Are you a book reviewer? Do you love thrillers filled with clever ways of exacting revenge upon the deserving? I’ve got a vigilante justice novel for you!
As I prepare to release Vengeance is Hers, I’m compiling a list of reviewers. Whether you’re a Booktuber on YouTube, a booktok maven, or you review on Amazon, I’m interested in getting a review copy to you!
We’re making a list and checking it twice. If interested, please email my assistant Holly at expartepress@gmail.com with your contact information and review channelon social media.
Please put BOOK REVIEWER in the subject line. Thank you!
Want to know more about what you’ll be reviewing? Here’s the pitch:
If you can’t forgive and forget, what’s next?
Poeticule Bay, Maine is a coastal village full of secrets.When a student is attacked and run out of town, police and the school administration prove useless. Enraged, Molly Jergins launches a campaign of vigilante justice against the school bully and his nasty family.
As threats and vandalism escalate to a war ending in death, the line between right and wrong blurs. Molly tries to be a good person, but when hunting monsters, the safer route is to become a better monster.
In the end, is revenge the best success?
VENGEANCE IS HERSRELEASES IN EARLY 2025!
About the Author
Robert Chazz Chute is a former crime and science journalist for newspapers and magazines. A graduate of the University of King’s College and the Banff Publishing Workshop, Robert has won fifteen awards for his writing. He pens suspenseful crime fiction with muscle and apocalyptic tales with heart. His hidden headquarters is a blanket fort in Other London. Vengeance is Hers is his twenty-ninth book.
Yesterday, I posted about the long and winding road to publication with Vengeance Is Hers.As I arrange the promotion and marketing for this vigilante justice thriller, there’s much more to do.
Here’s a short list:
There are bookmarks and promotional materials to order.
I’m toying with painted edges for a special edition hardcover I’d sell directly. I’m not that crafty, but it looks doable.
I want to make this an audiobook. That has expensive challenges, but I’ll explore the possibilities.
Identify and reach out to potential book reviewers and influencers is another challenge.
Setting up promotional giveaways will be on the agenda once I have a publication date.
Podcast interviews.
Set up advertising to coincide with the promotional campaigns, then more ads beyond that to keep the inertia going.
Submission for book awards will be on the agenda.
In 2025, I intend to attend book and craft fairs and sell directly that way. Gotta plan ahead for that.
The social media push has already begun so someone will be aware it’s coming, and happy to buy, read, and reviewVengeance Is Hers.
If you’ve ever wondered about the writing and publishing process, I have answers. Vengeance Is Hers took longer than usual due to variables beyond my control. Creating Bigger Than Jesus took three months, from conception to publication. The trilogy of This Plague of Days took a little more than three years. At my fastest pace, I published four books in one year.The writing process for my next thriller was a mess, but in the end, it’s going to make a big happy splash.
Round One is back from the editor and the prime beta reader!
Now things start to speed up for Vengeance Is Hers! From the top, this is how we do it:
My official start for this novel was August 15, 2022.
I wrote the first draft, backed up halfway through, switched from first-person narration to third.
I endured two hip replacements in 2023, got distracted by a lot of pain and rehab, and relearned how to walk.
Wrote 120,000 words, and rethought the story arc. Clenched teeth in frustration.
Keeping most of the story in one small town in Maine, I had to cut 50,000 words. This was originally going to be about making a movement of female vigilantes. Some of what I wrote in the original draft may be used for a sequel.To make this a better book, I had to sacrifice a lot of words and time. I went back to rework the concept.
Second draft. A lot of back and forth here as I went deeper. The word count climbed back up to 105,000 words.
Hip pain receded almost entirely. Back to my old self, I have more energy to deal with this project.
Found words with the “-ion” suffix for every chapter title.
Third draft: filled in plot holes and found more jokes and clever turns of phrase.
Listened to most of it. Reread all of it. Cut the long chapters in half so most chapters are no more than 1,200 words. (For a fast pace, I like short, fast chapters so readers feel like they’re burning through the book).
