NOW AVAILABLE! Ameri-Scares Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill

My newest novel in Elizabeth Massie’s Ameri-Scares series for young readers — Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill is now on the loose from Crossroad Press!

In the 1950s, Lake Sidney Lanier was built in northern Georgia. Since then, hundreds of deaths on and around the lake have given rise to legends that spirits of the dead haunt the area. Teenager Aaron Tate, who lives near the lake with his parents, doesn’t believe in ghosts. But after he witnesses a jet ski accident on the water, he begins to experience many strange things. At night, weird lights float through the woods near the lake’s edge. An eerie voice in the darkness calls to him. He begins having nightmares that involve a strange woman from the past.

Aaron meets a girl named Suzette Sellers, who has moved into his neighborhood. They become friends and, together, resolve to learn the truth behind the frightening events. Aaron learns that his family home was built on the site of an old mill that belonged to his ancestors. Suzette’s house stands on land once owned by a woman named Lula Cheshire—a woman who was rumored to be a witch. And Aaron discovers that his great-great-grandfather, Charles Tate, might have had a strange and secret relationship with Lula Cheshire.

When events in Aaron’s life begin to mirror those of his great-great-grandfather, he wonders: do ghosts truly exist? What if Lula Cheshire really was a witch? And has the long-dead woman’s spirit returned from the grave to wreak vengeance for some crime his great-great-grandfather, Charles Tate, committed against her? He and Suzette must learn the truth—and send Lula Cheshire’s spirit back to the grave—before death comes to claim both of them!

The Ameri-Scares books are aimed at the younger set, but they're also great fun for those of us who might be considered... uh... a bit more seasoned.

Available in ebook and paperback. 

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Order Georgia: The Haunting
of Tate’s Mill here!

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Sabbatical 2: Return to Georgia

A nice evening view from what must surely be the only traffic-free road anywhere near Gainesville

In early spring of this year, I spent a few days in Gainesville, GA, where my mom grew up; where my folks met and got married; and where, at my grandparents’ place, I spent some of the most heavenly days of my youth (see “Sabbatical,” March 1, 2022). That trip largely involved researching my Ameri-Scares novel, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill, which is now long finished and in the queue for publication by Crossroad Press. Since then, I’ve made the virtual acquaintance of fellow author Leverett Butts, who lives in the Gainesville area and with whom I’ll be sharing the contents page of the upcoming Kolchak: The Night Stalker anthology from Moonstone Books. During these past few months, I’ve been craving a return to my Georgia stomping grounds, so, this week, I’m heading back to do some further stomping. And come Wednesday, I anticipate meeting Mr. Butts in the flesh.

Monday, October 10, 2022
It wasn’t much past dawn that I rose this morning (with considerable help from a passel of cats). I had packed up last night, so there was little for me to do other than shower, feed animals, kiss Ms. B., and hit the road. Counting stops to eat, pee, and geocache (plus a few minor traffic hold-ups), it was about a six and a half–hour drive down; fairly typical for the 300-plus-mile trip. This time, I did the unthinkable: I made no special stops for geocaches until I was only a few miles from Gainesville (though I did grab a couple when I stopped for lunch around Anderson, SC). Traffic was heavy the whole way, which was hardly unexpected since traffic is always heavy on I-85. And let me tell you: there cannot possibly be a trucker shortage any longer, for there was no way one more truck could have fit on the highway between NC and GA. My god, it was wall-to-wall, and at times nerve-wracking.

Once here, I checked into the Ramada/Wyndham hotel, which is where I stayed on my previous sojourn. It's comfortable, reasonably priced, and as conveniently located as any hotel can be in Gainesville. At Tino’s, the Mexican restaurant on the premises, I grabbed a trio of excellent street tacos. Sadly, they no longer had the brisket tacos that sent me over the moon the last time I was here, but no matter; these made me happy, as did the large jalapeno margarita chaser.

