(*Old Mill Road, Richmond Town – Photos by Joe)

The most exciting thing about starting the novel process for me is that the impetus forms completely outside of my control. That is to say, I could never write a novel, but there’s something outside of my scope of understanding that can.

In the beginning, silly, abstract thoughts form the basis for what I believe will be the foundation for a novel. There is no way I can say why I believe they will work. The tell tale sign that I have a story to tell, is when my excitement grows to a fever pitch. Not long after, The Words come.

I find I’m more excited to begin a novel, than to finish it. It was that way for my two Max Beckley novels, both of which I couldn’t be more proud of.

       Check out this related post: Bald Punk on Writing 101

The ideas for the Max Beckley novels, the first of which is titled ABDUCTION STORY, came over a few weeks. It was years ago, in the month of August. I was originally inspired by summer skies. I thought there was a mystery in them that needed to be unraveled.

I can also remember one morning watching planes land at Newark International Airport. It was then that I first imagined a man locked in a dark space, whose only escape was to a mysterious world or other dimension. I kept dreaming, and daydreaming about these different skies and why and how this man was locked away, and how he could break in and out of that mysterious world. All the while, dreams of death and dying I’d had as a child, came back to me.

It was weeks before I wrote a single word, but I was certain they would come. And they did, late one August evening on Staten Island.

    See links below for my other experience on SI:

       Seventh Episode – May 2009 (Bald Punk Rides Again)

       Bald Punk The Explorer!

       My Journey to the Edge of the World!

       Staten Island BBQ Mayhem

       Bald Punk Rides Again

I had piloted my Plymouth Acclaim up the tight curves of Snake Hill, then weaved through La Tourette Golf Course, and come to the top of Richmond Hill Road, when I first caught a glimpse of the most amazing August sky. I continued down the road to the Staten Island Mall, and parked by Richmond Ave, out across from Sears.

I eyed the start of a chemical sunset over the factories in Elizabeth, NJ. In the southwestern sky was a tall, long, and massive shaft of molten clouds. Breathtaking is an apt description. I can still see that hallowed cloud belt now. I imagined that within the blazing colors lay the mystery of Heaven. At that moment a violent rush of inspiration coursed through me: I had to get “those clouds” on paper! It took three years, and more than 160,000 words(draft version was over 200k), for me to be satisfied.

Along the way, I lost myself inside a Picasso or two, but that was only to clear my head/to stop my conscious self from thinking. Because a book writes itself, and the author should rarely if ever get involved in the writing process. But what do I know.

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*I chose the above photo from Old Mill Road–even though in the beginning of this post I was talking about an August sunset, because it just so happens that I took that photo standing about a mile or so east from where I saw that Heavenly sunset.

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Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Thirty-Six

Max’s Story

Chapter One: “God is Forgiveness”

Chapter Two: “In Her Arms”

Chapter Three: “A Glorious Death”

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Notes on my Max Beckley novels

Most Holy Redeemer Church in the East Village (Photos only)

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Photos in and around Old Mill Road in Richmond Town:

A Few Winter Photos – Richmond Town

Richmond Town in Staten Island

Storm Damage in Staten Island

Church of St Andrew’s – Staten Island

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Part of this episode is set on Old Mill Road by St. Andrews:

Episode Twenty-Seven - March 2010 (Feat: Ghost of a Slave named Hardy)

White Fire

In My Head

Inside Me

NOTHING

Here are my STORIES and info on my Novels

(Dunn’s Mill & Mill Pond Reconstruction -
Photos by Bald Punk)

I took these photos on the same day I took the storm photos that are linked below. There are a lot more buildings in Richmond Town that I need to get back someday to photograph. Now that I think about it, this is the third time I’ve taken photos there and each time I basically retake the same shots. Hmmm . . .

Click here for a map of the village.

Related Photos: Church of St Andrew’s – Staten Island

Storm Damage in Staten Island

A Few Winter Photos – Richmond Town 

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

 (Church of St. Andrew’s in Richmond Town – Photos by Bald Punk)

St. Andrew’s is such a beautiful church. Plus the setting is truly idyllic.

Related Photos: Richmond Town in Staten Island

Storm Damage in Staten Island

A Few Winter Photos – Richmond Town

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

(Rockland Ave in Staten Island – Photos by Bald Punk)

A violent storm two days ago had felled trees, power lines, and left many streets throughout NYC still closed. Driving in Staten Island to a job estimate, I exited the highway and soon after rolled into a traffic jam on Rockland Avenue. It’s a two lane road enshrouded by barren trees and thickets of bare brush. Much of it appeared desiccated as it was the tail-end of a long arctic winter.

At various intervals throughout the day, I had had a needling sensation that something otherworldly was set in my path. I wasn’t able to say what it could be, though I had the suspicion it was the ghost of a slave named Hardy. I knew he wasn’t done with me yet it.

A week ago Hardy had paid me a visit, and I believe, filled my head with a dream of early Coney Island set side-by-side against the arrival of a slave ship in NY Harbor. Though at the time he had spoken to me, his words were vague and as indecipherable as his figure had been.

In the past few days other surreal images have followed me in and out of sleep. The most vivid and reoccurring was of NY Harbor jammed with colonial-era British warships. In it the sky is a blood red color, filled with plumes of liquid black smoke.

The most violent action is by two tenacious frigates as they shell the Brooklyn shoreline by what is now Shore Road. Just inland from there, white and grey, low-lying smoke tells the tale of small skirmishes. A single man-o-war sits out across the Narrows by Staten Island. Every so often, it fires a cannonball from one of its many stout guns and though the ball always falls short of land, I can hear gales of laughter and song from the sailors after each shot. Given it’s just a skirmish, I don’t think the full-on battle for Brooklyn in August of 1776 had begun.

