Hello, fellow readers,

The first snippet of The Lake Effect, Obligations, is here!

It’s been a few months since I posted anything. I’d like to blame it on the holidays or getting sick twice – once with Covid – during that same time period, but mainly I’ve been writing the sequel (or possibly just a short story) to The Lake Effect.

Many people have asked me about the backstory of the other characters, specifically the mother in the story. Everyone seems to want to know her backstory. Lexie’s dad comes in a close second.

So, I’ve decided to post snippets of what I’ve written so far. If you’ve read the book, then you’ll understand how the mom’s story relates to the book. If you haven’t read the book, well, you’ll probably be a little confused. All the more reason to pick up a copy of it, right?

Here goes:

Being a convicted serial killer comes with many obligations. Obligations to the families of the victims I murdered. Their endless why’s and how’s of my decision to pick their son, father, brother, uncle, or friend to lure into my murderous radar.  Obligations to my own family, for they are a special kind of victim, a kind of victim I didn’t intend to inflict my demons on but did. Legal obligations to serve a life sentence under the confines of a state mental institution, as if a private behavior health facility that my trial lawyer husband petitioned for me and was denied was too much of a luxury – white privilege, I think the judge’s words were – for the severity of my crimes. Oh, well, it doesn’t really matter if I have fresh squeezed orange juice provide by the pricy facilities or the watered-down plain labeled “from concentrate” orange juice the state facilities provide, the final obligation required of me will be the same – to spend endless hours a week talking to a mental health professional who sits across from me with their legs crossed with pen and notebook in hand greedily taking notes on my most private thoughts. I can see in their eyes their attempt at grasping the magnitude of my behavior, my sins, my audacity to play God with these men’s lives as a means to right their wrongs, wrongs against their wives, their children, humanity, everyone but me. It was never about me, you see. That’s what these self-serving, obtuse men in white laboratory coats say they understand, but they don’t. The murders were never about evening the playing field for crimes committed against me. It was crimes against society, eliminating the weak, the ones who simply didn’t understand that their behavior contributed nothing to furthering the development of mankind. Survival of the fittest is at its fittest when the fucking philanderers are dead!

As always, feel free to post any feedback you’d like me to consider when I go back and make my edits. These snippets are merely the first draft. I could completely ditch what you just read and re-write something entirely different.

How cool would that be to see your contributions to the final book?!

It’s all about the discussions, my fellow readers.

Till next time.

Ruth

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