Summertime

And the living is loud. Which doesn’t have nearly as nice rhythm as the proper words but is so true. School is out for the summer come Monday afternoon. I am never ready for it when it comes but this year, I’m closer than most other years but I think that’s because my oldest child has been out of school for two weeks already so, what’s one more kid home? It is weird having more people in my space all the time though.

Fortunately, my boys are old enough that they don’t need constant interaction and hopefully this is the year we are finally past the constant bickering stage of life. Fingers crossed. Though, if the last ten minutes are any indication, this is going to be a long summer with little respite. Youngest is mad at me because I restrict his YouTube access and has decided that he’s going to live in his closet and only come out to go to the bathroom. I don’t exactly know why that’s punishing me, but ok. In the summers, I’m a bit like Judge Dredd. I am the law. Usually I’m pretty laxidasical but not always and not about everything. I’m a bit cautious with YouTube – so much can be found there that is inappropriate for kids, especially ones who like to mimic.

Apparently this year has not settled out yet and I’m still on the rollercoaster but I’m determined that this is the year that I actually keep a schedule through the summer for writing and reading and submitting and appearing places (I have one such appearance coming up June 18th at the Barnes and Noble at Settler’s Ridge). I’m hoping to get a few short stories and new book out of this summer. I’m going to try a whole new genre (if the last few posts didn’t make it obvious). I can’t promise it’ll scare me as I’ve yet to find that, but I think I want to try. I don’t think folk horror will be my first go round but I’m very much looking forward to trying that out. Rawhead Rex, Hex, and Harvest Home all stand out in my memory for a reason after all. Wish me luck! I’m sure I’ll be grousing about the whole of it later when I’m beating my head against the wall and annoyed with myself.

Writing Wednesday: Inspiration Break

I’m struggling to come up with a good topic this week so I thought maybe I’d share some interesting inspirations I’ve come across for future stories. I do get lost in the Internet sometimes, finding all sorts of interesting things I want to research more about. Sometimes it leads to a story or poem, other times it leads to little more than an excited shout of a correct answer on Jeopardy. Not all resources are created equally and, anymore, I don’t put much stock in the reliability of them but when you’re looking for ideas for stories or characters, the reliability matters a little less.

To go along with my current reading material, lets start in the places where darker things live. I consider Cryptids to sit right in the mythology category, others might disagree with me. In any case, myths and monsters always make for interesting story foundations. I used to have a few good links specifically on Cryptids but my favorite seems to have gone under so, here’s the Wiki, the UnMuseum, and the Atlas Obscura.

Here’s a website with a list of 100 digitally accessible university libraries (but I haven’t checked to see if all of the links still work): From Mary and Mac.

Religion is always an interesting jumping off point for research, you never know what rabbit hole you’ll fall down into when you start looking. Deliriums Realm has a number of interesting essays and information on demonology. Symbols play a role in some of that too – find a few to use in your next story at Symbols.com.

Need a name? Tired of regular old babynaming sites? Try Behind the Name for meaning, history, and origins.

One of the things I like to do when I’m doing the starting research is look at real estate listings that could be afforded by my main character in a town in the area I’m setting the story in. Real Estate listings have so much good information for writers. I like to use local real estate listings for writing research as sometimes they have better information on the area.

Weird news stories are as easy to find as your local tabloids but I prefer just Googling weird news every so often. Who doesn’t want to write a story about whatever Florida Man is doing today? It’s bound to be interesting (and apparently, today, he’s getting bitten by snakes in the toilet, getting arrested for hitting his mother with a corn cob, and stealing zoo animals)!

Happy writing!

 

Horror and Scary Stories

I’ve been writing a lot about horror lately because I love the genre. To me, it’s like home base – where I know I can find something I love, where all my old favorites sit on the bench waiting to be put back in rotation. As a kid, a lot of things scared me at least a little. ET scared me a lot. Him and the gremlins and the Leprechaun. As an adult, apparently, none of it is scary anymore (except ET, even thinking about that one still gives me the heebeegeebees). I have been looking for a good scare for months – not a jump scare really but the kind that makes me nervous to go to bed or take the dogs out in the dark. My son says I’m not normal in this, that my definition of scary isn’t the same as most well adjusted people’s definition of scary.

