tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62498410809625695462024-03-13T05:42:46.497-04:00Beautiful Stories for Ugly ChildrenI'll send the wolves that hunt at night, charging through the shadows with a thunderous whisper, tickling the air with fetid breath that smells of death. Teeth glint like steel in the moonlight, howls calling for blood. They hunt within the dark, blackish coats reflecting hell fire. One bite and you're forever theirs, forever mine. Don't fight the wolves, give in to the sinful desire. I am the wolf. I am Christian Jensen.Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-86289882032697823332015-06-22T06:52:00.004-04:002015-06-22T06:52:58.404-04:00For you
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I saw a suggestion for this on twitter. Sometimes I forget I'm an erotica author as well as a horror author and need to stretch my wings and push my talent. I hope you think I pushed myself farther when you read the following. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A letter to my sister: </span><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Remembering it is a sin, but what
difference does it make now? I’m going to hell for what we did and nothing I do
now is going to change that. I don’t care, Karen. I don’t care how wrong or
taboo our time together was. I don’t care what our parents say. I don’t care
what the world thinks about it. I want you. I love you. I want to wrap my naked
body up in yours and feel the heat from our passion pulling the sweat from my
skin. I want to feel the need growing with my cock as I lick every inch of you.
I want to feel the pressure of your cock in the back of my throat and taste the
saline of your pre-come like creamy velvet on my tongue. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Do you remember how it started? Do you
remember the nervousness that danced in our stomach? We both knew it was wrong,
but the look in our eyes, the ravenous need that sprung up inside of us blotted
out right and wrong. It deleted every thought about religion and family and
societal norms. I saw you for the person you really were, the person you had
been hiding for so fucking long, and instantly nothing else mattered. It was
right, Karen. Everything we did was right and I want to do it again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Being raised Catholic repressed us. Its cliché
now to even acknowledge such things but the truth is the truth and I’ve
promised myself I’m not going to lie. Not about this. You were forced to live a
lie, one that I made you perpetuate because I was afraid. I didn’t want to
admit you were actually someone else. I told you just ignore the voice inside
your head. I told you to pray. I told you to just go along with things because
it was what god wanted. I said the things you told me, the secrets you confided
in me, the confessions you wept into your pillow were all sins. I thought the
devil was at work within you. Now I know different. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">They wouldn’t understand. They’d think we’re
sick and twisted and maybe in some ways we are. Whatever may inflict us,
whatever this disease of the soul may be actually be, I don’t care. I want you.
I want your cock in me. I want my cock in you. I want to lick your tight ass,
to stick my tongue inside you and fell the warmth radiate. I want to hear you
moan as I push inside you. I want to whimper in that ecstasy as the pressure of
your swollen dick enters me. I want it all, and I want it now and forever.
Religion be damned. Our family be damned. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Oh Karen, I can’t ever forget what we did.
I can’t ignore the passion that lights my heart on fire every single time I think
of you and that perfect body. I never wanted to put a penis in my mouth until I
saw yours. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never understood the pain
you felt at hiding your true self until that night, and now I have something to
hide as well. Now I understand, if only a small portion, the hell you lived
through. I should have supported you. I should have loved you unconditionally
like a good brother. I should have defended you and fought beside you. Would it
change things if I told you I want to do those thing now? Will you come back to
me and make love to me now that I understand?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">When you first came out and told our
parents that you were a woman trapped in a man’s body I laughed. I thought you
were crazy. I didn’t understand. What you were telling me was against god. It was
a sin, an unforgivable transgression that could only be wrought upon one of the
faithful by Satan himself. He had tempted you, and you had been weak. I know
now that I was the weak one. After you got into the screaming match with Mom
and Dad I followed you upstairs. I promised our parents I would try and talk
some sense into you. I sat on the edge of your bed and chided you, prayed for
you, did everything but listen to you. I felt hurt, but not an empathetic kind
of hurt. I felt hurt for me and our parents that we should have to suffer your
insanity. I worried about the other members of the church would say, what our
neighbors and friends would say. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I got angry and said things…things I wish I
could take back. I left you. I walked out of your life and hated you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The I saw you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">That day… I’ll never forget that day. You
came home after a year. You had disappeared out of our lives while you lived as
the person you were born to be. I became my sister. In so many ways my brother
died the day you left, and good riddance. He was a fraud, a liar. You are and
always have been my sister. You were born the day you left and even though I didn’t
know it at the time that was the happiest day of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Back to that day. You came home to get the
last few things that meant anything to you. I wasn’t one of them. I sat on the
edge of your bed once again, looking at you through new eyes. I’d never have
thought you could be so beautiful but there you were, sunlight shimmering in
off your dark hair and lighting the incredible blue of your eyes. You smiled
through full lips and looked so incredibly happy that the callouses surrounding
my heart fell away. I loved you once more, but not as a sibling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I noticed your breasts immediately. How
could I not? You had had them on display in that skimpy shirt, the tight V
hugging the pale mounds and showing me that perfect flesh. Your thin waist
curved perfectly to feminine hips, the bulge of your cock pressing against the
tight jeans. It was like getting struck by lightning, the sudden and complete
lust that overtook me. I’m grateful for that lust because it gave me the
strength to get off your bed, cross the room, and grab you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The look of shock in your eyes was both
alluring and sad. When I kissed you, when my tongue entered your hot mouth
there was a moment of resistance, and then you melted in my arms and wrapped me
in a tight embrace. I grew hard, my cock pressing to yours and throbbing with
electric need. I felt you grow hard and my hand sought out the firm length,
digging between your smooth skin and the rough jeans. You wore no panties and I
easily found the hardness, stroking it, feeling that incredible rigid heat
sheathed in loose skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I didn’t know what I was doing when I dropped
to my knees but quickly learned. Your moans and sighs were instruction enough.
Oh my beautiful sister how I loved sucking your cock. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-92127935093075350662015-06-14T18:34:00.001-04:002015-06-14T18:40:38.452-04:00Lone Survivor Releases Monday June 15th<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLA0xwz8pi4Ythb9e3APyDz-ZkIVUY4Wt7CX7LACpGmPqg7LGgZxdj5d_52DC4DgCTQXGLSagFWWo5xS-A1tYOFNMSxrNj1nosR-N8DfruKa7YJ_46Bf0GqNDPXdE5avOerP9zeA0vovZ4/s1600/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLA0xwz8pi4Ythb9e3APyDz-ZkIVUY4Wt7CX7LACpGmPqg7LGgZxdj5d_52DC4DgCTQXGLSagFWWo5xS-A1tYOFNMSxrNj1nosR-N8DfruKa7YJ_46Bf0GqNDPXdE5avOerP9zeA0vovZ4/s320/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">My
first Booktrope release, Lone Survivor, comes out Monday June 15<span style="font-size: small;"><sup>th</sup>.
I’ve never spent so much time working on publicity for a book. I’ve done blogs,
podcasts, radio shows, set up a thunderclap campaign, advertised on Facebook,
and gotten a couple hundred mentions on various social media. I’m pushing hard
to help this book be the success I know it should be, but will that result in
amazing sales? I’ll let you know. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
wanted to dedicate this blog to that book because I believe in it. I believe in
the words I </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK3j6gbW0QJCzWEbUWn1wsTYU0C6iiO0yqKcgTr1J9Vm7XejkcItCV-hY-z08NLLMa58n4NP_aB7nQ2ZRYwnYoC1YMYFBas54UkjGgRiuJEgkkmwI1y3MNgZi2jEI6XMxrSfMlYB2iL9e/s1600/11136782_947607955257847_3511332223779899106_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK3j6gbW0QJCzWEbUWn1wsTYU0C6iiO0yqKcgTr1J9Vm7XejkcItCV-hY-z08NLLMa58n4NP_aB7nQ2ZRYwnYoC1YMYFBas54UkjGgRiuJEgkkmwI1y3MNgZi2jEI6XMxrSfMlYB2iL9e/s320/11136782_947607955257847_3511332223779899106_n.jpg" width="207" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">wrote, re-wrote, edited, re-edited, re-re-edited, proofread,
polished, and finally approved. I worked with a kick ass editor, a stellar
proof reader, an amazing book manager, and had a ton of support from the
imprint manager. The cover was designed and polished, hand drawn and worked
over and over until we got what, I believe, is a fucking amazing and
captivating piece of art. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">So
now the work is all done and some of the reviews are coming in. What are people
saying about this book?</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: white;"><u><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Reviews:</span></u>
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<span class="mhrhead"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">This is a fun slant on what has
become a very over-saturated sub-genre. Author Jensen wisely focuses on the
zombie Sasquatch once our apocalyptic world is established but, the walking
corpses still appear and appear often, to satisfy those that can't get enough
of them. The story moves very fast and the author is very descriptive, though
sometimes at a fault…did I really need Jim's impression of Bigfoot's
manhood…not really. There is a lot of bloody action and overall it is an
entertaining read. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span class="mhrhead"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">4 Stars<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">this is the first book i have read by Mr Jensen and i was not
disapointed ...it was such a good book i had to finish it in one evening ....i
cant wait to read more by him and would hope others will try his books also<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">5 Stars<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<span class="a-size-base6"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">BADASS Mr. Jensen. I don't need
anymore words than that<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span class="a-size-base6"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">5 Stars<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<span class="a-size-base6"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">I REALLY liked this! As a huge
fan of The Walking Dead, I wasn't sure how I would react to this zombie novel,
but I was oh so pleasantly surprised. The writing was clear, descriptive, and
engaging. Jim, the main character, was so human it hurt. Kudos for the plot
twist that makes this not-your-typical-zombie novel.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span class="a-size-base6"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">5 Stars<o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<span class="a-size-base6"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">There are others, but I’m not
trying to brag or only post the best reviews. Kindle has 6 reviews, 4.6 stars. People
are reading it and enjoying the hell out of it, and that’s one of the reasons I
do what I do. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span class="a-size-base6"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span class="a-size-base6"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><span style="color: white;">So what is this book about? Here’s
the synopsis:<o:p></o:p></span></u></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white;"></span></div>
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<span class="a-size-base6"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: white;">One man. One
Bigfoot. One billion zombies. <br />
In the land of the dead, reanimated corpses hunt through the shadows. Man has
turned against man in an unforgiving apocalypse where only death can thrive.
When there is no one left to trust, nowhere left to turn, you have to fight to
make it another day just to become the Lone Survivor. <br />
Jim has been making through the apocalypse on his own. A chance encounter with
the mythical creature known as Bigfoot gives him an inadvertent ally, but Jim
quickly learns that friendships made after the end of the world don’t last
long. <br />
After Bigfoot gets bitten by a zombie during a bloody fight, the man-ape begins
to turn. Now there’s more dangerous things out there than the festering corpses
of man, and it’s eight feet tall and weighs more than four hundred pounds. <br />
When fate throws Jim yet another curve ball, this time in the form of two
damaged female survivors, Jim must decide if he is going to help them survive,
or leave them to fend for themselves. Will Jim finally become part of a group,
or remain a Lone Survivor?<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></i></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">That’s great, you say. So you post some reviews and a
synopsis and I’m just supposed to buy this thing? You expect me to plunk down
$2.99 for your book when I’ve never read anything else by you before? How do I know
if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m </i>going to like it? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">Here’s an excerpt: <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWM5sc6jFgS9DZPCnwx0giofVNNi4EJZ22lu-90ex9B5xBOZ2iJtZzb5SEx-9_8xezRshwTatvvF8QWqcKuAwsG5UItdfoXicOSi5FUfTyGq-fPoCV2RFedIwdazj_RkA89IVTABqTDVa/s1600/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWM5sc6jFgS9DZPCnwx0giofVNNi4EJZ22lu-90ex9B5xBOZ2iJtZzb5SEx-9_8xezRshwTatvvF8QWqcKuAwsG5UItdfoXicOSi5FUfTyGq-fPoCV2RFedIwdazj_RkA89IVTABqTDVa/s320/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" width="256" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0.5pt 0.15pt -0.75pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: white;">I moved as quickly as I could in the thick brush and swung
my machete. The zombie reached for me, oblivious to the blade cutting through
the air. It hit the neck, severing it cleanly, sending the head pin-wheeling
through the air. I was on to the next corpse before the head hit the ground. I
chopped through the next two easily enough, but then lost my footing swinging
at the fourth one. I went down on one knee and the thing was on me in seconds.
I felt the skeletal hands grabbing my hair. Bones got tangled up, and as I
tried to pull away from the thing, I only succeeded in pulling it closer. The
stench of death and excrement was so strong, my eyes watered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: white;">I got a hand under the chin and pushed as hard as I could
until the fragile neck popped. The body went limp. The last four zombies were
close enough to touch, but I was stuck with a corpse wrapped up in my hair like
some perverted bow. I shoved as hard as I could, ripping the fingers out, along
with a few good-sized chunks of my hair. Son of a bitch, it hurt. But fuck it,
I needed a haircut anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0.5pt 0.15pt -0.75pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: white;">I shoved the broken corpse into the next three and sent all
of them falling to the ground. That gave me enough time to cut the head off the
slowest one, a small female in dirty sweatpants. I moved around her, grabbed
another female zombie by the head, and twisted. She went limp, but her jaw
still worked, opening and closing around the four teeth she had left. A black,
dried-out tongue reached for me. I stomped on the head a few times until the
skull gave way and then returned to the three stooges currently falling all
over each other in a desperate attempt to get back up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 99%; margin: 0in 8.75pt 0.1pt -0.75pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: white;">Three quick whacks
with the machete finished them all off. It was too dark to do anything with the
bodies, so I left them for morning. I’d burn them down the road tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0.5pt 0.15pt -0.75pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: white;">I headed back for Veronica and took her hand. She didn’t
seem to mind the gore covering my big mitt, or if it bothered her she did
nothing about it. She had just stood there watching me kill the zombies, an
expression of fascination on her face. I wondered what she would have done if I
hadn’t come along. Would she have run away, or just stood there and let the
dead do what they do? I made a conscious decision to not think about it and
just get the girl back inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0.5pt 0.15pt -0.75pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: white;">By the time we got returned to the trailer, the other two
were inside waiting for us. Alice had the desperate look of worry painted on
her face, but that melted off when she saw us. She smiled and waved, calling us
to the safety of the indoors. Night rushed up behind us, ready to nip at our
heels and pull us into the hungry shadows, but we got into the warm light of
indoors with just enough time to lock the monsters out. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So
there you go. You get zombies in a post-apocalyptic world, a Bigfoot that may
or may not get turned into Zombie Bigfoot, and a man trying his best just to
survive. He meets some friends and a whole lot of enemies during my tale, but
through it all he remains true to </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWM5sc6jFgS9DZPCnwx0giofVNNi4EJZ22lu-90ex9B5xBOZ2iJtZzb5SEx-9_8xezRshwTatvvF8QWqcKuAwsG5UItdfoXicOSi5FUfTyGq-fPoCV2RFedIwdazj_RkA89IVTABqTDVa/s1600/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoWM5sc6jFgS9DZPCnwx0giofVNNi4EJZ22lu-90ex9B5xBOZ2iJtZzb5SEx-9_8xezRshwTatvvF8QWqcKuAwsG5UItdfoXicOSi5FUfTyGq-fPoCV2RFedIwdazj_RkA89IVTABqTDVa/s200/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" width="160" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">himself and does what he knows is right. He
might not be perfect, but would you be? <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">Here’s
the links for the books. I sincerely hope you put your faith in me, spend the
$2.99, and leave me an honest revue. Let me know what you think. I’ll post my
social media contact info as well. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Thank
you.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Lone-Survivor-Christian-Jensen-ebook/dp/B00YBN2SQQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1433156910&sr=1-1&keywords=lone+survivor+christian+jensen" target="_blank">AmazonKindle</a></u></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>
</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u> </u></span></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>
</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lone-survivor-christian-jensen/1122001980?ean=2940151273534" target="_blank">Barnesand Noble Nook</a></u></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>
</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u> </u></span></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>
</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25463429-lone-survivor?ac=1" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></u></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>
</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u> </u></span></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>
</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><a href="https://www.facebook.com/ChrsitanJensenAuthor?ref=tn_tnmn" target="_blank"><span style="color: white;">Facebook</span></a><span style="color: white;">
and </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/christian.jensen.589" target="_blank"><span style="color: white;">Facebook<o:p></o:p></span></a></u></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>
</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><o:p><span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u> </u></span></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u>
</u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><u><a href="https://twitter.com/hororwritindad" target="_blank"><span style="color: white;">Twitter<o:p></o:p></span></a></u></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-39800566276561689752015-06-06T18:38:00.003-04:002015-06-06T18:38:59.470-04:00Guest Post: Scarlet Darkwood
Today I don't just claim some kind of internet friendship with my guest blogger. I can say I actually got to meet Scarlet in person and got to spend some time talking with her about all things Booktrope, our wonderful Imprint Manager Bethany Halle, and the Edge and Entice line our publisher has out. We spoke a lot about erotica and the publishing world one hot afternoon in late May. It was a wonderful time and I got to make new friend, which doesn't happen very often. So now you can sit back, kick up your feet, and enjoy some of her words. I give you Scarlet Darkwood. <br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></b> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyJa9B2Hz5YQ5-FOIBNT2WUME3j3oKMKRNV14uC_wz4G94moYF5ihZieZwp3oL-djyzQq6T-CzX00dbnHCv20cfC_Oy-hcZQt2Oc0GagkqD92ArOxqWO-ly_8xXEI1iyYZIpZZpkM7hzv/s1600/10284970_413603905449086_3954666546310516890_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwyJa9B2Hz5YQ5-FOIBNT2WUME3j3oKMKRNV14uC_wz4G94moYF5ihZieZwp3oL-djyzQq6T-CzX00dbnHCv20cfC_Oy-hcZQt2Oc0GagkqD92ArOxqWO-ly_8xXEI1iyYZIpZZpkM7hzv/s320/10284970_413603905449086_3954666546310516890_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></b> </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Men,
Women, And The Circles Of Sex Or Celibacy<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I once had a nurse practitioner comment that sex was
better with friends. Really? The thought had never occurred to me, but as I
stepped into the world of sexual activity, I saw it could make sense--if you
knew the boundaries and what you expected. Probably what the nurse really meant
was that sex between two friends equaled a safer experience psychologically, one
where no one would end up with a broken heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">What’s interesting about this is that my first time
was with a gentleman I’d been friends with for three years before we actually
took the step into the bedroom, and it seemed to have happened out of the blue.
Never had we discussed sex during our friendship. We really didn’t even date on
a regular basis, but somehow got together and attended plays or the occasional
concert; we also worked at the same place, but </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPXpsk2Aa4b0Ls_cNwzWLpC4HHTCTIbM-MXXtaJmKwdN7NDaw3nrlx2NjXPYHiyYvM6yDxnL3488NpYyqov-say0T2Ir-Cn5JKH5dlAAhmpnrJ9MF9D_4fBzpgABqP85e3RZv27vpj1wJ/s1600/1000764_271393886336756_700356328_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkPXpsk2Aa4b0Ls_cNwzWLpC4HHTCTIbM-MXXtaJmKwdN7NDaw3nrlx2NjXPYHiyYvM6yDxnL3488NpYyqov-say0T2Ir-Cn5JKH5dlAAhmpnrJ9MF9D_4fBzpgABqP85e3RZv27vpj1wJ/s1600/1000764_271393886336756_700356328_n.jpg" /></a></div>
different departments. One night
on the way to a play, he blurted out, “I wonder what it would be like to sleep
with you?” It was like our hormones had been raging at the same time. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And that was it. When we got back to my place, it
happened. We never saw each other again. His departure didn’t make me feel bad
or cheap. I knew what I wanted, and that was an initiation into sex by someone
safe, one who wouldn’t degrade me. I knew where we stood, and the role he
played for me. Years later, I still have no regrets with him being the first.
We were just friends, we came together one time, and that was it. Fine with
me--and obviously with him too. But remember, there were three years of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no</i> sexual activity. And to be honest, I
never felt the drive to do anything more with him. Enjoying simple
companionship was enough for us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">When asked in a group, men and women will all agree
that two people of the opposite gender can be just friends, but get those
individuals apart, you might hear different stories. As a female, I say that
it’s more than possible that men and women can be just friends, while my spouse
gives an emphatic no. The reason for this, he says, is because men think about
sex. But he offered another suggestion: it might be possible to be just friends
once people are in their fifty’s or older. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Can’t disagree with my spouse where age is concerned.
