Avi WordCraft blog

Story Behind the Story #14:
Devil’s Race

Years ago, when living in Pennsylvania, north of Philadelphia, I was a member of a back-packing club. We’d meet at a nature center early Saturday mornings, and returned Sunday afternoons, having camped for the night. One of the places we liked to hike and camp was along the Appalachian Trail, in a state forest park with the wonderful name, St. Anthony’s Wilderness.

St. Anthony's Wilderness

(Knowing that St. Anthony is the saint you pray to for lost things, makes it an even better name.) At one time the area had been home to a string of forts built by colonists during the French and Indian War. There were also any number of abandoned homes, and even small villages. Midst the trees you came upon many a lichen-covered stone ruin. At one point there had been coal-mining in the area, so the trails were black earth. In hearing distance was an army artillery fire-range, so as we hiked I sometimes heard the booming of distant cannons. An altogether strange but beautiful place.

St. Anthony’s Wilderness also contained an abandoned 18th Century cemetery, which was usually the place we camped on Saturday nights. One of the old stones had a name chiseled into it: John Proud.

Devil's RaceJohn Proud became the name of my hero in the ghostly tale, Devil’s Race, which is set in and about St. Anthony’s Wilderness. The title of the book I had chosen was St. Anthony’s Wilderness. This was vetoed by the editor who chose Devil’s Race, which has nothing to do with the story. There is no devil in the story and the word “race,” is a rarely used word which means fast-moving creek, such as the one briefly referenced in the story.

There is an old tradition in publishing, a party to celebrate the publication of a book. In all my years I have had only one such party. When my back-packing pals learned about my book, they insisted we must have such a party. So it was we all packed tiny bottles of champagne in our backpacks and hiked up to that cemetery. There, next to the stone that celebrated the once real John Proud, my friends toasted me, my hero, and my book, Devil’s Race.

Bad title. Great party.

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