Discover the new book by author Mike Chen in A Beginning at the End and get ready for an emotional ride.
Q&A with Mike
Chen
Q:
Parent characters are a large part of A
Beginning at the End. Did you know your character's family backgrounds
before you began? How do the characters take form in your writing process?
A:
Somewhat. Usually the core problem comes first in my
drafting process. I tend to write in layers and my initial drafts are always
very light -- initial scenes may only be about ¼ of their final length because
I don’t know the characters too well yet. At that stage, I’m trying to find the
main conflict of the scene and the voice for their characters. I typically need
5-7 passes through a book to turn it from a 45k-50k word skeleton to a
reasonably polished 90-100k word draft. During that time, the characters start
to form.
As an example, my current work in
progress (which will be released after 2021’s upcoming WE COULD BE HEROES), I’m
on my third pass through for the first act and only now am I beginning to
understand each character’s unique voice as well as their physical appearances.
Core conflicts (such as character X has trouble with character Y) are
established during the initial outline phase as part of the initial concept,
but the how and why those conflicts happen (Is it family history? Is it a
traumatic event? Is it sibling rivalry?), that takes a little longer to
establish.
For the characters in A BEGINNING AT THE
END, I started out immediately knowing what drove Krista and Rob. Moira didn’t
really become fully three-dimensional until much later, and in fact in early
revisions, she was just a minor supporting character. My agent noted that she
was far too interesting to push to the side, so the book was rebuilt around her
to hold equal footing to Rob and Krista.
Q:
Where did you take inspiration for this pandemic? Do you have any other book or
film recommendations?
A:
Though it wasn’t a direct inspiration for this book,
there’s a scene in the second season of The Walking Dead that began the train
of thought for A BEGINNING AT THE END. It was the season on Hershel’s farm, and
there’s a scene where Lori is trying to go over homework with her son Carl. A
lot of viewers mocked the scene at the time with comments like “Why would you
do math in the zombie apocalypse?” but I thought that was a smart bit of human
grounding against a fantastical backdrop. Because those characters didn’t know
if and when the apocalypse would end, and I think it makes sense that 1) a mom
would try to keep some form of normalcy for her son 2) they wouldn’t just
assume the world was completely over.
Because a lot of apocalyptic fiction
focuses on either the event itself or a grimdark survival world, that scene
sparked a lot of ideas for me -- what if society did crawl back from the brink, and instead of a true “end of the
world” it was more like a big pause button? Then all these people would move
past day-to-day survival and suddenly have a lot of trauma to unpack, and i hadn’t really seen that covered much
at the time. That seemed really interesting to me, much more so than the idea
of tribal factions attacking each other to survive.
Q:
Which main character is your favorite? And which was the hardest to write?
A:
It's been interesting seeing early reader feedback
because the "favorite character" opinion has been pretty evenly
split. I think that's a good sign that things are pretty balanced. For me
personally, I always viewed Krista as the main character in this book and it
was originally written with her to be the main focus (the original draft of
this from 2011ish only had her POV and Rob's POV). She has such a snappy voice
that it's just fun to write her responses and reactions to stuff, and a big
challenge came from cutting out unnecessary dialogue that made it in there
simply because she was so fun to write.
The hardest character to write was
definitely Sunny. Simply because I needed to get into the head of a
seven-year-old. Her POV was one of the last major structural changes my agent
recommended before we sold this to my publisher and it was tricky my daughter
was still very young at that point (she's still only five). I ran those
chapters by my friends who had survived parenting those years for accuracy:
complexity of thought, vocabulary, rhythm, etc.
Q:
Your characters struggle with confronting their past while their future is so
uncertain. What are some important lessons you've learned as a writer that you
previously struggled with?