I would venture to say younger people, who’s bodies are running hot, probably
find sex more important than older people. Appearance may play a big role, to
some degree, but there are men who break </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ITu8ze7SnQdGMe4ns77l5S3I9JfhpziGHL5j6Ktl6fRRqNweY0zaWp33U46ix8PQLWzC52SI7tQcDVCwS9O7DGW1-DUXJRkZfvBxZYq8KVbyRrHO-8MHY6MXDV-npBAUCvlY-gnj0lM9/s1600/1525017_342046492604828_1818466231_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9ITu8ze7SnQdGMe4ns77l5S3I9JfhpziGHL5j6Ktl6fRRqNweY0zaWp33U46ix8PQLWzC52SI7tQcDVCwS9O7DGW1-DUXJRkZfvBxZYq8KVbyRrHO-8MHY6MXDV-npBAUCvlY-gnj0lM9/s1600/1525017_342046492604828_1818466231_n.jpg" /></a></div>
down if they’re desperate enough. So
what makes a man and woman just friends? Is it age, lack of libido, no chemistry?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">A lady I know admitted to me one time that she and her
spouse had gone for years without sex, and for some unknown reason, didn’t seem
driven by urges, nor compelled to get the sexy spark back. When asked about
what happened, she stated that age, fatigue, and difficulty with joint stiffness
definitely played a part. Libido didn’t run high anymore as they settled into
more mature phases of life. It had been like the sex had dropped off little by
little like a slow leak, until she woke up and realized that she and her spouse
hadn’t been together in ages.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">But she told me something interesting. Their marriage
was just as solid and strong, with neither feeling like they were lacking or
being denied. They talked about it at times, just to check in with each other. According
to her, she and her mate enjoyed traveling, talking, and basically spending
time together--all without the trappings of sex. To her sex did not a marriage
make, but the enjoyment of each other to the exclusion of others did. She’d
discovered she’d rather be with her mate than anyone else, and he felt the
same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">They also communicated well with each other, talked
out their differences, discussed odd and unusual topics, sometimes drifting
into what others would consider eyebrow-raising conversations. Sex had become
the least important, with other considerations taking center stage. The best
part, they were more than comfortable with their lifestyle. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">As far as what compels the decision to leave out sex
in a relationship and still hang together, that answer could be multi-faceted,
with many possibilities. Individuality, personal preferences, situations, and
needs play a part too. And don’t forget religion, which can muddy the waters
for some people. The most important thing to consider, whichever path you take
in a relationship, don’t bind yourselves to expectations and rules. This can
lead to sure disaster if someone doesn’t hold up their end of the bargain. The
happiest friends, spouses, boyfriends, or girlfriends are those who go with the
flow, enjoy the relationship, and the fun and security it offers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">So the answer to the question, “can men and women just
be friends,” I’d say yes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">***Scarlet Darkwood is an author of erotica, romance,
paranormal, horror, gothic, thriller.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">You can connect with her here:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #4f81bd; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="file:///C:/Users/christan/AppData/Local/Microsoft/Windows/INetCache/IE/0MIRGJSU/www.scarletdarkwood.com"><span style="color: #4f81bd;">www.scarletdarkwood.com</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Google+:<a href="http://google.com/+ScarletDarkwood"><span style="color: #3079a3;">http://google.com/+ScarletDarkwood</span></a><br />
Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/ScarletDarkwood"><span style="color: #3079a3;">http://twitter.com/ScarletDarkwood</span></a><br />
Facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/scarletdarkwoodauthor"><span style="color: #3079a3;">http://www.facebook.com/scarletdarkwoodauthor</span></a><br />
Amazon:<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scarlet-Darkwood/e/B00J6WJRP2"><span style="color: #3079a3;">http://www.amazon.com/Scarlet-Darkwood/e/B00J6WJRP2</span></a><br />
Follow Me On Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/scarletdarkwood"><span style="color: #3079a3;">http://www.goodreads.com/scarletdarkwood</span></a><br />
Follow Me on Pinterest: <a href="http://www.pinterest.com/scarletdarkwood/"><span style="color: #3079a3;">http://www.pinterest.com/scarletdarkwood/</span></a><br />
Stage32: <a href="http://www.stage32.com/scarletdarkwood"><span style="color: #3079a3;">http://www.stage32.com/scarletdarkwood</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-49056138681208682522015-06-01T15:54:00.000-04:002015-06-01T15:54:08.049-04:00Guest Post: Joseph RubasJoseph Rubas is another fellow Horror Hooligan for the Forsaken imprint over at my publisher, Booktrope. Joseph certainly has a vision for horror, and life in general. Check out what he has to say:<br />
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<br />
The Benefits of Exposure
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;">
</span>By Joseph Rubas</div>
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May 4, 2015. The day the publishing
industry rose up against the evils of non-paying markets. I was scanning my
Facebook feed (as I often do, because I have no life), and I noticed a lot of my
writer friends posting derogatory comments, pictures, posts, videos, and what
the hell ever else, about non-paying magazines. Their argument was that a writer
should get paid for his work. Alright. I can get behind that. I’m a writer. I
like money. Make it rain!</div>
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Then I realized, after hours of watching
non-paying markets being vilified (I shall forever refer to May 4, 2015 as <span id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430831961379_7075"><i id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430831961379_7074" style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Literarisch</i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">kristallnacht</i>, or Literary Crystal
Night...look it up) that non-paying markets aren’t the Great Satan my asshole
friends were making them out to be. Sure, if a market can’t pay their writers in
cash money (or, at the very least, a contributor’s copy), then chances are
they’re not a very good market to submit to. I mean, the owner could just be
lining his own pockets. You never know. However, there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> good markets out there that don’t
pay.</div>
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<span> </span></div>
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<span>I know how that sounds, but hear me out.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span>It’s industry standard for these FTL markets to pay with “exposure.”
That is, your pay is the joy of knowing your work is out there being read. A lot
of markets that “pay” in exposure are also markets that don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> exposure: They’re just another .com
ezine lost in the crowd. There are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some</i>, though, that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i> provide exposure, and despite all
the snide little memes (EXPOSURE ISN’T PAYMENT, ITS SOMETHING YOU DIE FROM,
LULZ!) exposure, honest-to-god exposure, does it have its benefits, especially
for young, beginning, or not-well-known writers. I won’t name names, but there’s
a good FTL market out there, an onlize zine, that does very well for itself. It
has several thousand unique hits a week, it’s published major authors (Piers
Anthony, Joe R. Lansdale, Joseph Rubas), and its anthology series has gotten
some great feedback on Amazon. For the beginning writer, this type of exposure
is a godsend. It get their name out, and it pairs it, as it were, with some of
the biggest names in the horror/fantasy/science fiction genre. Sure, they don’t
pay, but when you’re just starting out, exposure can be more important than
money. It can help readers find you. And without readers, you’re just another
pen scribbling in the dark.</span></div>
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<div>
<span> </span></div>
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<div>
<span>If your name is Stephen King, you don’t have to worry about exposure.
You have a million dollar publishing house doing that for you. But if you’re a
small guy, an indie, you will find that exposure is...tops. If you don’t expose
yourself, who’s gonna do it?</span></div>
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<span>Two things that you need to know, however:</span></div>
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<span> </span></div>
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<div>
<span>One: For every good “exposure only” market, there are fifty, a
hundred bad ones. Ones run by greedy assholes out to make a quick buck at your
expense; ones that are genuine in their love for literature, but can’t rise
above the herd, and thus remain lost in the void. It’s up to you to separate the
wheat from the chaff. </span></div>
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<div>
<span> </span></div>
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<div>
<span>Two: The publishing industry (genre notwithstanding) is stuffed, and
I mean <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stuffed</i> with assholes. Imagine
Thurston Howell III from Gilligan’s Island. You know, the millionaire with the
stereotypical Yale accent? You’ll find so many of those types you’ll wanna just
give up. Fuck those guys. With editors, you have to be careful when listing your
past markets in a cover letter: Though story should ultimately win out no matter
what, a lot of them do look at where you’ve been published before, and, if your
past markets are the lowest of the low (the FTL markets that can’t even give you
exposure) they do hold their little brandy sniffers like flamers and say,
“They’re just not our type, Lovey.” I’m friends with a lot of editors on
Facebook, and I know for a fact one of them posted a brief update regarding a
slight formatting error I made in a submission to him. Funny thing is, he sent
me a form rejection two hours earlier that made no mention of it. Not even a
quick “Whatever you did with the formatting? Don’t do it again.” Oh, but editors
are SO busy. They can’t personalize your rejection. Well, they can sure as hell
take the time to whip up a mocking Facebook status, now, can’t
they?</span></div>
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<div>
<span> </span></div>
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<div>
<span>Thankfully, the industry is changing, and writers now have the option
of perusing non-traditional avenues. Those dickwad editors? Their days are
numbered.</span></div>
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<div>
<span> </span></div>
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<div>
<span>Anyway, yeah, FTL markets have their benefits, just make sure you
find a good one. And don’t let what I said about editors scare you off. Even
they can recognize a good FTL market from a bad one. If you have good ones on
your resume, they’re more likely to not reject you out of hand.</span></div>
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<span> </span></div>
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<span>So...uh...get crackin’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-15303113392933377862015-05-29T05:22:00.001-04:002015-05-29T05:22:11.078-04:00Guest post: Skip Novak<em>I've known Skip for about five or six years now, maybe a little longer but time flies when you're drunk and writhing in the throes of debauchery. Not that Skip would know anything about that. He's a good friend of mine, not just on Facebook but in real life as well. We've drank together, smoked cigars, and wandered drunkenly through the quiet halls of hotels. We've talked about motorcycles, books, and our lives. He's a good man with a good heart and a twisted mind. I asked him to slice open his veins and bleed on the page for me. As always, Skip has come through. Read on to find out what he thinks:</em> <br />
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What is Horror?<o:p></o:p></div>
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May 1, 2015<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><br />
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Honestly? I
don’t know. I wish I did. Some people are afraid of snakes, some spiders,
others are afraid of the boogeyman. Me? I’m not really afraid of much. Truth be
told, I’m afraid of failure, but, recent events in my life have redefined what
failure is. <o:p></o:p><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>However;
you have to ask yourself “Is horror a scary book? A Troma film? A slasher
flick? Or is horror something that lives deep inside of your ID? A horror that
you don’t understand why you have it?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I know
several people that are extremely afraid of being buried alive. So afraid in
fact that they can’t watch a movie about it or even read a story that involves
someone being buried alive. This horror is quite frightening to me yet not a
real threat to my psyche. Simply because I would be put in a position where
being in a dark, oxygen lacking position where I’d eventually suffocate in a
preferably euphoric state. Hell, I’d get to sleep.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Others are
afraid of home invasions and serial killers invading their lives. I’d like to
think I’m experienced enough with handguns and weapons where I’d be able to at
least inflict serious bodily injury on the S.O.B. before he took me and my
family out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I thought
about a lot of different types of horror and I came to one simple conclusion.
Horror is unique to each individual and what they feel is a fault in their
nature. A fault that stops them from acting upon the basic “Fight or Flight”
nature in our lives. It’s true. I have friends who are extremely afraid of mice
and rats but have no fear whatsoever of snakes. I also have friends who are
totally frozen with fear of reptiles but not of rodents. Hell, I even have a
person in my life who is deathly afraid of cats. Yes, cats. Those cute, cuddly
and rambunctious balls of fur that seem to break the internet every time someone
posts a video about them on the web.<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I used to
be afraid of heights. It’s true. Then one day, in 1976, I was forced against my
will to the top of the Washington Monument. When I finally worked up enough
courage to look out the windows and observe our Nations Capitol, I was
astonished. I was flabbergasted and I became hungry for more. I wanted to see
what everything looked like from a birds eye view. After all, everything looks
different from a distance and everything looks planned and natural when viewed
from afar.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Like a prom
queen. Remember prom? Where boys and girls dressed up in finery and pretended
to be adults and then experimented with the emotions and physical awareness of
being an adult? Yeah, I thought you would.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That is
what horror is to me. It is a complete and utter lack of knowing and the
ability to act. I suppose that is why I read so much. I learn so much. I try to
understand so much. So that when I’m faced with the unknown, I am prepared.
Like a boyscout or a girlscout. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>For
example, I spent six years working for a law enforcement agency and five years
working for a government law enforcement agency and I’ve always had a knack for
going through the shooting range and the obstacle course on the shooting range.
So much so that some my actions were used in training films. When asked by the
instructors where and when I learned how to do what I did, I simply answered “I
did what I had to do to survive.” <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Fear is a
tangible substance. It manifests itself in different ways for different people.
Some freeze up. Some act. Some just give up and accept their fate, not truly
understanding they control their own fate. After all, we are all just here for
a short time and what we do influences and affects others in our lives. In
other words… it’s all relative.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Your fear,
what makes you freeze up and accept the unacceptable is not what defines you as
a person. It is an obstacle in your life. An obstacle that you can overcome and
not be chained to. Whether psychological or physical, you can overcome it. I
can’t tell you how to overcome it, but I can tell you that it can be overcome.
You just need the tools and equipment to overcome it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3up9fJdK1PTyaBcv8eH71BAm0Z5AqZd480rClZ5nu84a2fSTlg46MxDz3ckiTAwKCWZU4Y64usQN7SXWC7cHTn4540iTkitvQQSJZENY06R9ZMD4K7AWII13-rQMuaOZilDgAjzgDdEM/s1600/zombie-makeup-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3up9fJdK1PTyaBcv8eH71BAm0Z5AqZd480rClZ5nu84a2fSTlg46MxDz3ckiTAwKCWZU4Y64usQN7SXWC7cHTn4540iTkitvQQSJZENY06R9ZMD4K7AWII13-rQMuaOZilDgAjzgDdEM/s200/zombie-makeup-12.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
As for why
there are people drawn to horror and all its insanity… I can’t answer. I can
only say that I enjoy the fantastic minds that create it. Be the stories about
werewolves, vampires, zombies, unfettered power of a government or even another
person who has nothing but ill intent towards another, I find grossly
entertaining.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Horror to
me falls in the same file folder as religion. We each have our own and we each
believe in our own saviors and monsters. When you realize that fact then you
realize you have the power and the choice to pick your own path in belief and
life. You can act and live or you can freeze up and die. I choose to act. I
choose to live. I choose to confront my fears head on and read, watch, and
listen to what others have to say and then, when confronted with something I
have not been aware of… educate myself and find out how to survive it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I used to
be afraid of spiders. Deadly spiders. Like the Recluse spider and a nest of
Black Widows. Then I spent a summer working as a “Heating and Air Conditioning”
installer. I quickly found out that if you don’t fuck with them, they won’t
fuck with you. Not to mention the fact that there are great bug killer sprays
on the market. I did my job. I encountered the bugs and I survived. Even though
I was in a two foot tall space, lying on my back and with no real defense
against the unknown under four tons of brick and motor, I survived. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I survived
because I taught myself how to act and what to expect. I believe that is the
root of all horror. A person not knowing what to do and when to do it. If you
look at all the films and books for the past one-hundred years it is all about
people who don’t know what to do when the shit hits the fan. Yet the books who
have survivors and are fighting the good fight are about people who have some
knowledge and some experience with the end of days working together to survive.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hzjx6z8oURMa7KfCAVgk5rImQAFs6zqBA4UqSPkmTrvp5MbeZDnlXlb0zL4UMs0z1jslIPFaXNR1kHTzowUJTr5YoNsydQkHMkMjE7-COycocdX42ZMIvXf2EPzCzJJPnnwv5Ko0U-g0/s1600/28972_420977563435_899457_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5hzjx6z8oURMa7KfCAVgk5rImQAFs6zqBA4UqSPkmTrvp5MbeZDnlXlb0zL4UMs0z1jslIPFaXNR1kHTzowUJTr5YoNsydQkHMkMjE7-COycocdX42ZMIvXf2EPzCzJJPnnwv5Ko0U-g0/s200/28972_420977563435_899457_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That is what
I’d like to think about. That maybe I am one of the survivors of whatever
apocalypse befalls the human race. That I’d be prepared, not in a crazy sort of
way but in a normal, I go to work every day and try to do what is right sort of
way. That my family, my progeny and my basic knowledge of life would help me
continue my existence.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Yet, I
can’t help but believe that there are people out there, people who have been so
damaged that they will never be able to act in the best interest of themselves
or their family. People who have so much to offer to the world but will never
be able to say it. Their voices have been stifled by negativity that they have
lost the truth of who they are.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This is my
fear. You will never know how to overcome your own fears and I have the answers
which will only fall upon deaf ears. Because your fears prevent you from
hearing my voice and the voices of reason in your life.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2O4wV4SLmOYvwU_8cAhMeKtsR3PdzyK2WPqmm9Stf6yaBDcLudb9FOBH3ylkG-oBElbBQyzgelHGO3KJ5po8u1TO4wDnKkSu4Kn0HrnL_TbpnGCDBvbppIeXa2ukgmUsthklauel1krlo/s1600/10377358_10152739016381454_5163017261648422341_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2O4wV4SLmOYvwU_8cAhMeKtsR3PdzyK2WPqmm9Stf6yaBDcLudb9FOBH3ylkG-oBElbBQyzgelHGO3KJ5po8u1TO4wDnKkSu4Kn0HrnL_TbpnGCDBvbppIeXa2ukgmUsthklauel1krlo/s320/10377358_10152739016381454_5163017261648422341_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Have a
great week.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-49393577082047680702015-05-26T04:16:00.002-04:002015-05-26T04:16:46.268-04:00Guest Post: J.G. ClayThis post was supposed to go up yesterday, but Travels with Rufus was in full effect and I just didn't have it in me to put it all together. So I sincerely apologize to Mr. Clay. Now...<br />
J.G. Clay is another Forsaken author with a mind as warped and twisted as any of us. Just perusing his website <a href="http://jgclay.com/">jgclay.com</a> gives one the willies. So pull the covers up to your chin and ignore the noises coming from under the bed. Enjoy!<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I was going to give you a
short story, but there's a slight problem. As my editor - the great Chris
Nelson- and my proof-reader - the workhorse known as Michael-Israel Jarvis -can
testify, my short stories aren't that short. I'd be rubbish at Flash Fiction,
let's put it that way. So, instead, here's a slightly whimsical gonzo take on my
Booktrope journey so far. Where the Crazy Carousel of Clay ends up is anyone’s
guess.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes I
Fantasise.....</span></b><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Writing's a bit of an
obsession for me. It's the closest I get to OCD in my day to day life. It has
to be done, rain or shine, in sickness and health. Maybe that's why I do it.
Maybe it's my way tiny bit of order and calm in a life that's borderline
anarchic. Writing in itself though is only ever meaningful if there's someone
out there to read it. That's strictly my point of view, by the way, before you
grab your flaming torches and pitch forks.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUT5JlcN3CBCvEWpRXOEUYZUPugRrDckj-qBZK0eTh0nTJOEMb5bJEwDk1_V-ecOASmB9tIr7rH_jqoSLH9mPRPaRk6pe9p_xnrrJbn6VfBJ8rpnOHrACbFQVA7kMYcI2DUrE5rt3vwlj/s1600/11358636_1616092728677180_1688205314_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUT5JlcN3CBCvEWpRXOEUYZUPugRrDckj-qBZK0eTh0nTJOEMb5bJEwDk1_V-ecOASmB9tIr7rH_jqoSLH9mPRPaRk6pe9p_xnrrJbn6VfBJ8rpnOHrACbFQVA7kMYcI2DUrE5rt3vwlj/s320/11358636_1616092728677180_1688205314_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ever
since I first put pen to paper, there's always been a desire behind the
process, the desire for someone to actually read what my words and hopefully be
affected by them in some fashion. Whether it's admiration, repulsion or
offence, it doesn't t really matter to me. As long as there's some sort of
reaction. And, as any jobbing writer knows, to get these reactions,you need to
get the words out there. You need to pay obeisance to the Great God,
Publishing.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Over
a year ago, I self-published a little tome called 'Tales of Blood and Sulphur'.
It was pretty good - a bit rough and ready with a tinge of self-consciousness
but not a bad read. At least, according the six people who reviewed it anyway.
It didn't exactly set the world on fire. Thoughts of yachts, flash cars and a
lifelong season ticket for my beloved Birmingham City evaporated in the cold
light of the Amazon Sales Rank. But optimism is the name of the game in indie
publishing. As my fellow author S.E Rise says you've got to 'piss or get off
the pot'. (He didn't actually say those words by the way. It's the title of a
great little writing guide authored by the man himself. It's a good read).</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So,
anyway, as I flounder about in the unforgiving Desert of Indie, I come across
that fabled citadel known in hushed tones as 'Booktrope'. There's no guards
about, so I shuffle up to the door, Adidas clad feet kicking up tiny dust
devils, a harsh wind blowing through what little hair is left on the top of my
head. I knock on the giant wooden door fully expecting a weird contingent of
mutant Monkey Guards to come gambolling through, ready to kick my sorry scruffy
Indie backside into the heat and dust of Desert Indie. To my surprise and sheer
delight, it doesn't happen. A hirsute but genial chap called Jesse James
smiles, opens his arms, ushers me in and places my fragile creative ego under
the care of a blonde pocket rocket of energy known as Maddie Von Stark. It's
been a long road but the journey has just begun.</span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7lfKWIc0zkQ_tTvU19fl-GHu_zLxDn3PMQO8VLCDqEvUbHgexVox2szp3QMw2i7HBPMKIRKfm0Co7uZL2IVL7OiJ6aNXhSzkt9la4gvtEromNT6K6e_TCFhbDxqAyAgKQ-9ahaMiOOil/s1600/11261079_1616092732010513_1967126464_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7lfKWIc0zkQ_tTvU19fl-GHu_zLxDn3PMQO8VLCDqEvUbHgexVox2szp3QMw2i7HBPMKIRKfm0Co7uZL2IVL7OiJ6aNXhSzkt9la4gvtEromNT6K6e_TCFhbDxqAyAgKQ-9ahaMiOOil/s320/11261079_1616092732010513_1967126464_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">All
of the above never really happened by the way. I submitted my manuscript, got
accepted and picked up by Forsaken. I was still placed under Maddie’s
stewardship, however. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven't looked back since. My experience has
been extraordinary, amazing and rewarding and I haven't even released a book
yet. I'm no longer floundering around on my own. There's a community and more
importantly, a team, behind me. It's a great feeling. Having other people
casting an eye over your work leads to insights never before seen - ideas that
would have vaporised becoming crystalline and solid and a sense of confidence
almost impossible to maintain when you go it alone. </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This
is just the start of my Forsaken journey. The ‘Tales of Blood and Sulphur: Apocalypse
Minor’ is close to release. I can only wonder just how turbo charged this ride
is going to become from that point onwards.</span></div>
<div class="Body" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> </div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><em>J.G Clay is definitely a Man of Horror.
