Guest post: Skip Novak

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:

What is Horror?

May 1, 2015

          

  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.

            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?

            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.

            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.

          

  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.

            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.

            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.

            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.

            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.”

            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.

            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.

         

   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.

            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.

            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.

            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.

            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.

            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.

            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.

            Have a great week.

Guest Post: J.G. Clay

This 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...
J.G. Clay is another Forsaken author with a mind as warped and twisted as any of us. Just perusing his website jgclay.com gives one the willies. So pull the covers up to your chin and ignore the noises coming from under the bed. Enjoy!

 

 

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.

Sometimes I Fantasise.....

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.

 

 

 

 

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.

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).

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.

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.

 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.

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.

 

 

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?

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.

 

You can find J.G. Clay on Facebook, twitter, and his website, JGClay.com