A:
I think the keys to success as a writer are also keys
to a happy and fulfilled life: don't give up and keep an open mind. Every
writer I know that started around my time eventually broke through and got an
agent by improving their craft through feedback and simply chipping away. If
one book wasn't good enough, then it got shelved as a stepping stone and they
marched forward. Doing that requires a certain amount of humility because it
recognizes that you've got room to improve, and that improvement is going to
come from listening to others rather than being defensive. Those are hard
lessons to learn so I try to tell new writers that right away, so they
understand the value of harsh-but-true constructive criticism from critique
partners -- you'll never make it without that.
Q:
What is a genre you don't think you'd ever write? A Beginning at the End and Here
and Now and Then are both SF, do you think you would ever write something
that's vastly different? What draws you to SF?
A:
Writing character-driven stories in sci-fi settings
comes pretty naturally to me, as it takes my favorite type of story (slice of
life) and my favorite genre and brings them together. I'm fortunate that the
market has turned around on that now to support books like mine. If I wrote
something different, I imagine it would lean further in one direction or
another -- either a contemporary drama or space opera. I am also a big fan of
gothic horror, and I would love to try a haunted house story at some point.
As for what draws me to sci-fi, I can't
put my finger on it but it's been really important to me my entire life. I grew
up on Star Wars and Robotech as cornerstones of my media influences. At the
same time, I've never really been too into fantasy despite them often being
opposite sides of the same coin. My wife loves both sci-fi and fantasy, and
there are things she loves that I just can't get into like The Elder Scrolls.
Q:
What are some of your writing goals for the future?
A:
Keep writing and not run out of ideas! In a perfect
world, I'd love to be able to be a full-time author -- which is basically 50%
writing and 50% the business of being an author. I don't think that's feasible
since I live in Silicon Valley and need health insurance for a family
situation, so I will likely always have one foot in corporate life unless the
political landscape changes regarding medical care.
An obvious dream would be to have one of
my books be adapted to a movie or TV series -- I'm of the mindset that HERE AND
NOW AND THEM would work as a movie while A BEGINNING AT THE END has a deep
enough world that it would work well as a TV series. I really want to try
writing a video game, something like Telltale's games. And I would love to
write for my favorite franchises: Star Wars, Star Trek, and Doctor Who. I've
been pretty vocal about Clone Wars-era story ideas,
and I'm friends with several authors on the Lucasfilm roster, so fingers
crossed.
Q:
If there was a global disaster in the future, what would your plan of action be?
A:
Well, I have a bunch of animals and family health
issues, so I'd say we'd be pretty screwed. I'm pretty organized and have a
diplomatic approach, so hopefully that would earn me an in with some
survivalists until society stabilizes.
Q: Both
of your books, Here and Now and Then
& A Beginning at the End, have a
strong emotional foundation. Why did you choose that route?
A: It goes back to my favorite types of stories. To me, the emotional core
is always the most important part of any story; it turns it from being surface
level entertainment to something that resonates deeper.
Q: How
has the success of your first novel affected your writing process for your
second novel? Is there anything the first time around you did, that you didn’t
do the second time?
A: I am lucky that A BEGINNING AT THE END was mostly finished when we sold
it because it had been a project I'd shelved years ago but revised with my
agent. I had a complete and fairly polished manuscript, and my editors
revisions didn't affect much of the structure, they were mostly about
tightening and adding more flashbacks, more world-building. So in that regard,
that process was very similar to HERE AND NOW AND THEN.
However, having now experienced deadlines and
commitments on top of a day job and parenting, the biggest change is that I
draft by acts rather than the whole thing. For books 3 (WE COULD BE HEROES) and
4 (in WIP stages), I drafted a first act to get a sense of characters and
world, then sent that to a few critique partners for their input before
investing further energy into it. There's just no time. Also, I have to limit
myself on reading for fun or video games because that time has to be used for
writing and editing. Being published is a great privilege but its time demands
do create numerous sacrifices.
Q: How
do you balance being a reader and being a writer?