Added tweaks, usually fleshing out something vague, adding a joke, or turning up the dialogue to eleven.
Woke up in the night, continually plagued by little tweaks to make the story better.
Word count climbed back up to 113,349.
When I can’t look at it anymore, it’s ready for more eyes on the prize. Prime beta reader begins.
The manuscript is shared to two more beta readers for comments.
Google Drive alters corrections I’ve already made! Frustration ensues.
Editrix Extraordinaire Gari Strawn begins her first round of editing. She downloads it off Google Drive so we won’t get new errors introduced to the manuscript.
I review all editing suggestions from beta readers and my editor, making all necessary changes. That’s the step I’m at today.
Gari will dig through the manuscript for Vengeance Is Hers for two more rounds.
When she’s done, and I finish final revisions, we’ll lock it in.
Then it’s back to the designers about the details of the paperback and hardcover.
Today, I reminded my sister that she made me her enemy on my twenty-fifth birthday. She sent me a birthday card that said, “Happy 25th!” I opened the card. The inside message was: YOU ARE NOW OLD.
“You remember that?” she said. “Holding grudges isn’t good for you! You should let that go!”
“I don’t know how to do that. Anyway, my point is, you shouldn’t sleep so well. My enemies often end up in my books. Bad things happen.”
I placed highly in s short story contest put on by The Toronto Star. A lot of positive feedback came my way. The morning after it was published, a woman tracked me down. She asked me to be her co-author on a non-fiction book. She was not simply asking. She was adamant because she had such passion for her subject. It was to be about how her son was an addict. His addiction, she told me, was weed. Boy, did she seek out the wrong writer! I have trouble sleeping, and such supplements help me. My first anthology was Self-help for Stoners.I turned her down.
Next up was my father. He wanted me to write the story of his life. At that time, I was in the middle of putting out four novels a year. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” I told him. “Writing your book means a huge opportunity cost. I don’t have the bandwidth to write your book and cater to my readership, too.”
In the end, he did write his auto-biography. I edited it and helped him publish it, but I didn’t allow his hobby to swallow all my career aspirations.
Most of the interactions I’ve had with readers have been overwhelmingly positive. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that.
After publishing This Plague of Days, someone reached out to me on Facebook to congratulate me on completing the trilogy. “Thanks!” I said. “Very kind of you to say so!”
It would have been fine if it had stopped there. This person then asked me repeatedly to recite everything there was to know about the book. It seemed they wanted the outline, no matter how many hours it might take from me. I replied that I don’t give out spoilers. What I meant was, just go buy and read the book! I wanted to ask, “What did your last slave die of?” That person had no social skills and ulterior motives. After I turned them down, I never heard from them again.
Most of the interactions I’ve had with readers have been overwhelmingly positive. Sadly, I remember the negative ones best. I have an eidetic memory for every insult. I am still debating about dispatching assassins to those who have wronged me. One fellow had a very high opinion of himself. He tried to blackmail me into working with him as an editor. No, thanks!
Oh, and that win for the Toronto Star contest? It stirred up a couple of trolls. One went on a diatribe of “That’s not how hypnosis works!” (A) I never said it was hypnosis, and (B) I know all about hypnosis, thanks.
Another grumpy guy insisted I didn’t deserve the prize. They also made sure to let everyone know they had not participated in the contest and lost. Sweetheart, methinks thou dost protest too much.Go beat up a leaf.
I read negative reviews not at all or only once. When I’m feeling down (which is often), I reread my happy reviews many times.That is therapeutic. Readers will never know how many times I went to bed, pulled the covers over my head, and decided it was time to give up. But what else am I going to do? Hypnosis, maybe, but that’s it!
So many times, I wish I said the right thing in the moment. “I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with that,” is a great go-to. Unfortunately, that vocabulary didn’t exist yet in the late ’80s and ’90s. People have that phrasing now, and it’s useful.