There can be no doubt. Putting aside the reverence he has for the horror
greats, such as King, Barker, Herbert, Carpenter, Romero and Argento, there is
another fact that defines his claim for the title of the ‘Duke of Spook’. He
was born on Halloween night. By a quirk fate, it was also a full moon that
night. Co-incidence?<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
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<em>
</em></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><em>The 41 year old hails from the Midlands in
the United Kingdom, is married with one step child and two dogs that bear a
strong resemblance to Ewoks. Beyond the page and the written word, he is music
mad and can hold down a tune on a bass guitar pretty well. He is an avid reader
and also has an enduring love of British sci-fi, from the pages of the ‘2000A.D
comic to the televised wanderings of Gallifrey’s most famous physician. Clay is
also a long-time fan of the mighty Birmingham City Football Club and endures a
lot of flak from his friends for it.</em></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><em></em></span> </div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><em>You can find J.G. Clay on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/J-G-Clay/672864696083262?fref=ts" target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/JGClay1" target="_blank">twitter</a>, and his website, <a href="http://jgclay.com/">JGClay.com<o:p></o:p></a></em></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-80345874778204716932015-05-22T05:12:00.003-04:002015-05-22T05:12:50.457-04:00Guest post: K.C. Harper<br />
K. C. Harper is a Badass Horror writer with Forsaken, the horror imprint of Booktrope. I've connected with her on Facebook and gotten to know this talented author a little bit, and now is your chance to get to know her a little too. Behold and revel in all that is...K.C. Harper - <br />
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<div>
This poem is part of Whispers, Book 3 in The Lakeshore Evil Series. It
gives you a glimpse of Sheriff Artie Donovan's deepest fears after the brutal
murder of Deirdre Hallsey. Whispers, Book 3 will be available for purchase this
fall. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Chiller; font-size: 72pt; line-height: 115%;">Torn</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: BatangChe; font-size: 36pt; line-height: 115%;">By K.C.
Harper</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">©
Copyright 2015 K.C.Harper </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The
darkness surrounds me, pulls me further down. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I
feel myself slipping deeper. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">A
dark force pulls me to the depths of darkness from where I know I won’t return.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Her
voice is now a whisper, a faint cry in the dark. It was my only hope and now
fades like ashes in the wind. I close my eyes and watch as her soul dances in
the embers. The beating of her heart echoes in my ears. I watch as she fades
in and out. I reach for her, but it’s too late. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Her
eyes that once lit up are now dark and grim. The strings of her soul are torn
wide open like a flesh wound bleeding down on me. All of her pain courses
through me. Her last breath chokes me as I watch her fade into the darkness
forever. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">If
only I could have done something to save her, even if it was from herself. I
watched as she lay there, holding her cold body in my arms as she left the
world. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Her
last words ring in my ears. The name spills from her pale mouth and replays
over and over in my dreams. Like a nightmare with no end in sight. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The
shadows in the darkness return. They lurk, feeding off my fears, my regrets . .
. of not saving you. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">I
hold onto your soul, my hands attached to you like strings to a puppet. Each
one being torn as the darkness consumes me, pulling me further down. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Darkness
surrounds me as I let go. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Every
piece of you is torn from me as if you were never there. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">The
darkness fills the empty void you left inside of me. It consumes, gives me a
new purpose. </span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
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<div>
Author Bio</div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="color: #45342e; line-height: 27px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;">K.C. Harper is a best-selling author, mother of four
and has a degree in Psychology. She writes Contemporary Romance, Horror
Mystery and Thrillers. Her Lakeshore Evil Series is an Amazon best seller in
Horror and Suspense. You can find K.C Harper on social media and her books on
Amazon and BN.com.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="color: #45342e; line-height: 27px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45342e; line-height: 27px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;">Links to purchase:</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #45342e; line-height: 27px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;"></span></span> </div>
<div>
<span style="color: #45342e; line-height: 27px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><b>The Lakeshore Evil </b></span></span></div>
<br />
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #45342e;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><a a11yfocused="true" aria-haspopup="true" class="Object" href="http://www.amazon.com/Lakeshore-Evil-K-C-Harper-ebook/dp/B00LDUGI4S/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1427480852" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT3459_com_zimbra_url" tabindex="0" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Lakeshore-Evil-K-C-Harper-ebook/dp/B00LDUGI4S/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=8-1&qid=1427480852</a></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #45342e; line-height: 27px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><b>Lakeshore Sanitarium </b></span></span><br />
<br />
<div>
<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #45342e;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">Amazon </span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #45342e;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><a a11yfocused="true" aria-haspopup="true" class="Object" href="http://www.amazon.com/Lakeshore-Sanitarium-The-Evil-Book-ebook/dp/B00NQOEVE8/ref=pd_sim_351_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=0F1CQEMCMQ6ZTCG1WB1A" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT3460_com_zimbra_url" tabindex="0" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Lakeshore-Sanitarium-The-Evil-Book-ebook/dp/B00NQOEVE8/ref=pd_sim_351_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=0F1CQEMCMQ6ZTCG1WB1A</a></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><b>It's
love </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">Amazon </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><a a11yfocused="true" aria-haspopup="true" class="Object" href="http://www.amazon.com/Its-love-K-C-Harper-ebook/dp/B00NYOHSP4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1432161851&sr=1-1&keywords=It%27s+love+by+KC+Harper" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT3461_com_zimbra_url" tabindex="0" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Its-love-K-C-Harper-ebook/dp/B00NYOHSP4/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1432161851&sr=1-1&keywords=It%27s+love+by+KC+Harper</a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><b>Sweet
something </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">Amazon </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><a a11yfocused="true" aria-haspopup="true" class="Object" href="http://www.amazon.com/Sweet-something-Series-Novels-Book-ebook/dp/B00OU6DY76/ref=pd_sim_sbs_351_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=09XRC4Q0DEGRR3Y5HH17" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT3462_com_zimbra_url" tabindex="0" target="_blank">http://www.amazon.com/Sweet-something-Series-Novels-Book-ebook/dp/B00OU6DY76/ref=pd_sim_sbs_351_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=09XRC4Q0DEGRR3Y5HH17</a></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><b>Social media
links </b></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">FB </span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><a a11yfocused="true" aria-haspopup="true" class="Object" href="http://www.facebook.com/thelakeshoreevil" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT3463_com_zimbra_url" tabindex="0" target="_blank">www.facebook.com/thelakeshoreevil</a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">Website </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><a a11yfocused="true" aria-haspopup="true" class="Object" href="http://www.kcharper.com/" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT3464_com_zimbra_url" tabindex="0" target="_blank">www.kcharper.com</a> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">Twitter </span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #45342e; font-family: tahoma, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 27px;">@AuthorKC_Harper </span></span></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-81752473183966553352015-05-18T06:28:00.002-04:002015-05-18T06:28:29.017-04:00Guest post: David Paris Singer Carter<br />
<em>I found the man with a very long name skulking around the Forsaken page on Facebook. He's an interesting guy, as you can tell by his bio. He's also a pretty talented writer, as you'll see by the short below. He's promised to do another guest spot with all the gore attached, at a later date.</em> <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk22cZY5VLZKPbBYVhGNHnnCvC5GkIEEgrYWxS4Pq6LVv5zxBaGE3YHL-OMzZlawFhoKheBZa7ST8n5tAF9PD3DYHFVUNSlJnOZfo_JhrZelONwfLiL9jTaREO4baHzUUw-4iLXozo2RWT/s1600/IMG-20150418-WA0010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk22cZY5VLZKPbBYVhGNHnnCvC5GkIEEgrYWxS4Pq6LVv5zxBaGE3YHL-OMzZlawFhoKheBZa7ST8n5tAF9PD3DYHFVUNSlJnOZfo_JhrZelONwfLiL9jTaREO4baHzUUw-4iLXozo2RWT/s320/IMG-20150418-WA0010.jpg" width="320" /></a><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had originally intended to write a
short story here, but decided instead to recount one of the </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>strangest and most
terrifying experiences in my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Seven
years ago, my then best friend Eric and I were tasked with interviewing past
students<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">from the law school
we attended about their experiences after university. We were given one of the <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">old empty storage rooms at the end of a narrow, long hall in
the basement of an ancient biology building </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on campus. The dingy
small room had a mucus-green carpet and was illuminated by a single flickering </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bulb hanging from its
centre onto the rectangular table and chairs below.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eric
and I had just finished another lengthy interview and were standing in the
hallway thanking </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">the participant for
their time. As soon as she’d left, I looked down at my clipboard to see who to
expect</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>next, when he said
something like, “Um, he’s already here,” in a concerned, surprised tone.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I
turned, I saw what I guess was a man sitting on one of the three chairs around the
table. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’d never seen anyone
like him. A shaggy clump of hair sat atop his head and his brown skin, which
was </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">so thin and tight it
appeared dessicated, was visible through the torn, dirty white shirt he wore.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>His
most striking features, though, were his prominent pointed nose and perpetual
grimace that</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stretched all the way
back to his ears. His shoulders were slumped forward, his back curved, and his</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gaze fixed on a spot
somewhere on the table.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eric
and I looked at each other quizzically for a moment. I honestly thought it was
a prank<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>someone was playing. Just
in case, I think, we both went in, closed the door, and sat down opposite the</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>man.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>We welcomed
him and proceeded to tell him how lon the interview would last, that he would</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>remain anonymous, etc.
Throughout the entire introduction, the man remained exactly as he’d been</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when I’d first seen
him. I noticed then the strange intensity in his eyes, and that he wasn’t
blinking.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Eric
had quite a short temper and I could see him becoming increasingly aggravated
by the<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>man’s unresponsiveness.
All of a sudden, he stopped mid-sentence and said, “I’m sorry, but are you<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>even listening?” I
was feeling pretty awkward by this point. When the man didn’t respond, Eric flew
off</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the handle and
started saying that he was wasting our time, that the guy was being pathetic,
etc.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Just as
he was getting up, probably to show him out, the man began giggling and
muttering <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">under his breath. I’d known Eric a few years and knew it was
never a good idea to laugh at him. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Look</i>,</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mr. Nelson – ” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Not Nelson. ” The man’s voice was high and nasally, but had
a strange threatening tone to it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What d’you mean? You’re <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i>
Mr. Nelson?” Eric’s body was tense, and I knew he was about to lose it.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Without
a word, the man shifted his piercing gaze on him, his wide grin unmoving. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Right, you little <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shit</i>!”
Eric had started walking around the table, when the man suddenly began<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>jumping up and down in
the chair with a crazy look on his face. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oohoohooo</i>!
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ohoohoo</i>! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oohoohooo</i>!” <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That’s
when it stopped being funny for me. I already didn’t like him, but now wanted
the creep</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gone as soon as
possible.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fuck</i> are
you doing?” The look on Eric’s face reflected my own perplexity. I don’t think
he<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>knew what to make of
him so, when instead of threatening the man he walked to the door, I knew he</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>wanted him gone gone
as much as I did. Eric reached for the handle, but when he turned it, the door</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>was locked.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The man
became more excitable, banging his hands on the table as he continued to shout<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ohoohooo!”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Why’s the door closed?” I asked him if he’d locked it. “Now
why the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fuck</i> would I lock it, David?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I don’t
know how he did it, but in the space of time it takes to blink, the man had
appeared by</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eric’s side, his face
not an inch from his.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Now we play my game,” the man said right before whispering something
in his ear. I couldn’t hear<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>what he said, but it
caused Eric to become completely immobile and docile, as if hypnotized.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I stood
up, knocking the chair over, and turned with the intention of rushing up to
them, not</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>really knowing what
I’d do but, no sooner had I done so, did I feel an immense pressure on my chest </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">that caused me to fall hard on my back. Before I knew what
happened, I opened my eyes to see the man </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">leaning over me, his grimacing, dessicated face right above
mine. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“We’re going to have fun,” he said in a low tone. His hot,
humid breath smelled like decay. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I think
I asked him who he was, because the last words I can clearly remember him
saying were,</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Call me Mr. Cage.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Everything I have told you up to
this point is as clear in my mind now as it was when it<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>happened. What
followed, however, is hazy. Broken. No one, including the authorities, has ever<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">believed me. But it happened.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
David's Bio:<br />
<div>
"<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Despite my love of writing, I dislike
doing so about myself. So here are the basics:</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;"><div>
I
was born in Brussels, Belgium. I have lived in The U.K. and in various places in
Spain, where I currently reside.</div>
</span></span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">At
university, I studied English law and Spanish law. I didn't like it. I, then,
studied translation. I didn't like it, either.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">Currently,
I am an English teacher in the South of Spain.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">I
have far too many interests, I'm told. A few are basketball, tennis, swimming,
playing my old guitar, learning Japanese, painting, reading </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">and </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: "Times New Roman", sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">writing
(obviously), cooking...(See? Too many).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">Not
a day goes by, however, where I don't write something, be it under a palm tree
or on a bench at a bus stop somewhere."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">You can find him on Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/david.singercarter">https://www.facebook.com/david.singercarter</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px;">And Twitter: <span style="color: black;"> @MrCage1 </span></span></span>Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-38894612781716101942015-05-11T03:33:00.002-04:002015-05-11T03:33:23.082-04:00Guest Post: Dane Cobain
<em>We're going international now, skipping across the pond to have a chat with kick ass </em>Booktrope <em>author and friend, Dane Cobain. I asked him to drop by </em>Beautiful Stories for Ugly Children<em> and tell us what scares the crap out of him. So...</em><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 28pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Five Horror Tropes that Scare the
Crap Out of Me<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hi, folks – Dane
Cobain here! I’m a writer, a poet and a friend of Christian’s – in fact, we’re
both represented by Forsaken, the specialist horror imprint of Booktrope.
Forsaken will be releasing my debut novella, No Rest for the Wicked, on May 29<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I found out
that Christian was looking for guest bloggers for his site, I jumped at the
chance – we writers tend to rise to the challenge whenever there’s some copy to
be created. But I didn’t know what to talk about – the only rule that I was
given is that there are no rules!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But because
Christian and I were brought together by horror, I thought it only fair if I
wrote about that, and so this blog post was born! Ladies and gentlemen, prepare
to be terrified.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37SiE9ptahMQ0QPpa7r-_1phd5lgW9BogEIkYH2Cub-qetse6-YVP6abhoKz1ZKqZP6lwjkxvhLlNJCkNQ3xR_BFMAs0-6urizYAbVs_N3LIZi9stXdzemr3LiEcSjFQh-_SUoJdJxcxi/s1600/11035621_920752197976577_17120747194920677_n.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh37SiE9ptahMQ0QPpa7r-_1phd5lgW9BogEIkYH2Cub-qetse6-YVP6abhoKz1ZKqZP6lwjkxvhLlNJCkNQ3xR_BFMAs0-6urizYAbVs_N3LIZi9stXdzemr3LiEcSjFQh-_SUoJdJxcxi/s320/11035621_920752197976577_17120747194920677_n.png" width="204" /></a></span></div>
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<!--[endif]--><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">5 – Injustice<o:p></o:p></span></span></b><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Horror novels
excel at this. Generally speaking, most fiction is rooted in justice – the good
guy always wins in the end, the bad guys get their comeuppance, and no innocent
bystanders end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. In horror, all of that
goes out of the window, and there’s just something deeply sinister about a book
in which the bad guy wins, the hero ends up dead (or worse), and little old
women are getting bumped off left, right and centre for no real reason.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4 – Zombie Animals<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Zombies
themselves aren’t a problem – after all, they’re slow, they’re simple and
they’re pretty easy to pick off from a distance. But once animals get infected,
all bets are off – where the hell are you supposed to hide when there are
infected birds and dogs knocking about? Especially when you consider that one
little nip is all that it takes to become infected!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3 – Creepy Little Kids<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You know what
I’m talking about here – think of the twins in The Shining, or the possession
of Regan MacNeil in The Exorcist. Perhaps it’s because I don’t like children,
although there’s also something to be said about evil corrupting the pure, if
you believe that children are ever really innocent. Either way, they creep me
out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2 – Computers Killing Stuff<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember when
I watched Resident Evil for the first time – I was absolutely terrified when
the computer was killing people, but then I was fine once the zombies woke up.
Well, until the zombie dogs, at least. The thing that scares me the most about
computers killing people is that, unlike zombies, vampires, werewolves and the
like, it could actually happen. It probably already DOES happen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1 – Mental Illness<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">As a
depression/anxiety sufferer myself, I’m allowed to say this. Fictional people
with mental illnesses can be terrifying, if the author so desires, and it works
whether you’re a sufferer of the same mental illness or not. If you can relate
to the character, you know exactly what they’re capable of, and if you can’t
relate to them then they can seem unpredictable, which is often even worse. But
it has to be done tastefully, or not at all – that’s why it’s so effective.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So there we have
it – now you know how to write the perfect story to scare the crap out of me!
If you happen to pen a novel about a creepy little zombie puppy with
schizophrenia, who develops a computer programme to kill everyone who isn’t a
banker or a politician, you’ve got yourself a reader.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Author Bio:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dane Cobain is a
writer and poet from a place you’ve probably never heard of, somewhere in
England. His debut novella, a supernatural thriller called ‘No Rest for the
Wicked’, will be released by Forsaken in the summer of 2015. When he’s not
writing books, he’s reading and reviewing them on his book blog, </span><a href="http://www.socialbookshelves.com/"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">SocialBookshelves.com</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> – Charles
Bukowski, Graham Greene and Phillip Pullman are favourites. He’s very sad that
Terry Pratchett died, and is hoping to come across Death in a Forsaken book so
he can ask him what he’s playing at. Find him at </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/danecobainmusic"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">Facebook.com/DaneCobainMusic</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
or follow </span><a href="http://www.danecobain.com/"><span style="color: #0563c1; font-family: Calibri;">@DaneCobain</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> on Twitter.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Make sure to show Dane, as well as all my guest bloggers, some love. Follow them on twitter, like their facebook pages, check out their books, and read their blogs. Also don't forget to follow this blog and the guy who puts it all together, </em>Christian Jensen. <em>Authors like to know what you think about them, so comment here. And always tell your friends about the cool things you find. Thanks!</em></span></span></div>
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Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-79976363214309825012015-05-08T00:00:00.000-04:002015-05-08T04:31:48.246-04:00Guest post:: S.E. Rise<em>S.E. Rise is an author I've gotten to know over the last few months. We connected over at the Forsaken team page and have a similar way of thinking about a lot of things. I've gotten to enjoy his posts and comments, and you should too. </em><br />
<em>Check out his book trailer to get an idea of who he is and what he writes : </em><br />
<div class="_d97" data-reactid=".s.$mid=11431016473470=27318d77d45d0360562.2:0.0.0.0">
<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".s.$mid=11431016473470=27318d77d45d0360562.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".s.$mid=11431016473470=27318d77d45d0360562.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><a data-reactid=".s.$mid=11431016473470=27318d77d45d0360562.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$range0:0" href="http://youtu.be/N_SWQDbSgGg" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://youtu.be/N_SWQDbSgGg</a></span></span></div>
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;"></span></b> </div>
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<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">S.E.Rise<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">The
Neuron Universe and a Monkey’s Paw- A Thought Experiment.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">There are a good amount of hours
in the day. For most of those hours I am busy thinking about things that most
people don’t want to contemplate or don’t care about. It’s not because I have a
super brain or anything close to it. But, I do let my mind think and imagine
things without parameters. To some this could be viewed as a thought
experiment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">This is one of those thought
experiments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">What if every book you have ever
read or story you have ever heard somehow creates a small world inside your
mind? A world or a memory formed on one of the trillion or so, neurons or
neural pathways inside your brain. What if those worlds or memories never
go away? What if they keep growing and evolving without your input?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">What if our own world is but a
memory or a story that has been forgotten?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">What if our brains in turn are
but small universes?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">What if, at our birth, we create
a small world from a memory that then continues to grow independent of our
conscious thoughts? Would we ever remember it? Would we ever be able to return
to that small first thought and see what it has become? Would we ever want to?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">I am a writer and I create
worlds. When I write, I create places that I can see, hear, smell and touch. I
know what the air tastes like and what the clouds in the sky look like. I can
also leave this place inside my mind and return days or even weeks later and it
will still exist. Most of the time, I let the characters run amuck and
figure out problems on their own. But, there are times when I return and they
are waiting. They are waiting for me to fix their problems or situations so
they can continue on with their story. At those times, I might give them a
nudge or change the circumstances in which they find themselves. But rarely do
I do this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">When I write, I try to let my
creations do and figure things out on their own. I let them evolve into
characters that are sometimes not exactly what I had envisioned for them in the
beginning. But that’s okay, because if I solved every problem or guided them in
every way then they really wouldn’t be that interesting. If I molded them into
exactly the way they were supposed to be then what would be the point of the
story. There would be no surprises, and the characters in this world would be
cliché and predictable. There would be nothing new.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">So, in a sense, I give them free
will. (Wait…Don’t freak out just yet)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">But though I have given them free
will, I have also set into place certain rules and physics that they must abide
by; only because it differentiates them from other genres in writing. Yes,
there are many genres but without some sort of structure or rules it cannot
stay together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">But not to get away from my
original intent in writing this, I will steer back in the general direction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">These worlds I write about are
places I have created within my mind. Who is to say that they do not exist?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">What if....?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">What if to them I am God? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">I am their Creator. I could
be their Destroyer. I can, as well, be their Time Keeper. In fact, if I so
wanted to, I could actually resurrect them from the dead.</span> <span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Does this not
qualify me as a divine figure in its general definition? What if it does? Does that
mean we are all, in some sense, Gods to the small universe that is our human
mind? They say there may be as many neurons inside a single human head as there
are stars in the universe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Would a character on one of those
small little worlds be able to look up at their Cosmos and see it for what it
really was? Would it see it as an ever expanding universe or might it
recognize it as the trillions of bright flashing neurons of its own Creator?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Well, since I am the writer and
the creator of these worlds…I guess that answer would be up to me. But, what if
one of my characters evolved without my knowledge into something that could
figure out its own existence? Maybe it’s one of those insignificant characters
that I forgot about and just left it to run amuck? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Would it try to contact me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">If it did try would I hear it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">If I heard it would I answer it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Or, would I leave it just as I
found it? Leave it, because I was afraid of influencing it and in a sense
possibly destroying it with my acknowledgment. What if my presence
changed the very genre that it existed in and inadvertently ruined the story?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">I think I would not answer it
directly. I think if I found myself in the same position as my hypothetical
character I would really not want to receive an answer. Primarily, because then
I would know that he/ she existed and if he or she existed then I would have to
accept that they might be omnipotent and all knowing. This, of course, would
lead down a line of thinking that does not have a positive outcome. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">Not positive? How so you ask?