A: I use my phone a lot! I've discovered audiobooks, though my preferred
method right now is ebooks through Google Play. Their app has a text-to-speech
feature which, while nowhere near the quality of real audiobooks, allow me to
listen while I'm commuting or doing dishes or whatever, but then also allow me
to switch back to reading in the app when I want to. It's funny, I just don't
read physical books that much now because my time is so compartmentalized that
having it available on my phone is the best way to go.
The great irony about this is that as I've
gotten to know more authors, agents, and editors, I'm often offered advance
review copies by authors I really love and I simply have no time for them.
Q: What
does literary success look like to you and with that definition in mind, are
you successful?
A: This is tricky because I think all authors at all stages are looking up
at someone and mentally comparing sales and awards. I know I'm doing better
than some of my peers and worse than others, and one of the biggest lessons
I've learned over the past year is that it is totally okay to be happy for
someone while also jealous of their success. In fact, that is 100% normal.
With that in mind, I think success means that
I'm selling enough copies to get the next contract and a chance to audition for
licensed franchise work. Aspiring for bestseller status or awards is kind of
silly because so many other factors go into that, many of which (marketing
budgets, publicity selections) are simply out of your control. But if you keep
producing at a high level of quality, I think you'll be able to gradually grow
your readership with each book, and that's good enough for me.
Also, it's really cool to hear your book has
touched a reader. That level of engagement is always a good measure of success.
Q:
Finally, for you, what makes a book a good book?
A: I think the things that I always look for are interesting characters,
emotional conflicts, and good prose. While I appreciate great action scenes or
immense worldbuilding, I can often overlook those things if characters,
emotions, and prose are all clicking. On the other hand, if I lose any of those
main three, I'll often have to drop a book, even if, say, the worldbuilding is
amazing.
Shameless shoutout to some friends: if you
want impeccable examples of ALL of those (characters, emotions, prose, action,
and worldbuilding), I suggest Fonda Lee's JADE CITY / JADE WAR and Kat Howard's
AN UNKINDNESS OF MAGICIANS.
Mike
Chen
On
Sale Date: January 14, 2020
9780778309345,
0778309347
Hardcover
$26.99
USD, $33.50 CAD
Fiction / Science
Fiction / Apocalyptic & Post-Apocalyptic
400 pages
Summary:
An
emotional story about what happens after the end of the world, A BEGINNING AT
THE END is a tale of four survivors trying to rebuild their personal lives
after a literal apocalypse. For commercial readers who enjoy a speculative
twist, or their sci-fi with a heavy dose of family and feelings.
Six years after a global pandemic, it turns
out that the End of the World was more like a big pause. Coming out of
quarantine, 2 billion unsure survivors split between self-governing big cities,
hippie communes, and wasteland gangs. When the father of a presumed-dead pop
star announces a global search for his daughter, four lives collide: Krista, a
cynical event planner; Moira, the ex-pop star in hiding; Rob, a widowed single
father; and Sunny, his seven-year-old daughter. As their lives begin to
intertwine, reports of a new outbreak send the fragile society into a panic.
And when the government enacts new rules in response to the threat, long-buried
secrets surface, causing Sunny to run away seeking the truth behind her
mother's death. Now, Krista, Rob, and Moira must finally confront the demons of
their past in order to hit the road and reunite with Sunny -- before a coastal
lockdown puts the world on pause again.
Buy
Links:
Books-a-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Beginning-End/Mike-Chen/9780778309345?id=7715580291810
IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9780778309345
Prologue
People were too scared for music tonight. Not that MoJo
cared.
Her
handlers had broken the news about the low attendance nearly an hour ago with
some explanation about how the recent flu epidemic and subsequent rioting and
looting kept people at home. They’d served the news with high-end vodka, the
good shit imported from Russia, conveniently hidden in a water bottle which she
carried from the greenroom to the stage.
