This novel did begin with a body of sorts, but it happened in August 2003.
One night, in Flint, my girlfriend and I were out for a drive on the Eastside. Late at night, we saw a human lying in fetal position at the corner of Belle and Lewis, and we drove back to our home on Maryland Ave, and called the police. The next day, I scoured the papers for a report, but found none. I figured that the woman had probably passed out; she would’ve been taken to the hospital and presumably recovered. But the seed was planted, and later that year I wrote a draft that later become Hungry Rats. I have worked at it for seven years, and it’s been a provocative, difficult task for me. Hungry Rats is about running away, about serial killers, about everything that is dirty and dark in the world, and it has been difficult to keep upbeat working on it, even while it has gotten a better reception than any of the other writing I have done. After submitting it to many publishers and agents, I hatched a plan to self-publish. I spent months raising money, and a few weeks ago I finished the final edit. In one week the novel will be sent out to the printer. It is my official entrance onto the literary scene. It is a major “moment” of my life, somewhere below getting married and having a child, and above graduating from high school. I have worked toward this moment for decades.
Unfortunately, Flint has had a moment of its own lately, and one that makes my little book seem incidental. While I have spent seven years writing about an imaginary serial killer, a real one has taken aim at my hometown, killing five people and attacking another eight. It is despicable, disgusting, and it breaks my heart because this place has already been through so much — has already suffered greatly. A fourteenth, hypothetical, victim ran to the hospital yesterday from the intersection of Sunset and Ballenger. My best friend and I had taken many walks there in the middle of the night. It was a “safe” neighborhood. The city at night was still, warm, comfortable, musical. There was little to fear, or so it seemed, when we walked down a busy road in the darkness on a hot summer night.
So what do I do?
I didn’t write this novel to capitalize on the work of a murderer; to turn a profit from the pain he has caused. I wrote a book that was supposed to look at murder, at violence, and also at independence and freedom and courage and the struggle for a clear perspective. At unrealistic but necessary hope. Like most serious writers, I don’t think my work is “mere” entertainment. It is a homily, a sermon, an argument, a plea for its readers to scrutinize their lives more closely.
I have asked many people for advice this week: friends, family, Flint residents and diaspora, law-enforcement and journalists and old and young. It has been a source of great anxiety for me. I’ve lost sleep. I’ve had bad dreams. To my surprise, not one person has suggested I abandon publication. Not one person has even suggested I delay publication, since a delay would imply that I had responded to this event, instead of writing a book ahead of the crime. And so I have decided to move ahead with the publication of Hungry Rats on schedule.
I am proud of this work, I will be hopeful and mindful that it does not cause unnecessary hurt, but I also hope that it will be a respite, a consideration, maybe even a small catharsis for a community that has been jammed through yet another horrible trial. Above all, I hope that it speaks well of me, because next year I will be moving back to Flint, my hometown.
With all of this in mind, I would like to make an announcement now that I had hoped to hold until the release of the novel:
I will be donating all of my profits through 12/31/2010 to the Food Bank of Eastern Michigan.
From the beginning, this novel has been about my career, not about some slim profit, and I would like to do something small to help my state and hometown this hard year.
Many of you have supported me greatly so far. I ask for your continued help, when Hungry Rats comes out in a few weeks. I hope that you will take the book out into the world, with an understanding that our fictions, light and dark, our stories, are how we teach each other, how we understand and relate to one another. I wrote about a killer and now: there is killer. It’s a frightening thought. We don’t predict these things, and we cannot prophesy them. But we do know, intuitively, what we fear, and what we imagine that can become real. God help Flint. And thank you for listening and understanding.
Connor Coyne
connor@connorcoyne.com
If it’s been awhile, and you’re hazy on what this is all about, please watch the video below, with lines from the novel and music from Elisabeth Blair. Outside of the novel, it comes closest to expressing what the story is all about. I do hope that you’ll take a look.
Wow. How scary for the people of Flint. And how confusing for you. A horrible coincidence. I’m really not sure what I’d do in the same situation, but I’m glad you decided to go ahead. I’m guessing there will be people who get angry when they see your novel and its theme, considering the timing, but hopefully most people will realise that you have obviously been working on this for years and it is, in fact, just unfortunate timing.
I’ve been wanting to apologise for never managing to contribute to the publication funding. I’m so glad you received what you needed. I will definitely be buying a copy of the book and (I’m sure) raving about how good it is to convince my friends to buy it too.
Connor, I would stay the course. The timing is interesting, yes, but you’ve had your story in motion a long time. With that being said, adding something similar to what you wrote above at the end of the book might be a good thing. It brings home the point that this is real, on-going, and dark. Very dark.
Right decision on publication! I think a brief version of this at the start of the book with a pointer to here only adds depth to your work.
I can’t wait for the hardcopy – I love the Internet but still enjoy holding a paper version of books like this.
Keep up the good work Cuz, don’t let the killer discourage you from publishing your book.
Quite often the only thing separating fiction from reality is a thin piece of paper. Had you plucked your story from the mind of the killer that roams the streets in the darkness here in Flint and passed it off as your own tale, that would be an early death to a young writer. Since that is not the case you must not let the killer silence you with your own pen and the fear of mere coincidence. A young man who survived an attack says he hopes the man is caught so that he can ask him “why did you do this to me?” Perhaps that thin piece of paper that you now hold and are willing to let go of, may help answer that question.
Thanks to all of you for sharing such insightful remarks; I’m comfortable now moving ahead and you’ve really brought some nuance and perspective to the issue.
Sumara, you’ve been such a positive voice for me over the years, don’t worry about the Kickstarter at all! I’m excited to hear how the book sounds from an Australian perspective.
Andy, your props are appreciated and returned. 🙂
Caron and MaryAnn, I like your idea about including a note in the book, and I’ll probably include some sort of adaptation of this note… perhaps a bit shorter, as you recommend. Great idea, in fact.
Don, this is a brilliant insight. I couldn’t foresee this happening, so of course I can’t foresee the possible impact. But I hadn’t thoroughly considered the possibility that the book could be reassuring. There are good characters in Hungry Rats — most of them minor characters — teachers, librarians, social workers, waiters, and I think they point to neighborhood solidarity in a way that is a definite advantage.