A few years ago, I wrote about being safely scared and that’s all well and good but I’m struggling to find the next scare now. I know every word to Candyman, I’m not the biggest fan of shock-horror or whatever you’d call the Saw sequels (the first one was interesting and new and awesome), and the ones I used to think would be the scariest turned out to be the funniest or most ridiculous.

I have never really considered anything I’ve written to be horror. I don’t think any of them are scary. I know the Sha’Daa books are technically in that category but I just don’t see my stories as scary. Oldest child thinks I’m wrong and he finds Four Hearts too scary to listen to all the way through but he’s doesn’t enjoy being scared, even in a safe way.

I’ve been bouncing back and forth between projects, picking them up, turning them over, fiddling a little before tucking them away again. I’ve been doing just enough to say that I’ve been writing and that’s not fun. I think maybe I’ll attempt a horror on purpose. I don’t know if I’m aiming for a book or a short story. I don’t know anything yet about it yet but, I think when I’m done with the book I’m reading, and after a few twitchy tweaks to a project I’m just about ready to start pitching places, I’m going to give it an honest try. I just have to remember that, just because it doesn’t feel scary to me, doesn’t mean it isn’t scary to someone else. The nice part is that I have something of an idea – repurposing a thing I started. I didn’t get too much sleep last night though, mulling it over and letting it simmer in the brainpan. I have some housework and stuff to do but after that… onward new projects!

Rereading Old Favorites

Books are interesting things. The words are static, permanent and never changing, but the story changes with you. Your experience colors everything you read. The baggage you bring with you as a reader shapes what you take away from any story. You can read the same book at different points in your life and discover, ultimately, it’s a different story for you. I’ve had this happen a few times so far and, for the most part, it’s been a wonderful thing. There are a few books that haven’t held up in part because I’ve read so many better books in the 20-30 years in between reads.

I was an early and voracious reader, eagerly tucking into a new Nancy Drew or whatever old classic my grandmother decided I needed to read. This lasted for years. I got a very good classic literature education because of it. Shakespeare, Poe, and Longfellow interspersed with Heidi, Pollyanna, and Caddie Woodlawn. When I did get to pick my own, they were decidedly genre, Chronicles of Narnia, Wrinkle in Time, and The Hobbit. Later, I would come to horror and settle in for the long haul. My first horror book, remembered so fondly, is probably the book that’s held up the least of all the books I’ve attempted to reread. John Saul’s The Second Child was a good gateway book for an 11 year old but it doesn’t hold up for me like King or Harris.

Rereading Dune as an adult was the first time it really dawned on me how different perception could make a book. From a child’s point of view, Dune is a hell of a lesson in world building and creepy dudes. From an adult’s point of view, it is all of that but also so much more. From a parent’s point of view it’s even worse (and better for it).  Ender’s Game is very different from a non-parent and parent point of view. I struggle with some of King now because I no longer identify as well with the kids but with their parents.

King is what started this post. I was young the first time I read It. I read it several times, until the cover fell apart, and then the rest of it. As a young teenager, the ending just pissed me off. It felt like a cop out because I wasn’t experienced enough to quite understand the point he was making. With the part 2 of the new movie coming out soon, I got the urge to reread it but I had to get a new copy to do so as mine really did fall apart. This reread has been very interesting. I don’t remember it being nearly as jumpy, back and forth, adults to kids and back again. King is nothing if not clever. There’s a reason he is considered a master of his craft. Everything is tied up with a pretty terrible gruesome bow and threaded like a masterpiece of a tapestry.

I struggle with horror sometimes now in ways I didn’t before I had kids. Now, I really have a hard time with reading about horrible things happening to children because instead of identifying with the children, I identify with their parents and that’s my worst nightmare. It’s most parents’ worst nightmare. I never watched the Mist because I was warned about the end. I didn’t watch the remake of Pet Sematary because I knew what was coming (even if they did mix it up). But I didn’t shy away from the remake of It when part one hit theaters. Maybe because I knew the ones who mattered to the story made it to adulthood before everything went more off the rails. Maybe because I had read it so many times as a kid. I may never know why it got a pass. I’m glad it did. I was horribly disappointed when I finally watched the original miniseries as it wasn’t actually scary but my not finding things scary is a post for another day.