“The
show must go on,” her father proclaimed, like she was doing humanity a service
by performing. She suspected his bravado actually stemmed from the fact that
her sophomore album’s second single had stalled at number thirteen—a far cry
from the lead single’s number-one debut or her four straight top-five hits off
her first album. Either way, the audience, filled with beaming girls a few
years younger than herself and their mothers, seemed to agree. Flu or no flu,
some people still wanted their songs—or maybe they just wanted normalcy—so MoJo
delivered, perfect note after perfect note, each in time to choreographed dance
routines. She even gave her trademark smile.
The crowd screamed and sang along,
waving their arms to the beat. Halfway through the second song, a peculiar vibe
grabbed the audience. Usually, a handful of parents disappeared into their
phones, especially as the flu scare had heightened over the past week. This
time nearly every adult in the arena was looking at their phone. In the front
row, MoJo saw lines of concern on each face.
Before the song even finished, some
parents grabbed their children and left, pushing through the arena’s floor
seats and funneling to the exit door.
MoJo pushed on, just like she’d
always promised her dad. She practically heard his voice over the backup music
blasting in her in-ear monitors. There is
no sophomore slump. Smile! Between the second and third songs, she gave her
customary “Thank you!” and fake talk about how great it was to be wherever they
were. New York City, this time, at Madison Square Garden. A girl of nineteen
embarking on a tour bigger, more ambitious than she could have ever dreamed and
taking the pop world by storm, and yet, she knew nothing real about New York
City. She’d never left her hotel room without chaperones and handlers. Not
under her dad’s watch.
One long swig of vodka later, and a
warmth rushed to her face, so much so that she wondered if it melted her face
paint off. She looked off at the side stage, past the elaborate video set and
cadre of backup dancers. But where was the gaffer? Why wasn’t anyone at the
sound board? The fourth song had a violin section, yet the contracted violinist
wasn’t in her spot.
Panic raced through MoJo’s veins,
mental checklists of her marks, all trailed by echoes from her dad’s lectures
about accountability. Her feet were planted exactly where they should be. Her
poise, straight and high. Her last few notes, on key, and her words to the
audience, cheerful. It couldn’t have been something she’d done, could it?
No. Not her fault this time. Someone else is facing Dad’s wrath tonight,
she thought.
The next song’s opening electronic
beats kicked in. Eyes closed, head tilted back, and arms up, her voice pushed
out the song’s highest note, despite the fuzziness of the vodka making the
vibrato a little harder to sustain. For a few seconds, nothing existed except
the sound of her voice and the music behind it— no handlers, no tour, no
audience, no record company, no father telling her the next way she’d earn the
family fortune—and it almost made the whole thing worth it.
Her eyes opened, body coiled for
the middle-eight’s dance routine, but the brightness of the house lights threw
her off the beat. The drummer and keyboard player stopped, though the
prerecorded backing track continued for a few more seconds before leaving an
echo chamber.
No applause. No eyes looked MoJo’s
way. Only random yelling and an undecipherable buzz saw of backstage clamor
from her in-ear monitors. She stood, frozen, unable to tell if this was from
laced vodka or if it was actually unfolding: people—adults and children,
parents and daughters— scrambling to the exits, climbing over chairs and
tripping on stairs, ushers pushing back at the masses before some turned and
ran as well.
Someone grabbed her shoulder and
jerked back hard. “We have to go,” said the voice behind her.
“What’s going on?” she asked,
allowing the hands to push her toward the stage exit. Steven, her huge
forty-something bodyguard, took her by the arm and helped her down the short
staircase to the backstage area.
“The flu’s spread,” he said. “A
government quarantine. There’s some sort of lockdown on travel. The busing
starts tonight. First come, first serve. I think everyone’s trying to get home
or get there. I can’t reach your father. Cell phones are jammed up.”
They worked their way through the
concrete hallways and industrial lighting of the backstage area, people
crossing in a mad scramble left and right. MoJo clutched onto her bottle of
vodka, both hands to her chest as Steven ushered her onward. People collapsed
in front of her, crying, tripping on their own anxieties, and Steven shoved her
around them, apologizing all the way. Something draped over her shoulders, and
it took her a moment to realize that he’d put a thick parka around her. She
chuckled at the thought of her sparkly halter top and leather pants wrapped in
a down parka that smelled like BO, but Steven kept pushing her forward,
forward, forward until they hit a set of double doors.