The very large guardian of one of the geocaches I found
on the way into Gainesville this afternoon 

Unfortunately, by way of my previous visits to Gainesville, geocaching-wise, I have about cleaned up the town — certainly everything within walking distance of the hotel. Still, one does not undertake a sabbatical such as this one without geocaching, so, just as the sun began to set, I got in the car and hit the southern outskirts of town. I found several caches, many of which were along a nice, all-but-deserted road near the airport. And what a fuckin’ relief to find some respite from the blasted traffic here! After caching, I parked my car on the street in front of my grandparents’ old house and set out walking around the neighborhood, which skirts the edge of downtown. Almost unconsciously, I ended up retracing one of the routes I regularly walked as a youngster. While much of Gainesville has become almost unrecognizable, there’s just enough of that old neighborhood left to retain some of the magic it once held for me. I quite enjoyed the lovely evening trek, which netted me a couple of (much-needed) miles of hoofing it.

Tomorrow, I’m planning to visit my old alma mater — the University of Georgia in Athens — and get in some serious geocaching, for caches in Athens there certainly are.

Do not think for one minute I'm not serious about this. Sign found at the restaurant where
I had lunch in Anderson, SC. I need one of these.

One fine dinner

The GA Dept. of Veteran's Services building. Close to my grandparents' old house,
it stands out as one of my most vividly remembered buildings in town

Paul Smith Cleaners on Bradford St. Sadly, it's no longer in operation. Paul Smith was one of my great uncles. My great-aunt Julia — Uncle Paul's sister — worked there when I was little.

Tuesday, October 11, 2022

I think that, for today, I am altogether done with both walking and peopling.

According to my handy-dandy health app, I walked over seven miles, mostly on campus, and my little doggies are feeling it. And according to my Fed-Up-With-Humanity meter, I threw myself in with more human beings per square yard than even when Brugger and I spent several days in Chicago back in May.

This is not to say I didn’t enjoy myself; I had a fine time of it. I hit the road about 8:00 a.m. this morning and arrived in Athens roughly an hour later. My first destination was a concentration of geocaches in the neighborhood where I lived during the summer of 1980. It was and still is an attractive area, but that was not a happy time for me. The place had no air conditioning (and that was one fucking HOT summer), and the house ended up constantly overrun by teenage redneck assholes whom my drug-addled roommates unilaterally decided to give free rein. I wish circumstances had been better then because it really was a cool place (other than temperature-wise) in a lovely setting. Outwardly, at least, the house and grounds haven’t changed at all — though I kinda hope the folks who live there now have central air.

Once I’d found a few caches in that area, I headed down to the University of Georgia campus. Although I can’t say my university experience was everything it could and should have been (mostly thanks to less-than-sound decisions made by your humble narrator), I do have many pleasant and vivid recollections of those days. But holy cowz has the population density gone through the roof. Again, this is hardly unexpected, but the rigors of getting around campus without being run over — either by vehicles or by students on foot and/or other modes of transportation — are considerably more daunting than forty-some years ago. (This, by the way, is not because I’m slowing down in my old age; my typical pace tends to prompt young and old alike to holler “Would you please slow the fuck down?!”)

I certainly saw more of the UGA campus today than I did in my two-and-a-half years as a student there. Between the stages of several Adventure Labs, a couple of virtual caches, and a slew of physical caches, I explored numerous nooks and crannies I never would have had any reason to explore back in the day (although it’s not out of the question that I actually did visit some of these places while in a drug-induced fog). I stopped in at the old School of the Arts building, which is now the School of Something Else, but its confines are still largely familiar. As a student, I shared numerous art classes with Mike Stipe of REM, and though we were hardly close friends, we did have a few interesting conversations now and then.