 

Short Thought: Monster Vs Creature

I was having a discussion with my oldest boy and this particular topic came up. What is the difference between a monster and a creature? I have both in the books I’ve written and, for me, there is a difference between the two. For me, a creature kills because it’s hungry, it’s protecting it’s territory, or it’s instinctual: like a basilisk, a zombie, or a hellhound. A monster kills because it wants to, like a vampire, werewolf, or leprechaun. In the modern age, there are ways around eating people while still getting all the parts and or blood a critter needs to survive. A monster can think and decide. A creature just does and is.

In Thosha-Tol’s story (Guardian of the Gods), there are more Creatures than Monsters. They didn’t necessarily understand why they were rampaging but the very magic Monsters made them. In Leilani’s story (Hunter’s Crossing), there aren’t really any Creatures yet – I’m sure they’re out there in the world but they haven’t been part of the story yet, I may find a place in time. And, a number of the Monsters are on the side of the righteous. Reina’s story (Eldercynne Rising) has both. Quite a lot of both, actually.

What do you think? If Creatures and Monsters are different entities at all, what’s the divide for you?

Writing Wednesday: Recharging

Some days it feels like you have nothing left, no words, no dreams, no half conjured lines of poetry. Stress will do it, lack of time, lack of space, there are as many reasons for the drain as you can possibly ever think of. Sometimes, you just need to put down your words and go do something you love. For me, I binge on books and movies. I’ve been doing a lot of that lately and there are more reviews to come soon (and hopefully an interview or two). That doesn’t mean I’m getting no words of my own, I am, here and there, but my creativity feels like a waterline that’s lost pressure. The water is there but it’s a sputtering trickle instead of the powerful stream it should be.

It doesn’t take much for me to get a good recharge. Sometimes it’s as easy as a good book or an interesting documentary. Other times, it’s a little more involved and requires music, several books, a favorite movie, and some paint or plaster. My current recharge is on book #4, a new playlist on my ipod, two paintings, and the beginnings of a haunted fairy house for The Crow and Dragon (if it turns out neat anyway). I know some writers who step away from media completely and immerse themselves in nature or other kinds of work before they’re able to find their words again. There is no wrong or right way to recharge that battery. What matters is that you are kind enough to yourself to let yourself recharge without berating yourself for needing to.

So, put down the pen or the computer for an hour and do something else. Come back to your words with fresh eyes, a clear heart, and lighter shoulders.

Transitions

This week, my oldest child graduates high school and begins the journey to the next phase of life. In his case, it’s Emerson. He’s always loved Boston and now he’ll get to live there. He’s so excited. Honestly, so am I. Everything about this program fits him like it was made just for him. I think he’s going to be right at home there and do well.

My parenting philosophy has always been that my job is to make sure he’s ready to stand on his own. I love my kids with all my heart but I want to see them both live their own lives and do amazing things. Yes, I’ll miss them like crazy. Yes, part of me wants to wrap them up in bubble wrap and keep them home but I know that’s one of those things that is normal to feel but crazypants to try and actually do. We raise our kids until they’re ready to fly. That doesn’t mean they can’t come home if they need to but letting go is an important step in parenting. Just as he is transitioning to a new phase of his life, I am too.

My stomach does a little dance every time I realize that he’s not going to be close to home, where I can come get him easily if he needs me to. Not that he’s ever really needed that but I always pictured myself as his safety net and now he’s going to be working without one. And there’s a big part of me that’s going to miss him oodles. It’s going to be really hard for me to get away from talking to him every day. No college kid needs to talk to their mom every day. That’s not to say I won’t still send him terrible jokes but that’s different, that’s a touchstone, not a conversation. I’m glad I still have the summer to work through the whole idea of him stretching his wings.

