Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve had a love of horror novels. I found a John Saul book at a garage sale when I was around 14, and having already cut my teeth on Steven King’s Salem’s Lot and Carrie, I was hungry for more.
That book was Comes the Blind Fury.
I’m not a huge fan of most horror movies, mostly because it’s the psychological horror that pulls me in, not none stop blood with no real story to induce the fear response. But books? Yes please.
It should come as no surprise then that I have had my own horror story floating about in the darker recesses of my brain since about the time I was 17. It has never really made it to the page, because I had trouble finding my voice.
However, recently I wondered if I could condense it into a short story for an upcoming anthology, and words started to pour out.
Yes, this makes three novels currently in some stage of creation on my computer. This is me, after all.
I doubt it will be short enough for the anthology, now that I’ve gotten into it, but that’s okay. It’s fun to be writing something very different from my usual. The constant rain here is very atmospheric as well.
Speaking of rain, I had to wade through rivers of run off to get into the office this morning, and I should probably dive into the ever present, ever growing pile of work.
Happy Wednesday, Readers! I hope you find yourself someplace sunny and warm, with kindness as your companion.