Since the pandemic, many people have been more mindful of their time and energy. For instance, office workers who want to continue to work from home are clinging to that status. If they are no less productive and happy to ditch the commute to work from home, why not?
Those who have the privilege are more careful about how and where they spend their time and energy. Energy vampires will take advantage of you if you let them. I try not to dwell on what the trolls spew. Hurtful words are always usually more about the person hurling them.But my memory is too good for this sort of thing, and sometimes that’s awful.
Have you figured out how to let go of insults and hurt feelings? If your strategy works without giving me a lobotomy or a serious blow to the head, let me know. I’d be very curious to hear how you manage that.
No wonder I write novels about clever revenge and vigilante justice.
When a fellow student is attacked and run out of town, police and the school administration in Poeticule Bay, Maine prove useless. Enraged, Molly Jergins launches a campaign of vigilante justice against the school bully.
As threats and vandalism escalate to a war ending in death, the line between right and wrong blur. Molly tries to be good, but when hunting monsters, she will be safer if she becomes a better monster.
Revenge is the best success.
Robert Chazz Chute is a former crime and science journalist for newspapers and magazines. A graduate of the University of King’s College and the Banff Publishing Workshop, Robert has won fifteen awards for his writing. He pens suspenseful crime fiction with muscle and apocalyptic tales with heart. His hidden headquarters is a blanket fort in Other London. Vengeance is Hers is his twenty-ninth book.
I added a little scene to my vigilante thriller yesterday, so I thought I’d share it. Here’s what you need to know: Molly Jergins attends Poeticule Bay Consolidated High School. After a fellow student, Barry Graves, is attacked by the school bully, Keith Faun, Molly confronts Keith. After that scene, a teacher shows up. Molly proves that, despite her young age (or perhaps because of her youth), she’s made of sterner stuff.
Oration: Scene fragment / Molly and Mrs. Simmons
Molly’s history teacher, Mrs. Abby Simmons, pushed her way through the crowd. “Hey! People! The bell has rung! Get to class! What’s going on? I’ve got an empty classroom, and I get lonely talking to myself! All of you have somewhere to be!”
Molly, sporting a wide and grateful grin, turned to her. “Sure, Mrs. Simmons!”
Keith turned and walked away, and Molly called after him, “You’re welcome!”
Some students snickered. Mrs. Simmons shushed them and waved them on. The crowd dispersed. A few of the juniors and sophomores touched Molly’s shoulder as a silent gesture of respect as they passed. She was relieved, certain that those witnesses and their phones had saved her from getting a black eye, or worse.
“What are you up to, Molly? Did you just make a bad situation worse?” Mrs. Simmons demanded.
“Me? Nah. That guy is like an ice cream headache. He’s going to get worse before he gets better. Not that anyone cares, but a lot of us don’t feel safe going to this school.”
By her eyes, Molly could tell the teacher didn’t disagree. Mrs. Simmons didn’t feel safe, either.
“You should know,” Mrs. Simmons said, “when you’re young and immature, you’ve got a lot more anger and energy. You look at the state of the world and….” She trailed off. They were alone in the corridor, but the teacher still looked around nervously to make sure no one else was within earshot.
“What is it, ma’am?” Molly prompted.
The teacher’s jaw worked for a moment as she searched for the right words. Finally, Mrs. Simmons said, “I just think you should appreciate that a lot of people around here, not just the students, are appalled by the incident between Keith and the Graves boy. But we’re also tired and just trying to get through our days. The police and the principal were informed. The ball’s in their court now. What’s best is to leave it be. Not our monkeys, not our circus anymore, right?”
Molly cocked her head to one side. “You’re tired?”
“Of this business? Surely and immeasurably.”
“If you’re tired, imagine how exhausted Barry must be. It sounds like you’ve given up, ma’am.”
“You will, too. Everybody does. When you learn the limits of what you can do, it makes sense to set your sights lower.”