When they hand you the tiny human they just ripped out of you no one tells you that you’re going to have to tend them, care for them, move the world for them, and then watch them walk away with a smile and an attaboy. They don’t really explain how to cut those apron strings or live with half your heart hundreds of miles away. I’m going to miss him but I’m so damn proud of him I could burst. I have no doubt that my kid will go on to do amazing and important things. I’ve already been informed that he’ll be the first famous writer in the family (thanks for that vote of confidence, family!). Honestly, he probably will though and I’ll be just as pleased as punch to see it happen.

If you’re following along on my own health thing – miraculously, it all came back benign. There were some scary words in my reports and I really didn’t think it was going to go that row but it did! Now my life can get back to normal and I can worry about normal things for a whole 6 months.

Movie Review: Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile

I will admit to an interest in serial killers. I was  9, almost 10, when Ted Bundy was executed. At the time I was living in a suburb of Seattle and I remember vividly the news and the songs and the demonstrators. I’ve heard a lot of people complaining about this particular movie – they made Bundy too personable, too pretty, too charming. They didn’t. That was pretty spot on. The scariest part about serial killers and psychopaths and sociopaths is that, 90% of the time, they don’t look like monsters. You could pass them on the street and never know. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s true. Zac Efron did a really amazing job in his portrayal.

I watched the documentary on Netflix a bit ago first. Years ago I read the Riverman: Ted Bundy And I Hunt for the Green River Killer. Bundy is an interesting look at the human condition when everything about it is wrong, a mask, an exceptional actor who hides his truths far too well. I think that’s why it’s important that they didn’t make Bundy look like the monster he was on the inside. Watch the interviews, read the books, he was charming, he was attractive, he was unassuming, and nowhere near as smart as he thought he was.

The movie did a good job of wrapping it all up in a less than pretty bow, staying true to the events pretty closely actually. The press conference shows it so clearly – how Bundy tried to take control of it, how off the rails it went. I imagine he’s why they don’t do those kind of press conferences much any more.

For me, the most outlandish and amazing part is that he got a woman to fall in love with him, marry him, and have his kid, during the trial. She honestly believed in him. Personally, not a thing I understand. How do you overlook all of the evidence? He was brilliantly manipulative.

As for the movie, the casting was straight brilliant. I didn’t know about Efron, how he would do, but he was so good. The woman playing Carol Anne Boone however was even better. The further into the story we got, the better the casting got. Malkovich did a brilliant job in a complicated role with speeches taken directly from transcripts (seriously, judge really did say Bundy would have made an excellent lawyer). Jim Parsons was good but it might be a bit before he gets out of Sheldon’s shadow for me.

The importance of showing Bundy as the clever, bright, charming man cannot be understated. Monsters are out there, everywhere, and the fact is, they don’t look like monsters. There are no fangs, no fur, no spooky theme music. The real monsters look just like anyone else on the surface. I enjoyed the clips of actual moments from that time, so people see that these things were real, that it isn’t some flight of fancy from some writer’s mind. No, the real horror of it is that monsters look like everyone else.

Anyway, if you like true crime and serial killers, it’s a good movie.

It’s my oldest child’s last day of high school today so I’m binging all the things I don’t watch when the kids are home. Oldest child doesn’t like watching movies where people are shockingly evil so, I don’t watch them when he’s home. I was disappointed and had to turn off Death House. Perhaps a haunted house movie.

Writing Wednesday: Fan Fiction

It’s a bit of a controversial topic in some circles. There are those who will say it’s a great exercise for new writers wanting to find their legs. There are others who find it relatively pointless. And still others who think of it as a theft of sorts. As long as you aren’t making money playing in someone else’s universe, I don’t think it’s harming anyone. That being said, I am solidly in the not a fan of fanfic category but, if it’s the only writing someone feels comfortable doing, then I’m all for it if only because telling stories is amazing.

As a kid, I played in other people’s universes but I never wrote any of it down. I enjoyed being Gandalf or Leia or a singing siamese cat but it never occured to me to share any of my playing with anyone other than the kids who were in the woods with me. When I started writing, I had far too much fun making up my own worlds to play in someone else’s, no matter how much I loved Narnia and Middle Earth. I don’t honestly understand the desire to do it. I struggled with writing in someone else’s universe writing my stories for the Sha’Daa series and I only had a loose theme, a shared character, and a shared event to work with. Anything more than that feels like cheating to me.

