Guest post written by Chain Reaction author James Byrne
James Byrne is the author of the thrillers THE GATEKEEPER, 2022, and DEADLOCK, 2023, from Minotaur Books. The third book in the Dez Limerick series, CHAIN REACTION, is set for a January 2025 release. Under the name Dana Haynes, he also published four other mystery/thrillers from Minotaur Books and three from Blackstone Publishing. He lives in Portland, Oregon, with his wife, Katy King, and their cat, Violet.
About Chain Reaction: This third outing for Desmond Aloysius Limerick finds him knocking around the country, picking up gigs as a guitarist. Dez is visiting a massive convention center when he finds himself in the midst of a terrorist attack, with thousands of hostages’ lives in danger. With the semi-willing help of a talented thief, Dez takes on the impossible task of outfighting and outwitting a literal army. But that’s just the beginning, as Dez learns he was actually lured there under false pretenses, by someone who knows more about Dez, his past and his skills than any living person should.
I was offered the chance to write a column for The Nerd Daily, which seems perfect. Because it’s time to step out of the closet and proudly declare myself a Nerd-American.
(Note to the Associated Press Stylebook: Is that hyphenated?)
My 13th novel debuts in January 2025, and I’ve been published by such houses as Minotaur, St. Martin’s Press, MacMillan, Bantam, Blackstone and Severin House. I’m really proud of that. But if I’m any kind of successful author, it’s because I learned storytelling from only the most grandly nerdy of sources.
No literary salons or majoring in English for me.
I started out reading comic books.
My mom and dad were avid readers (mom still is), and both of them sneered at the lowly art form that I adored. My dad was angrily dismissive of comic books, especially as I moved into high school. He was embarrassed that any son of his would dash to a drug store after school, on the day that comics got delivered, and stand in devotion before the spinner rack, figuring out what my measly pocket change could and couldn’t buy. I spent whole afternoons in used bookstores, on my knees, sneezing dust, sorting through thousands and thousands of back issues of dross to find that one used issue of, say, “Iron Man,” that I needed to fill out a particular run from 1964.
I loved them because they were escapist fun. But comics also taught me how to visualize stories. And how to tell the biggest story with the fewest words possible. (That skill has served me well in my other gig; I’m a newspaper editor in Portland, Oregon.)
I later moved to collect action/adventure comic strips from newspapers. These creators had less space and even fewer words, so those who could tell a compelling tale are masters! (The current run of “Flash Gordon” from writer/artist Dan Schkade is the best that venerable strip has been in many decades!)
When asked about the greatest storytellers of the 20th century, I often surprise people by listing Peter O’Donnell. He was the author of the British comic strip “Modesty Blaise.” It ran daily from 1963 through 2001. O’Donnell wrote every single panel for every single story, throughout the entire run. Every day, he and his illustrators (there were only a handful over the years) had to push forward characters, plot, setting and, often, propel a bit of the B story. O’Donnell had, at most, about 60 words per day.
And he used his quotidian allotment brilliantly, every week, for 38 years. Not every story was great. But when they were … wow.
“Modesty Blaise” taught me to appreciate strong female characters in adventure settings. And to write about men who aren’t intimidated by strong female characters. And the strip taught me how to choreograph action sequences in bit-sized chunks.
Finally, in high school, in college, and for a bit after I graduated, I was a theater nerd. I did a little work backstage, but mostly I was an actor.
And like a lot of theater nerds, I fell head over heels for musicals.
You can believe I took a lot of heat from other guys in high school for knowing every song from “Singin’ in the Rain” and “The Sound of Music.” When I could buy Broadway cast albums, it was “A Chorus Line” and “Gypsy” and “Cabaret” and “Hair.”
Loving musicals taught me to appreciate lyrics. And I think my fiction dialogue sometimes borders on lyrical. I take a lot of time thinking about the rhythms and cadence of, say, Dez Limerick. When to use alliteration and assonance, and when to avoid them. I once wrote a journalism story about a Taiko drum corps, in which every fifth word was a significant noun or an active verb.
When I’m writing a novel, I don’t think much about any of that stuff. But when I go back to read an earlier work of mine, I can see the influence of Marvel Comics’ Roy Thomas and John Buscema. I can feel Peter O’Donnell peering over my shoulder and harumphing if I get too wordy. I can hear the cadence of my dialogue. (And wow, can I tell when it’s off!)
My nerd cred is strong. And I think it’s made me a better storyteller.