I found a first-class lunch at Trappeze Pub — a bacon jalapeno burger with fries and a locally brewed IPA, which I liked a lot, though its name eludes me at the moment. I followed that up with a bit more walking and caching until my phone battery damn near gave up the ghost. Eventually, I hoofed it (on sore feet), back to the car, and spent the next thirty-some minutes trying to get the hell out of Dodge... er, Athens. Along the way, I passed The Taco Stand, which is one of the few familiar local establishments that’s still around after all these years. Back when, I always enjoyed going there, although — no joke! — one was guaranteed to suffer a rumbly tumbly for a spell following a Taco Stand meal. This evening, I did not stop in.

By the time I arrived back at my digs in Gainesville, I had pretty much made up my mind to stay inside for the evening. I doubt seriously my little feetz are up for any more hoofin’ it.

Tomorrow, it looks like rain in the forecast (which will suck), but I’m very much looking forward to meeting Lev Butts. I’m still hoping to manage some geocaching in the morning, lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise...

Oglethorpe House, the dorm I lived in between 1979 and 1980. Things have changed quite a bit
around the old place.

Sanford Stadium. I saw a lot of football games there when Herschel Walker was the team star
and had a reasonably valid purpose in life... quite unlike today.

A lovely lunch from Trappeze Pub

The old School of the Arts building, where I earned my two-thirds irrelevant Bachelor of Fine Arts degree

The Taco Stand — still rumbling tumblies after all these years

Wednesday, October 12, 2002

Old horror writer with not-so-old Leverett Butts at the Smoke House restaurant just outside of Gainesville

Well, the creek did rise, but I guess the lord was willin’ because I got up fairly early (thanks largely to an alarm of some sort going off nearby) and headed straight out for some geocaching. Thankfully, the rain was intermittent and not very heavy. I set my sights on the Oakwood area, a few miles southwest of Gainesville, near the local campus of the University of North Georgia, where friend Leverett teaches. We had a 1:00 p.m. lunch date at the Smoke House BBQ restaurant, but he had suggested that, if time permitted, I might stop in at his office earlier in the morning. So, I snagged a few caches along the way, located his office, and proceeded to make a pest of myself. We chatted for an hour or so, and then he had a meeting to attend. I still had a few nearby caches nearby to attend to, including a trio on the nature trail there at the university, so off I went. I found two of the three (the third is almost certainly missing), as well as a peculiar thingummy high up in a tree (see photo below), which I suspect is meant to be “art.” Who knows, though? It could just as easily be something nefarious, such as a disguised beacon for the Martian invasion force or something such. If the Martians land in Gainesville with their fighting machines and deadly black smoke, well, we’ll know why, won’t we?

Another of the lovely, big honking Joro spiders
that now populate this area

At the appointed hour, Lev and I met at the Smoke House, and... oh lord... the smoked dead cow was heavenly. H-E-A-V-E-N-L-Y. After lunch, we sat out on the restaurant’s front porch and shot the shit for most of another hour. Talk about a much-needed tonic! Both as writers and as reasonably human-type people, we have an awful lot in common, and our meeting was surely the highlight of this trip.

The geocaching highlight, at least so far, was a multi called “Six Feet Under” (GC22KDP). The first stage takes you to a graveyard on a little-traveled road and then to an old tunnel at an abandoned business park. I tell you, it’s tough to beat a graveyard and a tunnel as stages of a single cache. Now, it’s not a deep or long tunnel, but hey... it’s underground, secluded, and dark. My kind of place. Finding the cache proved to be a somewhat unexpected challenge, but find it I did. So... yay! I also found some incredible mud dauber nests — huge and complex, like nothing I’ve ever seen back home. And spiders... oh, yes, there are spiders. Big, colorful orb weavers, called Joro spiders; quite beautiful they are, even to this former arachnophobe. Apparently, they are relatively recent arrivals to the area, originally from Japan. Since they appear to thrive here, it’s likely they’ll eventually migrate to North Carolina. No complaints from me, since... unlike the burgeoning masses of humanity... they’re harmless and likely good for the environment.

