Lockdown is a book I have been building for nearly twenty years. At its base are a series of short stories that, when they were first published, had no apparent connection. I, however, always knew these stories were linked. It did take me a while to see exactly how the characters’ histories and secrets, strengths and fears fit into each other. But once the pieces came together, the pattern of the novel they were building toward became blazingly clear, and I began to write.
“Coming together” describes more than simply the making of the novel. Lockdown is a thriller set in a school under threat, but it is about the school’s community, its weak points and skills, and the strength it can find when pressed to the brink. A story about how rescue comes from within, and how heroism may rise from the most unexpected direction.
A book, like a school, is built by its community. This one owes much to my friends at Penguin Random House, including two women with the patience of Tibetan lamas, Kate Miciak and Kim Hovey, and Kate’s even more long-suffering right hand, Julia Maguire. Then there’s Kelly Chian, whose brisk conquest of a manuscript resembling a typesetter’s workshop hit by a tornado just boggles my mind. Alex Coumbis and Allison Schuster have the tricky and thankless tasks of nudging LRK across the map, while Carlos Beltrán makes sure what is on the shelf pleases the eye and tantalizes the mind, and Matt Schwartz bends the digital universe to his will. To them and the dozens of others who build books day in and day out, I give my eternal and heartfelt thanks.
As for the words themselves, some of them were given a push in the right direction by my friend, crime writer and basketball magnate S. J. Rozan (whose Bouchercon matches are a high point of that annual conference). Other words, and most of the ideas, were set into play by the hard-working teachers and staff of the various schools my own children attended on California’s Central Coast.
Thank you all, for teaching me so much.