Because, I would then have to ask the question “Why?”…Why would you have
created so many things that are bad? And, if they are bad then why haven’t you
fixed them? Why do so many have to suffer when in all actuality they don’t have
too? The questions would continue on and on until one of us grew angry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietGJNYO-xD2psr-Yw-sc0FZA9HpKto0y_OLirYCUllifinKEetQcYQ7l4uroim6GDxPuAoO1qSogkW2CRqSkRuUMAwQzIF10N1IkxNV7BJppfWCdyQ7r9zx5G3JmCoWuAsEgePaRl6UZb/s1600/11096548_1436571636640828_879453589173302703_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietGJNYO-xD2psr-Yw-sc0FZA9HpKto0y_OLirYCUllifinKEetQcYQ7l4uroim6GDxPuAoO1qSogkW2CRqSkRuUMAwQzIF10N1IkxNV7BJppfWCdyQ7r9zx5G3JmCoWuAsEgePaRl6UZb/s320/11096548_1436571636640828_879453589173302703_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">No…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">If I were this created character
that lived on a world within the universe that is my brain, I think that I
would not want an answer from that kind of God. I don’t think I would like
this God entity very much if I did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">I would not want to have an all
knowing entity to blame for the sadness, tragedy and travesty that happens to
the world, to my loved ones or to me. I think that I would rather believe in a
creator that has given us all the tools we need to succeed, left us on our own
and then maybe accidentally forgotten about us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">I would rather not want to rely
upon on a God that does not or cannot answer everyone’s prayers. But then, as
we know, that doesn’t work very well either. Who would win the Super Bowl? And,
don’t forget the story of the Monkey’s Paw by W.W. Jennings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">But in conclusion, this was not
meant to piss off the entire God fearing world. This was a thought experiment
and it was designed to make you think outside of the box and maybe see the Cosmos
and yourself a little differently.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">I think I like the thought of
being a writer. I create worlds that exist in the universe that is my mind. I
think that the best thing I can do for the characters of my created worlds is
to let their stories unfold as they will, to continue writing the stories that
I see, and to offer them up for the world to read.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">And of course learn how to edit
them better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;">-S.E.Rise<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><em>S.E.Rise is a writer of Erotica, Horror and Thrillers. He
lives with his family in Anchorage, Alaska. He has written a dozen or so books
in various genres and is currently republishing them with Booktrope Publishing.
His first release with Booktrope is an Erotic Thriller. Simmering is due out on
May 16<sup>th </sup>and his first Thriller/Horror is due out in July with Booktrope
Publishing as well.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">seriseauthor.com<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">@s_e_rise13<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/S.E.RisewriterEroticThriller"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="color: blue;">https://www.facebook.com/S.E.RisewriterEroticThriller</span></span></b></a><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: normal; margin: 1em 0in; mso-mirror-indents: yes; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Palatino Linotype",serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: small;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-41025217565562116562015-05-06T05:46:00.002-04:002015-05-06T05:46:12.788-04:00Christian Jensen, on writing with a Co-Author
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<br />
<em> </em><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>A
guilty conscience, a wounded girl, and a series of lies merge to create an evil
so vile it can only be claimed by Satan himself. It was just supposed to be a game,
a way for the sorority to pass a boring night better spent studying. What
happens when six sorority sisters find an old Ouija board hiding in the shadowy
recesses of their basement? When one of those girls harbors a sinister guilt
hell crashes down around them, plunging the girls into a spiraling madness
created by the Father of Lies. Can Adrianna overcome her past, or will the
truth drive her mad? Demon kills is the exclusive, free read available only on
Ibooks from Cassandre Dayen and Christian Jensen.</em> <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><strong>COMING
VERY SOON!<o:p></o:p></strong></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<h2 class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">On
writing with a co-author<o:p></o:p></span></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Christian
Jensen<o:p></o:p></span></h2>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3Ozi_10J9JfniMQSu57PGs5Y-l7TjkBCQjY3uYB5mPwFgGzBrGA5iDOjvmuZHUg2s2VI8JjwhrowHavVcqulr7qDYFIU3oZwWIDnQCyLnr25JwA5Pfr4rbO80cFctK2JJKP-Q70kHj0d/s1600/46903_693996480627493_1127964213_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-3Ozi_10J9JfniMQSu57PGs5Y-l7TjkBCQjY3uYB5mPwFgGzBrGA5iDOjvmuZHUg2s2VI8JjwhrowHavVcqulr7qDYFIU3oZwWIDnQCyLnr25JwA5Pfr4rbO80cFctK2JJKP-Q70kHj0d/s1600/46903_693996480627493_1127964213_n.jpg" height="149" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s
a question that comes up whenever the two of us are together, or whenever one
of us mentions our combined work: What’s it like working with a co-author? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6POmqJVvuhQz7qJKkQbPQOKg46qRoZQ4NKF0MIfXKt9ddhuFBFdIfnPMwr3hb8QyiNzqP7XiafC-ema_aEd062XSO6l7aE_XMGLshTpTDfoxsVKkmR_nDoinhfVHvGoatG6UmNYF5zBec/s1600/285080_2286031714211_3248280_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6POmqJVvuhQz7qJKkQbPQOKg46qRoZQ4NKF0MIfXKt9ddhuFBFdIfnPMwr3hb8QyiNzqP7XiafC-ema_aEd062XSO6l7aE_XMGLshTpTDfoxsVKkmR_nDoinhfVHvGoatG6UmNYF5zBec/s1600/285080_2286031714211_3248280_n.jpg" height="233" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For
many, that question is veiled in polite compliments that mask a harbored
frustration. I’ve known dozens of authors who have written with someone else
for a book or two but quickly found every excuse to end the partnership. It can
be incredibly frustrating and tedious. It can test friendships and push
professional relationships to the limit. It can just plain suck. I’ve had my
fair share of horror stories when dealing with other authors, but found a
comfortable and amazing relationship with Cassandre Dayne. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s
not just lightning striking. The secrets we’ve unearthed about each other is
more like an apocalyptic storm that just keeps churning and growing in
intensity. To date we’ve written 5 books, one short story, and are halfway
through our sixth. Toxic Leash, the first book we wrote together, was finished
in a week. So yeah, there are no veiled compliments or feigned appreciation. We
actually like working together. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKEkpDwsQ0_2wr29CwfJzA4193q9mTh3DuW-YaYiZNW6KVgdjrlVQFsuWVxJe0Lse-9vIwoopdmweVDwFcuw3ZG9Ex4v2UfxdLNN5iZF6NGNwt0ihba6aLnrvbqh3rxJxReULm8AN85Lh/s1600/51d0Ln8oF0L._AA160_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKEkpDwsQ0_2wr29CwfJzA4193q9mTh3DuW-YaYiZNW6KVgdjrlVQFsuWVxJe0Lse-9vIwoopdmweVDwFcuw3ZG9Ex4v2UfxdLNN5iZF6NGNwt0ihba6aLnrvbqh3rxJxReULm8AN85Lh/s1600/51d0Ln8oF0L._AA160_.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why?
There is a mutual respect. We appreciate each other and acknowledge what the
other brings to the table. I push Cass in certain ways, and she pushes me in
others. We know the other’s strengths and weaknesses and work within and around
them. We are both obsessed with writing and are prolific as all hell. We’re the
only people that can keep up with one another. Also, our styles are so similar
at times we can’t tell who wrote what. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We
don’t plan or plot, highlight or outline a story. One of us starts it, then
sends around 5,000 words to the other and it just goes from there. There is no
discussion, no notes passed back and forth, no messages exchanged or lengthy
phone conversations about the plot or characters. We each have free reign in
our world and respect the other’s choices in condemning or blessing the
subjects in our little kingdom. Everything we do is organic. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvLl9-4YuFKZX0867PHDzy8q_n6WOLIZyFl-ZTVV6RC9bfSzW6A7hYMsNgbKZ_4a__oH6c8r6dYY1PcLhaZ6XH0gg05ptSFMZx5m9cvKrLjdHK0xvThaYrulyoIB_mKrzZstXeCX9ciMS/s1600/51amGVn+iJL._AA160_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvLl9-4YuFKZX0867PHDzy8q_n6WOLIZyFl-ZTVV6RC9bfSzW6A7hYMsNgbKZ_4a__oH6c8r6dYY1PcLhaZ6XH0gg05ptSFMZx5m9cvKrLjdHK0xvThaYrulyoIB_mKrzZstXeCX9ciMS/s1600/51amGVn+iJL._AA160_.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The
fun part is the challenges we leave for each other. Whenever possible we end
our section and send it off with a cliffhanger the other has to work out of. It
makes the books more interesting, more exciting, and much faster reads.
Something is always going on because neither one of us wants to turn in a
boring segment of the book. We need to outdo each other, push the other past
their comfort zones and into uncharted territory. We work harder on our
combined work because there is always a burning need to enthrall each other. At
the end of the day, our first reader is our co-author, and we want to impress,
shock, and outdo each other. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So
for me, what’s it like working with a co-author? It fucking rocks! So throw up
those devil horns, bang your heads, and check out our books, all of which are
being re-released through Booktrope in the coming months. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Toxic
Leash, I like to Watch, The Darkness Within, Believe in the Darkman, Beauty and
Rage, Witch Hunter, and the short story free for Ibooks, Demon Kills. By
Cassandre Dayne and Christian Jensen. Passion, Pain, and Perversion. Escape to
the extreme. </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQV6RSSyyYmBayoqEVGROT50ihBCYemrudJq7HWseJLFuGeji2qLF19qrI2YcwwO4vT9q76vVWwu2JAvRbqVZSoVXnTpkB6WLTYpwfJ6Helwdy_SyiylLJ6cttn1czr0IWM01FK27BkMO7/s1600/1078682_218403374980226_1608802252_o+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQV6RSSyyYmBayoqEVGROT50ihBCYemrudJq7HWseJLFuGeji2qLF19qrI2YcwwO4vT9q76vVWwu2JAvRbqVZSoVXnTpkB6WLTYpwfJ6Helwdy_SyiylLJ6cttn1czr0IWM01FK27BkMO7/s1600/1078682_218403374980226_1608802252_o+(2).jpg" height="107" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<br />
<a href="https://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/">https://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/PassionPainandPerversion">https://www.facebook.com/PassionPainandPerversion</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/cassandre.dayne?fref=ts">https://www.facebook.com/cassandre.dayne?fref=ts</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/ChrsitanJensenAuthor">https://www.facebook.com/ChrsitanJensenAuthor</a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/bethanyhalle">https://twitter.com/bethanyhalle</a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/hororwritindad">https://twitter.com/hororwritindad</a><br />
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</div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-19754494010899088592015-05-03T05:01:00.004-04:002015-05-04T03:14:25.609-04:00Guest post: Sheri Williams
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><em>I found Sheri Williams skulking around the super secret Forsaken page over at the 'ole Faebooks. She was just kinda standing there, hanging around the shadows, taking notes and looking much more innocent than I knew she really was. Okay, that's not true. Mostly because there are no shadows in Facebookland. Nothing one big old spotlight over there, right? So anyways, I found Sheri, or rather she found me, and next thing I know she's on my blog. Give her some love and let's Comment and Share. </em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">First, let me say, May the Fourth
be with you. I know that’s not why I’m here today, but I couldn’t not say it.
And now, on to why I’m invading your screens today. Horror! Yes, horror. And if
you know me, you’re already going, “What the what?” cause I am a scaredy cat.
No lie. I scare so easy. I don’t watch horror movies, except for classics and
vampires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So why am I writing about
horror you ask? Simple. Well, not simple. Super convoluted actually. I write
romance. That’s my thing. I’m fairly good at it. So why change genres? Because
I have author multiple personality disorder. AMPD may not be an actual medical
thing, but in my world it’s real. It explains how I went from romance, to mid-grade,
to gothic horror. Now to be fair, there is romance in the story I am currently
crafting for Forsaken, but it’s not the main plot, or at least after about five
rounds of editing, I hope it’s not the main plot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">The story started a long time ago
as a sample for a freelance job that didn’t get accepted. I had 4,000 words
about a group of paranormal investigators searching for werewolves in Germany.
I talked to the amazing Maddie Holliday Von Stark and she said I might could
sub it to Booktrope’s new Forsaken imprint. I was all “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">who me? Romance writer? Eh, why the hell not</i>?” So I tried to fill
it out. Add some more words. And then. Then. One nightmare about werewolves in
Victorian London later, I scrapped the almost 9,000 I had worked up to, and
started over. Yes, I started over. Because it needed to be Gothic Horror (with
a splash of romance). Like I said, AMPD. It’s a problem, really. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I have to say though, I have met
some of the coolest people through Forsaken. And am now about 2-3 scenes away
from finishing the rough (holy super rough) draft of my story. It’s not scary
yet. I think I’m going to have to layer that in. But despite constantly
worrying that I am going to fail in a spectacular fashion (I’m talking fiery
crashing chariots here), I keep going. Because I really like my story. And I
hope you do too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mMmnrip0nR2Z0LK4aQ154idyBWLIsSUScHDBcC2b1l2AzMGr4CbEePhV1tsGLTpfv4ZmWLmq4OutqWE5Mr0wyYN5NFY33SgeW4cbsa8gbDmBtuqR0ZHCOuIMzTAMT0WtHjYohfWD7iDu/s1600/Sheri+williams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0mMmnrip0nR2Z0LK4aQ154idyBWLIsSUScHDBcC2b1l2AzMGr4CbEePhV1tsGLTpfv4ZmWLmq4OutqWE5Mr0wyYN5NFY33SgeW4cbsa8gbDmBtuqR0ZHCOuIMzTAMT0WtHjYohfWD7iDu/s1600/Sheri+williams.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bio:</b> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sheri Williams is a mom. A writer. A nerd.
She lies in the south and spends her days fighting her need to write against
her need to play in the dirt. She has an unhealthy appreciation of BBC America
and has been known to lose whole days to Netflix binges. Sheri has published a
novel, a few short stories as part of anthologies, and two choose your own
adventure stories for online publisher SilkWords. She is currently working on
what will hopefully be the first of many Forsaken titles.<o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">You can find Sheri at: </span></i><span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/Williams.Sheri.Author" target="_blank"><span style="color: #336699; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">https://www.facebook.com/Williams.Sheri.Author</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Segoe UI",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="https://twitter.com/AuthorSheri" target="_blank"><span style="color: #336699; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">https://twitter.com/AuthorSheri</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-15093551847571703042015-05-01T05:27:00.001-04:002015-05-01T05:27:34.784-04:00Guest post: Sherri McDonald
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Today’s guest blog
belongs to Sherri MacDonald. I met Sherri through Facebook and the two of us hit it off quickly. She’s a naughty, irreverent girl
with a flair for horror. She is also a Steve King fan, her favorite quote
coming from the master. “</span><span style="color: #373e4d;">Monsters are real
and ghost are too... they live inside us and sometimes they win</span>.”
</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYb-TGCMO7Jr3FsWOabe6NLn6mR2eDr22kLZf8h3Gd4fX6uGpuIJ80wUOT6xycE3nAaADJr-3CuWIwR9cBcqRSwuRBCutXdvbfwCGk-2fj3ZQg6TqdyUZJwVbPqLc6j96xduWYI6UpvQP/s1600/11129252_438038829694727_998138951_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYYb-TGCMO7Jr3FsWOabe6NLn6mR2eDr22kLZf8h3Gd4fX6uGpuIJ80wUOT6xycE3nAaADJr-3CuWIwR9cBcqRSwuRBCutXdvbfwCGk-2fj3ZQg6TqdyUZJwVbPqLc6j96xduWYI6UpvQP/s1600/11129252_438038829694727_998138951_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">People sometimes ask me where I get my ideas
from. I always giggling when I’m asked that question, because, to be honest, I
never really thought about it much. Ideas often just appear in my head and I
just translate them to paper, much the way our brains translate images seen on
a TV screen. The thing I love about words is that everyone can see something
different in their reading. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD8aqkxMZHvshn5IsEQBXaHCSgZBMKW0qvRMDZNBF7YqkRHwtuWsxd04vyPmSLfKCGQu5rB-f9ONxs8oORC0FCjGjJb3hsrN6iHrRY-nqPLUq30jYpYTrTKaDfyAPbtGskATi8_67VTDih/s1600/images5FV18926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD8aqkxMZHvshn5IsEQBXaHCSgZBMKW0qvRMDZNBF7YqkRHwtuWsxd04vyPmSLfKCGQu5rB-f9ONxs8oORC0FCjGjJb3hsrN6iHrRY-nqPLUq30jYpYTrTKaDfyAPbtGskATi8_67VTDih/s1600/images5FV18926.jpg" height="85" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">For me, writing begins with an initial idea. I
can be about love, lust, sex, or questioning if God really exists. I just pick
one, and then from there that idea takes me down various routes. It’s much like
driving through the shadowy backwoods and dirt roads just to see who’s there,
what they’re doing, and to whom. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those roads can lead to many places: A beach on a
sunny day or a home with a beautiful yard with kids playing in it. But many
times it leads to dark places and things that are never talked about in the
light of day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">A lot depends on the mood I’m in as well, what
has happened in my own life that day or week. Those experiences shape the tone
of my writing. I have always loved the caption "Not based on anyone in
real life", which we all know is pretty much absolute bullshit. The Villain
is someone we know, as is the hero. It’s impossible for them not to be.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Writing is often described as a gift and in many
cases that’s true. Most writers will never be the next Stephen King or the Jane
Austen. We do it for the love of the idea, plain and simple. Most of us will
never see print only, except here on the internet. Sadly most of us will never
see millions of dollars and only get the love and knowledge that someone,
somewhere enjoyed what we had to say.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHwup_mBSa5me9sGIYWoz8jib4xZiTEy9RGtPHGtl6Cw_6LWzH41A_tncJs06e6xYl0fCiaV-kReL5vVY3qOZ2DIybzkIGNWzr4VhMgdTOgZtk0rRabrRFPEXiBcCCRjraHIeiLj9f7J3/s1600/untitled+(29).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHwup_mBSa5me9sGIYWoz8jib4xZiTEy9RGtPHGtl6Cw_6LWzH41A_tncJs06e6xYl0fCiaV-kReL5vVY3qOZ2DIybzkIGNWzr4VhMgdTOgZtk0rRabrRFPEXiBcCCRjraHIeiLj9f7J3/s1600/untitled+(29).png" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Personally, I have always been fascinated about
the end of the world, how those of us left would handle not only the need for
basic things like shelter, warmth, and food, but also how would we handle the
need for human love, touch, and compassion. The answer is never as clear cut as
the question.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next time you see an indy writer signing
books they probably spent a year’s wages on to get published stop and pick up a
copy because much like we enjoy venturing down these roads, it is always fun to
share that Journey.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: #373e4d;"><em>Sheri
shares a little about herself</em>: <strong>Let’s see I’m 26, from Halifax NS, and work full
time as a vet assistant for the SPCA. I’ve just been added to the throws of the
newly separated and I’m currently working on a book called the Reality of the End</strong></span><strong>. In my spare time I enjoy
popping people’s ear drums at karaoke and my dogs.</strong> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #373e4d;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you so much for sharing your insights
with us Sheri, and best of luck with your novel and traveling those
backwoods roads in search of new and interesting characters to make into your heroes
and villains. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-39294195400380521352015-04-26T21:23:00.001-04:002015-04-26T21:23:57.356-04:00Guest post: Mandi M. Lynch
I really like opening my blog to guest writers. Not only do I have to do very little work, but I get to introduce new voices to those of you reading. It's intrinsically important to broaden our horizons and find new weavers of tales, to listen to different opinions and story tellers, to learn, to grow. <br />
This week I have 2 guests, the first of which is the brilliant Mandi M. Lynch. So sit back and read her words. Learn, grow, and be better for it. <br />
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">The Detail is in the Tale<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">I just read a line* from Neil Gaiman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There was a girl; her uncle sold her. … That
is the tale, the rest is detail.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe
that is why writing is both so easy and so difficult at the same time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">Sure, we can all come up with a simple storyline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Okay,
there is a guy and he’s suspected of being a terrorist… </i>But then the
problem becomes that we have to make our story be different than a thousand
other stories that have exactly the same story line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">There’s
a guy, and he’s suspected of being a terrorist, on the InterPlanet Hree,
orbiting the Nth galaxy’s inner sun…<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">And then what if you write something that a thousand other
people wrote that you didn’t have the luxury of reading yet?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you spend how many hours writing a story
and then you send it to your beta reader and they’re all like… “Oh, I just saw
this movie last week!” Damn, now what? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">My problems tend to come when real life decides it has caught up
with fiction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">(No, fiction doesn’t imitate real life – it’s totally the other
way around.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">I had a book just about planned out that I was working on some
minor plot issues and character development for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A lot of it had to do with the spread of a
virus, and a few political things going on, and… and then the political things
sort of happened and we had that month long Ebola scare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then what do you do? Do you write it
anyway and wait for potential readers to think you’re ripping things from the
headlines, or do you hold on to it for six months, a year, more?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What do you do?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">Of course there are no answers to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The number one thing that drives me crazy as
a writer is listing to other writers ask if they can do things like there’s an
absolute list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Am I allowed to write my
story in <point of view>?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Um.