“Spoken as a true educator, Mrs. Simmons! You’re an inspiration!”
The teacher shot her a sour look. “Tend to your own knitting, Molly, and get your butt to class.”
“I’ve got a free period in the library, ma’am.”
“Then get to it.”
She’d meant to curb Keith, not shame Mrs. Simmons. “Sorry,” Molly said, “maybe you’re right. I guess a lot of people do give up for whatever reason. I understand you’re trying to help me.”
But Molly couldn’t leave it at that, couldn’t stop herself. “As long as I’m still young and full of energy, though, I think I’ll keep on being angry when it’s right to be angry. Your way, powerless people stay powerless. You taught me that in your history class.”
Molly thought she had earned herself a detention, but Mrs. Simmons said nothing more. The teacher spun on her heel and strode back to her classroom.
Whatever happens, Molly cautioned herself, don’t turn into her. Don’t get so chicken of being wrong that you don’t do right.
Let’s pull back the curtains and open the kimono. What goes into writing a book? I’ll just talk about inspiration and craft here. There are many more moving parts than what I could jam into one post.
My life. All fiction is autobiographical, from the knife held to my throat when I was a kid to all the other injustices for which I have an eidetic memory.
Environment. Growing up in Nova Scotia, I was in a target-rich environment for hearing interesting dialogue. My next thriller is set in Maine, and I take great delight in putting fresh spins on familiar idioms. (My dad had a hundred weird expressions. “That smell would drive a dog off a gut wagon,” for instance.)
My major was journalism, and my minor was philosophy, but I had better chances to feed my work. My first year of university was a survey course called The Foundation Year Program. A unique offering, it’s been described as the history of philosophy or the philosophy of history. FYP seemed to cover everything, from classics of literature to classical music and jazz. I read a lot of stuff I wouldn’t have read otherwise. It was a great opportunity to discover how much I didn’t know.To quote Ted Lasso, “Be curious.”
University isn’t for everybody, and a decent library would suffice. However, I’d worked for my family’s business since I was thirteen. My main goal was to stay out of the workforce for four years. (University was insanely cheap, then, lest you think me a brat. Besides, I kept up with my studies just fine.) University was best for the gift of time. I used those four years to read, and read, and read. I’d read a lot of science fiction through my teens. Most of my spare time in university went to American writers. I remember reading Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood in one go, only stopping briefly to nap and eat.
My obsession with reading didn’t stop. Usually, I’ve got ten books going at once, though lately, I’ve turned more to audiobooks as a time management strategy. Everything feeds my work. Astute readers will note the parallels between This Plague of Days and The Stand. William Goldman’s prose was my awakening to how I plot a story to provide delightful surprises to readers.
Movies. One of my family’s companies was a video store, so I got to watch everything.I love movies and bring that sensibility to my writing. If you think my action scenes are cinematic, that’s probably why. When you’re reading my books, I want to put a movie in your head.
Wikipedia and assorted trivia. At my last dental cleaning, I blurted some obscure fact to the dental hygienist. She said, “How do you know that?” I know lots of useless factoids. A doctor once asked me if I had medical training. I replied (putting on a Southern accent because I’m funny), “I’m an educated fool, suh! Born to high privilege and of low station, beyond the delightful and obscure, I am otherwise useless to society.” (That didn’t help the psych evaluation, I can tell you!)However, interesting factoids are woven into my narratives, and readers appreciate them.
I have help. My editor, Gari Strawn, is a gem to whom I am so very grateful. My prime beta reader,Russ, has quite an eye for detail. Last night, he messaged me about whether there are hubcaps on Lincoln Continentals. This morning, he messaged me with suggestions for alternative classic cars the villain could drive in Vengeance Is Hers.
Anger, humour, and spite. Some people who could have been mentors, more helpful, or at least kind, told me I had delusions of grandeur. Fuck ’em.
My writing space has three desks, and I feel very lucky to have this writing life.