The doors flew open, but rather
than the arena’s quiet loading area from a few hours ago, MoJo saw a thick wall
of people: all ages and all colors in a current of movement, pushing back and
forth. “I’ve got your dad on the line,” Steven yelled over the din, “His car is
that way. He wants to get to the airport now. Same thing’s happening back
home.” His arm stretched out over her head. “That way! Go!”
They moved as a pair, Steven
yelling “excuse me” over and over until the crowd became too dense to overcome.
In front of her, a woman with wisps of gray woven into black hair trembled on
her knees. Even with the racket around them, MoJo heard her cry. “This is the
end. This is the end.”
The end.
People had been making cracks about
the End of the World since the flu changed from online rumors to this big thing
that everyone talked about all the time. But she’d always figured the “end”
meant a giant pit opening, Satan ushering everyone down a staircase to Hell.
Not stuck outside Madison Square Garden.
“Hey,” Steven yelled, arms spread
out to clear a path through the traffic jam of bodies. “This way!”
MoJo looked at the sobbing woman in
front of her, then at Steven. Somewhere further down the road, her father sat
in a car and waited. She could feel his pull, an invisible tether that never
let her get too far away.
“The end, the end,” the sobbing
woman repeated, pausing MoJo in her tracks. But where to go? Every direction
just pointed at more chaos, people scrambling with a panic that had overtaken
everyone in the loading dock, possibly the neighborhood, possibly all New York
City, possibly even the world. And it wasn’t just about a flu.
It was everything.
But… maybe that was good?
No more tours. No more studio
sessions. No more threats about financial security, no more lawyer meetings, no
more searches through her luggage. No more worrying about hitting every mark.
In the studio. Onstage.
In life.
All of that was done.
The very thought caused MoJo to
smirk.
If this was the end, then she was
going out on her own terms.
“Steven!” she yelled. He turned and
met her gaze.
She twisted the cap off the
water-turned-vodka bottle, then took most of it down in one long gulp. She
poured the remainder on her face paint, a star around her left eye, then wiped
it off with her sleeve. The empty bottle flew through the air, probably hitting
some poor bloke in the head.
“Tell my dad,” she said, trying
extra hard to pronounce the words with the clear British diction she was raised
with, “to go fuck himself.”
For an instant, she caught Steven’s
widemouthed look, a mix of fear and confusion and disappointment on his face,
as though her words crushed his worldview more than the madness around them.
But MoJo wouldn’t let herself revel in her first, possibly only victory over
her father; she ducked and turned quickly, parka pulled over her head, crushing
the product-molded spikes in her hair.
Each step pushing forward,
shoulders and arms bumping into her as her eyes locked onto the ground, one
step at a time. Left, right, left, then right, all as fast as she could go,
screams and car horns and smashing glass building in a wave of desperation
around her.
Maybe it was the end. But even
though her head was down, she walked with dignity for the first time in years,
perhaps ever.
Excerpted from A Beginning
at the End by Mike Chen, Copyright © 2020 by Mike Chen.
Published by MIRA Books.
Author
Bio:
Mike Chen is a lifelong writer, from crafting
fan fiction as a child to somehow getting paid for words as an adult. He has
contributed to major geek websites (The Mary Sue, The Portalist, Tor) and
covered the NHL for mainstream media outlets. A member of SFWA and Codex
Writers, Mike lives in the Bay Area, where he can be found playing video games
and watching Doctor Who with his wife, daughter, and rescue animals. Follow him
on Twitter and Instagram: @mikechenwriter
Social
Links:
Author website: https://www.mikechenbooks.com/
Twitter: @mikechenwriter
Instagram: @mikechenwriter
Facebook: @mikechenwriter
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