After “Six Feet Under,” I grabbed a handful of other caches, but since the day was getting long in the tooth, I decided to pack it in, hoping against hope that I might beat a miserable rush-hour traffic experience. Well, the time of day clearly matters not a whit here anymore. As I have elucidated in no small detail, the traffic in Gainesville has become so ungodly I’m afraid such a ridiculous concentration of human beings in a relatively small area is going to shift the mass of the planet to an unsustainable degree and the earth is going to go spinning straight into the sun. Thank you, motherfuckers. Thank you all so bloody freaking much.

I put just over two miles on the feetz today. While they were still a little miffed about yesterday’s big walk, at least they didn’t give me any grief or complain about being abused this go-round. Who knows, though... tomorrow is another day and there are still lots of caches to hike after.

I’ll be back.

L: No, I do not know what that thing up in the tree is supposed to be (art, I suspect). I found it along the nature trail behind The University of North Georgia at Gainesville; R: A mud dauber nest in the tunnel at "Six Feet Under." This sucker measured well over two feet from top to bottom

Thursday, October 13, 2022

A view of Lake Lanier from the trail at Lanier Point Park

For my last full day in Gainesville, for better or for worse, I decided against pursuing a couple of possible social interactions at my disposal. I hope no one might feel slighted by my choice, but currently, this mostly solitary venture is something I believe I need. Here in Georgia, I feel a sense of connection — or perhaps reconnection — with what I can only describe as ghosts of people and places from my past, yet I feel they’re fading with time. This is a very personal thing to me, and I find myself wanting to experience the fullness of these “ghosts” while I still can. I hope I don’t regret not getting together again with my first cousin once removed, as they say, but right now, this choice feels necessary and proper.

I kicked off the morning by visiting Inman Perk Coffee Shop on the Square, a short walk from my hotel. A fine café au lait, and then it was off to the northwestern corner of town and Lanier Point Park, which offers a couple of scenic hiking trails along the shores of Lake Sidney Lanier. On my four-mile trek à pied, I found seven caches, a stairway to nowhere, and... a sudden moment of anxiety when I thought I had lost my extra battery pack for my phone. Happily, I had not (apparently, I had absent-mindedly put it back in the car between the first and second legs of the hike). Several times, the sky spat a little rain, but overall, the weather was pleasant, with an occasional balmy breeze. I didn’t encounter another living soul on the trail, which made for a relaxing experience in the woods.

Since Brugger and I discovered Southern Recess Gastro Pub in Spring 2012, dining there is a personal priority whenever I’m in Gainesville. I had originally thought I might have dinner there tonight, but since this morning’s breakfast consisted of a few grapes and the hike had flung a fair craving for vittles upon me, I decided to head there for lunch. A damned good martini (x2) and the bleu cheese burger of the gods satisfied the craving. Typical of my experiences at Southern Recess, the food, drink, and service were all first-rate.

So far on this trip, I’ve claimed just over fifty caches, and I’ll probably snag a few more before it’s all said and done. Spending this time outdoors, whether on wooded trails, on the campus of the University of Georgia, or in random, odd corners of Gainesville, I’ve found so many “new” and wonderful places I otherwise never would have. If you’re not a geocacher, you likely won’t relate, but this is how I achieve that crucial zen, and — going back to the first paragraph of today’s entry — it feels not just desirable but necessary.

Tomorrow, I’ll be heading back home. This trip has been invigorating, relaxing, satisfying, and — on occasion — stressful. Time changes all things, of course, and Gainesville has certainly changed in the decades since I spent so much time here. I don’t find much of it positive. There are many newer, highly desirable amenities, and, in some areas, substantial remnants of the pleasant, low-key town I’ve always treasured still exist. Yet, to a greater extent, this place is nothing more than an overpopulated extension of Atlanta, with traffic ills the likes of which even the NC Triad doesn’t yet suffer (although if developers have their way, it won’t be much longer until it’s equally awful, and developers always have their way). Here, just driving a few blocks involves more sitting than moving, and except for maybe late at night, there is literally no respite from it. More than most maladies in this life, I despise massive concentrations of human beings in too small a space, where the infrastructure was never designed for it, and all the upgrading in the world will never keep up with it. After this trip, I don’t know that I want to come back in the near future.

