Mary, who spins and instantly fires the other barrel, unloading shot into the woman’s face.

MARY: Have they all gone—

As Mary watches, a putrid steam begins to rise from the woman’s body, yellow and grisly gray. Mary’s eyes widen as comprehension begins to settle in.

MARY: Oh, no—!

Mary fires at the coalescing cloud, but nothing comes of it.

Suddenly, the cloud stretches through the apartment and settles on Mary, enveloping her. Her shotgun clatters to the floor as her hands go to her own throat. We get a close-up panel of her choking, her eyes watering.

MARY: No!

And then she reaches down for the knife strapped to her leg.

TOP CAPTION: You are…Mary. You are mine…MARY: No! Get—

The steam dissipates, even as Mary flings herself onto the floor in the position we found her in on Page 1…

PAGE SIX: Back to the present.

Mary is still in the same position.

MARY: Should have known—MARY: Should have known you were an occupier…MIDDLE CAPTION: I’ve had my sport with everyone in this building, Mary. Possessed and slaughtered them all.MIDDLE CAPTION: You’ll be next.

Mary groans. We have a close-up of her left arm, which is trembling. She can’t hold herself up much longer.

MARY: Not a chance.MARY: You’re inside me, but if I feel you begin to take control…MARY: If you try to control me in the least…MARY: All I have to do is relax my arm.Back to Mary’s face, which is set into a determined expression.MARY: I fall and die. You lose.MIDDLE CAPTION: You wouldn’t.MARY: To stop you? I would.

Tight close up now. Mary’s throat. The point of the knife is just sinking into her throat, just enough to draw blood.

TOP CAPTION: You’re bluffing!MARY: Try me.MIDDLE CAPTION: You’re bluffing!

Same scene. The point of the knife is a millimeter into the flesh of Mary’s throat. Blood is running down the steel of knife and dripping off panel onto the floor.

TOP CAPTION: I don’t believe—MARY: Oh, ye of little faith—

PAGE SEVEN:

We pull back to see Mary’s entire body. The disgusting cloud of steam is rising from it.

TOP CAPTION: NOOOOO!!MARY: go—go—

Now the cloud coalesces into a filthy demonic form, only partly finished.

DEMON: You’re crazed—

Mary brings her knees down, lifting her torso so that she is away from the knife. Blood is running down her neck.

MARY: No.

Mary reaches for the revolver at her side.

MARY: Just dedicated.

Mary fires four times.

MARY: Eat blessed silver!

We see the bullets strike the demon and he screams one last time before exploding in flames. Mary shields her eyes against the blast.

PAGE EIGHT:

Mary rises from the floor, dusts herself off. She pulls a handkerchief from a pocket and ties it around her throat.

Just then, she hears a baby cry.

Mary walks into the next room. In a crib is a tiny, innocent baby.

MARY: He didn’t get everyone, did he, sweetheart?

Mary picks up the baby and holds it close.

MARY: I know some people who’ll take good care of you.

We have a panel of Mary looking quickly at her watch, and then we cut to Mary walking down the steps outside the building, the baby in her arms.

TOP CAPTION: Evil quelled.MIDDLE CAPTION: Innocent life saved.BOTTOM CAPTION: Elapsed time: five minutes.

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This might not even be a true story. Historians differ on whether or not any of this happened. But hey — let’s dive in anyway.

Wyoming resident Polly Bartlett was known as the Murderess of Slaughterhouse Gulch. And that wasn’t because she killed it at Open Mic Night, folks. No, back in the 1860s, before Wyoming was even a state, Polly murdered something like 22 guys who made the horrendous error of staying at her lodge. Polly would use her feminine wiles to lure in wealthy travelers, then poison their food and drink. Then, of great interest to those of you who follow my career, Polly’s father would dispose of the bodies. Hmm… Father/daughter killing team. Someone should get on that.

The two eventually were found out and went on the run. Dear Old Dad was shot dead on October 7…the same day I posted this story in my newsletter! And Polly was put in jail for trial…but then shot dead herself through the bars of her jail cell that very same night.

I guess the family that slays together, stays together?

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… EVERY HUNTER IS HUNTED !

Yep, that’s the new title for the Jasper Dent mystery coming your way in (*gulp*) March 2026! I hope y’all like it. I find it both lyrical and melancholy…perfect for an older, wearier Jazz trying to make his way through life and the rainy Pacific Northwest. Because he’s hunting Bridekiller, yes…but someone is also hunting him!

Here are some preorder links for y’all. If you could preorder the book, I sure would appreciate it! Preorders help my publisher and booksellers determine what books have “buzz” and plan their promotions accordingly!

➡️ Amazon
➡️ Apple Books
➡️ Barnes & Noble
➡️ Bookshop.org
➡️ Kobo

No cover yet, but I plan to reveal it here SOON! In the meantime, here’s a lovely placeholder graphic for you: