My short story, THE GIRL BENEATH, is now available in the anthology, MISERIA’S CHORALE, from Amazon and Createspace. The horror anthology was edited by David Nell and released by Forgotten Tomb Press.
The line up looks terrific, and after having a sneak peek at the talent, I’m definitely impressed. Featuring 400 pages of illustrations and stories from well-known authors and new talent, I just know my relatives are going to enjoy their copy for Christmas.
Oooh, I can just imagine their pained, non-horror loving expressions. Having a horror writer in the family must be such fun.
Well, it’s school holidays and I’m not getting much achieved. On the other hand, I’m spending quality time with Miss Tween; what with ice skating, horse riding, circus performing and the odd movie.
Leaving the computer for these adventures interferes with writing, but it provides plenty of scope for research. The lady who owns the riding stable told me about a Middle Eastern prince who recently visited Adelaide. He wanted to ride a horse, and arrived at the stable along with a fleet of limousines. His entourage stepped out; the men wearing double-breasted jackets, and the women tottering across the paddocks in high heels. They wore so many jewels they couldn’t grip the reins. After their ride, the chauffeurs unloaded the cars, put up a marquee (without permission) and the prince and his minions enjoyed an afternoon soiree, right in the middle of the horse riding field. The owners looked on in amazement.
Such an incredible sense of entitlement, reminiscent of sovereign power and the pre-industrial period.
Life is definitely stranger than fiction. Or as my father would say, ‘there’s nothing stranger than folk.’
Working on the inner life of a character can be a harrowing experience.
Last night, I was working on my horror project and writing a scene where the main character witnesses a ritual performed by her mother and Aunts. I wanted to avoid vivid imagery (thinking it too brutal), but decided I’d be cheating if I didn’t imagine I was there—didn’t create some emotional or psychic link between the character and myself. I mean how can I think to transport the reader if I avoid the messy emotions—the dark recesses of fear, shame and pride writhing beneath the make-believe world?
So, I put on noise cancelling headphones and listened to music, detached myself from this world and entered the fictional world of my characters. The setting is another character in the novel. Weird things are coming to life … strange things that shouldn’t be there at all.
It was such a successful transition, that when my partner tapped my on the shoulder, I screamed bloody murder.
Maybe it’s time to invest in some of those new open-ear headphones that allow you to simultaneously hear the world around you, and listen to the beat of your favourite artist?
After all, one of my characters is a detective. Surely these nifty Spy Earphones would help me pry open the door to his character?
And pictures of the eerie setting. The Coorong, South Australia.