When a family is torn apart by opioid addiction and bankruptcy, a fourteen-year-old boy runs away from a Boy Scout camp near Yellowstone Park and disappears into the mountains of Wyoming. His mother races to find her son, only to discover that he may be seeking an enigmatic holy man named Sylas Dyer, whispered to be a new messiah. The arrival of the boy’s opioid-addicted father throws a wrench into the search until they discover the mysterious Sylas is under an F.B.I. probe as a dangerous cult leader—a new David Koresh.
Her upcoming novel, Where the Sky Meets the Earth (wt) is a work of literary fiction with commercial appeal, delving into the brutal consequences—and desperation—of unemployment, opioid addiction, and divorce, entangled with a perceived second coming of Christ (DOPESICK and The Big Short meet Stranger in a Strange Land). Set during the summer of 2009, a family copes with the destruction of their lives, ruined by the powerful antagonist underlying their woes—the insidious corruption within the federal government, including a sociopathic F.B.I. agent, seeking to redeem himself after a scandal sidelines his career.
Excerpt:
J.D. learned to be a creature of the desert, flitting from shadow to shadow in Reno’s back alleys. He lived alone in a small garage apartment, worked at the bar on busy nights and slept during the day. He’d never been west of the Mississippi River, and he discovered an empathy with the barren sand and rock versus the green flora and humidity of Ohio. A different vibe existed in the desert with its stark shift from day to night—blast furnace to frigid cold—in which life itself teetered on the extreme. In his spare time, he’d cruise the back roads on his Harley, exploring places like Dogskin Mountain and Pyramid Lake, hoping that the dry hot wind would burn away his loneliness—but it clung to him like an unwanted shadow. Some men never have a family, but to have had one and then lose it was shattering.
The sky lightened into dawn, revealing a desolate terrain of low hills dotted with sagebrush. He grimaced as the bike rolled over a desiccated horned lizard, then a dour grin flashed onto his face as the image of the lizard’s flattened head, its mouth crushed into a macabre smirk, reminded him of a particularly nasty drug dealer in Reno. J.D. had fallen to such depths that his “friends” were pushers—all variants of the same species, whether the fleshy eastern rat or its western cousin, the prowling reptile, with smile leathery and sparse.
His addiction to opiates had started with an accident at the bike shop. One afternoon, the shop manager had yelled at J.D. to help a customer unloading a large Harley. When the bike was half down the ramp, the customer lost his grip, and the bike rolled on top of J.D., pinning him under the heavy machine and breaking his leg. After he left the hospital, the shop had sent him to a sketchy doctor, who prescribed a bottle of OxyContin for the pain. He’d tried to kick the opiates, but the draw was too strong; when he was straight, he didn’t feel normal, like an unbalanced tire pulling you off the road.
The sun rose above the horizon as the road curled around Sonoma Peak, and J.D. squinted against the blinding rays. At Battle Mountain, he exited to find a gas station. Out of habit, he pulled into the scruffiest station of the set—criminals and addicts—like roaches, tend to scurry along the cracks of society. After he topped off his tank, he walked to the small store area, and grabbed a cup of coffee and a ham and cheese sandwich. In the bathroom, he washed his face and gazed into the mirror, sweeping back his light brown hair. Desert and drugs had weathered him into a dried remnant of his former self. His gaunt face, tanned with the intense sun of Nevada, reflected the years of substance abuse. The body never lies.
Lanning is completing a sequel to Where the Sky Meets the Earth, The Light of the Sun (wt).
Currently looking for representation.