Yes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Can I put <character type>
in <place>?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know, can
you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“No, I mean, am I allowed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because I see other stuff where…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, but are you trying to do exactly what
the other stuff does or are you trying to be your own writer and do your own
story?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">This is the tale, the
rest is detail. </span></i><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">And if you’re going to be a writer, you put on your big girl
panties, and you start putting details down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And who cares if the next person over wants to psychoanalyze whether or
not your curtains should be blue or green or polka-dotted with contrasting neon
zig-zag trim and pompoms dangling?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">As writers, we have a target audience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s exactly one person in number, and it’s
ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You write to yourself – the
story that you want to tell in the way that you want to tell it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because even the most brilliant story becomes
total crap after you let a thousand so-called-potential readers tell you what
you have to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know that artist
you’re writing about with polka-dotted curtains with the contrasting neon
zig-zag trim and pompoms dangling?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Six
beta readers later, they might be black leather, designed to block the natural
light that your artist so desperately needs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">So be true to yourself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And do the easy part – tell the tale – but then settle in for the long
haul and do the hard part, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
don’t let others muddy your story by telling you how they want it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it were so easy, they’d be doing it
themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;">[*American Gods, hardback p 252]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNK-dcgTKgKcZzUs6NBxeCVWCzNA841As43zwZUlhf-XelqnhZWa2rx2GCp4DVAlKjVxKmewcVTVVbdk0wPvzLfx9KwMxT17pTAElINOMRQb9QcPu7RonB2H4UKN-qm0zQSsWPswV-Okug/s1600/168402_10150134559607238_5953853_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNK-dcgTKgKcZzUs6NBxeCVWCzNA841As43zwZUlhf-XelqnhZWa2rx2GCp4DVAlKjVxKmewcVTVVbdk0wPvzLfx9KwMxT17pTAElINOMRQb9QcPu7RonB2H4UKN-qm0zQSsWPswV-Okug/s1600/168402_10150134559607238_5953853_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "High Tower Text",serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #c0504d; font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; mso-themecolor: accent2;">Mandi M. Lynch wrote her first story at
the tender age of six, pecking at the words on her mother’s typewriter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the crayon drawings are marginally
better, the spelling has not improved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aside from being a writer of speculative fiction, a blogger, and an
editor, she publishes Ink Monkey Mag and a variety of anthologies, and is
programming director for Hypericon, a speculative fiction convention based in
Nashville, TN.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her next anthology
release is The Tomato Anthology, which makes its debut this August, and she has
several horror stories in the works.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Lynch lives in the suburbs with three cats, none of which write due to
their lack of thumbs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #c0504d; font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; mso-themecolor: accent2;">You can find her on Facebook at </span><a href="http://facebook.com/authorMML"><span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">http://facebook.com/authorMML</span></span></a><span style="color: #c0504d; font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; mso-themecolor: accent2;">, </span><a href="http://facebook.com/inkmonkeymag"><span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">http://facebook.com/inkmonkeymag</span></span></a><span style="color: #c0504d; font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; mso-themecolor: accent2;">, or at her book review blog at </span><a href="http://bookinthebag.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif;"><span style="color: blue;">http://bookinthebag.wordpress.com</span></span></a><span style="color: #c0504d; font-family: "Arial Rounded MT Bold",sans-serif; mso-themecolor: accent2;">.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-3606925039501022992015-04-23T16:16:00.001-04:002015-04-23T16:16:54.890-04:00Motivation and Success
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Okay, in my
last blog post I told y’all why I became a writer and why I write horror, in a
weird, looking back into the shadows of the past kind of way. Today I want to
touch on what inspires me, who inspires me, and what keeps me motivated. I also
want to say a little something about how I can write as much as I do, because
that’s something I get asked all the time too, and it fits here. So let’s get
going. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s hard to
pinpoint exactly what inspires me, but if I was to look deep inside and tell
you the truth, I would say that my inspiration comes from me. No one else is
making me get up at 3AM to write. I don’t have some huge contract with a scary
deadline </span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">looming over my head, there are no threats from my publisher that they’re
going to pull my book if I don’t get it done within a few days. I get up and
write because I need to. I have this undying need to become successful in
everything I do, and writing is no exception. In fact, writing is the prime
example of something I need to be successful at. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to
do, and I won’t stop until it’s my only means of support. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have other
inspirations, of course, such as other writers, friends I’ve made in the
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">industry, and the people I look up to. I mentioned Stephen King in my last
article, but don’t really need to mention him because Steve inspired just about
everyone. Other important influences to my writing are: Charles Bukowski,
Richard Laymon, Jack Ketchum, and Brian Keene. I’ve had the distinct pleasure
of meeting Jack Ketchum a few times, and Brian Keene is a friend of mine. I’ve
had the honor of drinking alcohol with the man and talking about the publishing
industry, movies, and all kinds of geeky fan-boy things. To say he is a
gentlemen is a gross understatement. When success finally comes my way I can
only hope I’ll be as genuine and cool as he has always been. The aforementioned
authors inspire me, not because they’re big name, big deal authors, but because
they write what they love, they live what they love, and they are always <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJBQwwejDZnhY0I1Pl_19ja1J7JJiHCwxvY2amE4OnXE5SPMxfsFcUSVKQfvoYdJwNh1-j0rnLPp0JKyl24RejUDDkyH-IXgsX-XybtTgKZTM-nq-D8jl39aIMh0iNwKqHYur17w-0Pnz4/s1600/untitled+(25).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJBQwwejDZnhY0I1Pl_19ja1J7JJiHCwxvY2amE4OnXE5SPMxfsFcUSVKQfvoYdJwNh1-j0rnLPp0JKyl24RejUDDkyH-IXgsX-XybtTgKZTM-nq-D8jl39aIMh0iNwKqHYur17w-0Pnz4/s1600/untitled+(25).png" height="144" width="200" /></a></div>
honest
and true to their fans. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I want my
books to be read by tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people. I want
to make them scared, make them angry, make them horny, and make them disgusted.
I want them to love me and to hate me, talking about my books to their </span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qQY0AL2n3SHOclxpOIaf33XVIojRdlgcLuuD-Fhwc4siUuNIgqtBZvOh4pUhRiVkz9_b4_AEmg32Zevz3bDJwD5Lu4EwSLB7Fqzh8NHOchTpXrcCtKpn2a9xXIeL4Rx4YN44flSfeHNb/s1600/untitled+(27).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qQY0AL2n3SHOclxpOIaf33XVIojRdlgcLuuD-Fhwc4siUuNIgqtBZvOh4pUhRiVkz9_b4_AEmg32Zevz3bDJwD5Lu4EwSLB7Fqzh8NHOchTpXrcCtKpn2a9xXIeL4Rx4YN44flSfeHNb/s1600/untitled+(27).png" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">friends
and writing about them on social media. I want my words to echo in their minds
and hearts, lasting long after they read the last page. I want to be the ghost
that haunts them. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m
motivated by the small amounts of success I’ve had, the tiny victories, and the
not so tiny ones. In the past couple months I’ve been picked up by a big(er)
publisher (Booktrope) and was accepted as a member of the International
Thriller Writers. Those two things are HUGE for me. I moved from the dozen or
so small presses I’ve been published in to a solid medium (and rapidly growing)
publisher. I have about 5 new books coming out and close to 20 books being
re-released through Booktrope. There is actual marketing surrounding my books,
and more people are going to read my words than ever before. I can’t help but
take the motivation from these victories and roll them over. They help fuel me.
They motivate me. They push me to do more, to do better, to achieve, to find
the success I’ve always dreamt of. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And to
accomplish this, I do one thing, and one thing only. I write. I sit down in the
morning, long before the sun comes up and sane people hear their alarms. I sit
down at my desk, fire up the computer, and I JUST WRITE. I follow a goof
formula (for me) that has worked for years. I write for a half hour, then I rest
for ten to fifteen minutes. I jump on social media, update my pages, read the
stupid shit that’s on there, and then go back to writing for another half hour.
Then I get up, get more coffee, have a cigarette, check Facebook, and then I write
again. And again. And again. I do that until it’s time to go to work. And then
when I come home guess what I do? I write again. I try to get a solid 5 hours
in every day. If I can’t, then I do what time and my life allows, but I write
every single day. Every. Single. Day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKf9tzhOuADThzZNWJnEdTZn8i67V498YXWLOQ9pF0vcXdYM6yBe8_3Se0iP_l5CUasbicEZezkPgONt_1MiL7s2XfJYTqcRCBN39uXsu0XxCY2yzrcfTQvXmvy8bITxxfElEij7hf40Zr/s1600/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKf9tzhOuADThzZNWJnEdTZn8i67V498YXWLOQ9pF0vcXdYM6yBe8_3Se0iP_l5CUasbicEZezkPgONt_1MiL7s2XfJYTqcRCBN39uXsu0XxCY2yzrcfTQvXmvy8bITxxfElEij7hf40Zr/s1600/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Okay, Lone
Survivor is coming out soon, so I hope y’all buy it and leave me an honest
revue. I’ll be posting excerpts over the coming weeks to whet your appetites. I’m
also opening my blog up to some guest authors, so you can get to know them a
little bit as well. I’ll also be doing guest posts on other blogs, so check
Facebook and twitter to see where and when I’m posting. Until next time, my
friends. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-62183721620477402252015-04-21T16:51:00.001-04:002015-04-21T16:51:43.026-04:00Why I became a writer
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
posed the question on Facebook earlier: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What
would you like to read about on my blog.</i> So here you go Jennifer Lopez,
this is why I became a writer. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The
easiest answer to this question, and the one I’ll give first, is that I became a
writer because I had to. It’s just something that’s always been inside of me, a
compulsion to put ideas to paper and tell a story. Ever since I was old enough
to read I’ve wanted to be an author. I’ve told stories for as long as I could
remember, standing in front of my class in grammar school and making things up
as I went along, or hanging out with my friends at the park or on camping trips
and telling one ghost story or another. Most of those tales were recanted from
books, but I twisted them, making them mine and adding characters. I loved
scaring people, creating nightmares and putting vivid images in their minds. So
yeah, the easy answer is that I just kind of had to be a writer. It’s who I am,
what I do, and what I love. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijcuNnlkLcvoD59pM_y-OpMGd7Ub0E60uJtdNvMDKaNM6l57L7WAbwjMzOfRXdnQcq1pvAslsIweb1tNAGkYrGVFZAzB4_Xvref4FuxQxP9rzQupA0GAWuTgy8BUBzmDEZS3zvLb3HZgx/s1600/untitled+(24).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiijcuNnlkLcvoD59pM_y-OpMGd7Ub0E60uJtdNvMDKaNM6l57L7WAbwjMzOfRXdnQcq1pvAslsIweb1tNAGkYrGVFZAzB4_Xvref4FuxQxP9rzQupA0GAWuTgy8BUBzmDEZS3zvLb3HZgx/s1600/untitled+(24).png" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The
harder answer, and the one that’s much more detailed, starts back when I was
around 8 years old. My father was a drunk, and he’d come home more times than
not hammered off his ass. There would inevitably be some big fight with my
mother that, more times than not, ended with my drunken father leaving the
house with a flurry of curse words and slamming doors. I couldn’t put on music
to mask the sounds of the fighting and threats because if he heard that I was
awake he’d come into my room. I didn’t own headphones and there was no money to
buy any, and to survive I had to pretend I was asleep. So no TV, no music, no
noise of any kind. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That
left me with books. I would grab something, climb under my bed, and read by
flashlight. I’d lose myself in the worlds created by others, finding solace in
their words and safety in the pages. Once my father left I’d climb back into
bed and wait for my mother to come crying. I always hated that part the most,
trying to comfort her when I was terrified myself. I knew nothing would be okay
but I couldn’t let her know that. After she left I’d lay in bed and think about
the story I had read before, changing it around and making it my own. I’d
invent new stories based on what I read and get lost in them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBCUatMKEgNwb3cJfmKoBg99j9Wy1OPWJtFiFiUT0BuB3xFai0tOYBZD6_ZHsAZlymsqJTYMcxlpYuLJ2InAiAdAmuUSzOANklxnyPbhL6zFkDeOIME34gnM6HthCV5djozrSlrvn85iz/s1600/untitled+(23).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBCUatMKEgNwb3cJfmKoBg99j9Wy1OPWJtFiFiUT0BuB3xFai0tOYBZD6_ZHsAZlymsqJTYMcxlpYuLJ2InAiAdAmuUSzOANklxnyPbhL6zFkDeOIME34gnM6HthCV5djozrSlrvn85iz/s1600/untitled+(23).png" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">One
day fate handed me a strange curveball. I loved horror, even as a little kid. I
watched slasher movies on TV before dear old drunken dad came home. I’d rent
them from the video store when my mother had the extra three dollars. I liked
the idea of something that wasn’t my father scaring the shit out of me. Oddly
enough it felt like I could defend myself against Freddy Kruger or Jason
Vorhees more proficiently than I could protect myself from dad. It was during
this period, when I was around eight years old and still trapped by the horrors
at home, that I found a copy of Stephen King’s Pet Semetary. My cousin was
going to sell it in a garage sale, but he gave it to me instead. It wasn’t
kindness that enabled that gift, it was a black sense of humor. He thought the
book would scare me to death and leave me scarred for life. Instead it got this
whole train running. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I
read the book. I was eight years old, working my way through an adult novel,
one of the scariest written at the time. I poured over the pages, reading and
re-reading it until I grasped it all. Never before had the words of someone
resonated with me so clearly, the world Stephen King painted in my head crystal
clear and terrifying as hell. Of course I couldn’t grasp the real horror of a
parent losing their child, but to me Gage was just a dead kid doing horrible
things, things I could actually fight and survive. I wondered what my father would
do if I died. Would he bring me to tainted ground in the hopes of resurrecting
me, or would he just sit in the bar like he did every night and bitch about my
death like it was an inconvenience? To this day I would like to think the
former, but know the latter. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzMGPk7X5GBV2BhtsAkX91ujVxQvh6h-QTlDor9vSrCTntVY_SrCIPZszjXSah4pmjtrDq3tRoujBvoucpYiZojsa90XO8uZkPkLVaSAQag70xUrWbNXuLIlsKjGtsE-yaGNufdS3Bmis-/s1600/imagesAEOJ4X9T.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzMGPk7X5GBV2BhtsAkX91ujVxQvh6h-QTlDor9vSrCTntVY_SrCIPZszjXSah4pmjtrDq3tRoujBvoucpYiZojsa90XO8uZkPkLVaSAQag70xUrWbNXuLIlsKjGtsE-yaGNufdS3Bmis-/s1600/imagesAEOJ4X9T.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Mr.
King was the game changer. He gave me a way out of the miserable fucking life I
lived. He was rich and successful. He was just as sick and twisted as I was,
and yet he made a living off the darkness inside of him. It made a weird kind
of sense to me. I loved to read. I loved to tell stories. I loved to create,
write, and draw. I had a darkness inside of me that needed to get out. What
better way to purge the demons from your soul than to inflict them on others? I
could unleash the horror of my life on the world at large and in doing so, just
maybe, heal some of my own hurt. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SNGUpi76ag5KNnvGAUv4v41fjYtQcYOlhtvFc8314tVFHatH3j1aSxUnCjrqD5o9c7p4r-1tD8MZogWoIg0bp96uMfH6EAnPlSl_-eOdfNEfc-3t6-xMWQsBVnRLlUBT0TwuhE_Mal3s/s1600/imagesHPWNKF6A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4SNGUpi76ag5KNnvGAUv4v41fjYtQcYOlhtvFc8314tVFHatH3j1aSxUnCjrqD5o9c7p4r-1tD8MZogWoIg0bp96uMfH6EAnPlSl_-eOdfNEfc-3t6-xMWQsBVnRLlUBT0TwuhE_Mal3s/s1600/imagesHPWNKF6A.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">So
I started to write. I used an old typewriter my aunt had left behind. I spent
time every day after school working on short stories and trying my hand at
longer pieces. They all sucked, but each one got a little better. I showed them
to my friends and family. I handed them in as writing assignments. I asked my
teachers for advice and criticism. I was never shy about what I wrote or the
fact that I wrote. I was never embarrassed to hand my work off to someone
because it always just felt right. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Over
the years my hobbies changed, my interests matured, and my life grew more
complicated. My parents got divorced. My father moved to North Carolina where
he died drunk and alone about five years ago. My mother got remarried and had a
family she could be proud of, which apparently didn’t include me. I got my own
apartment, then my own house. I moved from job to job. Most of the things in my
life changed, but writing has always been a part of it, one of the biggest and
most important parts. It’s the only dream that never died, the one thing I have
always been good at. The one thing I will always be proudest of. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Writing
hasn’t made me rich like Stephen King. It hasn’t paid me enough to make a
living…yet. But with every word I write I know I’m getting closer to that
dream. Someday soon I’ll be making a living off my words, and more and more people
will get to read them. And maybe someday, hopefully, those words will inspire a
broken child and help them find their way through the darkness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hX2lIcT1AJMgMsLucLO-UHnpJ5j8o8HFG92S3zqNouaCQSZHDN-DjGMUdGJH8gseyBQtObQDfxASGdwKIlc09al5Hreo9Oq1URj5uPuZlLcif5SiAXLcQGcQH_y0K1J4oDrfYtEmEsRP/s1600/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hX2lIcT1AJMgMsLucLO-UHnpJ5j8o8HFG92S3zqNouaCQSZHDN-DjGMUdGJH8gseyBQtObQDfxASGdwKIlc09al5Hreo9Oq1URj5uPuZlLcif5SiAXLcQGcQH_y0K1J4oDrfYtEmEsRP/s1600/11125285_942338892452670_57809941_n.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-54984712891684627962015-03-16T21:14:00.001-04:002015-03-16T21:14:25.097-04:00
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">So much is going on I don’t even know
where to start. Okay, so I made the announcement that I signed with Bootrope
and things there are running like an out of control freight train. In addition
to the four books I’ve already submitted to them I have a couple DOZEN more
that are going to head over there in the coming weeks. Also, I’m working on
another book, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Believe in the Dark Man</i>,
with Cassandre Dayne, the best selling author and my previous co-author for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Toxic Leash, The Darkness Within and I Like
to Watch.</i> On top of that I have a new book I’m working on. It’s a demonic
possession piece and will be chocked full of some terrifying things you’ve
never imagined and will wish you didn’t let into your mind. Additionally, I
have brand new stories coming out in not one but two magazines. More details
when they’re ready to go. On top of that I have released a new YA under a pseudonym.
I’ll make the official announcement when I get the okay from my editor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">So yeah, I’m busy as a one legged man in
an ass whooping contest, and I plan on taking first prize. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I’m really tired and need to get some
sleep, so here is an excerpt from my current Work In Progress, currently
unnamed. Think demonic possession:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I
must be losing my fucking mind.” Karen busied herself with closing the doors as
gently as she could. She didn’t want father Downey to know what had happened.
She didn’t want to show that kind of weakness. Karen filled a glass with water
and headed back to guest room. The door was closed, which she thought odd. For
the life of her she couldn’t remember closing it. “I’m sorry father, I should
have offered you something sooner.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I
completely understand, Karen. You’re just a stupid cunt who doesn’t know any
better.” Father Downey had his back to her. He was still standing at the foot
of the bed, his head bowed. He was facing the old woman who simply looked
blankly at the ceiling. Karen thought the old woman was smiling, but that had
to be a trick of the light, or the angle she was looking from. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“What
did you say, father?” Karen was aghast. How could a priest speak to her like
that, in her own home no less? She had known Father Downey for fifteen years.
He had performed the ceremony at her wedding, baptized their children, and
blessed their house. She had never heard him utter a single curse word, let
alone talk to someone in such a manner. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I
said I understand, Karen. You’re under a lot of stress. “Father Downey turned
and took the glass from her shaking hands. “I think you should sit down, you
look very pale.” <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Of
course she had heard wrong. Father Downey wouldn’t say something so hateful,
not to her or anyone else. He was a man of God, a good man and priest. She was
tired, her mind was playing tricks on her. Karen touched a hand to her cheek
and felt the heat radiating off it. Maybe she was getting sick on top of
everything else. It would make sense. She hadn’t slept right in weeks. She was
barely eating. Yes, of course. She had misunderstood. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">But
something about Father Downey didn’t look right. His eyes seemed swollen, the
pouches of skin under his eyes were usually sunken a little and darker than the
surrounding skin. He normally looked like a man who didn’t’ get enough sleep,
but the color in his cheeks and the bright smile distracted you away from such
things. He wasn’t smiling now and his skin looked pale. There was a hollow
quality to his cheeks that made him look sickly. Karen wasn’t sure, but it
looked like there was a rash spreading up from his neck. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Let
us begin.” His voice sounded weak and raspy, nothing like the usual confident,
bass filled rumble Karen knew from church. His hand was shaking as he took
several large swallows of water from the glass. There was a muted clink! noise,
the kind made when two glasses touched as if in a toast. The water from Father
Downey’s glass turned pink almost immediately. “I think this glass is broken.”
He held the glass up the light coming from the window. Murky swirls of pink
were missing with the water. Blood dripped from a slice on the priest’s lip as
he handed Karen the glass. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Oh,
father. I’m so sorry.” Karen took the glass and looked at it. A long cut went
from the rim to the base. A chip was missing and blood stained the edge. “I
don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sorry. Let me get you something to
clean up.” <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">As
Karen turned to leave the room Father Downey said; “You really are just a
useless slut. Forget the water and just get on your knees and suck my fat,
Polish cock.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
voice didn’t belong to the priest. Karen was sure of that. Ignoring what was
surely just another trick of her addled mind, she quickly left the room. She
placed the glass in the bathroom adjacent to the guest room and removed a towel
from the rack. She turned and stopped. The door to the bedroom was closed
again. She was positive she hadn’t closed it and saw no reason why the priest
would. Now Karen was getting scared. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">She
opened the door and walked in. Father Downey was sitting on the edge of the
bed. There was no denying how sick he looked now. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Father,
do you feel okay?” His skin was waxy and pale. Sweat stood out on his forehead
and there definitely was a rash spreading up, bright red and blotchy, from his
throat. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">“No.”
It was a struggle to even get that one word out. “Come, let’s give this amazing
woman her last rights. I think I need to get back to the rectory and rest.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-73587332205769537232015-03-05T15:25:00.001-05:002015-03-05T15:25:20.244-05:00Booktrope Announcement, Zombie Bigfoot
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">If you’re a follower of this blog then I
assume you’re also following me on Facebook and Twitter. That means you
probably already know that a few of my novels have been accepted by, and are
going to be re-released, by <a href="http://booktrope.com/" target="_blank">Booktrope</a>. This is a HUGE FUCKING DEAL for a couple
of reasons. 1. It means that my books will get new life with an incredible
publisher that’s going to put time and energy into marketing me and my books.
