The Turning Man is a bizarre concept. I had two things on my mind when I first approached it—gore and werewolves. I had wanted to attempt grossing myself out with my own writing, telling a story that worked as serious, legitimate fiction, but also countered its drivable story with intense scenes and descriptions of absolute savagery. The intention of The Turning Man is to push limits. I made very sure that the plot was sacred; nothing would undermine it. The story follows Walter Vorne, a man who repeatedly shows up in the hospital parking lot, mangled and shredded beyond belief. Miraculously, every morning, he wakes up good as new, body healed and memory gone. What Walter doesn't know is that the moon is changing him. Every night, his body transforms, essentially, into a beast reminiscent of the werewolf—though very, very (very) "alternative" to the traditional depiction.

Told in a series of short parts, The Turning Man is a vicious read; it's disturbing and uniquely misbalanced. Your imagination will frighten you—and that, as the author, is my most confident promise. 

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