But I have friends who love the stuff – taking favorite characters and making all their ships come true or taking a beloved character into the world after “The End.” Some people are hard to say goodbye to, even if they are fictional.

I’ve heard the argument that fanfiction is good for helping new writers get a handle on characterization, story flow, and the like. Honestly, the same can be said for certain writers who literally copied famous writers, trying to learn from the masters. Personally, while you might learn a bit about sentence structure and exceptional language, I see more drawbacks to learning someone else’s style, someone else’s voice, in this way.

Ultimately, I don’t fully understand the draw of Fanfiction. I have so much fun doing the world building part of writing and I can’t imagine not getting to do that part (with the exception of the Salesman and his apocalypses). For me, half the fun is that world building. I spent years (and a large number of short stories) working out the details of the Acknivarian Cycle universe before writing Guardian of the Gods and every now and again, I get the urge to write another story there. The mythology and worlds of my other books are a little closer to Earth but they’re still my versions of those things, the hidden places people don’t see unless they really know how to look. I’m not sure it would be as much fun to write if I didn’t get to do that sort of exploration also.

Writing is a good stress outlet and a good way to muddle through life, to understand your own emotions and journey better (even if you only really get that part in hindsight), so yay to all writing, in your own world or someone else’s (just so long as you don’t make money off it). I don’t think I’d want to read fanfiction set in my own worlds though. I’d be flattered if it existed but I think I’d want to correct things too much.

Never Tell Me The Odds

Or do because I love statistics and data. Either way. I have a sort of obsessive need to know. I don’t like things up in the air. I don’t like vague answers or possibilities. There is comfort in facts, in data. Things that are named are nowhere near as scary to me as the vague, shadowy, nebulous what-ifs and maybes.

I blogged a few weeks ago about going to get squeezed when I went for my first mammogram. I didn’t say anything after that because I like to stew on my own and not spread around things to worry about. After the scan, I got the call that they saw something they need to get a better look at. Some calcifications and a mass. They got a better look and aren’t really thrilled with what they saw so, biopsy it is for the mass and a resqueeze in 6 months for the probably nothing calcifications! And my brain has been going 3 million miles an hour since.

I know the odds are in my favor. I Googled. The doctor assured me. The data available says I’ve got a good shot at being one of the 80% for whom that biopsy amounts to nothing. Well, given some of the words in the report, maybe a chunk less than the standard 80 but still. The data could say anything it wanted to say, it wouldn’t change the circling thoughts and restless nights.

Earlier this year, I declared that this year was going to be my brave year but I didn’t think I’d have anything to really be brave about, only normal-person brave like peopling and mentoring and submitting to way above my paygrade markets. And yet, here we are. As I count down the hours until the next stage of this whole biopsy thing, I can’t help but think about all the things that could go wrong. Being prepared for the worst has always served me well in the long run.

I’m writing this post in pieces, when I have more to say. The waiting is the worst of it. I had the initial scan on the 15th, results on the 18th, new scan on the 6th. That’s a solid 2.5 weeks of waiting. Words aren’t working right for me so I spent a large chunk of that reading and I’ve read some very good books.

The rescan appointment is done and I still know nothing. Well, not exactly nothing but not the answer either. The mass is a thing that needs a biopsy so I won’t actually know anything until 2-3 days after that. The odds are in my favor no matter which way this thing goes. It’s not like it was 40 years ago, the size and scope of this mass, on the odd chance it is something, the odds of survivability are in the nearly 100% range. That didn’t make it any easier to sleep last night, dreaming of makeup and elephants and overheating. There’s a part of me that remembers watching my mother get sicker and sicker, dying by inches, but her masses were many and much bigger and melanoma none of which describes what’s going  on with me. It’s still an 80% or so chance that the biopsy will say it’s nothing anyway. But I have a feeling that these few days are going to go by so slowly.

I’m doing my best to keep busy but mostly I end up sleeping as I’m not sleeping well at night.

I think I’d like to trade in my brave year for a nice easy nothing happens year. But, brave it is.