Sometimes “progress” is anything but, at least to those of us who prefer a quality of life that doesn’t involve playing sardine in a fucking tin can once you go out and about. Still... to me, Gainesville is truly where my family originated, and my connection to it feels deep and unbreakable. I can’t help but love this town in more than a few ways.

I’m sure I will come back.

A neat little covered bridge that leads to the trail at Lanier Point Park

On the bridge

Another bridge, this one leading to nowhere in the middle of the woods

Coming Soon! Ameri-Scares Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill

Coming soon from Crossroad Press... My next novel in Elizabeth Massie’s Ameri-Scares series — Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill.

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In the 1950s, Lake Sidney Lanier was built in northern Georgia. Since then, hundreds of deaths on and around the lake have given rise to legends that spirits of the dead haunt the area. Teenager Aaron Tate, who lives near the lake with his parents, doesn’t believe in ghosts. But after he witnesses a jet ski accident on the water, he begins to experience many strange things. At night, weird lights float through the woods near the lake’s edge. An eerie voice in the darkness calls to him. He begins having nightmares that involve a strange woman from the past.

Aaron meets a girl named Suzette Sellers, who has moved into his neighborhood. They become friends and, together, resolve to learn the truth behind the frightening events. Aaron learns that his family home was built on the site of an old mill that belonged to his ancestors. Suzette’s house stands on land once owned by a woman named Lula Cheshire—a woman who was rumored to be a witch. And Aaron discovers that his great-great-grandfather, Charles Tate, might have had a strange and secret relationship with Lula Cheshire.

When events in Aaron’s life begin to mirror those of his great-great-grandfather, he wonders: do ghosts truly exist? What if Lula Cheshire really was a witch? And has the long-dead woman’s spirit returned from the grave to wreak vengeance for some crime his great-great-grandfather, Charles Tate, committed against her? He and Suzette must learn the truth—and send Lula Cheshire’s spirit back to the grave—before death comes to claim them both....

#   #   #

I’ll post updates about the release, ordering information, etc., as they happen. Each Ameri-Scares novel is based on or inspired by an historical event, folktale, legend, of myth unique to that particular state. You can see the currently available books in the series on Amazon.com here.

More about Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill here.

Sabbatical

It was something of a whim. The other day, I was working on a chapter of my upcoming Ameri-Scares series novel — Georgia: The Haunting of Tate's Mill — which is set in Gainesville, GA, my mom's hometown. I spent much of my youth visiting my grandparents here, particularly at Christmastime. The novel is set at nearby Lake Sidney Lanier, and at one point, I began thinking, "I'd sure like to eyeball some of these places I'm describing in person rather than on Google." Well, I'm retired from the day job now, and as I didn't have any crucial plans at home for this week, I decided to drive down, stay for a few days, and get all the info I needed. Plus... perhaps most importantly... I still have plenty of geocaches here to hunt.

Monday, February 28, 2022: Departures and Arrivals

At about 9:30 a.m., I hit the road, only to be halted immediately by an accident on US 29 South that blocked the highway. Fortunately, I was able to exit and detour around it before the road became impassable. And once underway, travel proceeded generally smoothly, which has so often not been the case on trips involving Interstate 85 South. I grabbed a handful of caches along the way and arrived in Gainesville at 3:00 p.m. sharp, which was fortuitous since that was check-in time at my hotel.

