I am most fascinated by character, real and imagined, and what makes people do what they do, what lays beneath their surface. A pretty package that holds a deadly gift. So, let’s dig a bit into the three main inspirations behind Not What She Seems.
The Saying…
A little story. The first time I ever experienced southern charm laced with venom was the first I’d ever heard “Bless your heart.” The line was delivered with a glorious smile by a soft spoken older woman. I had just moved to South Carolina and remember feeling a sense of accomplishment that I’d won her over with my culinary talents. Little did I know that she was judging me as the pitiful child who couldn’t make a decent pitcher of sweet tea—southern style, with at least a pound of sugar mixed in. I was from Northern Virginia, and my family was from Ghana. It wasn’t part of our menu.
Later that day, when my friend and I were alone and I was basking in the afterglow of my sweet tea being a hit, my friend quietly schooled me on what “Bless your heart” really meant. It was not a blessing, or a badge of honor. The lady was making fun, pitying me, spotlighting my ineptitude. The greater your offense, the bigger the saccharine smile, the more melodious the southern drawl, the more vicious the bite. It was southern charm at its finest but laced with a sliver of bite.
My imagination began to take over. What if that line was a façade for something much more sinister. What if it held a promise or a threat? People only show their best face until tiny hairline cracks in their façade begin to manifest. But by the time a person begins to see those cracks, it’s already too late.
When I was teaching, one of my favorite times was teaching the edgier stories—horror, thrillers—stories that would entertain my students while making them think about character motivation and goals and the author’s intent and message. My teachings came back to me when I was batting around what kind of story I wanted to tell after my Nena Knight trilogy. Two stories in particular aligned perfectly with the “charm laced with venom” idea that had piqued my interest ever since I’d been bless-my-hearted. I wondered where this little concept of mine could go.
The Poem…
The first was “The Spider and the Fly” by Mary Howitt. In Howitt’s poem, she tells the story about a cunning spider who uses flattery to manipulate the fly and trap it in the spider’s web. Wikipedia says “seduction and manipulation” which sounds sexier, but I don’t recommend using the word seduction with a class of middle schoolers! The boys get silly, and the girls become insufferable.
If you haven’t read the poem, I suggest you do. The poem begins, “Will you walk into my parlour, said the Spider to the Fly.” You already know “bleep” is about to hit the fan. The Spider uses coercion. He asks a question. The Fly makes the wrong choice against her better intuition, and she eventually pays for it. The next several stanzas are of the methodical trap the Spider lays for the Fly, offering her tasty food, telling her that she’s witty and beautiful. The Spider provides her a false sense of safety and comfort. The Fly hesitates, gets closer and closer, and then is caught, never to be heard from again. A lesson for the kids, and for adults, is to not be fooled by flattering words that hold more sinister intent.
The Short Story…
Roald Dahl’s horror short story “The Landlady” resonated with me the most. It is Howitt’s poem made human, and it deepened my intent to build a story about facades and pretty packages that hold deadly gifts.
“The Landlady” is about a poor unsuspecting, young Billy Weaver and an old woman who is literally not what she seems. Outwardly she’s a sweet “dithering” owner of an interesting bed and breakfast. Billy comes to her needing a cheap place to sleep. His appearing at her door is not planned. He says to her, “I’m wondering about a room.” And she says, “It’s all ready for you, my dear.”
Oh, hell no. Be like Forest Gump, Billy. Run!
He doesn’t, of course. He notices the clues and has a sense of unease when she looks at him. He pushes past it all and steps into her parlor. He reads the names of other young men written in her registry, the dates they arrived. And like the roach motel, they check in, but they don’t check out.
Behind her mask…she’s a serial killer using her charms to do exactly like the Fly and flatter and manipulate her victims into her web. The story is a masterpiece in building suspense and tension We share in the palpable horror that something is amiss, but we can’t put our finger on what, just yet. We want Billy to leave, like we wanted the Fly, but they won’t listen, dammit. They get sucked into that charm until the venom consumes them.
The characters in Howitt and Dahl’s works helped shaped mine. The allure of my villain had to be a pretty package, a saccharine smile, who was benevolent and loved by all. The atmosphere and setting in my book is like that of the web and the bed and breakfast — beautiful, haunting, deadly. I wanted to elicit that same impending doom and recreate the irritation toward the oblivious characters who refuse to follow their gut until it’s just too late. Protagonists who you want to shake because they kept making the wrong decisions, like the Fly and Billy, further ensnaring themselves in a sticky trap.
The idea of a character who looks like they wouldn’t hurt…well, a fly. But when they show their true selves, they become their victim’s (and reader’s) worst nightmare.
Yeah, I wanted to play around with all of that and write my reimagining of the story and poem with a Southern backdrop and that famous line. But I also wanted to take it a step beyond the poem and story where the villain gets no push back. What does the villain do when their victim doesn’t step into their parlor or sip the tea that smells like bitter almonds (and we all know what that means), but instead sees right through them—the Spider, the Landlady?
We find out in Not What She Seems.
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