2. I get to reap the benefits of being with a publisher that has dozens of best
sellers. Besides sharing in the success of their writers I also get the
benefits of the wisdom associated with the team that put out many of these
books. 3. I get a much larger publisher behind me to push and guide me in my
career. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The first book they’re going to release is
Witches House. It’s going to get a new cover, a fresh edit, and turn into the
book that it always should have been. From there I’m going to re-write the
Chronicles of Rosario series, books one, two, and three. Then I’ll finish book
four. Then it’s on to a brand new book, some of my erotica, and a couple other
things. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Somewhere in between all of that will be
Zombie Bigfoot. As the name suggests, there is an undead Bigfoot rampaging
through the story. I’ll post the synopsis when the book is closer to the
publication phase. Right now though, I want to share an excerpt from the book.
Enjoy!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
shot and killed the squirrel, then ate its liver, heart, and kidneys before
dumping the rest of the organs on the forest floor. I swung the hollowed out
carcass over my shoulder and headed on. I killed two more small critters and
ate the important stuff raw. I now had enough meat to carry me through the
night and stave off my hunger. I was on my way back to the trailer when I saw a
nice fat rabbit eating clover in the shade of a boulder. I took careful aim and
let my arrow fly. The rabbit twitched once and lay dead, a mouthful of bloody
clover falling from between the blunt front teeth. I was in terrific shape and
excited about cooking it all. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Then
my blood turned to ice as a hellacious scream filled the late afternoon with
horror. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">It
wasn’t Bigfoot, at least the scream hadn’t come from him. It was a woman, of
that I was positive. Strange that I could know something so definitively when I
hadn’t seen or heard one in months, and yet my brain instantly made the
connection. Self-preservation made me grab the dead rabbit before sprinting off
to help. I never considered myself a hero, but if there was a woman in trouble nearby
then I had to at least try and help. Hell, if any living person was alive and
in need of help who the hell was I to ignore it. This wasn’t an act of
chivalry, it was an act of selfishness. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">Had
I mentioned that I was lonely as fuck? <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
threw the animal carcasses into the shade before grabbing my freshly loaded
shotgun and jumping into my truck. I left a plume of dust behind me as I roared
away, heading towards the sound of the scream. This used to be such a nice,
quiet neighborhood. I hadn’t heard or seen so much as a single living person
around here since the start of the apocalypse and now…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
scream had come only once but I was nearly positive it had originated from the
road out front of my complex. Maybe I was just thinking that it would make more
sense for someone to be in that direction than any other. Maybe I had no idea
where it had come from. Either way I was tearing ass in that direction, and I
was right. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
saw Bigfoot before I saw the people he was terrifying. His zombie form was
something appalling and yet beautiful. His normally shimmery coat was dull and
patchy, an oil-slick-rainbow of colors over grey-green flesh. Muscles still
rippled under the fur, but now they moved with a chunky, graceless movement.
His face was bloated, his gut distended to the point of near rupture, and both
upper and lower lips were peeled away from the skull exposing massive, brown
teeth. He ignored the sound of my approaching engine, choosing instead to punch
through the windshield of a truck and root around for the squealing people
inside the cab. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;">I
hit the horn a couple times. The added noise caught the monster’s attention and
slowed his assault on the truck. He looked up at me with expressionless eyes as
drool and blood flowed from his mouth. I steered right for him but knew there
was no way I could hit him and expect to drive away. He was just too damn big.
Instead I sped past him, just missing a massive swing from his clawed hand. I
could see a couple of terrified faces looking out the cracked glass. I wanted
to save them but didn’t know if I’d be able too. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-46439642910247706222015-02-01T14:15:00.000-05:002015-02-01T14:15:27.522-05:00I'm back... or... what I've been up toIt seems like every Blog I write starts with an apology for the length of time that elapsed since I last wrote one. I then promise to unfuck that particular problem and write a post. This is my solemn vow for 2015: I am going to make my blog more regular. I've been force feeding it Metamucil and prunes. Or something like that. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGcubGubFSfJi6M0ivZW_o41vBoJxyigGoBbYeLvXRPdyTGUg-i-vhCuIO6OFoZjmXjpGVJzDj1ORpH3nfW68e42XWRq_pkd6F4gwCzIMt3VtaC9D0o7RzzmBF0oAi_KZPmQz2G6xvA3mc/s1600/untitled+(8).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGcubGubFSfJi6M0ivZW_o41vBoJxyigGoBbYeLvXRPdyTGUg-i-vhCuIO6OFoZjmXjpGVJzDj1ORpH3nfW68e42XWRq_pkd6F4gwCzIMt3VtaC9D0o7RzzmBF0oAi_KZPmQz2G6xvA3mc/s1600/untitled+(8).png" height="126" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This blog brought to you by the letter M</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anyway, on with the show. <br />
<br />
I'm a writer. This means I'm also a reader. It's just part and parcel, one comes with the other. You can be a reader but not a writer, but it just doesn't work the other way around. I've had conversations with plenty of people who say they're a writer. I ask them what they're currently reading and they tell me they don't have time to read. I laugh at them and tell them if they aren't reading then they aren't a writer. You don't need to be able to tell me quotes, you don't need to know who wrote every book, you don't even need to name the most influential writers of the twentieth century. You need to read though. If you don't read, you can't write. Simple as that. <br />
So yeah, I read. A lot. On a great day I'll devour a book in one sitting. I'll blow things off and just lose myself to a great author. On a normal day I'll pick up where I left off and continue with a story. When I'm done reading I compare myself and my work. I dissect both the books I'm reading and whatever I'm writing. I learn. I push myself to be more like my favorite authors. I study how they write, how they describe, how they speak. It's what I do. It's how I know I'm better than I was but not as good as I'll be. <br />
<br />
It's always my goal to read between 50 and 100 books through the year. So far I've read 4, which isn't horrible but it aint great. I have a lot of shit going on so I'll accept 4 and just keep moving. It's still early in the year. Here's what I've read so far:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdGSzT3ZTmGt2xvogxYZ0HXRur2ibwrSjI9wR2IsBFSfyjGXPBeIGpvgnjI0w7dJamFZqpo5CaEqkhsRF9yoTdI20MjYYo4_Xsq12sz2ChH8LtLVL5CN8cY928rcII_0Tzv_168FjJdhlt/s1600/untitled+(13).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdGSzT3ZTmGt2xvogxYZ0HXRur2ibwrSjI9wR2IsBFSfyjGXPBeIGpvgnjI0w7dJamFZqpo5CaEqkhsRF9yoTdI20MjYYo4_Xsq12sz2ChH8LtLVL5CN8cY928rcII_0Tzv_168FjJdhlt/s1600/untitled+(13).png" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The Lesser Dead by Christopher Buehlman - Easily the best vampire story I've read in a VERY long time and an original idea involving a vampire preteen and vampire children. An actual twist in the ending makes it so much more than just a good read. I strongly suggest it. Buehlman is an incredible author. I have one of his other books in my TBR pile. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oqmyjFAJDl5YAsLlhe1JcBusNBNZ-bwXzmOvaY_gphH1I0RFOpp55vQ1FLJeQd2plKj8vd_-zPWaF1fZOw3WNNOxHhdJ_Iv-YpOAAzLGJ8cu3yoqFNY-rx_HrLvRZPltC1jGX7UdQA3N/s1600/untitled+(12).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6oqmyjFAJDl5YAsLlhe1JcBusNBNZ-bwXzmOvaY_gphH1I0RFOpp55vQ1FLJeQd2plKj8vd_-zPWaF1fZOw3WNNOxHhdJ_Iv-YpOAAzLGJ8cu3yoqFNY-rx_HrLvRZPltC1jGX7UdQA3N/s1600/untitled+(12).png" /></a></div>
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Bring Me Flesh, I'll Bring HELL by Martin Rose - A little long winded at times and some ridiculous concepts when it comes to a zombie. Clichéd zombie private eye as the main character. I almost wanted to dislike this book, but Rose's prose are damn near poetic and just plain good. He's an exceptional writer and will be a smashing success if he learns to hash out his ideas a little better and practice brevity. Still a good book, but could have GREAT.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiG98bla6e5NNvft-6kggqFO8qLMltG2Te0P6-kPeFnUYwNPJ3NhX2nXAw-_iYXmNyAXaGm6VH2MSJUfU1rokWQ7aWlRbKpTUddNz5ZL_aS0hE74hwtE3DHKD9QKZb8hYubw_hmN-bgjv6/s1600/untitled+(11).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiG98bla6e5NNvft-6kggqFO8qLMltG2Te0P6-kPeFnUYwNPJ3NhX2nXAw-_iYXmNyAXaGm6VH2MSJUfU1rokWQ7aWlRbKpTUddNz5ZL_aS0hE74hwtE3DHKD9QKZb8hYubw_hmN-bgjv6/s1600/untitled+(11).png" /></a></div>
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<br />
The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett - Hammett wrote the Maltese Falcon. He's an icon. He can write the noir style better than anyone. Ever. I love everything he writes and you should too. If you've never read anything by him shame, shame, shame. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQSMOPkN1ik_R3hNBhaxxWrkqZBbkEL1DMQCDCkfv3ZyMiiI2CULL9E1SIduu906_hXnvcPOc58y1J1knRJe6VgHjsHHs4YVs0QPf-ViR1VIa_GyUsoMLZgUlAMpmtvblOf-Wrc8EPewf/s1600/untitled+(10).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGQSMOPkN1ik_R3hNBhaxxWrkqZBbkEL1DMQCDCkfv3ZyMiiI2CULL9E1SIduu906_hXnvcPOc58y1J1knRJe6VgHjsHHs4YVs0QPf-ViR1VIa_GyUsoMLZgUlAMpmtvblOf-Wrc8EPewf/s1600/untitled+(10).png" /></a></div>
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Factotum by Charles Bukowski - Once you put the name Bukowski on a MS it's gold, at least in my opinion. He writes some of the most poetically dark words you'll ever read in Factotum and does so with such an ease it just simply happens and you don't initially pick up on the genius. It's a simple book with simple sentences and nothing actually <em>happens</em> through the course of the novel until you slow down and think. Whoa...YES, I said you had to think. All great works inspire us to that very thing. Factotum does just that and I couldn't be happier with the thinks in my head as I was following the hapless and likeable/hateable Henry, the alcoholic main character. He reminded me a lot of my father in some ways. <br />
He also wrote the movie Barfly starring Mickey Rourke. Barfly stars the same main character as Factotum, Henry Chinaski. Bukowski is claimed to be the writer that inspired the Showtime series Californication.<br />
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Speaking of which, here's what I'm watching:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0H8NYk-VoW6V3k3SUkfFa06wX-bGc69AL1r8UcPzXV76Y1yRxlyubvoLNaZ37o3N7ThhYWIhaKwc7ElpbJBDtUNVkFCvDn-Mx920Smp2dg6PmQD9EY_pbeUU3Fdey8pjNfzLNxpFYeEo/s1600/untitled+(14).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0H8NYk-VoW6V3k3SUkfFa06wX-bGc69AL1r8UcPzXV76Y1yRxlyubvoLNaZ37o3N7ThhYWIhaKwc7ElpbJBDtUNVkFCvDn-Mx920Smp2dg6PmQD9EY_pbeUU3Fdey8pjNfzLNxpFYeEo/s1600/untitled+(14).png" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH9j1U2XLjuSpcwQFHio-tG9CGM5cj97uWRSSmCmkSr1QmCwxRrMrlOCNFchN8QFw0VcM1hNSVwT6vIaUf6eITVPY-LbK_4rRCzVKVR58s1IxZq-JQ4pI2vlcQX05ZAebiXIPxIbOVp09A/s1600/untitled+(15).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH9j1U2XLjuSpcwQFHio-tG9CGM5cj97uWRSSmCmkSr1QmCwxRrMrlOCNFchN8QFw0VcM1hNSVwT6vIaUf6eITVPY-LbK_4rRCzVKVR58s1IxZq-JQ4pI2vlcQX05ZAebiXIPxIbOVp09A/s1600/untitled+(15).png" /></a><br />
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<br />
Since it's winter and I live in Jersey and it's colder than a witches clit I spend a lot of time indoors. Usually in a bar, but occasionally at home. I don't really like TV. I don't watch much of the shit. I read a lot, I write a lot. I don't watch much TV. When I do it has to be something I really love to keep me watching. This happened to me recently with 2 incredible series I watched off netflicks. Californication and Weeds. I know I'm a little late on these series but I finally got there and loved them both. Endings were weak, but I won't let that sour me from some really intelligent and original writing. <br />
Californication. If you've never seen it, you suck. It's brilliant and hysterical. The main character is everything I want to be and everything I'm afraid to be rolled into one. Hank Moody, the previously mentioned main character is a writer living in LA. He's a fuck up. He's a drunk. All he wants to do is be a good father to his daughter and rekindle the love he lost with her mother. He wants to do the right thing but always goes about it the wrong way. His friends and the industry in general want something else from him. He's a genius, yet still flawed and usually drunk. David Duchovny is a brilliant actor, and admittedly my very first man-crush. He brings Hank Moody to life in ways no one else could and delivers an unforgettable, if fatally screwed up, performance. <br />
Weeds. Widowed mom turns to selling weed to keep her family in their upper middle class home. She's sexy as hell and conivingly intelligent. She's underestimated because she's a white chick from the burbs, but people soon find out that this amorally lose mom is capable of anything. Mary-Louis Parker is just plain sexy. She's an incredible actress and pulls of the soccer mom thing just as easily as she does the drug king pin thing. She keeps her cool in some ridiculous situations and manages to come out on top. It's fun watching her fuck things up and then scramble to get out of the mess of her own design. It's fun watching her do anything. <br />
<br />
Finally, what am I writing? <br />
<br />
I just finished the edit for my YA novel. I don't know how much I can actually tell you about it though, because I'm publishing it under a pseudonym for obvious reasons. I write erotica and horror. I blend the two genres. I write for adults. I don't need little Timmy checking out my YA book and then looking for others. "Mommy," little Timmy would say in his pre-pubescent voice, all innocent and shit. "I found a new book by that amazing new author I found, Christian Jensen. It's called Amy Obeys. What's a Cleveland Steamer?" So yeah, pseudonym. If I can, or choose to later, I'll fill you in. I really like this book and want to push it, so I'm leaning towards a lot of publicity and blogs and shit. Hope to tell you more. <br />
<br />
I'm finishing the first draft of Zombie Bigfoot. It's exactly what it sounds like. It's a book about Bigfoot. He turns into a zombie. Shit gets real.<br />
<br />
I have to finalize the edits on a currently unnamed book. It's about angels and demons and hot goth chicks. I'll have that done in a few weeks. I'm self publishing that one, so as soon as it's done It'll be up for sale. Same with Zombie Bigfoot. I'll have both of them ready for Amzicon in April, which will be my first appearance of the year. <br />
<br />
Finally, I'm slowly starting a completely new project that I expect to take me much longer than most of my other fiction. It's going to have more of a "literary" feel to it, something more honest and heartfelt. I hope. <br />
<br />
So...blogs done. Comments?<br />
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Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-38449751505192570052014-06-23T21:47:00.003-04:002014-06-23T21:47:35.535-04:00Evil part VII<em><span style="color: blue;">I do so enjoy pushing Cassandre Dayne to new and more devious levels of violence. I also enjoy being pushed to sexier and more deranged levels of decadence. It's one of the reasons we write so well together. Our little project has been so incredibly fun and sexy I hope it never ends. </span></em><br />
<em><a href="http://nblo.gs/XLUZa" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">If you haven't read her last post, check it out here.</span></a></em><br />
<em><span style="color: blue;">And so without further banter I give you</span> </em><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApfBvGNqmjooBo7BKjlzH5fFkbRHwbInpNsQiOeKhrQj9Ggd24atID-MWq-r3eHvq7dX322kLULYur5LKm4kPU-L6WsFOu0HwWPIZYXU0bm2cO3qMEmzbv7-5pqa2at10mfd91_fcsIqa/s1600/How-to-Spice-Up-Your-Sex-Life-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiApfBvGNqmjooBo7BKjlzH5fFkbRHwbInpNsQiOeKhrQj9Ggd24atID-MWq-r3eHvq7dX322kLULYur5LKm4kPU-L6WsFOu0HwWPIZYXU0bm2cO3qMEmzbv7-5pqa2at10mfd91_fcsIqa/s1600/How-to-Spice-Up-Your-Sex-Life-2.jpg" height="146" width="200" /></a></em></div>
<br />
<em></em><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong></strong> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>Evil Lurking in the Shadows Part VII</strong></div>
<em></em><br />
<em></em><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Fuck
her. Beat her. Kill her. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Christ, what the fuck
is wrong with you<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">? What the fuck is wrong
with me for that matter.</i> I’m sitting alone in my house staring at a blank
TV screen and rooting around inside a cop’s head trying to make him murder some
whore. No sane serial killer would go out of his way to connect with a fucking
cop on any level but then again I don’t really think sane and serial killer are
two words that belong together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Am I insane? I guess I
have to be. You don’t just start killing women one day because all your mental
functions suddenly snap into place. You have to be nuts. You have to be
deranged. The strange part is I didn’t feel insane even though I knew I was. I
felt like everything had suddenly lined up for me like tumblers in a lock. I
felt saner now than I ever had in my life. I felt more alive. I felt…complete.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It was that feeling of
balance that had connected me to the cop. I was sure of it. I knew something had
brought us together and immediately following my last kill I knew what it was.
I had somehow achieved the perfect alignment with the universe or whatever the
fuck connects things together. Taoists call it <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the way</i></b>, an energy that
connects all things. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had somehow found
my perfect peace and in doing so I connected with that energy and it, in turn,
connected me with my voyeur. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It was just sheer luck
that he turned out to be a cop. There was something very sexy about destroying
what little morals he had. I could negate all the good he had done in his
career. I could bury the person he was under mounds of festering secrets and
hideous truths. I would burn down his soul and rise a new monster from the
ashes of that destruction. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYM6_UfqV687eci404rqKMPwEeKirCJz1h23nxXinwrIvaiu41BGDcut3vwIAteYK7qYp8MFUsHsmcKPVfKv-xck71EGpTUAQoh-MveP8Zlk4mhrhx6RxVQg1AhIPVsMogH1k_-vl0QBV/s1600/bondage-red-hands-tie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYM6_UfqV687eci404rqKMPwEeKirCJz1h23nxXinwrIvaiu41BGDcut3vwIAteYK7qYp8MFUsHsmcKPVfKv-xck71EGpTUAQoh-MveP8Zlk4mhrhx6RxVQg1AhIPVsMogH1k_-vl0QBV/s1600/bondage-red-hands-tie.jpg" height="200" width="198" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The thought of it
turned me the fuck on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I sat on my couch
staring at the blank TV set. I had a cigar smoldering between two fingers of
one hand and a crystal glass half filled with bourbon in the other. I
alternated between puffing on the cigar and sipping the bourbon. Both filled my
head with an intoxicating euphoria. Both failed in comparison to the images
that played in my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The redhead was older
than I would have picked but still very sexy. Tall and lithe with a strong
musculature to her stout frame. Coppery red hair fell off her shoulders and
down to the middle of her back in thick curls. When she screamed or moaned or
laughed her green eyes lit up with tiny flecks of gold. The things I could do
to make those eyes shine…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">My voyeur was doing
pretty good. His face was buried between her thighs, hands clenching her ass
with violent need as he worked his mouth over her cunt. When she arched her
back I could see the outline of her ribs. Her nipples poked through her top.
Her throat worked soundlessly as she shook through an impressive orgasm. I
liked watching her cum but I wanted to see her bleed more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">There is a subtle
difference between screams of pleasure and screams of pain and I’m a connoisseur
of both. I draw them inside of me, roll them around my tongue, and easily
detect the vintage. I could taste this whore’s pleasure easily enough but that
wasn’t the delicacy I needed. It wasn’t what my voyeur needed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I closed my eyes and
let the images from his mind roll over me like waves. I went deeper until I
could taste her cum on my tongue and feel the give of her soft skin in my
hands. I moved the hands so one went under her skirt and found the erect nipple
of a breast. I pinched. Harder. She moaned and finally gasped as my fingers
pressed the nub too tightly. I smiled around the swollen, wet lips of her
pussy. Two thick fingers entered her easily. I pushed another digit into the
tightness of her ass and again got the same gasp of pain. She didn’t say no.
She didn’t want me to stop. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">A car drove past us
bathing our tangled bodies in white light. The driver slowed and watched but we
weren’t about to stop. I continued to fuck her with my fingers, increasing the
pace and pressure until she screamed her orgasm out to the night. I could hear
people laughing and whistling. None of it mattered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3t9MnihAN1MCxTR37Ct2tfvohO5523V22QUUbeGdwhG5siiWztjLiZ_EVykLbO1UfSg0UM954rT8hy7g9VEWz-kCGolcwqOStrUOIeV4_YEG9xeUQ3SygveLGjGwROLngRoHVNckr9yDo/s1600/evan-rachel-wood-bondage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3t9MnihAN1MCxTR37Ct2tfvohO5523V22QUUbeGdwhG5siiWztjLiZ_EVykLbO1UfSg0UM954rT8hy7g9VEWz-kCGolcwqOStrUOIeV4_YEG9xeUQ3SygveLGjGwROLngRoHVNckr9yDo/s1600/evan-rachel-wood-bondage.jpg" height="220" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Take her home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">It wasn’t a suggestion.
There were things that needed to be done. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“That was a good
appetizer,” his voice was raspy and filled with a need so complete it consumed
every part of him. Nothing else mattered except obeying. To the whore he was
sir. To me he was just another conquest. “Let’s go back to my place and get
into the main course.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Yes Sir,” her voice
was husky. She bit her lower lip playfully. “Anything you want.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“I want you to suck my
cock,” he held the passenger door open for her and waited until she got in. His
legs were shaking as he walked around the car and got in behind the steering
wheel. One hand closed the door while the other undid his fly. “Right now.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">As he twisted the key
her head wen to his lap and thin fingers pulled the rigid cock into the night
air. The head was thick, swollen, and purple. Pre-cum covered the engorged tip
and dripped down the shaft where it disappeared into his pants. The heat of her
mouth closed around it just as the car pulled away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">This whore had skills.