This scene reminds me of poor Max Beckley. He was a Revolutionary War soldier mortally wounded in the Battle of Brooklyn, only to be abducted from the southern marshes by a demon. From what I’ve gathered, a Staples office supply store on 4th Ave marks the spot. (See bottom links for more on Max.)

(André Basset’s – “Representation of the terrible fire of New York,” 9/21/1776)

My lady friend includes Max in her prayers. I just hope that by God’s graces, he’s dead and gone, though I’m all but certain his terror is ceaseless.

Up ahead at the intersection with Manor Road, a traffic cop stood on the dirt corner where there was no sidewalk or concrete to speak of. The left crosswalk was closed off with yellow police tape. In that direction, at a bend up the road were Con Edison trucks parked askew with their yellow lights flashing.

On impulse, I turned right and followed a handful of other autos. The road branched off into three parts, each leading up into an exclusive community known as Lighthouse Hill. I took the middle road and passed the upper floors of a nursing home set lower on the hill. The road rose up higher and to the right. There was a succession of toppled trees on both sides of the street.

In one section of a sprawling wooded area, it was good to see white flowers pushing up through the fallen brown leaves. I spotted a man coming out of the woods onto the road. When a second later I looked in the rear view mirror, I lost sight of him. I sat higher in the seat and checked the passenger window, half-expecting to see the man running abreast.

The road crested and slipped around exclusive, “million-dollar homes.” At the other side of the hill the street ran diagonally downward. There was a serene view off a steep, home-encrusted cliff out over about ten miles of land, and over Raritan Bay out to Sandy Hook, NJ.

(View from Lighthouse Hill Road out to Sandy Hook, NJ)

The traffic came to a halt by what looked like a small stone fortress called the Jacques Marchais Museum of Tibetan Art.

I stuck my head out the window and saw the road was closed at a steep bend ahead. The cars were turning and coming back. I followed the line of cars through another detour and came out in the parking lot of Latourette Golf Course. I exited and made a left and headed into more traffic that wound down Snake Hill Road.

Below on the right was old St. Andrew’s Church, which itself overlooks Historic Richmond Town. I had taken photos in that area a few months ago. I had the sudden urge to take more. My camera was in my bag in the passenger seat.

I made a hard right just before the bottom of Snake Hill, and parked alongside St Andrew’s. The road was paved for a hundred feet or so and then was blocked off to traffic, though it still ran on unpaved for about a half-a-mile or more.

The church was surrounded by a stone wall and a very old graveyard. A two-story, white-vinyl residence sat in the rear with a detached three-car garage and a basketball hoop in the driveway.

The moment I stepped out of the car I knew I had stopped for a purpose. I scanned the graveyard with my senses on full alert.

It seemed as if every inch of my body pulsed. Yet, strangely, that was the touch of the supernatural.

(Church of St. Andrew’s)

I forgot my search for a moment and marveled up at St. Andrew’s, founded in 1708. The church has a haunting beauty that is framed by an idyllic setting. It includes not only colonial Richmond Town, but a nature preserve behind it that runs for miles.

I pictured colonial settlers coming to worship on cart paths set right smack in the middle of the modern road.

Within a few minutes, I spotted a man plodding through the cemetery, cradling a camera that had a long telephoto lens.

I realized he wasn’t flesh. He was vaporous. His skin was translucent and his eyes lacked any white or iris. The surface was an ashen color. I had the feeling it was Hardy.

“Don’t run away this time, boy,” he whispered, his voice bassy and ominous. Now I was certain it was Hardy.

Thick crevices, closer to slash marks were cut into the ghost slave’s face. It looked like a large feline had tried to gouge out his eyes. Though more than likely it was from the lash of a whip.

My whole being sunk and I found I couldn’t move. For an instant, the pain and suffering Hardy had endured in life seemed real in my head. And then I thought of his afterlife, which hadn’t been much better as he had been burdened as the guardian of the demon, Old Seven.

“Where is he?” I asked in a whisper, referring to Hardy’s hellhound charge. I searched the area around the ghost slave. His eyes closed and something changed about him. He knew to whom I referred, but was reticent. I raised my voice. “Where is Old Seven?”

“Inside me,” he said.

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Twenty-Seven - March 2010 (Feat: Ghost of a Slave named Hardy)

White Fire

In My Head

Inside Me

NOTHING

Church of St Andrew’s – Staten Island (Photos only)

—

The below two episodes both conclude by focusing on Max Beckley. Expect to read a lot more on him in the future.

Episode Fourteen – August 2009

New York City’s Deepest, Darkest Secret

Secrets

We Are Knowing

LIFE IN TWO HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES

We’re on a Road Trip to Home Depot (Secrets Interlude)

THE IMMORTALS

Episode Seventeen – September 2009

Carrie Robbins channels a Revolutionary War Soldier

Hiding Behind Coltrane

Memory Giver

The Rush Is Over

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

(Photos by Bald Punk)

We just had a terrible storm in NYC. There are trees down everywhere. Here are a few pics I took in Staten Island.

Most are from Historic Richmond Town. The two nighttime ones are from Manor Road. And there is one from Latourette Golf Course.

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

(Photos by Bald Punk)

We got hit by about a foot of snow in NYC over the weekend. Here are some photos I took from Historic Richmond Town in Staten Island. I probably could have spent an hour there taking pics, but was in a rush. I definitely will go back and post more from there in the future. 

In four of the photos you’ll see the Church of St Andrews. It’s an Episcopal church founded in 1708. The TV show Ghost Hunters recently filmed an episode there. Unfortunately, I missed it . . .

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS