Contemporary Authors

• Lightwood ( novel) Polis Books (Hoboken, NJ), 2017

• Steph Post - http://stephpostauthor.blogspot.com/p/a-life-in-pictures.html

  Steph Post is the author of the novels Lightwood and A Tree Born Crooked. She is a recipient of the Patricia Cornwell Scholarship for creative writing from Davidson College and the Vereen Bell writing award. Her fiction has appeared in the anthology Stephen King's Contemporary Classics and many other literary outlets. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and was a finalist for The Big Moose Prize. She lives in St. Petersburg, Florida.

• Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Steph-Post/e/B007KD5VMW/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1

  Steph Post is a recipient of the Patricia Cornwell Scholarship for creative writing from Davidson College and the Vereen Bell writing award for fiction. She holds a Master’s degree in Graduate Liberal Studies from the University of North Carolina Wilmington. Her short fiction has appeared in Haunted Waters: From the Depths, The Round-Up, The Gambler Mag, Foliate Oak, Kentucky Review, Vending Machine Press, Nonbinary Review and the anthology Stephen King’s Contemporary Classics.

  Her short story “The Pallid Mask” has recently been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She is a regular contributor to Small Press Book Review and Alternating Current Press and has published numerous book reviews and author interviews. Her first novel, A Tree Born Crooked, was a semi-finalist for The Big Moose Prize and was released in September 2014 by Pandamoon Publishing. She is currently the writing coach at Howard W. Blake High School in Tampa, FL. Visit author's website at stephpostfiction.com or @StephPostAuthor.

• The Thoughtful Dog - http://www.thoughtfuldog.org/thoughtful-dog-interview-steph-post/

  Quoted in Sidelights: Most people only know 'Southern Crime Steph' because that is the genre of the two books that are currently on the shelves," she explained. "But I also write historical/literary/fantasy for lack of a better description."
  Lightwood walks the line between Southern lit and noir and I’m sure the combination comes from my love of dark, subversive Southern fiction.
  I wanted to explore the concepts of faith and power and fear, but do so in the crime genre.
  The Thoughtful Dog Interview with Steph Post
  by STEPH POST 25 MARCH LIFESTYLE 362 VIEWS

  Steph Post’s writing has been described as “lyrical and evocative” and she’s been called “the official voice of working class literature in Florida, akin to what Daniel Woodrell has done for Missouri, or Ron Rash for the Carolinas.” Her first novel, A Tree Born Crooked (2014, Pandamoon Publishing) was a semi-finalist for The Big Moose Prize. A prolific writer, she also pens short fiction, poetry and reviews as well as contributes to Small Press Book Review and Alternating Current Press. When not writing, herself, she serves as a writing coach at Howard W. Blake High School in Tampa. Thoughtful Dog caught up with Post to talk to her about her new novel Lightwood (2017, Polis Books) and about her process, reading style and finding balance.
  TD: Your new book, Lightwood, opens the day Judah Cannon gets out of prison after three years and no one is there to pick him up. Within a day, he’s thrust back into the family business that landed him in jail. Lightwood is faithful to the gritty noir novels but also has some southern gothic twists in the charismatic religious leader Sister Tulah character. Can you talk a little about the inspiration for this book given there are surprising elements in it?
  SP: Thank you! And I think you nailed it- Lightwood walks the line between Southern lit and noir and I’m sure the combination comes from my love of dark, subversive Southern fiction. I really enjoy writing about north central Florida, where I grew up. With Lightwood, I wanted to explore the dynamics of an established crime family. It’s hard to say where an ‘inspiration’ comes from, as the process of a novel’s inception is such a complex yet fluid one. The setting, obviously, comes from an area I’m familiar with. The narrative arc is somewhat classical but definitely inspired by sagas such as The Godfather. I’ve always been interested in counter-culture groups and I’m sure the Scorpions’ bike club comes from that and from growing up around motorcycles. And Sister Tulah? Well, I’ve always been fascinated with the Pentecostal religion as I’m one generation removed from the church myself. I wanted to explore the concepts of faith and power and fear, but do so in the crime genre. When all of the pieces began to fall into place, Sister Tulah just seemed the perfect villain.
  TD: Your work has been compared to Daniel Woodrell, Ron Rash and Carl Hiassan. You’re definitely developing a reputation for writing fiction in the working class, rural vein that is typically a male-dominated field. Other than Bonnie Jo Campbell, there aren’t many women writing these types of books. Any thoughts on why?
  SP: This is actually something I’ve thought a lot about and I’m so glad you mentioned Bonnie Jo Campbell, whose work is absolutely striking. There are so many killer women crime writers on the scene right now, but I agree, working class lit as we think of it is definitely a boy’s club. I’m not sure if it has to do with interest or with opportunity and perception. Unfortunately, many women who write in more “tough” genres are often toned-down by publishers when it comes to marketing and selling. So I wonder if there perhaps are more women writing in this style, but they’re just not being sold in this genre. On one hand, I hope this is true. On the other, if it is true, it’s pretty damn sad.
  TD: It seems like place is important to you. Do you start with the character or the place? What is the genesis for a new book?
  SP: The characters always come first. Always. I think place is important in my work because I usually view the setting as a character in itself. In Lightwood, the Cannon’s hometown of Silas is a character for me. With everything I’ve written- and I’m on book five now- the characters lead the charge and everything else is built up around character motivation. Lightwood started with the character of Judah Cannon and everything grew up from there.
  TD: Will you talk a little about the difference between writing Lightwood and writing your debut novel, A Tree Born Crooked? Also, on your blog you’ve written about the pressure of the debut novel. Do you think there is too much emphasis on the short-term debut novel rather than the long-term career of a writer?
  SP: One thing I’ve definitely learned about the writing process is that you constantly have to keep learning. Every book is different, yes, but I think with each book you build upon the process you developed in writing the previous one. In most respects, I’m self-taught—I don’t have an M.F.A.—and so I’ve learned to navigate the writing process by trial and error and then rectifying those errors on the next book. So, with A Tree Born Crooked, I just wrote headlong, crashing through the story. Lightwood, with three times as many characters has a more complicated plot and involved much more planning. More organization with the re-writes. More process. In short, much more work.
  I think there is a lot of pressure for authors to astound the world with their debut and to shoot straight to the top. To have a book out and to have “made it.” The reality, though, for most writers, is that a writing career is a slow burn. Sometimes a very slow burn. But readers usually don’t see that part. They only see the finished product, even if the author has been working on it for ten years. I do think that brilliant debuts should be celebrated, but I also think it’s important to remember that most of us (like me) are painstakingly climbing the mountain of success. It’s more about endurance than speed.
  TD: You’re an avid reader. Do you read differently depending on what you’re writing?
  SP: Yes. Usually I avoid reading whatever genre I’m currently writing in. And it also depends on what stage of the writing process I’m in. For example, I’ve been in research-mode for the last six months, reading upwards of fifty non-fiction books and sources. For “pleasure” then, I read fiction, but again, not in the genre I’m writing in. Once I start drafting and actually writing, day in and out, I usually switch to non-fiction. I suppose it’s a way for my brain to balance everything.
  TD: I’ve read that you believe research and laying the groundwork are essential steps. Can you describe your process from research to first drafts and revision?
  SP: Absolutely. I think research is key to being able to create and inhabit a fictional world. Some books are more research heavy than others and so the amount of time I spend researching depends on the setting of the novel. I knew much of the world of Lightwood already, so I believe I only spent three months in the research phase. When I’m writing in a historical setting, the research process is very labor intensive. It’s about knowing as much as you can about the world you’re going to be spending a lot of time in. After completing a first draft, once I know where the story is going and how it is turning out, I usually go back and do more research. The same after the second draft. The focus of the research becomes much more fine-tuned with each draft, but it’s still essential.
  TD: You write short stories, novels, and poetry. You also teach and blog. How do you balance everything?
  SP: Um, I have no social life? No, honestly, it’s about going through writing cycles and establishing a routine when I’m working on a big project. So, I’ll write stories and poetry when I’m working on research and blog to give myself a break from novel writing. But really, I just work my ass off. I don’t know any other way to do it.
  TD: You’re working on a sequel to Lightwood, but you recently wrote an interesting tweet that you were researching alchemy, astrolabes and volcanos for your next book. Anything you care to share?
  SP: So I think I’ve alluded to this previously, but I write in two different genres. Most people only know “Southern Crime Steph” because that is the genre of the two books that are currently on the shelves. But I also write historical/literary/fantasy for lack of a better description. I have one book on the market in that genre and I’m currently at work on another. The book I’m working on now—involving exploration in the 1890s—is something I’ve dreamt of writing for a long time. It’s been very research intensive and on any given day I’m looking into everything from arctic survival to mythology to celestial navigation to Tesla inventions. I’m having a blast with it.
  For more information on Steph Post and her new book, Lightwood, visit her Website!

• Lit Reactor -

  Steph Post is the author of the novels Lightwood and A Tree Born Crooked and her short fiction has most recently appeared in Haunted Waters: From the Depths, Nonbinary Review and the anthology Stephen King’s Contemporary Classics. She has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize, a Rhysling Award and was a semi-finalist for The Big Moose Prize. She is currently the writing coach at Howard W. Blake High School in Tampa, Florida.

• The Spark - http://alt-current.blogspot.com/2015/09/inductor-steph-post-interviewed-by-kevin-catalano-about-a-tree-born-crooked.html

  Quoted in Sidelights: I don’t really think that my writing is dark, so much as human. As true. And so this “dark stuff” comes from trying to be honest to the story and the character, and to myself as a writer. Sometimes, I have gone back and read drafts and wondered, did I really dare to go there? Will it be too much for the reader? But if it’s true to the story, I have to keep it and hope that the reader will understand. They generally do.
  to tell stories about the underdogs, the losers, the people who only get stereotyped or used as foils, and to tell them beautifully.
  9.09.2015

  Kevin Catalano

  A Conversation with Steph Post
  INTERVIEW BY KEVIN CATALANO

  I am a big fan of Harry Crews, Daniel Woodrell, Barry Hannah, and Larry Brown—Southern writers so gritty you have to clean bloody dirt from your hands after reading their stuff. After finishing her debut novel, A Tree Born Crooked, I am compelled to add STEPH POST to this list. Post is the realfuckingdeal, and I feel lucky to have interviewed her before she inevitably signs a huge book deal and wins a bunch of literary awards. Besides her novel, her short fiction has most recently appeared in or is forthcoming from Haunted Waters: From the Depths, The Round-Up, Stephen King’s Contemporary Classics, Foliate Oak, and Vending Machine Press. She currently lives, writes, and teaches writing in St. Petersburg, Florida. In this interview, we talk about tattoos, tacos, underdogs, badass female characters, and how shitty season two of True Detective is.

  KEVIN CATALANO: What was your first tattoo? When did you get it?
  STEPH POST: I got my first tattoo in the middle of a crazy road trip on my 18th birthday. It’s a lotus flower on my back. I had always talked about getting tattooed, but my family wasn’t on board. I called my mom on my birthday, and the very first thing she said was, “Please don’t tell me you just got a tattoo…” And it only progressed from there.

  Do you have an idea for your next tattoo?
  At the moment, I don’t have anything in mind. I usually get tattooed about once a year, and I’m not due for a little while. I got my last tattoo a few months ago—the Canis Minor constellation. One of my best friends, my little girl dog Lucy, passed away early this year and the tattoo is for her.

  I feel like a writer is always writing, even when she’s not literally writing. What I mean is, the writer is always thinking about the novel he’s working on, or the next story idea. Some do this in the car on a long trip, or in the shower or while taking a crap or jogging. Where do you do your best non-writing writing?
  Well, yes, you’re correct—a writer is always writing. Always. Even on Sunday Fundays, when the last thing I’m supposed to be doing is writing. I think my best ideas have always come when I’m in motion—either walking or driving. Whenever I’m stuck in a scene, I’ll grab a leash and take a dog for walk. It always helps. I always spend a lot of time talking ideas out with my husband, and this usually seems to occur in a bar. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve gotten strange looks from bartenders as we’re arguing loudly about whether or not a character would actually do something. But I suppose that’s all part of the job.

  It’s no mystery that your writing is dark. Do you ever wonder where the ‘dark stuff’ comes from? Does it ever scare you when you write something super disturbing?
  I don’t really think that my writing is dark, so much as human. As true. And so this “dark stuff” comes from trying to be honest to the story and the character, and to myself as a writer. Sometimes, I have gone back and read drafts and wondered, did I really dare to go there? Will it be too much for the reader? But if it’s true to the story, I have to keep it and hope that the reader will understand. They generally do. And sometimes, it does scare me, and this is a wonderful feeling. This, or writing something that thrills me or enrages or makes me laugh or mourn. If I can elicit those feelings in myself, then I know that I have accomplished a large part of my job.

  Do you feel that if you didn’t write noir, you might become a criminal, or someone who wanders the Florida swamps, spearing frogs and chattering to yourself?
  Um, yes… But in all seriousness, isn’t this what half of writing is about? Getting to be different characters, live different lives, have different experiences. If I had to be only myself, all the time, I would most certainly end up wandering the swamp. I would go crazy.

  Can you point to anything in your childhood or adolescence that might have shaped or inspired you to become a writer?
  I have always been a storyteller. Ever since I can remember, I made up characters and imaginary worlds. Always in my head, though. I never thought to write anything down. When I was in 8th grade, I was given a history test that had a written portion. One of the question options was to write an imaginary conversation between two of the presidents we were being tested on. I was thrilled. I spent the entire class period writing this conversation, pages and pages. I completely failed the test because I forgot to take the rest of it. I realized that day, though, that I could write down the voices of the characters I had been daydreaming about for so long.

  The dialogue in A Tree Born Crooked is ridiculously good: it reads organically while establishing character and moving the plot along. In a previous interview with The Indie View, you said that creating the dialogue was the easiest part of writing the novel. I wonder why that was so easy for you. Do any of these explain it?
  A. You have an ongoing, imagined dialogue with people in your head, and so writing dialogue comes naturally;
  B. You like to engage in conversation with people—friends and strangers alike—and so you understand how people speak;
  C. You don’t like to talk much, and that’s what makes you a good listener; therefore, you have a great ‘ear’ for dialogue;
  D. You know your characters so well that the dialogue writes itself;
  E. All of the above;
  F. None of above;
  G. Tacos.
  D. And tacos. Because I really like tacos.

  When writing about down-and-out, morally-ambivalent, ‘low-class’ people, I imagine there might be a risk of judging the characters. But the strength of writers like Harry Crews, Daniel Woodrell, Larry Brown, and you, is that y’all refrain from any judgment, though neither do you exalt the characters’ flaws. When you were writing James, Rabbit, Marlena, and the other characters in A Tree Born Crooked, was it difficult or easy treating them with respect, even if they might not deserve it?
  One of my goals as a writer is to tell stories about the underdogs, the losers, the people who only get stereotyped or used as foils, and to tell them beautifully. To give these characters as much dignity and respect as you would any character in the literary world, and to do that, I have to write them honestly. Doing this, presenting all sides, allowing the characters to be complicated, keeps that balance between casting judgment and using the flaws to create stereotypes. In this sense, it was easy. The hard part is making sure that the reader is able to respect the character as well.

  One of the things I loved about A Tree Born Crooked that sets it apart from other noir is how you weave humor in with sadness. Here’s an example:
  “After high school, Rabbit had planned on being a Gator and playing for UF. He hadn’t won any football scholarships, but still thought he had a chance of making it in the big leagues some day. He drove over to Newberry on a Saturday and took the SAT, but did so poorly he had to rethink things. His guidance counselor at Crystal Springs High, knowing Rabbit’s true academic potential, hadn’t wanted to break his heart by telling him how getting into college really worked. The counselor had neglected to tell him that he had to be smart to get into college. A buddy from school was going to Alachua Community College, so Rabbit signed up, hoping to move on to University in the spring. After realizing, though, that he didn’t stand even a chance of passing Math for Morons or Literature for the Illiterate, Rabbit gave up on his football dreams. Fifteen years later, the bitterness, and vague sense of being cheated out of his future, still lingered, eating him up inside.”
  (p. 25).
  This is so funny and so tragic! Do you have any thoughts on the importance of humor, even in the darkest narratives?
  I think humor works as breathing spaces for the reader. Everything can’t be dark; if it is, then you risk over-saturating the work, which creates the worst thing ever: a boring story. One of a writer’s jobs is to take the reader for a ride. If you’re going 90 miles an hour, but you’re on the interstate, it’s boring. If you’re going 50 through the backroads, with curves, straightaways, moments where you have to speed up, slow down, the ride is more interesting. So you have to have contrasts to create an engaging narrative. And humor works well in the midst of darkness and ugliness.

  There’s been a lot of talk lately on social media regarding the ‘straight, white, male writer’—that white men should submit less (and be published less) to allow space for under-represented voices. (I hope I’ve paraphrased that fairly.) As a female author, do you have an opinion or position on this issue?
  I do. It’s a complicated discussion and one that I certainly don’t have time to get into here, but I don’t agree with the notion of telling any group of people to submit less. I do think that editors, critics, and readers should be open to more voices. As a female writer in a male-dominated genre, this is something that I genuinely hope for. But at the end of the day, I want killer authors publishing killer books. Period.

  I followed the energetic panel discussion on True Detective that you had over at Barrelhouse Magazine last month. In short, how do you feel about the second season so far?
  Don’t get me started. Season two is breaking my heart, probably because I was so in love with season one. I think a lot happened, writing-wise, production-wise, things that viewers don’t see, that created this shitstorm of a season. I’m hoping everyone involved learned from this and can do better the next go round.

  I really liked the question you posed during the panel discussion about Ani’s character: “But I was really disappointed in how she was the character who had ‘family issues.’ I mean, why can’t a chick just be a badass? Why do they have to have daddy issues or a messed-up sister on the scene? I’ve seen this time and time again when it comes to tough female characters, and it’s frustrating. If a guy can just be an asshole, why can’t a girl just be an asshole?” Have you written a female character that is just a badass/asshole? Or are you working on a character that fits this description?

  I think Marlena from A Tree Born Crooked is badass. I love this little passage describing her:
  “James was slightly surprised by the ease with which she could switch from a pistol to a pillow. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. She drank the whiskey, carefully set her glass back down, and looked past James out the kitchen window.”
  (p. 101).
  All the female characters I write are badass. In different ways, with different agendas, but they’re all tough chicks who aren’t afraid to be dangerous and complicated and real. In my second book, the main ‘bad guy’ is a woman who I would definitely consider an asshole in some respects. And she just is. She’s also terrifying. I think that’s what frustrates me so much about Ani and many other female characters. They’re allowed to be tough if they have some reason for it. It has to be because they survived something traumatic or had a bad childhood or something along those lines. Why can’t they just be tough on their own? Why do they have to have this hitch, this explanation that works almost like an apology? Let them be badass in their own right.

  Who would you like to see cast in the third season of True Detective?
  Walton Goggins. The rest of the cast wouldn’t even matter.

Quoted in Sidelights: spot-on characterizations and dialogue,
an absorbing literary mystery.-
Lightwood
Michele Leber
Booklist.
113.7 (Dec. 1, 2016): p30.
COPYRIGHT 2016 American Library Association
http://www.ala.org/ala/aboutala/offices/publishing/booklist_publications/booklist/booklist.cfm
Full Text: 
Lightwood. By Steph Post. Jan. 2017. 304p. Polis, $25.99 (9781943818303); e-book (9781943818525).
The Cannon boys are known as bad news in their hometown of Silas, Florida. Only Benji, the youngest of the three adult sons of widowed
patriarch Sherwood Cannon, is innocent of the lawlessness that frightens townspeople and that put Judah, the middle son, in prison for three years
for driving the getaway car in a pharmacy heist. But shortly after he's released, Judah is back in the family game, this time robbing the Scorpions
motorcycle club just after it made a $ 150,000 drug deal. While the scheme goes off without a hitch, it spawns retribution against Benji and raises
the dreadful ire of Sister Tulah Atwell, the fearsome pastor of Last Steps of Deliverance Church of God, who financed the Scorpions and wants
her money back. Judah wants to make a new start with Ramey Barrow, the love of his life since childhood, but he alone is driven with the desire
to avenge Benji as the warring factions collude and collide. With spot-on characterizations and dialogue, Post explores the strength of family,
religion, and vengeance in an absorbing literary mystery.--Michele Leber
Source Citation   (MLA 8th
Edition)
Leber, Michele. "Lightwood." Booklist, 1 Dec. 2016, p. 30. General OneFile, go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?
p=ITOF&sw=w&u=schlager&v=2.1&id=GALE%7CA474718469&it=r&asid=da6df289469be30b5404d05fe416b391. Accessed 8 July
2017.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A474718469

---
Quoted in Sidelights: Over-the-top brutality, unmitigated religious
hypocrisy, and superficial characterizations,
a simplistically grungy read.
7/8/2017 General OneFile - Saved Articles
http://go.galegroup.com/ps/marklist.do?actionCmd=GET_MARK_LIST&userGroupName=schlager&inPS=true&prodId=ITOF&ts=1499572288706 2/2
Lightwood
Publishers Weekly.
263.44 (Oct. 31, 2016): p54.
COPYRIGHT 2016 PWxyz, LLC
http://www.publishersweekly.com/
Full Text: 
Lightwood
Steph Post. Polis, $25.95 (304p) ISBN 978-1943818-30-3
After serving seven years in prison for robbery, Judah Cannon, the protagonist of this downbeat crime novel from Post (A Tree Born Crooked),
returns home to rural Silas, Fla., where he reconnects with Ramey Barrow, once his childhood best friend, who soon becomes his lover. Judah
wants to go straight and make a new life for himself and Ramey, but his father, Sherwood, and other members of his notorious family, who earlier
pressured him into crime, have other ideas. They force Judah into helping them hold up the Scorpions, a biker gang, for$150,000of ill-gotten loot
that the bikers scored by drug-dealing for Bible-banging Sister Tulah Atwell. Betrayals and revenge ensue amid passages of revivalist harangue
from Sister Tulah and bloated introspection from her nephew and sidekick, reptile-loving Fulton. Over-the-top brutality, unmitigated religious
hypocrisy, and superficial characterizations, especially of the loathsome Scorpions, make this a simplistically grungy read. (Jan.)
Source Citation   (MLA 8th
Edition)
"Lightwood." Publishers Weekly, 31 Oct. 2016, p. 54. General OneFile, go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?
p=ITOF&sw=w&u=schlager&v=2.1&id=GALE%7CA470462508&it=r&asid=ebb9689b47fbc2d155ee8bc366847a2c. Accessed 8 July
2017.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A470462508

• Tampa Bay Times
  http://www.tampabay.com/features/books/review-local-author-steph-post-takes-readers-on-a-twisted-ride-in-lightwood/2310074
  Word count: 837

  Quoted in Sidelights: Lightwood (its title an old-fashioned term for the resinous heart of pine used to start fires) keeps up a headlong pace as the Cannons, the Scorpions, Sister Tulah and other forces clash brutally all around Judah and Ramey. You might not want to visit Silas in real life, but it makes a fine setting for this twisted and compelling tale.

  Review: Local author Steph Post takes readers on a twisted ride in 'Lightwood'
  Colette BancroftColette Bancroft, Times Book Editor
  Thursday, January 19, 2017 8:00am

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  If the Florida town of Silas actually existed, you'd want to stay the hell away from it.

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  Lucky for us, the setting for Steph Post's gritty, propulsive crime novel Lightwood is fictional, although many of us have run across towns like it. Post, who lives in St. Petersburg and is the writing coach at Blake High School in Tampa, makes effective use of her backwoods Florida setting — a side of the state the tourist brochures don't feature — for this Southern-fried noir story, her second book.

  The closest Post comes to pinpointing Silas is noting that it's a 20-mile walk from the Florida State Prison in Starke, in the north central part of the state. Judah Cannon, the book's main character, takes that walk in the first chapter, returning home after a three-year stint in prison — his first, and in his family a person's first prison stint isn't expected to be his last.

  There's no one there to meet him when he walks out of prison, and Judah leaves Starke determined to make a new start, having received a Dear John letter from his girlfriend and mother of his (maybe) daughter. He has been raised to believe family is more important than anything else, but he's tired of being under the crusty thumb of his father, Sherwood, a violent small-time criminal, and his brother Levi, a chip off the mean old block.

  Judah's resolve doesn't last much longer than his first welcome-home beer. Sherwood has a plan to make some easy money, and Judah doesn't get to opt out.

  The plan involves the roadside robbery of a trio of bikers, members of a local gang called the Scorpions. Normally they make a quiet living cooking meth, but they've taken a side job as cocaine couriers. Traveling with saddlebags stuffed with cash, they're a target for the Cannons — although how Sherwood knows about their scheme and its timing is an interesting question.

  The robbery goes smoothly (well, for the Cannons), but the aftermath doesn't. It seems the Scorpions' drug deal was financed by the formidable Sister Tulah, a sadistic preacher whose methods for persuading her flock to accept Jesus include locking them inside the Last Steps of Deliverance Church of God on a sweltering Florida day — with no air conditioning — until they start passing out. And when she does unlock the doors, she expects every last one of them to thank her on the way out. That includes her nephew Felton, who is perhaps even more eager to escape her malign influence than Judah is to get away from Sherwood.

  Sister Tulah, who preaches a couple of hair-curling sermons in the book, is not used to being crossed, and she's so intimidating even the bikers do her bidding. Judah's younger brother Benji, the only member of the Cannon family blessed with charm and a sweet nature, didn't take part in the robbery and "doesn't even know how to have enemies." But he takes the terrible brunt of Tulah's wrath, and Judah knows the rest of the family will be next unless the preacher gets her due.

  Complicating matters for Judah is his reunion with his childhood friend and first love, Ramey. She has her own dark secrets, but she's tough and devoted to Judah — and to getting out of Silas.

  Lightwood (its title an old-fashioned term for the resinous heart of pine used to start fires) keeps up a headlong pace as the Cannons, the Scorpions, Sister Tulah and other forces clash brutally all around Judah and Ramey. You might not want to visit Silas in real life, but it makes a fine setting for this twisted and compelling tale.

  Contact Colette Bancroft at cbancroft@tampabay.com or (727) 893-8435. Follow @colettemb.

  Lightwood

  By Steph Post

  Polis Books, 336 pages, $25.99

  Meet the author

  Steph Post will have a book launch and signing at 7 p.m. Jan. 24 at Inkwood Books, 216 S Armenia Ave., Tampa.

• Heavy Feather Review
  https://heavyfeatherreview.com/2014/10/21/a-tree-born-crooked-by-steph-post/
  Word count: 1091

  Quoted in Sidelights: it is as clear as day just how accurately Steph Post captures Florida’s cast of characters. Each of the people she brings to life on her pages doesn’t so much perpetuate the stereotype of a Florida Cracker as it does bring to life the people you meet at the gas station on the side of a two-lane highway. The skill with which she does this allows the novel to slide along with all of the grace of an alligator in water.

  A Tree Born Crooked, by Steph Post
  Heavy FeatherOctober 21, 2014book reviews, fictionPost navigation
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  23317952

  A Tree Born Crooked, by Steph Post. Austin, Texas: Pandamoon Publishing. 232 pages. Paper, forthcoming.

  It’s time to crack out the Mountain Dew and have ourselves a party, because a new voice in Florida noir is here and, hopefully, she’s here to stay.

  A Tree Born Crooked, Steph Post’s debut novel, sets readers deep in the parts of Florida that tourists don’t often see—the parts where alligators are as common as hunting dogs, where you’re just as likely to have a shotgun as you are a blue collar job (if you have a job at all), where the drink of choice has been illegal for decades and the second choice is known as the “Champagne of Beers.”

  After receiving a postcard telling him that his father has died, James Hart travels home to Crystal Springs—a desolate town whose only claim to fame was “that Elvis Presley had once spent the weekend there on his way to Orlando”—in order to see his old man buried. When he gets there, his mother, Birdie Mae tells him that his father, a smoker till the end, blew himself up—an accident involving his cigarettes and his oxygen tank. There is the small detail, too, that his father was buried two weeks prior.

  Angry, Hart heads to the local bar where he meets up with his brother, Rabbit. There, aside from meeting Marlena, the beautiful daughter of the bar’s owner, he also learns of Rabbit’s involvement in the local drug trade and an upcoming plot to make serious money. Hart cannot convince his high on drugs brother that the plan is a bad idea and is sucked in the next day when he finds out that not only did the plan not go as intended, but Rabbit’s partners—one of which is Marlena’s father—are gone, the meager cash they stole with them. Forced into hunting down the money and Marlena’s father, the three find themselves pursued by both a group called the Alligator Mafia and an assortment of other redneck thugs that make Carl Hiaasen’s villains look like they belong on Nick Jr.

  Anyone who has spent any amount of time in Florida in a place that isn’t Disney, Miami, or Daytona (check that, Daytona doesn’t count) knows just how weird Florida is. Down here, we have people who take bath salts and try to eat other people. We have guys attempting to barter gators for beer. We have … you get the point. For those of us that live daily in and amongst that weirdness, it is as clear as day just how accurately Steph Post captures Florida’s cast of characters. Each of the people she brings to life on her pages doesn’t so much perpetuate the stereotype of a Florida Cracker as it does bring to life the people you meet at the gas station on the side of a two-lane highway. The skill with which she does this allows the novel to slide along with all of the grace of an alligator in water.

  One thing that could’ve very easily ruined this novel but thankfully doesn’t is the language. In a place where standard English isn’t always the standard, Post does well to balance the need for clean, clear dialogue with the flavor that backwoods-y speech patterns can add. Birdie Mae often epitomizes this rounding out of the narrative. In defense of not keeping an alarm system at her store, she says,

  Well, we did have one at some point, I think. But then I’m pretty sure your daddy stopped paying for it. Didn’t never think it would work, no how. Those people that put it in looked shady. Not from ‘round here, know what I mean?

  It is very easy to picture a woman such as Birdie Mae speaking like this. The logical processes that inform much of her character’s thoughts are there, too, spoken out loud in a way that does not detract from the narrative.

  Throughout A Tree Born Crooked, the narrative tension runs high. There is barely a moment where the reader can stop and take a breath to assess the situation. Instead, you seem to stand there right beside Hart as he is forced to find the happy place between wanting to beat his brother to death for his stupidity and watching someone else do it. When you add into the mix the delightfully-named Alligator Mafia—my first thought upon reading that was Tony Soprano dressed like he belonged on Duck Dynasty—you are presented with a thrilling, easy read that delivers on multiple fronts. Not often does Post seem to trip over the ruts and roots that sometimes pop up in genre-style fiction. The prose does not seem forced or cheap, though in another’s hands it is easy to see how it could. The few times that the narrative does drop off, though, Post is quick to save it, pulling the reader back in just like he or she got sucked into an airboat motor.

  In A Tree Born Crooked, Post proves that she can run with the best of them, as the book echoes those of writers like Daniel Woodrell and others that have come before her. A Tree Born Crooked begs you come set a while, but by the end, all you’re going to want to do is hug the neck of your loved ones and hope to Heaven that you never meet people like this.

  A Tree Born Crooked at Amazon
  A Tree Born Crooked at IndieBound
  A Tree Born Crooked at Pandamoon Publishing

  ***

  Sam Slaughter brews beer and teaches college English.

• Atticus Review
  https://atticusreview.org/the-twisting-branches-of-florida-noir-a-review-of-a-tree-born-crooked-by-steph-post/
  Word count: 1119

  Quoted in Sidelights: Steph Post’s debut novel is a gritty and gripping North Florida noir that brings the shadiest parts of the Sunshine State to life. The narrative, which puts a distinctly neo-Southern spin on the timeless ideas of family, homecoming and redemption, is loaded with thrilling suspense, evocative language and understated emotion.

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  The Twisting Branches of Florida Noir: A Review of a Tree Born Crooked by Steph Post 0
  BY SCOTT RUSSELL ON JANUARY 6, 2015 BOOK REVIEWS
  A Tree Born Crooked
  by Steph Post
  Pandamoon Publishing, 2014
  246 pages, $14.12
  Reviewed by Scott Russell
  23317952

  A Tree Born Crooked never does grow straight, and you’re going to want to follow it to the tip of every twisted branch.

  Steph Post’s debut novel is a gritty and gripping North Florida noir that brings the shadiest parts of the Sunshine State to life. The narrative, which puts a distinctly neo-Southern spin on the timeless ideas of family, homecoming and redemption, is loaded with thrilling suspense, evocative language and understated emotion.

  Our protagonist, James Hart, is summoned back to his tiny Central Florida hometown by a postcard informing him of his father’s untimely death. Hart is a 36-year-old auto mechanic and booze enthusiast with a kind heart and a quick temper, “a good listener, but a better fighter.” James quits his auto body shop job, puts his transient home in the White Oleander trailer park behind him, and heads for Crystal Springs, Florida, to bury what’s left of his daddy, who, as it happens, perished in an explosion after sparking a cigarette too close to his oxygen tank. James’ homecoming is quickly derailed, however, when his mother Birdie Mae flatly notes that he’s missed his father’s funeral by a full two weeks.

  Reeling from this gut punch of a revelation, James makes his way to the local dive bar, the Blue Diamond, with a mind to drink his familial frustrations away. It’s here that he meets the beautiful Marlena Bell, the daughter of the Diamond’s owner, Waylon; it’s also where he links up with his younger brother Rabbit, who lets James in on his plan to knock off a mob-backed strip club for big money with the help of their dubious cousin Delmore. The stakes are raised sky-high when Rabbit and Delmore’s half-assed attempt to rob the club goes south. James and Marlena find themselves protecting Rabbit from a ruthless group known as the Alligator Mafia while undertaking a desperate search for the stolen cash.

  What follows is an unpredictable adventure that is packed to the gills with kinetic dialogue, rustic settings and colorful characters. Although the storyline stalls and sputters a time or two, Post shows a steady hand in propelling the narrative forward and keeping you invested in its events. This is a novel that’s meant to be consumed as quickly as a swig of shine – a true blue page-turner. You’ll find yourself immersed in James and the gang’s journey, stopping to catch your breath only when they do, and sharing their highs and lows as they crisscross the Florida panhandle, braving head-splitting hangovers, pulse-pounding shootouts, and white-knuckle car chases.

  Post doesn’t have to reach for realism here – her equable, deliberate authorial voice is a natural fit for the novel’s country noir sensibility. She has an excellent ear for lifelike dialogue, wielding a Southern accent like a sawed-off shotgun without ever overstepping the boundaries of believability.

  In addition, Post does a top-flight job of animating the novel’s broken-down, backwater locales, the places that most people pass through on their way to bigger (and perhaps better) things. She writes as if she knows the rural bars, trailer parks, roadside motels and interstates of North and Central Florida all too well, depicting them with pinpoint accuracy down to the last detail. For example, on the road, James and the gang pass by “eighteen-wheelers and minivans full of children clutching sticky Popsicles and frazzled parents who never wanted to see Mickey Mouse again,” like every Floridian has at one point or another. Post also brings the authenticity by crafting vivid images out of both the mundanely bucolic, like “a mountain of crushed Natty Light cans,” and the naturally beautiful, a la “the rustling leaves of the live oaks overhead and the whine of the cicadas.”

  There is no shortage of good country people inhabiting the novel’s well-crafted world – these are folks who would likely become mere caricatures in the hands of a lesser writer, but Post brings them to life in three dimensions. The novel turns on its strong and silent protagonist James, who tends to seek solutions to his problems with a clenched fist, or at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. James is a flawed but lovable character whose lifelong search for a place where he belongs is universally relatable. As a result, his arc is immensely satisfying. We also learn much about the apple from the tree: Orville, the late Hart family patriarch, looms large over the story, although he only appears in it in the form of flashbacks. It’s through James’ memories of the bond that he shared with his dearly departed father that we get a glimpse of our stoic protagonist’s innermost emotional core.

  James’ neurotic, would-be bandit brother Rabbit is the catalyst who sets the story’s intense events in motion. Although he’s hard to empathize with at times, Rabbit’s criminal ways are rooted in his deep-seated desire to earn James’ approval: he “want[s]so badly to impress his older brother, to prove that by staying behind in Crystal Springs he ha[s]made something out of himself.” Their mother Birdie Mae is equally complex, a large, “dishwater blonde” woman who doesn’t appear to care much for her two sons, but is quite partial to mindless sitcoms, Chef Boyardee and Virginia Slims. Rounding out the cast of principal characters is Marlena, the intelligent, capable and captivating woman whom James finds as beautiful as “long stretches of empty highway at midnight.”

  With this imperfect but undeniably engaging debut, it’s safe to say that Steph Post has etched her name near the top of the list of promising young novelists to watch. If A Tree Born Crooked is any indication at all, she’ll be telling the stories of the South for a long time to come.

• South Florida Sun Sentinel
  http://www.southflorida.com/theater-and-arts/books/sf-book-review-lightwood-post-20170502-story.html
  Word count: 362

  Quoted in Sidelights: Post shows a flair for delving into the dark side of small towns and the even darker drive of families

  Remote Florida and the strong, sometimes destructive pull of blood ties meld for a gritty tale that firmly joins the current trend of rural noir.

  In “Lightwood,” Steph Post shows a flair for delving into the dark side of small towns and the even darker drive of families. While most of the realistic characters in “Lightwood” are not likable, Post makes us care deeply about what will happen to each, much as authors Daniel Woodrell and Elmore Leonard have done in their works.

  Newly paroled Judah Cannon returns to his hometown of Silas, Florida, a rural wide spot in the road ruled by his corrupt father, Sherwood, and older brother, Levi. Judah wants to go straight — a common plot twist in mysteries — but knows that he may not avoid being pulled into his family’s schemes. As much as he despises his hometown and what his family has become, he also has no place else to go. And, as his heartless father reminds him, “Without family, you got nothing.”

  "Lightwood" by Steph Post
  "Lightwood" by Steph Post (Polis/Courtesy)
  The only good thing in Silas is Ramey Barrow, his best friend from childhood who is now his lover and who lets him stay with her.

  Sherwood’s latest scheme involves robbing the Scorpions biker gang of $150,000 they cleared from dealing drugs for Sister Tulah Atwell, a greedy, ruthless evangelist who earns her money from intimidating her congregation. Naturally, nothing goes well.

  Post infuses enough twists in “Lightwood” to keep the story intriguing, and sets up a most welcomed return to Silas.

  Meet the author

  Alex Segura will discuss “Dangerous Ends” and Steph Post will discuss “Lightwood” at 7 p.m. May 11 at Murder on the Beach, 273 Pineapple Grove Way, Delray Beach, 561-279-7790, and at 7 p.m. on May 12 at Books & Books, 265 Aragon Ave., Coral Gables, 305-442-4408.

  Oline H. Cogdill can be reached at olinecog@aol.com.

• XPress Reviews
  http://reviews.libraryjournal.com/2016/12/books/fiction/fiction-from-harman-noble-post-and-rodale-plus-three-debuts-xpress-reviews/
  Word count: 215

  Quoted in Sidelights" A good choice for fans of grit lit that emphasizes blood ties and redneck justice
  Post, Steph. Lightwood. Polis. Jan. 2017. 304p. ISBN 9781943818303. $25.95; ebk. ISBN 9781943818525. F
  Post’s (A Tree Born Crooked) rural Florida is a place where one would not want to break down when passing through. Silas is a violent town with little apparent law enforcement and plenty of smoky, grimy bars patronized by motorcycle gang members and the criminal clan that controls the community. Money and meth are at stake here, where even the local preacher manages her followers through malevolent manipulation. Despite his determination to go straight, Judah, a son in the brutal Cannon family, falls straight from prison into his family’s latest scheme. By the time the conflagration among them is over, the Scorpion motorcycle gang, Sister Tulah, and the Cannons have left death, blood, and misery in their wake. None of the characters is particularly sympathetic, but Post reveals the inner doubts of enough of them to inspire interest in their stories.
  Verdict A good choice for fans of grit lit that emphasizes blood ties and redneck justice; this will also attract readers who prefer their suspense very dark and filled with violence.—Sharon Mensing, Emerald Mountain Sch., Steamboat Springs, CO

• Mrdium
  https://medium.com/the-coil/book-review-steph-post-lightwood-al-kratz-1999cbad05da
  Word count: 1050

  Quoted in Sidelights: Lightwood keeps you turning pages by mastering many of the conventions of the thriller and suspense genre, including a heist, double-turns, revenge plots, and a showdown. At first glance, or with a light read only, some of these may be mistaken for cliché, but there is much more happening here.
  is what makes Lightwood so combustible
  Go to the profile of Al Kratz
  Al KratzFollow
  Writer living in Indianola, Iowa. Runner up in the Spring 2016 Bath Flash Fiction award. Publications listed at alkratz.blogspot.com.
  May 10
  On Steph Post’s ‘Lightwood’

  Post’s sophomore novel is a hell of a ride that masters the conventions of the thriller and suspense genre, and leaves you wanting more.
  Steph Post
  Fiction | Novel
  336 pages
  6.3” x 8.9”
  Hardcover
  Also available in eBook formats
  ISBN 978–19438183–0–3
  First Edition
  Polis Books
  New York, New York
  Available HERE
  $25.99

  Opening Steph Post’s second novel, Lightwood, is like finding a new series on Netflix and knowing after the first scene that you’re going to be needing some more free time. Here, the author of A Tree Born Crooked is back with another bad boy trying to escape his roots. This time it’s Judah Cannon, newly released from prison, and returning home to Silas, Florida, where he intends to stay straight but is quickly (and quite easily) pulled back into the Cannon family crime business. He gets caught in a dangerous triangle of his volatile father Sherwood, and a flailing biker gang called the Scorpions, and the Pentecostal preacher, Sister Tulah, who steals the show.
  Looking first at the type of story it is, Lightwood keeps you turning pages by mastering many of the conventions of the thriller and suspense genre, including a heist, double-turns, revenge plots, and a showdown. At first glance, or with a light read only, some of these may be mistaken for cliché, but there is much more happening here. These pieces are how the genre works and why it’s so popular. The same reason a quick view of Netflix often turns into binge watching is why the reader will likely get through Lightwood’s 336 pages in just a few sittings. It’s a hell of a ride, and you have to find out what happens next. The make or break of this convention is often the ending, and that is one of the strengths of the book. It leaves you wanting to read more by this author.
  It’s easy to see this book being adapted into a movie or series comparable to Sons of Anarchy, Bloodline, Sneaky Pete, or Hand of God. The chapters move the action quickly and often rotate between three major subplots. First is Judah, who has both the love interest Ramey and a moral dilemma of his family’s criminal legacy. Second is the refreshingly vulnerable Scorpions, who lack the confidence and determination of a stereotypical biker gang. And finally, Sister Tulah, with her unique blend of religious megalomania and criminal intent. As the chapters moved between these story lines, I found myself nostalgic for the old television format where you would almost feel the camera dramatically moving to the other story. The synthesis of the three is remarkable. They move on their own and come back together so naturally that it always feels like what has come from the story rather than what was put into it.
  All three subplots are about legacy. Judah isn’t the only one facing decisions about what footsteps to follow. The biker gang is floundering, membership is down, and their leader Jack is less commanding of the group than his late Uncle Oren was. He is self-aware that he doesn’t have the same skills of his elder:
  Oren would have cowed the Scorpions into doing exactly what he wanted; he would have made them afraid. And most importantly, Oren wouldn’t have let some crackpot woman preacher get the best of him.
  (Loc 2776).
  Sister Tulah has a nephew she has loosely taken care of following her sister’s passing. His actions are key to bringing the three groups together. She directly taunts the weakness of her younger relative telling him she can’t believe they are of the same flesh and blood. He uses this challenge both in times of insecurity and as a boost in confidence. He is her flesh and blood regardless of her belief. That has to count for something.
  This dilemma makes the younger generation face both the question of accepting a criminal inheritance, and of not living up to its expectations. So not only are they faced with should I be a criminal or not, but with can I be good at it? It’s not easy following after Sherwood, Oren, or Tulah. Particularly not when they often get to define what the name means. In a moment of conflict, Sherwood tells Judah that he has no idea what being a true Cannon looks like. Maybe Judah will if he can live long enough to be the one giving meaning to the last name.
  In the end, Sister Tulah’s enigmatic character is what makes Lightwood so combustible. From the beginning, in every scene she is in, she commands attention:
  No one watched Sister Tulah. They glared at her, cowered before her, spun their eyes in wild fear at the heavy thud of her footsteps approaching, but they did not watch her. She was the watcher and Bradford County and its inhabitants stood by silently and waited for her verdict.
  (Loc 364).
  She’s perfect because the reader has to deal with her very similarly to how the characters do. She can be hard to grasp. It’s too easy at first to assume that stereotypes will help you understand her. They won’t. It might be easy to underestimate her. You shouldn’t. Once you begin to see that Post’s Tulah is more Flannery O’Connor than Stephen King or Quentin Tarantino, you see the true magic of the work. This is a price paid for much easier by the reader than the characters she encounters.