Sadia: The Eighth Circle of Heck

After Marlo loses the War of the Words against her brother, she is whisked away to the deepest bowels of the underworld. Guilt-ridden, Milton agrees to work for Principal Bubb in hopes that he can locate his sister and somehow free her. But his nefarious mission—to “character assassinate” the reigning vice principal of Sadia: Where the Really Mean Kids Go—runs afoul when he learns the true identity of this mysterious individual. Meanwhile, Marlo wakes up to teenage paradise: a veritable You-Topia where everything seems to revolve around her. Marlo soon dis- covers, however, that she is being built up only to be torn down in the cruelest way possible by the Mother Superiority—ruler of the Shunnery—and her cold-shouldering, shade-casting denizens. There’s also a mutiny brewing in Heaven while the underworld is turned into a tourist destination for the living. Can Milton follow through with his mission: navigating a nest of history’s cruelest tyrants in the process? Can Marlo hold on to her identity amidst a nuclear self-esteem assault? Will they discover the secret history of Sadia before it is used as a weapon against none other than the Big Guy Upstairs?

The idea for Heck came to me where most of my ideas come from: that area just behind the eyes and somewhere, approximately, between the ears. Of course, every story needs what is commonly referred to as a protagonist. That is, a hero, or–at the very least–someone whom the reader can relate to in some way while serving as a guide through a host of unpleasant, fantastical circumstances. Often, the protagonist mirrors the author, not for any significant reason other than it’s much easier for the author (fewer things to make up) while giving him/her the perfect excuse to write about himself/herself. Ever the overachiever, I decided to have two protagonists–hardly a “novel” idea–but it allowed me to write through my dual selves–the ever cautious, perpetually in-his-head Milton, and the tart, impulse-control-challenged Marlo. Preadolescence can feel like an eternity when you’re in it, but you actually get through it fairly unscathed, though your body and voice may soon be rendered unrecognizable. This complete freakishness is normal. So let laughter and perseverance be your best and most trusted bodyguards, providing loyal service without even demanding your lunch money in return. Dale E. Basye is a writer, author, bon vivant (a fancy French word that means “someone who misuses fancy French words”) and convicted stalker of celery. He has written many, many words during his life sentence, yet seldom are these words arranged in the order proper. He has published countless books, stories, articles, reviews and advertising campaigns for a variety of companies, organizations, and deposed dictatorships. Here’s what Dale has to say about this, the eighth book in his infamous Circles of Heck series: “There’s an awkward phase in everyone’s life where sudden, incomprehensible rage and anger can blind one to the stunning beauty that life so generously provides. This phase generally occurs from the moment we’re born up to our dying breath. And, appar- ently, beyond, if you happen to be both ticked off and passed on... When the vile and violent bring all of their peevish pet peeves down with them to the dangerous and ‘anger-ous’ depths of the under- world, they tend to breed a litter on snarling new ones. Some of these creepy, crawly critters are ice cold: cruel and calculating. Others are piping hot: seething with impulsive, sudden wrath. And—meteoro- logically speaking—when you have a cold front merging with a warm front, you’ve got hurricane-force trouble with a capital‘T’. Heck is like that. And no matter what anyone tells you, Heck is real. is story is real. Or as real as anything like this can be.” Dale E. Basye lives in Portland, Oregon with his precious pug Mango and loyal Chihuahua Tula...oh yeah, and his wife and son. When he isn’t writing books, which is the great majority of the time—time spent either not writing or putting off writing or planning on putting off writing—Dale enjoys riding his bicycle (or anyone’s bicycle, actually), eating tiramisu, and converting oxygen to carbon dioxide.