Her tongue danced over the hard rod while she pulled it down her throat. Dainty
fingers clenched tightly around the base, stroking in perfect rhythm with her
hungry mouth. It didn’t take long before the pent up frustration and outright
need rushed to the surface and he filled the whore’s mouth with his orgasm. She
swallowed it all and continued her machinations until he shriveled inside her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Did I do good Sir?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">“Very good,” his hand
rested on her thigh. “I have a very special reward waiting for you back at the
house.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">I smiled wide enough to
hurt my lips. I could taste blood pooling in the corners and licked at it
greedily. Tonight would be special indeed because the things I had planned for
this slut would be epic. The things my voyeur was about to do would make the
devil blush and turn his head. Tonight I started a new chapter to my book of
sin. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<em><span style="color: blue;">Remember to check Cass's blog for the next installment. As always buy my books. Buy Cass's books while you're at it. Spank the one you love. Hell, spank the one you like. </span></em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-55541327121833752462014-06-16T20:42:00.004-04:002014-06-16T20:42:57.442-04:00Evil Lurking in the Shadows part V
<em>While my partner </em><a href="http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/2014/06/14/evil-lurking-in-the-shadows-iv/" target="_blank"><em>Cassandre Dayne</em></a><em> is discovering her dark side and reveling at the pure joys inherent in slaughter and carnage I feel as though I am returning more to my roots. Writing erotica was never an intentional path for me but something that progressed from my original writings. My most humble beginnings are forever mired deep within the blood and guts of horror's grittier side. I love giving my readers buckets of blood and gore. Now I watch Cass find the simple joy of feeling the viscera ooze up between your toes and I have to smile. </em><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPD1mvxFKdLXuSTQ1xLDXENJ33fuACfM5qmBUOaNn_JuYgF8FSJ24DaemRdpC8Bf764n7oDQcmdWBUQZfoFWBGd4mxnmqQQ_Tix_5a6Mnqh_TMSOvkVmbaTQ-nlz1SKq9VsRt1RMOPNeT5/s1600/imagesQKYO0D1V.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><em><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPD1mvxFKdLXuSTQ1xLDXENJ33fuACfM5qmBUOaNn_JuYgF8FSJ24DaemRdpC8Bf764n7oDQcmdWBUQZfoFWBGd4mxnmqQQ_Tix_5a6Mnqh_TMSOvkVmbaTQ-nlz1SKq9VsRt1RMOPNeT5/s1600/imagesQKYO0D1V.jpg" /></em></a></div>
<em></em><br />
<em>Beauty, welcome to the dark world of the Beast.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>In case you've been living under a rock </em><a href="http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/2014/06/14/evil-lurking-in-the-shadows-iv/" target="_blank"><em>Cassandre Dayne</em></a><em> and I have been collaborating and alternately posting the beginning of what will no doubt become our newest book. I started it right here and then it went to Cass for part 2, then back to me and so on and so forth. This is the FIFTH installment. If you missed any of the earlier parts you can read 1 and 3 below, and 2 and 4 at Cass's blog here: </em><a href="http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/2014/06/14/evil-lurking-in-the-shadows-iv/"><em>http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/2014/06/14/evil-lurking-in-the-shadows-iv/</em></a><br />
<em>Now, without further bullshit I give you:</em><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Evil Lurking in the Shadows</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Part V</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Honey.
There is no God, only the sweet peace of death,” I could hear his words inside
my head like a shadow of my own thoughts. He whispered with sexual need so deep
I nearly felt sorry for him. “God I adore you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I knew he
wasn’t talking to her. Not just another fan, this man was something else. An
unwilling coconspirator. No. Not unwilling. Just… reluctant. I could turn him.
I could show him the way. All I would have to do is unlock the door and hold
out my hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I don’t know
why I was so interesting in corrupting my voyeur but something about this
strange partnership was exciting. It was like fucking your wife while a
stranger watched. It was a deeply private act intruded upon by an outside force
the result of which somehow becomes more exciting and personal for the invasion.
Besides, I’ve been engaged in the solitary act of writing for so long now it
was nice to collaborate with someone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I had
grabbed this little whore outside a nightclub in one of the seedier sections of
town. She didn’t belong there. Her friends had abandoned her for one reason or
another and when she left the club to search for a cab I quickly stepped in.
Why would she consider the handsome older man a threat? I smiled at her with
perfect teeth and opened the door to my hundred thousand dollar sports car. She
didn’t need to know it would most likely be repossessed in a week. It only took
a moments deliberation before the little tart decided I was less of a threat
than the four black kids standing on the street corner passing a 40 ounce
bottle of malt liquor back and forth and loudly talking about how fat her ass was.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Thanks,”
she sank into the leather and glanced around the interior of the car. Her face
was lit up by the bright red instrument cluster and gave her pale skin an
unnatural hue. “I don’t know where my friends went and they aren’t answering
their phones.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Bitches,” I
pulled away from the curb with a low chuckle. I kept my voice a little deeper
than normal and spoke nice and slow. “I’m sure they have their reasons but why
bother trying to find out what they are now? We can have fun without them. I
have a house on the water and my bar is stocked.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I don’t
even know you,” she smiled shyly. Her eyes shone neon green and when she sucked
her lower lip in and bit it gently between perfect teeth I knew I had her. “What
kind of girl would I be if I just went to some stranger’s house?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“The kind
who knows how to have a good time,” I looked at her long enough to wink. “But
if you’re not comfortable with going back to my place and having a drink with
the man who just saved you from a quartet of gang-bangers then I’d be happy to
drop you off wherever you like.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“You did
save me back there,” her head tilted down and she looked up at me through big,
blinking eyes. “It would be rude if I didn’t at least hang out with you a
little while.” Her hand slid along the supple leather of my car. I could see
her trying to figure out how much it cost. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“Sounds like
a plan,” my blinker came on and I headed towards my house. This girl didn’t
know she was going to end up there one way or another and she didn’t have to. “And
as soon as you want to leave just say the word and I’ll call you a cab.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I had been
out hunting for three hours when I found her. The need to kill was growing, the
urging to cut and slice like some burrowing insect underneath my skin. More
than that was the intellectual curiosity of this strange connection I had with
the other man. The cop. The fallen hero. I found it strange that I should know
so much about someone I had never met. I knew things about him no one else did.
I had looked directly into his very essence and found him lacking the very same
necessary components as I. The only difference was that I embraced my demons
and he sought to drown them out with alcohol and false bravado. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I needed to
kill tonight not so I could satiate my own urges but so that I could corrupt
and manipulate this soul teetering on the edge of oblivion. I thought I could
open and close the portal we shared at my own whims and needed to test my
theories out. So far the only time we were connected was when my mind was lost
in the fever dream of carnage. My last murder was spectacular but somehow I
lost the connection at a pivotal moment. I could still him screaming in my head
but the visual was gone. Glass broke and he cursed and screamed. He needed more
but I had failed to give it. Tonight would be different I was sure. I’d give my
solitary audience all he could handle and shove him screaming and cumming over
the edge into an oblivion so deep nothing of him would ever escape. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I brought
the girl back to my house. We came inside and I poured her a drink and spoke
calmly and told her all the things she wanted to hear. She was beautiful. She
was smart. She was funny and interesting. I told her the friends that left her
behind were idiots and she was easily the most engaging and beautiful woman I
had ever met. When I kissed her for the first time I could feel her body melt
into mine and within seconds out clothes were being ripped free of hungry
bodies and she dropped to her knees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I don’t know
her name. In truth I never asked and don’t really care. When she took my cock
into her mouth I moaned and pulled her hair back, holding her head steady while
I fucked the ravenous hole. She liked it. Her body responded quickly and completely
and she submitted to me without any further provocation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I took a
handful of hair, withdrew my hardness, and lifted her to her feet. I bent her
over my couch and smacked her ass hard enough to leave a bright red hand print
on the porcelain skin. She yelped and tried to turn her head but I buried her
head in the soft pillows and entered her with savage force. While I fucker her
from behind I pulled her hair and fingered her ass. I pulled both hands behind
her back and held her wrists, pulling her back into me until I thought one of
her shoulders would dislocate. I smacked her again and again with growing
intensity until the beautiful white ass was covered in welts from my hands. I
dug my fingers into her hips and spread her cheeks apart to reveal the tight
knot of muscle waiting to be penetrated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">My cock was
soaked with her orgasms when I pushed into her ass. She whimpered and tried to
move away but the couch wouldn’t allow her the motion. I whispered to her
saying it would be okay, the pain would go away and soon enough it did. She
pushed back into me and growled with voracious pleasure as I reached around her
body and squeezed a tit. She yelled out filthy words until I withdrew, flipped
her over, and pushed my hardness back inside. My mouth closed over one breasts,
the tight nub of her nipple finding my teeth as I shoved into her with reckless
need. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">Finally I
could take no more and pulled my throbbing dick from her. I quickly grabbed her
hair and forced her back onto her knees. She immediately sucked my full length
into her mouth and swallowed my orgasm. My knees were shaking as she got to her
feet and leaned against the back of the couch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“That was so
much more fun than hanging out with my friends,” her voice was husky and tired.
“I’m glad I…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I moved past
her. In one quick motion my body snapped at the hips and my fist swung a
violent arc that connected my fist with the side of her head. Her jaw was open
and I caught her perfectly. She was unconscious before her body collapsed onto
the floor. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">“I’m glad
too darling,” my smile was a maniac’s grin that could easily bifurcate my head.
“You have no idea how glad I am.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">She was
small and light but dead weight is hard to manage. I struggled to hold her body
against my roughly hewn cross and tie the wires around her ribs. Her head hung
low and lulled from side to side as I worked. Red hair hung over her swelling
face and obscured her beauty but that gorgeous body was on display for me to
enjoy. Soon enough it would be for both of us. Me and my secret friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I tightened
the wires and made sure they remained just under her breasts before spreading
her arms and wrapping both wrists. I tied her neck and both legs. When I was
done I took a step back and regarded my handiwork. I was getting much better at
this. The cross looked better than my earlier attempts. The wires were a better
way to go than duct tape for what I had planned later. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">I removed
the knife from my work table and regarded it. So beautiful, so expensive, and
so deadly. It would wait for the connection to open. Right now I had more
pedestrian tools to play with. I regarded the plyers and skipped over them in
favor of the ice pick. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The girl
came to as I pierced the meat of her left breast. The confusion in her eyes
made me laugh. It was going to be such a wonderful evening. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p><em> Just a reminder, Cass's blog is here: </em><a href="http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/2014/06/14/evil-lurking-in-the-shadows-iv/"><em>http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/2014/06/14/evil-lurking-in-the-shadows-iv/</em></a></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p><em>Cassandre Dayne is a best selling author who occasionally slums with the likes of me and helps elevate my writing to new and horrible places. We have three other books together. Find them and read them...if you have the balls. If you're in the mood for some incredible summer reading check them out here:</em> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=cassandre+dayne+christian+jensen&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acassandre+dayne+christian+jensen" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=cassandre+dayne+christian+jensen&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acassandre+dayne+christian+jensen" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtK8hgRnntRZMG9QXO_gfOtD27Bs1bwwbJdBKghqDEFOprOgRSWnZnSWTURhguVeBG5Go4HWzirS7ef5rG5_UvvnR8paIEI0YfLhWr4qCQTPyQs-GOPTfrzuruf14437hEjocBLtE-1vT/s1600/1078682_218403374980226_1608802252_o+(2).jpg" height="133" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=cassandre+dayne+christian+jensen&rh=i%3Aaps%2Ck%3Acassandre+dayne+christian+jensen" target="_blank">Dark and Dangerous...escape to the extreme</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-13760305479655907762014-06-08T10:34:00.002-04:002014-06-08T10:34:52.644-04:00<br />
Having read part one over and then immediately heading over to Cass' blog I am now convinced that we are on to something pretty fucking incredible. Her writing makes me better, stronger, and more intense. Cass pushes me in ways no one else can and I am honored to be working with her again. Hopefully y'all think I'm worthy as you read the third part of our collaboration. <br />
Just incase you haven't read the first part it's right here on my blog. The second installment is here at Cass' blog: <a href="http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/">http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQfWDWE74Q_gu9BEvcCz6osl2_0KUwqnUgSApM3uq_TRRuggrBrfQGE1kNqOtzjf-un-U-yVYcnvgmiZr3vH1mXTPzDjNjyCP2ExjkVqDCmkRCDWZjf7avgV-Hc26ywGkIcyLjYjj_shx/s1600/imagesZO1EYURG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQfWDWE74Q_gu9BEvcCz6osl2_0KUwqnUgSApM3uq_TRRuggrBrfQGE1kNqOtzjf-un-U-yVYcnvgmiZr3vH1mXTPzDjNjyCP2ExjkVqDCmkRCDWZjf7avgV-Hc26ywGkIcyLjYjj_shx/s1600/imagesZO1EYURG.jpg" height="200" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;">EVIL LURKING
IN THE SHADOWS<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;">PART III<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;">Cassandre Dayne
and Christian Jensen<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p><em> </em></o:p></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>That first girl was a fluke. Some
talk about the right place at the right time and I’m a firm believer in that
truth. I had mentioned my time in the New York hardcore scene as some hot shit
song writer. That lasted a few years but it was novels that were making me a
name. I loved the freedom of writing whatever I wanted, not dealing with the “talent”
of whatever artist I was paired with, and the lengthy timelines were cake for
me because I wrote like a man possessed. I could knock out a full length novel
in three weeks and usually had six to eight months to finish it. Back then the
advances were quick and the money was ridiculous. I was living high on the hog
and loving life. I was also bored to fucking tears. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>Sex was a nice distraction. I was a
good looking guy. I spent my time in the gym and had a tight body. I was rich.
I was smart. I could read women the way most guys read a newspaper. It was like
a sixth sense, some hideous gift that made them all transparent to me. I would
talk to them for a few minutes, get inside their heads, and take them back to
my place. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>This little bitch, my first glorious
redhead, was slightly different. She insisted on going back to her house. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>“I have toys,” she purred in my ear. “And
party favors.” <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>Keep in mind that this was the late
eighties in South Florida. Cocaine was king and if you didn’t ski you didn’t
fuck. I had mountains of the shit at my house but when I got back to the little
redheads place I was shocked at the vulgar display of illegal drugs she kept
out on her kitchen table. Uppers and downers in every color of the rainbow
littered the glass table amongst a pile of cocaine big enough to stop every
heart on Wall Street. I immediately loved her. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>We were kissing hot and heavy when we
walked through the door, my hand was pushed down under the waistband of her
skirt, one finger inside her tight cunt while another strummed a melody on her
swollen clit. She was moaning into my mouth and I could taste the cool alcohol
of her martini as her tongue did somersaults in my mouth. My cock was nothing
but a hard rod grasped a little too tightly in her small hand but what the fuck
did I care? Our clothes got shredded and thrown in the corner of her foyer and
I took her right there on the cool marble tiles with the front door still open
and neighbors walking by. I pushed into her wetness and she let out a low growl
of need. My hand went to one exposed breast and pinched her nipple. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>“Harder,” her eyes were showing only
the whites as she studied the inside of her head. “Don’t be a pussy.” <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>I slammed my cock back into her but
to my surprise she put her hand over mine and forced me to pinch her nipple
harder. The tendons in my hand stood out. She arched her back and bucked her
hips back into me. She smiled and dug the nails of her hands into my ass. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>I slid out and grabbed her hips,
flipping her over onto her knees. I smacked her ass as hard as I could and
smiled at the yelp of pleasure I got. I impaled her and immediately began to
fuck with a wild ferocity. I was getting close to the point of no return and
wanted to get her off quick. I slid my hand over her hip and between her legs
and rubbed her clit while my other hand went back to her tit and pinched the
other nipple. My weight was on her but this little bitch didn’t care. I fucked
hard and fast and finally pushed inside her and let my cum paint her insides. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>After we gathered our strength we
went into the kitchen and took a few monster bumps. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>“I like it rough,” she wiped some
powder off her nose while I ground a couple errant crystals down with a credit
card. “I mean really rough. You won’t hurt me, but I’d like it if you tried. No
matter what…Ugh”<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>I punched the bitch right in the
face. I was dealing with a lot in that moment and her giving me the green light
like that was a bad thing. I was stuck on my latest book, my editor was giving
me a ton of shit about missed deadlines, the publishing company was behind on
the second installment of four advances, and there was talk about major changes
coming through the industry. I was stressed and running through money like it
was water when I knew I should be saving for a rainy day. And I fucking hated
south Florida. I wanted to leave and was already planning on moving when this
bitch opened a door that would have been much better off remaining closed. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>So I punched her. She wanted me to
try and hurt her? No fucking problem there, buddy.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>She feel back into a chair and
flipped over it, landing hard on her back. She looked up at me through watery
eyes, her nose pouring blood. She smiled. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>“Good start,” her legs were shaky as
she got up and wiped some of the blood from her tit with a trembling hand. She
licked the blood and cocked her head to the side. “You gonna finish what you
started or do I need to get a real man in here?<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>I lunged over the chair and shoved
her into the wall. My cock was instantly hard and I bent her over the counter.
I grabbed her hips and shoved into her ass then proceeded to beat on her back
until my hands were sore. When I couldn’t physically hit her any longer I
grabbed her neck and choked her with all the strength I had. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>By the time I came she was nearly unconscious.
It took a few minutes for her to regain lucidity. By then I was covered in
sweat and some of her blood, my eyes probably looked like they belonged to
someone in a strait jacket and I was holding a kitchen knife in one numb hand.
<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>“I’ll hurt you,” as I moved closer to
her the look of sexual excitement changed to one of actual fear. That turned me
on a lot more and I instantly knew something about myself that I didn’t’a
couple seconds earlier. “I’ll make sure I hurt you more than anyone ever has or
ever will.” <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>My cock had been in her mouth, her
pussy, and her ass. I was out of openings to violate and the only thought that
made any sense was to make new ones. I stabbed her over and over again. I tried
to stay away from vital areas but there was so much blood I was sure I hit something
important. Each time the knife went in it made this sick little popping sound
as the blade penetrated her flesh and then a wet, sloppy sound as I pulled it
out. I liked it. The metallic tang of blood was thick in the air and mixed intoxicatingly well with the chemicals already burning the insides of my nose. </em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>When she feel to the floor I landed
on top of her and threw the knife across the floor. I began to shove my cock
into the make-shift pussies, fucking each new hole until it tore too wide and
didn’t feel good any more. By the time I finally came she was just about dead.
I ended it all by beating her face in with the electric can open. I don’t know why I
used it but the damn thing was heavy and pretty much indestructible. I should
have taken the can opener with me. I think about that most nights and wonder if
it’s still in an evidence locker somewhere of if it eventually got thrown out. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>She was my first. I have no idea what
her name was but she awakened something inside of me that has only grown and
intensified ever since. Of course I’ve matured and developed my own style and
signature but I find that killing is the same as writing. You only get better
by practicing. And right now I’m the best. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>I left south Florida a few weeks
later. I had a sudden panicky urge to run away immediately but thought that
might make me look suspicious. I burnt the bitches house down to cover my
crime. The cops investigated. I was even questioned for a few minutes while the
keystone cops did their farcical investigation but that only ended in me
signing a lot of autographs and listening to a room full of detective throwing
story ideas out at me about books they always thought about writing. I waited
until things died down and headed out to Maryland. I didn’t have a specific
reason for choosing Maryland, I just landed there and it seemed right. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>My second victim was another redhead.
Her name was Amanda and she had the most incredible legs. She was the first one
I crucified and really the first woman I considered a work of art. I picked her
up outside a bar, talked to her for a couple minutes, and then brought her back
to my place. I fucked her a few times and then waited for her to fall asleep
before sticking a hypodermic in her neck. She cringed and woke up for a second
before passing out under the drugs weight. When she came to I had tied her up in
the garage, arms and legs splayed on my cross. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Footlight MT Light","serif"; font-size: 14pt;"><em>While I cut into her I kept getting
these little flashes of another man. It was nothing sexual but for some reason
it felt like this guy was watching me, like we had some kind of weird psychic
connection. I shook it off. I thought it was just the excitement of the kill.