Once settled in, I headed over to my grandparents' old place, just to give it a look. As I was taking a few photos, a young lady came from within to check me out, so I told her about having spent much of my youth in that house. Rather to my surprise, she knew a lot about my family, since she had become friends with the neighbor across the street (sadly, now deceased), who was among my grandparents' best friends. The young lady was kind enough to let me come in and see the place, for which I was incredibly grateful, and we chatted about old times there for quite a while. We exchanged contact information, and I sent her some family photos I had on Google, particularly those that were taken in Gainesville. With all that's changed over the years here — so much of it, to my mind, undesirable — I found it most gratifying that this little corner of the past has been preserved to the degree that it is. After this visit, I went down to Ivey Terrace Park, very near my grandparents' old place, where my brother and I frequently played as kids. I found a couple of caches. Yes, I did. Then I returned to the hotel to freshen up a bit.

For dinner, I wandered up to Southern Recess Gastro Pub, which Brugger and I had enjoyed on our trips here in 2012 ("Let's Do the Time Warp Again") and 2013 ("Chicken City"). The restaurant was crowded, but I was able to procure a seat outside (which was perfect, since it's tradition, and the indoors is really noisy). I went for a dirty gin martini and fish & chips. The martini was perfect, the fish & chips very good. To date, my favorite fish & chips have been found at The Celtic Fringe, in Reidsville, NC, and The Spotted Dog, in Carrboro, NC; Southern Recess makes them mighty fine, to be sure, but I don't think they're quite up to my favorites.

Footbridge over Jesse Jewell Parkway. Last time here, I found a cache there;
it's now closed for construction at either end.

A remnant of the picturesque past: the Hall County courthouse in downtown Gainesville

Dinner destination: Southern Recess Gastro Pub on Bradford Street

Martini plus fish & chips equals all kinds of happy

After dinner, on my walk back to the hotel, I stopped at a nearby parking garage to hunt a cache — "Jury Duty" (GCGKYT) — which I had sought on an earlier trip, but without success. This time, I found the little monster. I love the fact that, after all these years, the cache is still in place and in decent condition. With a fine dinner and excellent drink under my belt, not to mention having claimed a difficult cache, I count the evening as most pleasing.

View from the parking garage while hunting "Jury Duty"

A lovely night in Gainesville, viewed from on high

Tuesday, March 1, 2022: Good Eats, Achy Feetz

Cache log with my signature—and the sigs
of some fellow cachers from back home.

Apparently, I was exhausted after the previous day's rigors, for I enjoyed a nine-hour, unbroken night's sleep, which virtually never happens these days. Upon waking, I made myself a couple of barrels of coffee, took a shower, and ventured out into the ungodly traffic nightmare that Gainesville has become. Judas F'ing Priest, what a change from the days when I knew Gainesville best. From the time I was very small, through my college days, and for some years beyond, Gainesville was a serene, picturesque town with a fantastic, if relaxed, quality of life; it's now bustling insanity, with traffic gridlock day in and day out, and scarcely a square foot of land that hasn't been overdeveloped. To be fair, a reasonable sampling of the town's innate loveliness remains, yet getting to it has become an experiment in how much burgeoning humanity a sane person's patience can stand. My god... how anyone can live in such a monstrous maze of endless gridlock is beyond me. I know that this is very subjective, but I grieve, deeply, for the loss of the singular, uplifting character that once defined this town. It's now a bedroom community of Atlanta, with a handful of the amenities but all of the nightmares of overcrowded urbania. It sickens me.

Now that I've ranted about the seven hells of overpopulation, let's get back to some happier doings. After my morning's refurbishment, out I went among the natives to the nearest Publix and picked up a few staples — mainly coffee and coffee accouterments, which the hotel doesn't provide, at least in any sufficiency, plus lunch things, so I don't have to eat out every meal. Then... I grabbed a few geocaches, some way out Thompson Bridge Road, some close in to town. Yes, I did this thing. It was neat as can be to find, on a few of the cache logs, the signatures of some good friends and fellow geocachers from back home.

