John E. DeHart is a former working musician turned psychological suspense writer. Born in Los Angeles, he spent his formative years in Pasco, Washington, downriver from the Hanford Nuclear site — the place where plutonium for the Nagasaki bomb was produced. He is the author of Post 60, All In All, Vayu Con Dios, Thin Air, The Going, and a children’s story called The Beebox. He writes of the longings of the heart, the haunts of the past, and the ultimate price of one’s soul.
Host: Richard Lowe | Guest: John E. DeHart
Interview Transcript
Richard: How did you get to becoming a writer?
John: I was a working musician for 30 years. After another hand surgery — being a drummer, that’s kind of crucial — I quit playing and was beside myself as to what to do with my creativity. A good friend suggested I write stories instead of songs. I was always telling anecdotal things about my childhood. She suggested I go to a local writers group hosted by a published author. I went, asked the criteria, and started from there.
Once I started writing, it was a brand new world. My hair was on fire. I was writing every day, going home and writing all my notes down, starting again the next day. There was no stopping.
Writing as Therapy
John: The writing was very cathartic. There was a lot of tragedy in my family and our upbringing — unanswered questions. I had a case of depression, and my therapist suggested I get it out of myself and put it on the shelf, like a book. I thought, how perfect is that? So I wrote and got it out of me and put it on the shelf. It works surprisingly well.
Post 60 and the Hanford Landscape
John: Post 60 is psychological suspense. My protagonist has to go back into his childhood to find the real reason for the horrors in his life. At an abandoned diner on the side of the freeway at the county line, he comes to his crossroads — physical and literal. He finds old neighbors who didn’t turn out to be what he thought. It’s a childhood come back to haunt him.
The area is a character in the story — Rattlesnake Mountain, Hanford, the Columbia River, the desert. For the first year and a half, I drove 450 miles taking notes on what the landscape looked like with a little recorder. I wanted to make my hometown a character in all its darkness and good parts too.
Dreams That Become Books
John: The Going came from a nightmare. My father was dying from mesothelioma, and it fabricated in my dream. I woke up on the side of the bed shaking and sweating with the first half of the book in my head. I went to the computer and just wrote it — exactly like the dream. It’s about a carny who was a serial killer, conditioned since childhood. I went and interviewed a carnival worker in town and used him for one of my characters — big huge guy, couple of teeth. He said you can tell how long people have been in the carnival by how many teeth they still have. I had to use that.
My therapist asked if I had nightmares. I said I’ve had them since I was a child. He said I didn’t have to have them. I said, “What would I write about? This is too much fun. I’ll suffer — it’s my material.”
Thin Air also came from a dream. It’s about the consequences of a man who took shortcuts building a dam, and everything collapsed on him in the end.
Vayu Con Dios is a prequel to Post 60. It starts in Honduras and follows the journey of the grandfather of the two antagonists all the way up to Pasco.
From Musician to Writer
John: It’s just like playing music — you don’t pick up a guitar and start gigging. You have to learn at least your basic craft before you can take off. I spent years at the library reading every book on writing I could find. The first book took years because I didn’t know what I was doing. I had stacks of chapters across my living room floor, tens of thousands of pages, all in blue ink.
Being a drummer, you woodshed — lock yourself in your room, put on records, play them over and over until you get each part right. Writing is the same discipline. My dad called it “butt blue” — don’t get up until you’ve got something worth reading.
Why Writing Changed Everything
John: It brings me alive. It’s saying things I could never say, living a life I could never live, righting the wrongs that are unrightable. I can go back and correct my mistakes — when you’re playing live on stage, you can’t stop the song and start over. In writing, I can make it perfect, just like in a studio.
I can create a life outside my own. I can have heroes and adventures, go into the past and relive things, and make some of them better than they originally were. Other than love, there’s no drug like writing. Anybody who isn’t compelled to do this — why would they? It’s so hard. You’ve got to love it. That’s why they call it following your passion.
Advice for Writers
John: Write your passion, even if it’s bad. It’s going to be bad for a while. Allow yourself to write very badly, because you’ll start writing well pretty soon — especially if you pay attention to craft, read a lot, and listen to audiobooks. When you have a block, write something anyway. Get the dictionary out, start typing. Something will come to you. If you sit there and focus too hard, you’ll choke. Lighten up, get a cup of coffee, and relax.
Be professional. If you want it to be marketable, you’ve got to make it so. Hire freelance editors and analysts — it’s not cheap, but these people are pros. They can tell you where your pacing falls short and how to edit like a television show. Beta readers and friends are often too kind to give you what you need. That’s why I have professionals on top of it.
Every book is its own world. Put your phone down, pick up a book, and find out for yourself. It’s a world of worlds.
Find Richard Lowe at TheWritingKing.com.
Video edited by Bonnie Dillabough.