By the time Amanda was dead I knew this connection was something else. I had my
first premonition. My first of many. I knew this man was a cop and he would
hunt me to the ends of the earth. I also knew he would grow to be my biggest
fan.</em> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZwCZOTzHwI88Ajl35Reh0zLPxwQpkKN-0sxDeg5IOgOd3j7OR_KeDxmCC_p9s0pP5QaYqX398SxzrGfBd_j7_qpkF0NxLKv1XuiSC0yJ1qyg2H7gJi7gqYshNt6XETT-9_gYzKHsxARV/s1600/imagesHPM9AGDC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZwCZOTzHwI88Ajl35Reh0zLPxwQpkKN-0sxDeg5IOgOd3j7OR_KeDxmCC_p9s0pP5QaYqX398SxzrGfBd_j7_qpkF0NxLKv1XuiSC0yJ1qyg2H7gJi7gqYshNt6XETT-9_gYzKHsxARV/s1600/imagesHPM9AGDC.jpg" /></a></div>
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Just to remind y'all Cass and I have written three other books before. Find the links for them here on our Facebook page and throw us a like. Also let me know what you think of the story so far. Don't be shy. Pussies. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAYVOb14JLl19JA83Mi0etP5qu8MKI5NpXW-MlMayhSWVFd0zEb6evwULkrr7z54ZUtJ9Y2WbY5feW_3ADIvWhxg3meAsAI7cj8So23APDtG1Wf3APMvWdcdrCGZFfIwA01ApYRWnryou/s1600/1078682_218403374980226_1608802252_o+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAYVOb14JLl19JA83Mi0etP5qu8MKI5NpXW-MlMayhSWVFd0zEb6evwULkrr7z54ZUtJ9Y2WbY5feW_3ADIvWhxg3meAsAI7cj8So23APDtG1Wf3APMvWdcdrCGZFfIwA01ApYRWnryou/s1600/1078682_218403374980226_1608802252_o+(2).jpg" height="107" width="320" /></a><a href="https://www.facebook.com/PassionPainandPerversion?ref=hl" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/PassionPainandPerversion?ref=hl</a></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-54431257968865752512014-06-07T08:34:00.000-04:002014-06-07T08:34:48.474-04:00<br />
<br />
This is something new and exciting for me and I think it's really something you're going to enjoy. Not only am I giving y'all FREE flash fiction but I am also hooking up with the amazingly talented best selling author Cassandre Dayne.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx0Q5PuPEfSyv8FSthLK8FLv92_3RtNjMzxhDtMPby1NWLjcd2CvPkI5pUNEoAwZ_0hyphenhyphen28YEUeFb0OCtQHf6JkaXRuRVyGH3xBzQzHPv73nlrroj7MzEbNxqtX97X2bY_ldS5RbA8ZIyWv/s1600/285080_2286031714211_3248280_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx0Q5PuPEfSyv8FSthLK8FLv92_3RtNjMzxhDtMPby1NWLjcd2CvPkI5pUNEoAwZ_0hyphenhyphen28YEUeFb0OCtQHf6JkaXRuRVyGH3xBzQzHPv73nlrroj7MzEbNxqtX97X2bY_ldS5RbA8ZIyWv/s1600/285080_2286031714211_3248280_n.jpg" height="233" width="320" /></a><br />
This is the way things are going to work for the next couple of weeks. I'll be posting my flash here. Cassandre will be continuing the story over on her blog, and then it'll come back here to me, then back to Cass, and so on and so on. So you'll have to jump a little from blog to blog but in the end you're getting to read some incredible, sexy, and totally original stuff as we write it. For FREE. How fucking cool is that?<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
So without any further palaver I bring you <em><span style="color: red;">Evil Lurking in the Shadows</span></em></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
</span><div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<strong>Evil Lurking in the Shadows</strong> by <em>Cassandre Dayne and Christian Jensen</em></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
knew this bitch wasn’t real but the sting of bourbon wasn’t making her ghostly
image disappear any. She was dead. I knew this for a fact because I had killed
her two night before. Hell, I didn’t just kill her, I savagely smashed her head
in with a claw hammer. I tortured her for three hours, slicing through muscle
and bone, severing fingers and digging hot, wet organs out of her gut. I slit
new holes in her body and fucked each one with a fervor usually reserved for
maniacs. I’m not a maniac. I’m an author.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>Her name was Storm, and I had loved her
since high school. Pale skin, hair as black as a raven’s underbelly, green eyes
and full, pout lips. She was gorgeous and had the most rocking body any man had
ever laid his eyes or hands on. She was covered in ink now but that wasn’t the
case when I knew her in high school. It wasn’t the case the first time I slid
my cock into her either. Her skin was pure, snow white with a mean streak. She
was thin but not in an anorexic kind of way. She had curves man, the kind you
could just sit back and stare at all day. Storm had wide hips and big tits,
much bigger than a hand full. When she was growing up she tried to hide them
but by the time we started partying she was showing those fuckers off like a
bad girl should. She had a body built for sin and a mouth that would make the
devil blush. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>I loved her from the moment she walked
into my third period English class freshman year but the cunt didn’t even know
my name until four years after graduation. By then I was making a living as a
writer and on my way to becoming a big deal. I had just turned twenty two when
I signed my first contract with the heavy metal band Abomination of Virtue and had already penned their first big hit.
Metal was big back then, not like it is now, and I was the biggest thing going
in New York’s hardcore scene. Once punk started getting hooked up to life
support all the thrash metal bands came swooping in like vultures and then
Metallica had a couple hits and all of a sudden it was cool to be a thrasher. I
was sitting high up on the throne as king of the metal heads and loving every
minute of it. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>When Storm came walking into the club
one night I immediately recognized her but she had no idea that we went to
school together. She only knew I was the guy who wrote “Poisonous Pussy” and
had a dozen other bands fighting over who would get my next hit. I was also
working on articles for Rolling Stone, Thrash, and Hardcore magazines, and
there was even some talk of a book deal with some big time publisher who wanted
me to write a novel. I was rich, young, famous (in my own circles) and good
looking enough to grab a different piece of ass every night. Life was good. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>Then Storm walked in. That story isn’t
as important as why she was dead or what she was doing haunting my ass in this
shitty little old man bar in the middle of suburban Maryland. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p><em> </em></o:p></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>I killed my first girl by accident. It
was early in this century and I was still living well off my royalties. I spent
the morning writing like I always did and then headed over to my favorite bar.
It was close to the beach in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida where I was living back
then. I could smell the salty ocean breeze and feel the sticky heat of the sun
over my t-shirt. A delicate breeze moved the palm trees in a gentle rhythm.
There were a few people sitting at the tables on the patio but I preferred the
darker, cooler interior. My bartender was working and I smiled at her. She
poured me two fingers of Bourbon and served it neat just like I always got. I
put a hundred dollar bill on the smooth marble bar top and she placed a salt
shaker on top so it didn’t fly away. The drink went directly into my hand.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>“Morning Anders,” Allison was built a
little too big for me but her dramatic curves made you look. Her massive tits
were in direct proportion to the wide hips and thick thighs. She wore a loose
fitting shirt that revealed plenty of cleavage and the top of a Rolling Stones
tattoo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How’s the new book coming?”<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>“In fits and starts,” I tilted my glass
to her before pouring half of its contents down my throat. “But in the end it
will be something to be proud of. I think you’ll like this one. It’s more akin
to Andrew’s Story, just with more
blood and sex.” <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>“How can you fit more blood and sex into
a book than you did Andrew’s Story?”
Allison read all my books and wasn’t shy about telling me what she likes and
what she hated. It was the main reason I respected her and the only thing that
kept her alive when every other woman in my life ended up brutally murdered. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>“I guess you’ll have to read it and find
out,” I finished my drink and placed the glass next to her hand. She
immediately sauntered off to fill it up for me. Her hips swayed more than was
necessary. “I’ll print out a copy before I get into edits. There’s one section
I want your opinion on before I finalize it.” <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>“You know I love to help,” she noticed
another customer walk through the door and gave me a wink before heading
towards her. “And reading your best sellers before anyone else is a nice perk
too.” <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>I watched her go because the scenery was
good. Then it got a whole lot better. Allison was talking to the new customer,
a gorgeous redhead, and trying to motion towards me with a subtlety that she
had never possessed. I caught the eye of the pretty woman and smiled. Allison
said a couple more things and then walked right over to me without even pouring
the girl a drink. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>“She wants to buy our famous author a
drink,” Allison winked. “And I think she wants to see just how big your…brain
is. By Brain I mean cock.” Like I said, Subtlety wasn’t Allison’s thing. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><em>“Send her over,” I had no idea how
fateful those words would be. “But tell her I’ll buy the drinks.”</em> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZQl82ZxZvC33vaLYG_6VfcnGbKFucM92ztggG7WARHHXo-lYTlo58mgA15dH5gPmsK_aFRn1P_JXmUvjdilieujZKADpEFwd_1VYYu8-wFReN9dbB6YTfAfMJjk5P3a7FgXhxda5N4vd/s1600/1078682_218403374980226_1608802252_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcZQl82ZxZvC33vaLYG_6VfcnGbKFucM92ztggG7WARHHXo-lYTlo58mgA15dH5gPmsK_aFRn1P_JXmUvjdilieujZKADpEFwd_1VYYu8-wFReN9dbB6YTfAfMJjk5P3a7FgXhxda5N4vd/s1600/1078682_218403374980226_1608802252_o.jpg" height="235" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
<br />
You can read the second part to Storm Warning on Cassandre's blog. Check it out here: <a class="_553k" href="http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/</a><br />
Cass is going to post hers Thursday at some point so be sure to check over there to keep reading more of this fun little tale. She is going to spice things up and I'm sure there will be some blood and sex thrown in just because that's how we like to do things. <br />
If you enjoy the way we write together I have some great news for you. This is NOT our first time working together. We've hooked up (get your minds out of the gutter) a few times before. Check out <span style="color: red;"><em><strong>Toxic Leash, I like to Watch, </strong></em><span style="color: black;">and</span><em><strong> The Darkness Within</strong></em></span>. Find us together on our Facebook page Dark and Dangerous here: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PassionPainandPerversion?ref=hl">https://www.facebook.com/PassionPainandPerversion?ref=hl</a>Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-77999340568369503162014-05-26T20:51:00.001-04:002014-05-26T20:51:28.685-04:00Been way too long...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEwpwKLlpy8SbRoLpjhC6UTLO9Qr3DeVI-fEA7Q5t4FjRzk1CNnkzK_c_Gj_e4VVwYHaQIe6sKpTHTRYbbGGgImuOB0q6Bg0u-B-V52f6QaPBOIvsE-JxL4DHLnrn0K-5DV47H-iGgz55/s1600/images+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEwpwKLlpy8SbRoLpjhC6UTLO9Qr3DeVI-fEA7Q5t4FjRzk1CNnkzK_c_Gj_e4VVwYHaQIe6sKpTHTRYbbGGgImuOB0q6Bg0u-B-V52f6QaPBOIvsE-JxL4DHLnrn0K-5DV47H-iGgz55/s1600/images+(2).jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Admittedly it has been
way too long since I wrote a blog post and I am sure that many of my regular
readers have fled to find something else to sink their literary teeth into.
This saddens me because it is all my fault. I have no one else to blame for my
lack of blog posts, and this is something that I need to remedy. The bad news
in this is that I have been indolent over the past six months or so with not
only my blog posts but also my writing in general. The good news, neigh, the
GREAT news it that I have once again gotten my groove back and am not only
writing more regularly but I am also pushing out more books and growing my
brand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilN5sS23Gkr1AoMohRXoD7u1OhBIUfyHMu8m7muLRLZRlaBzC8aNeBDG_apGg-AXG7VD99igOdiEW_0zclbDNP1OHy-e2klTZGfMBs_12krCjoWDtZSVxPcsX6ND6Kmwk46j8jtn34hZPQ/s1600/images+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilN5sS23Gkr1AoMohRXoD7u1OhBIUfyHMu8m7muLRLZRlaBzC8aNeBDG_apGg-AXG7VD99igOdiEW_0zclbDNP1OHy-e2klTZGfMBs_12krCjoWDtZSVxPcsX6ND6Kmwk46j8jtn34hZPQ/s1600/images+%25284%2529.jpg" height="200" width="120" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">To this end I want to
talk quickly about </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Chiller; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">DEAD SEXY</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> and then I’ll get
right into discussion of my newest book, Witches house. I’ll even throw an
excerpt in to whet your appetite and hopefully get you guys to pry open the
dusty old wallets and buy a copy. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5hrQAnYayeVWzGjjMqlzlpKSF8V-YcWWaeMzPxwFavvUXr6MISPIbrdJdSUAVCWgi-fFVcwlxs1g4WKE4HSD0Ah94DikXT_e70247sW3bn8l9LcJ8bMD73Q9F-XMPHoHDcvJBdYz3Iuh/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5hrQAnYayeVWzGjjMqlzlpKSF8V-YcWWaeMzPxwFavvUXr6MISPIbrdJdSUAVCWgi-fFVcwlxs1g4WKE4HSD0Ah94DikXT_e70247sW3bn8l9LcJ8bMD73Q9F-XMPHoHDcvJBdYz3Iuh/s1600/images.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve been thinking for
years about coming up with some kind of brand for myself. Something that would
encompass all my endeavors and give me a way to be identified by a larger
audience. I wanted something cool, catchy, classy, and above all something that
signifies me as a horror and erotica author. I’ve thought long and hard about
it, meditated on it, asked friends and trusted contemporaries and total
strangers. Nothing I came up with seemed right. Until finally one day when I
was appearing at Amizicon in Philadelphia. There was a very attractive woman
walking around with zombie make-up expertly applied. Admittedly I had been drinking
a bit as I think she might have been as well. I was taken by her beauty and
sexuality even with the grotesque bite taken out of her face. The wound
actually made her eyes all the more stunning. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">While she walked back
and forth through the convention she never ceased in catching my eye and I had
the good fortune of speaking with her a couple times. She even took a few hits
off my flask. It was during one of the conversations with this <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">zombie chic</i> that I told her how
incredible the make-up effects were and how sexy she looked. I then looked at
her in those beautiful eyes and told her she was </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Chiller; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">DEAD SEXY</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">.
Immediately I knew I had the branding I was looking for. I immediately called
my most awesome graphic designer and asked him to come up with a logo for it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Since that fateful day
I have come up with t-shirt designs, a web site, a new book idea, and several
other promotional materials that I will be using. All of them encompass the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Chiller; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">DEAD SEXY</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
name and logo. <a href="http://deadsexy.net/" target="_blank">And speaking of the website, here is the link to thatawesomeness</a>. And just so you know, the website is <em>DEADSEXY.NET<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, on to the new
book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">WITCHES HOUSE centers
on Rebecca, a beautiful seventeen year old girl, and her family. They come
across a too-good-to-be-true opportunity to buy a renovated house and quickly
find that there are reasons this house came so cheap. While her father works at
restoring the house and the property to its former glory Rebecca begins a
journey of self-discovery that lands her directly into the hands of two ancient
witches who call to her through the ether and seek to manipulate the outcome of
an ageless struggle between good and evil.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Two witches, one of
darkness and the other of light, struggle to gain control of Rebecca’s training
and ultimately the outcome of their timeless war. While the white witch wants
only to help and mentor the girl the dark witch wants to usher in a new age of
evil under the rule of the Ancient Ones. As her power and confidence builds
Rebecca begins to gain followers to her own coven. These broken and listless
women all need help in some form or another and Rebecca is the guiding light
they are drawn to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As the tumultuous
moments come to fruition Rebecca and her family must make a choice. There is
only one path that leads to freedom and the road is strewn with deadly
obstacles and detours. Will Rebecca make the right decision or is the world
doomed? Grab yourself a copy of WITCHES HOUSE and find out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now for a little
snippet of the book to whet your appetite and make you hunger for more. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">After forty-five
minutes, Rebecca was almost finished. She placed the piece of wood off to the
side and ran her delicate hand through the finely ground tea. She smiled as she
brought the grinds up to her face and inhaled deeply. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“How’s it smell?”
Came an unfamiliar voice from behind her. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“You’re just in
time, Detective Rosario,” Rebecca didn’t turn around and she never looked to
see who it was. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“How did you know
who I was?” Rosario asked, one eyebrow raised and her full lips playing with a
smile.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“A couple reasons,”
Rebecca stood up and stretched her back. She wiped her hands on her dress and
extended the right one, which Rosario shook. “I knew you were coming. Also you
walked up with heavy footsteps, which shows you’re confident and when you spoke
your voice sounded authoritative, like a policewoman.” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“You’re a very
observant young lady,” Rosario couldn’t help but automatically like this girl.
She was gorgeous and possessed an air about her that spoke of confidence and
her own kind of authority. “I’m very impressed.” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Thank you.”
Rebecca nodded solemnly. “You’re not really what I expected. You’re much
prettier than I thought you would be. I hope that doesn’t insult you.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Not at all,”
Rosario felt like she was speaking with someone much older. She didn’t know
what to make of the young girl. She was extremely intelligent and well spoken,
overly confident for someone so young, but not cocky. Her face seemed to glow
with a light all its own. “But, why would you think I was… unattractive? You
don’t think cops can be pretty?” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“No, it’s not that
at all,” Rebecca walked forward and got into Rosario’s personal space. “I heard
the pain in your voice. You carry it around with you like a weight around your
neck. Usually, women who suffer traumatic childhoods don’t take care of
themselves as well as you obviously do. They feel like they’re ugly, or at
least that they should be ugly. You don’t have such personal hang-ups, which
speaks volumes about your character.” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rosario was
shocked. There was no way this child could know so much about her. She
immediately thought that Rebecca had spoken with Karen Lee. She was the only
person Rosario had told her history to, at least the only person who could have
shared that secret with Rebecca. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“How do you know so
much about me?” Rosario felt her cop instincts rushing to the surface, but
another part of her remained calm and fought the need to understand. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Please don’t think
I’m checking up on you,” Rebecca smiled easily and it melted some of the
concern away from Rosario. “I just know things about people. I’m very sensitive
to their subtle nuances and auras and such.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Really?” Rosario
cocked an eyebrow even though she believed her. Shaking her head she fought the
need to understand why she believed her, there was just something powerful
about this girl. “So, you’re psychic?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Not at all.”
Rebecca shook her head with a groan like such things were childish. “I just
know how to read people. Much like you do, just with different tools. You use
your mind and experience to read a person. You watch their body language and
study the things they say and how they say them. I listen with my heart, I
watch their eyes, and I feel for the rise and fall of their body heat, I hear
their heart beating faster or slower and I smell their pheromones and sweat.
Same destination, different path.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“So, you can hear
my heart beating?” Rosario asked. Suddenly, this girl was going from overly
intelligent and observant to crazy. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Yes. I can also
tell you that you had at least three cups of coffee this morning, you drove in
a car with a smoker although they weren’t smoking, and you wear men’s
deodorant. You don’t wear perfume, but you wear makeup and also, although this
is going to be embarrassing for both of us, you just started your menstrual
cycle.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Rosario just stared
at the girl in disbelief. It was one thing to know about her childhood but it
was another thing all together for the girl to know she was having her period. <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Come on inside and
have a cup of tea with me and my mother, you’ll feel better.” Rebecca laughed a
little she couldn’t help it. “Don’t look so shocked, I told you how I do it.” <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Witches-House-Christian-Jensen-ebook/dp/B00KKOVDEI/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1401151773&sr=8-1&keywords=christian+jensen+witches+house" target="_blank">You can find my newest book WITCHES HOUSE available exclusively on kindle right HERE</a><br />
I have this book for sale on kindle for only $4.99 - you can shell out 5 bucks to read an incredible novel, right? Seriously, buy the book and leave me a review. <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6249841080962569546.post-58066619076787282052013-09-08T07:56:00.000-04:002013-09-08T07:56:04.602-04:00A little off...I'm a writer, a creator or characters and even worlds. I spend countless hours churning out a dizzying word count and getting lost in the things that play behind my eyes. Sometimes I really do lose myself in the process and time just slips away when I get into the groove. It's as close to magic as I've ever come and I can't express how much I enjoy the process.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7RqxLjoJ3k93NWVbzsHr2HXrOd1AQnZRQBKQ4Dqwxy8yRaPcCv5w2GQnRCGBWsBeI_Pp48KxddgwSbQ4AdgO__1NcepdJ7PJznfUg3mIQUpzNKqp_jMQjCUDib5q2hSJ92vSVya7JyJ5/s1600/hitchcock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7RqxLjoJ3k93NWVbzsHr2HXrOd1AQnZRQBKQ4Dqwxy8yRaPcCv5w2GQnRCGBWsBeI_Pp48KxddgwSbQ4AdgO__1NcepdJ7PJznfUg3mIQUpzNKqp_jMQjCUDib5q2hSJ92vSVya7JyJ5/s320/hitchcock.jpg" width="253" /></a></div>
People often ask if I outline and make notes and write up descriptions of my characters and heir history and other such organised things before I write. The answer is simple. NO. I usually come up with a character or two, pluck them from the ether of my diseased mind, and throw them into some setting which has come to me in a fever dream-like imagining. From there the character starts to take shape, and even as I'm refining the settings and plot the character develops and becomes their own person.<br />
My characters drive my plot. They do things that surprise me and alarm me, they dictate their own history and future. It's their lives so who am I to intervene?<br />
Does this make me mad? Maybe, even probably. It's not just having voices in my head at times, it's having whole communities, sometimes at odds with one another, living inside of me and screaming as they compete to be heard because, like everyone else, they just want me to listen.<br />
It isn't always the loudest that gets my attention, however. Sometimes there is a character that sets themselves up in such a way that they automatically find the limelight. Some of them just have the bigger personalities or the right set of traits, or the quiet resolve that makes them the perfect hero or villain. Some of them aren't even human, or not entirely so. Some or mutated or deformed, some are different species or a strange hybrid of human and animal, some are already dead and living in my mind as a spirit. Either way the right character finds its way out and comes to life in the right story. Of this I am sure.<br />
The raging insanity that ebbs and flows between my ears keeps the rest of me sane and helps me live a normal and usually functioning life. I get to live out dark fantasies, harsh realities, and daydreams to startling degree. At times it feels like I've already lived several dozen lifetimes as the past and history of some of these characters melds with my own and becomes a strange kind of reality.<br />
Does this make me a little bit off... I think it does. What do you think?<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifqTyPSNbNux3GyrbGvKP6ziw03GBRSga03SQkmNaZyas-GG9vs2SodxNUtEByQnfuL5XV4RXJmfVcgV65yAJRB9grNjDcpWx1E1DKxu-1yvdYevm9TMMy04AUBS-kysCYbkQWaaQJGTws/s1600/friday+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifqTyPSNbNux3GyrbGvKP6ziw03GBRSga03SQkmNaZyas-GG9vs2SodxNUtEByQnfuL5XV4RXJmfVcgV65yAJRB9grNjDcpWx1E1DKxu-1yvdYevm9TMMy04AUBS-kysCYbkQWaaQJGTws/s320/friday+2.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
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<br />
Over the next week I am going to be adding to my compendium of horror knowledge and taking strict notes as I prepare for a PODCAST I am doing on Friday the 13th. I'll be writing another blogpost with some of the highlights of this show, some of the things I want you to know in more detail, and other interesting facts. Stay tuned and I'll throw out the information as it becomes available.<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading and stay tuned...<br />
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Horrorwritingdaddyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02512125370172995177noreply@blogger.com0