"So... Why Medusa?"

This was a great question one reader recently asked me. The answer is that Kyra Anastas, the heroine of The Medusa Chronicles, was born of equal parts inspiration... and desperation.

Many moons ago, I went to a writers' conference in NYC to pitch a story with the working title "Kate the Vampire" about the misadventures of a young woman who accidentally blunders into the world of Philadelphia's undead after getting a very unusual hickey from her shiftless ex-boyfriend. There was a lot of snark and peril and humor in the pages and I was all fired up to meet with a certain agent who I thought would be the perfect fit for representation.

So there I am, queued up with hundreds of other hopefuls in the great ballroom at the Pitch Slam event, waiting to give my little speech to the agent. While I'm still three people back in line, I hear the agent's voice over the din around us: "The market's pretty saturated with vampire books right now."

Oh no! But surely my fresh take on the trope will win her heart. I wipe the fresh sweat from my brow and shuffle closer. Then I hear the agent say to another supplicant: "No, I'm all vampired out right now."

I'm officially panicked at this point. The chance to get before this agent was the whole reason I came to New York and paid to attend this conference. I realize I have to pivot and that I now have all of three minutes to come up with a new book to pitch.

Since I'm generally a fantasy-horror guy at heart, I start scrolling through my mental Rolodex of legendary creatures as fast as I can, trying to find something that hopefully hasn't been "played out" in the market: Centaurs? Too niche, and I don't know anything about horses anyway... Mermaids? No, my daughter's reading the "Emily Windsnap" books already... Mummies? No, Anne Rice covered that years ago... Nothing's coming to mind and I'm practically hyperventilating. I need a character that can have an exciting and fresh redemption arc, something that no one would see as a "good guy," a real monster...

And then it hits me... Medusa, probably the most maligned and feared of the ancient Greek monsters. If she were transplanted to the modern world, she'd be the most isolated and bitter of characters, the furthest thing from a heroine. She'd probably be fit for one thing: killing for money. If we could give that sort of creature a redemption arc...

The last writer stands up, and shuffles away to pursue his dreams elsewhere. I sit down before my executioner. "Hi," I stammer.

"What's your story about?" she prods.

"Well, it's not about vampires," I say, and she laughs.

"You're off to a good start, then. Let's hear it."

"Okay." I take a deep breath. What the hell... "It's about a modern-day Medusa, who makes her living as a contract killer in Chicago..."

The agent makes a mildly impressed face. "Go on."

Go on? I think. That's all I've got. "So... she's hated and feared by all the other beings in the mythical community. She wishes she could do something--anything--else, but she feels that her nature makes her not good to be anything but a killer. Then, uh, one night, while she's on a job to kill a reclusive millionaire, she's given the chance to redeem her evil ways, by protecting the millionaire's daughter. And, um, eager to change her life, she takes the job. But now she's on the run, with her and the girl being chased by both the law and supernatural assassins who will stop at nothing to kill the girl. She has to survive the next, uh, forty-eight hours so that the girl can live long enough to fulfill her destiny." Holy smokes, I've half-convinced myself at this point. "And that's the book: a sort of Greek Mythology meets The Professional." Argh; I should have stopped while I was ahead.

The agent nods and hands me her card. "I love it. Send it to me."

"What?" I sputter. "Like, you mean, the first chapter?"

"No. Send me the whole thing."

"Err... wouldn't you rather have the first fifty pages?"

"No. Is it ready?"

"Well... I'm still tweaking it a little. I'll need like... a month?"

"Fine. Send me the manuscript. Mention that we met here."

"Ooookay..." I stagger away, dazed, and belatedly aware that I've violated at least one of the Sacred Laws of Pitching to An Agent: pitching a manuscript you haven't finished. I text my wife: I have good news and bad news.

What's the good news? she sends back.

An agent is interested in my book.

That's great! What's the bad news?

It's not the book I've written, I say.

So, needless to say, the next several weeks were a flurry of activity, as I worked on the manuscript morning, noon and night, everywhere and anywhere I could. Eventually "A Slither of Snakes" became "Heart of Stone" and I sent it out to the agent.

It would, however, take years and a convoluted path before it saw publication. But that's a story for another time...