Here’s the factual timeline: The Tate-LaBianca slayings occurred on August 9 and 10, 1969, but no arrests were made until two months later, in October. The murder trial itself began in July of 1970 and ended in January of 1971. And, while Manson and his followers were indeed sentenced to death, these sentences were later commuted. Charles Manson is still alive, still in jail, and still one of the few humans I can think of who, by every indication, has no soul.
While I accelerated the judicial process, all quotes, trial excerpts, and details about the slayings are—to the best of my knowledge—both factual and true.
Acknowledgments
Woo-boy, here we go:
Thanks to my mom, Ruth White, for planting the dread seed of this novel in my brain in the first place. Also, thanks to everyone in my big ol’ family—as always—just for being cool, supportive, and encouraging.
Thanks to Dee Wanger and Candy Gilliland for sharing your stories of growing up in the sixties, and thanks to Tim White for educating me about “old Atlanta.”
Thanks to Jim Shuler, doctor fabuloso, for filling my head with the flutterings of Pigeon Carrier’s Disease. Jim, you da man.
Thanks to Holly Black for talking to me about suckling and teats, and to Libba Bray for continuing the conversation with—ahem—details of her own experience with such. Thanks to my agent, Barry Goldblatt, who takes great care of all his clients, two of whom are Holly and Libba. Without Camp Barry, the “suckling” discussion would never have occurred.
Thanks to my Starbucks darlings, who kept me hopped up on caffeine and chocolate whipped cream.
Thanks to my sweetie-pie Abrams family: Michael, Howard, Amalia, Maria, Scott, Chad, Tamar, Maggie, Vivian, Mac, and Laura. I am insanely lucky to have y’all. A special thanks to Jason Wells, who is secretly the Energizer Bunny, only cuter. (Which is saying a lot, because that bunny is pretty darn cute . . .)
Thanks to Bob, who offered congratulatory high-fives, groans of commiseration, and sage advice on a near-daily basis. You rock, Bob!
Huge thanks to Sarah Mlynowski, queen of plotting, who read an early draft of Bliss and said, “Someone must die.”
Warm and hug-filled thanks to my brilliant and goofy husband, who channeled Marlon Brando in order to read my Agnes sections aloud to me. Jack, you always give me wonderful ideas. I love you.
And finally, there is no frickin’ way on earth, in heaven, or in the depths of hell (and we journeyed through all three realms, I think) that this book would exist if not for my beloved editor, Susan Van Metre. Bliss started off as a lumpy blob of clay, and Susan rolled up her sleeves, dug in, and got messy. Sheesh, we both got messy. But I’m so proud of the end result, and Susan, I owe it all to you. You are the ghost behind my blood voice.
About the Author
LAUREN MYRACLE is a graduate of the Vermont College MFA program in writing for children and young adults. She is the author of the New York Times bestselling Internet Girls trilogy—ttyl, ttfn, and l8r, g8r—and Rhymes with Witches, as well as many other books for tweens and teens. She’s fascinated by magic, supernatural forces, and the “world unseen,” yet nonetheless finds it freaky to have written a book dripping with blood. Visit her Web site at www.laurenmyracle.com.
This book was designed by Maria T. Middleton and art directed by Chad W. Beckerman. The text is set in 12 point Joanna, a typeface drawn by Eric Gill in the early 1930s and later digitized by the Monotype Foundry.
The display type was created by painting with Hershey’s syrup—a technique inspired by Alfred Hitchcock, who first used Hershey’s syrup to simulate blood in his 1960 black-and-white thriller, Psycho.
Lauren Myracle, Bliss
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