It took me from the summer of ’09 until the late fall of ’11 to write my first book. I just finished the second one, which I started last August. In that time, at least seven or eight people I’ve written about have died afterwards. That’s just people that I know about. In one case, I quote a seemingly happy-go-lucky friend as making a suicide joke. He recently killed himself.
Granted that I write about a lot of people in passing that come and go from my purview, but these weren’t the types of people you’d expect to die. Perhaps if I knew more about math, about all-go-rhythms and crunching numbers, I could see if this figure is statistically significant. Maybe if I knew more about occult mysticism and New Age mumbo jumbo, I could divine whether there’s some kind of curse at work.
I do know that if this keeps happening, I may look into the job market for mercenary writing. Brian Williard: Word Assassin.