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CHARLOTTE, N.C.
—
Carrie Ryan
seems an unlikely chronicler of the undead.
A
debutante from
Greenville, S.C.
, she swore off horror movies as a child after being
traumatized by "Poltergeist." Her goal, for
years, was to write chick lit.
Instead,
her debut novel last year was "The Forest of Hands
and Teeth," a young-adult book set in a future
where a zombie plague has destroyed modern civilization.
Not
exactly a 20-something romantic comedy.
The
critically acclaimed novel just cracked
The New York Times
bestseller list for children's paperbacks. Last week,
her equally creepy sequel, a dark romance called
"The Dead-Tossed Waves," hits stores. Ryan, a
rising star in the world of young-adult literature, is
embarking on a nationwide publicity tour. The campaign
includes stickers with this line: "Eat. Prey.
Love."
How'd she
go from chick lit to zombies? The answer involves law
school,
George Romero
, and, like so many good stories, true love.
It began
soon after Ryan, 32, graduated from
Williams College
in
Massachusetts
with an English degree. She wanted to write chick lit
set a big city. She had zero experience with big cities,
however.
So she
decided, in what she calls "my grand plan," to
go to law school. Her logic? With a law degree, she
could work in a glamorous city, gleaning material. She
enrolled at
Duke University
, where she met
J.P. Davis
, a fellow law student from
Chapin, S.C.
, who shared her passion for fiction writing.
Somehow,
probably because she was in love, she let Davis talk her
into watching "Dawn of the Dead," the 2004
remake of
George Romero's
classic zombie movie.
When it
was over, she realized she had enjoyed herself.
By the
time she and Davis got their law degrees and moved to
Charlotte
, Davis had read her "The Zombie Survival
Guide." She was hooked.
"What
I find fascinating," she says, "is not
necessarily the zombies, but the surviving."
In
Charlotte
, the couple worked as lawyers by day. In the evenings,
she wrote chick lit and Davis worked on his short
stories. They talked about zombies. On walks, they'd
imagine a world decimated by the undead.
Then, one
evening in 2006, Ryan was leaving her office in the
Bank of America
building, contemplating an article she'd read on the
overfishing of tuna.
How
strange, she thought, to imagine a future where
something as common as canned tuna was unknown. What
other parts of our civilization, she wondered, might be
forgotten in a future world?
Suddenly,
she had an idea — a story about a world nearly
destroyed by a zombie plague, a place where people have
lived so long in their fenced-in village, sealed off
from the zombie-filled forest, that they've collectively
forgotten about the world's oceans.
She
pulled out her Blackberry and e-mailed herself a single
sentence: My mother used to tell me about the ocean.
After
working for a couple of evenings, she told Davis she was
writing about zombies. I hope you don't mind, she told
him, but I'm using your world.
Ryan's
sentence about the ocean became the first line of her
book.
In 2007,
she sold "The Forest of Hands and Teeth." Her
agent had sent the book out on a Friday. On Monday, she
had a six-figure offer from
Delacorte Press
for a two-book deal.
In late
2008, she quit her job.
Today,
instead of working in trusts and estates, Ryan writes at
her computer near the fireplace in her home. She wears
sock-monkey slippers and rainbow fingerless gloves that
keep her wrists from aching as she types.
On a good
day, the weather is rainy gray, and she's asking herself
one of her favorite questions: What's the worst thing
that could happen?
When
you're writing about a zombie-ridden post-apocalyptic
world, it's an excellent question to ask.
Recently,
Ryan sent the third and final book in her series to her
editor. It's scheduled for publication next year.
Her
apocalyptic vision was well timed. Teen readers are
eating up end-of-the-world dystopian novels.
Ryan
never uses the word "zombie." In her first
book, the undead are called the Unconsecrated. In the
second, set years after the first, the townspeople call
them Mudo, the word for mute in the
Caribbean
language of Papiamento.
But
they're definitely zombies. They moan and seek human
flesh. With one bite, they turn the living into the
undead.
In the
world Ryan creates, they've been around so long they're
viewed as a part of life, unfortunate but inevitable.
Ryan and
Davis have been engaged two years now. They plan to
marry in April.
In
addition to practicing law with James, McElroy &
Diehl, Davis has published several short stories. He
also serves as Ryan's first reader. "He's so good
at seeing what the story needs," she says.
"He's honest, but in a kind way."
The
undead remain a part of their relationship. You can
imagine dinner conversations in the Ryan/Davis house:
How could you quarantine a continent? If zombies attack,
where would you flee for safety?
The
practical among us might point out that Ryan wasted a
good bit of money on a law degree.
She
doesn't see it that way. Because if she hadn't gone to
law school, she wouldn't have met Davis. She wouldn't
have discovered zombies. She'd have no book.
So of
course she dedicated her first book to her fiance. The
line seems cryptic — unless you know their story.
To J.P.,
it says, "for giving me the world."
———
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