Before packing it in for the afternoon, I revisited Ivey Terrace Park and my grandparents' old place, where I scattered some of Phred's ashes. I know he desired this.

The little springhouse at Ivey Terrace Park. It's been there since my mom was a kid, and my brother
and I both played here when we were little. I scattered some of his ashes around it.

Back at the hotel, I cobbled together lunch from the goodies I'd picked up at the store. Then I paid a visit to my cousin, Mark Bell (Jr.), whom I haven't seen in many years. He and my mom were near in age and regularly kept in touch until Mom's health precluded it. It was a wonderful, revitalizing time for me — a reminder of the days when I had a relatively large, close extended family. That is, sadly, a time now gone.

A wonderful jalapeno margarita at
Tino's Mexican Restaurant

I did a little more geocaching before returning to the hotel for a bit of recuperation (the caching has been rigorous, I can tell you). For dinner, I opted to try Tino's Tex-Mex Restaurant, right here at the hotel, and it was a fine choice. I had fantastic beef brisket tacos and a right large jalapeno margarita. As it is with most Mexican restaurants, there wasn't much tequila in the drink, but that was actually fine by me, for I had plenty of high-octane drink waiting for me in my hotel room. However... before returning, I went out on what turned out to be a long (roughly three-mile) walk after the stages of an Adventure Lab cache. This proved both exhilarating and bloody frustrating. I found all but one of the stages, but that one...whew! I couldn't find it tonight, and I don't know whether I'll be able to tomorrow. We shall see, we shall. But I did see some cool sights, including what has to be Gainesville's most haunted house. I feel like I might have even brought a horrible ghost back with me, just from walking by it. I gotta say... I love it!

And then... exhaustion set in. G'night and G'bless.

Exceptional brisket tacos at Tino's Tex-Mex Restaurant in Gainesville

Do not tell me this place is not haunted. It is haunted.

"Love Freedom," a massive mural at one of the geocache stages I visited this evening

Wednesday, March 2, 2022: The Haunted Lake

If, some years ago, I hadn't read online about the legends of "haunted" Lake Sidney Lanier, I'd have never suspected the lake had such a reputation. I spent a lot of time at Lake Lanier in my youth and knew quite a few people in the vicinity; the subject of ghostly happenings out there never came up. Lake Lanier is a massive recreation area, and I suspect the majority of folks who use it aren't really aware of its dark reputation. No matter, for in Georgia: The Haunting of Tate's Mill, there will be ghostly events aplenty, and if the characters didn't know about the possibility of such otherworldly shenanigans from the start... well... that's on them.

The first thing I did this morning — after coffee and a breakfast bar — was head out Cleveland Highway to the site of Old Bell's Mill, which was quite well known in its day (I wrote a bit about Bell's Mill and how it relates to my Ameri-Scares novel here). Here, I didn't hunt geocaches, but I scoped out the precise area that I have fictionalized for the book and took a bunch of photos. This will come in handy in fine-tuning my descriptions of the setting, which I do try to paint as accurately as possible. The whole point of the books is to capture at least a modicum of local color, and I'm glad to have been able to spend quality time at three of the five locations in my series novels.

The site of Old Bell's Mill... as near as one can get to it

Afterward, I did go geocache hunting, of course. I finished up a couple of Adventure Lab caches I had begun last night, hunted their associated bonus caches, and went after a bunch of hides on Gainesville’s north and east sides — some woodland hides that required negotiating moderate to tough terrain, and some typical urban hides that required stopping the car, jumping out, and signing the cache log. I broke for lunch — a chicken salad sandwich, from the supplies I bought yesterday — and then, after logging my morning's finds, headed right back out. This afternoon, I headed south and west, out Dawsonville Highway, and found another bunch, mostly urban park & grabs. The only trail hide, near Gainesville High School, I was unable to find. I sort of suspect it's missing... or I may just have missed it. One's as likely as the other, I suppose. Being out and about and fighting the fucking Gainesville traffic just about sent me over the edge — again. Far as I'm concerned, there's just no excuse for this much goddamn humanity in a small town.

Tonight, I discovered dinner at 37 Main, a bar with fair character and lots of specials. I went early to beat the crowd (tonight is "Trivia Wednesday"), but — little did I know — it was happy hour, where everything is half price. So, I ended up with excellent chicken wings and a very fine gin martini for $10 (of course, I tipped very well, as the service was great). I've been doing my best to keep costs very low on this trip, and this bit of good luck helped quite a bit.

Tomorrow, I anticipate hitting the road as soon as I'm up and packed — after rush hour, inasmuch as rush hour actually lets up here.

This ruination of a beautiful small town by too many motherfucking people is the one thing that hurts me to my soul. All my life, I loved this town, its character, its superb quality of living — which didn't involve fighting big-city congestion in a place that was never, ever in a million years designed for this kind of population explosion. There was a time I actually considered living here. I couldn't do it now. It would literally kill me. And that really hurts.

Otherwise... I made for myself an excellent time here, and in some ways, I'm sorry I can't spend more time here. I did find several little slices of the best of life that Gainesville offered long ago. I sure hope it can hang onto those. I suspect it won't be long, though, before they are razed, and all we see is more people, more scars upon the land. Never have John Denver's lyrics hit so close to home.

Peace out.

37 Main from my table vantage point

The old football field behind Gainesville Civic Center. When I was a kid, my grandfather brought
me to many Gainesville High School football games here.

Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill Cover Art Reveal

It’s not the finished version, but here’s the cover design for my upcoming Ameri-Scares novel, Georgia: The Haunting of Tate’s Mill. 

In the mid-1950s, the US Army Corps of Engineers built the Buford Dam on the Chattahoochee River and created Lake Sidney Lanier, which covers portions of Hall, Forsyth, Dawson, Gwinnett, and Lumpkin counties. Upon the dam’s completion, 625 billion gallons — give or take an ounce or two — of water submerged 56,000 acres of land, which consisted of several small communities, hundreds of farms, an auto racetrack, and innumerable graveyards. No one knows for sure how many dead bodies lie in those dark depths. In the intervening years, hundreds of people have drowned, died in boating accidents, or simply vanished in Lake Lanier’s waters. In 1958, a car plunged off a bridge into the lake, killing two young women. Since then, a ghostly apparition, known as “The Lady of the Lake” — supposedly, one of the women who died — has frequently been sighted wandering the roadways and bridges along the lake (although I never saw her). In its six and a half decades of existence, Lake Lanier has earned its reputation as the setting for grim happenings.

From the 19th century until the lake’s creation, my mom’s family — the Bell family of Gainesville, GA — owned a mill, called Bell’s Mill, just outside of Gainesville. Mom spent much of her childhood at the mill and frequently told my brother and me many stories about her happy times there. And me, I experienced the best days of my youth in Gainesville at my grandparents’ place. We often went to Lake Lanier, sometimes to swim, sometimes for family reunions, and, on occasion, to visit the site of the old mill — or as close to it as we could get, since the lake had long since claimed that land. Several years ago, on a visit to Gainesville, Ms. B. and I hunted a geocache, aptly titled “Old Bell’s Mill,” close to the mill site. Plus I spent a couple of years at the University of Georgia in Athens, less than an hour from Gainesville. Indeed, I do have a long personal history in this area.

In the 1960s and early 1970s, a family named Tate lived across the street from my grandparents, and my brother and I enjoyed playing with the Tate kids whenever we visited Gainesville. They were a fun, quirky bunch, and it seems only proper that the Tate name should be woven into my upcoming novel. And thus, Tate’s Mill it is.

While the events of the book will be completely fictitious, they are very much inspired by the spooky legends that have arisen around the lake, as well as my decades of personal experience here.

Do stay tuned.