Happy Halloween!

And so the Halloween season is upon us. Here's to hoping you had a fabulous summer and all your schoolwork is going well. The house is decorated with goblins and ghouls, and the horror movies or coming out a little more often at my house. I like to let them play as I write. I'm not so distracted by the screaming. Makes me laugh, actually. Monsters growling, girls screaming. Is there a better form of entertainment?

I want to take this time to thank Professor Delphinius "J.C." Tucker, for the kindness he showed me and the kind words he said, which can be found at:
http://delphinius.atwaz.com/Conservatory/archive_jul08.php

What kind words! Thank you, Professor, and Cheers!

I just wanted to say have a safe and Happy Halloween as well, and for the Anthologies who published me this year. I'm proud to be a part of it, and hope for more publishing success. It's been a good year. Here's to you, horror fans, music fans, artists in general the world over. Keep expressing!

Some Time Away...

I just got back from eight days of fun in the sun in Sun Valley, Idaho at Anderson Lake. Ever been there? It's beautiful. Part Hemingway country, and the lake is massive, almost three hundred feet deep in some spots. My mother has finished (hopefully) the roughest part of her cancer treatments. God bless you, mom! She looked rosy and healthy and a few pounds heavier. I mean that in a good way, mother. I'll hear about that one later.

The kids got together for mom's sake, waterskiing, dirt biking, good food, camp fire, full moon, plenty of stars, and lots of laughter. It was good to get away. My first few days back to work, I was still on the lake. We saw a bald eagle, chased it in the boat for a while as it flew over the water. Deer ran everywhere, even a couple of bucks. My brother, being the snake charmer he is, went hunting snakes and had some luck.

The water was perfect, 74 degrees. I got on the wake board for the first time, and when I wasn't feeling cocky, switching and trying to cut the water, I made a few face plants. Ouch! That'll jog you back to reality. But I was ready to go again when the boat came around.

It definitely recharged the batteries. I feel a little calmer, not high strung like I did before I went. (Mainly because of work. Whoever said working in a bookstore was easy? The phone rings constantly. I can't believe how many people don't know where Mark Twain is) I had some personal demons to face on my own, I suppose, and it wasn't really an effort. One night, I took a walk out with my Uncle, who'd come down from California, and we stared at the full moon while standing on the dam. I loved the way the moon illuminated the hills to every side. Scorpio was barely visible to the south. I'm a Scorpio, so I notice things like that. I had some private moments, thinking about life, where I was then, and where I am now, and if anything was perfect, it was then. I had no qualms. I was just glad to be with my family, my brothers and sister, my nieces, and my mom and uncle. Even my sister's boyfriend, George, came along. He introduced me to some Otep. George is a great guy. Everyone likes him.

As all was said and done, like all vacations, it went by way too fast, and the next thing I knew, I was home again, back at work. I started a new story, relaxed in to the lateness of summer, and gradually watched the college students come back into town. It was a great way to end the summer.

Here's hoping you had similar adventures and great memories this summer!

Blood Red Tales Gets A Makeover

Since Blood Red Tales has been up, lots has happened. I don't know where to begin. I've met some great people, had some great help, got published in a couple of respectable anthologies, and heard from some fans. Blood Red, in that time, has gotten a makeover. Some of the tales could always be better, but not only have the tales been polished since, I've been fortunate to talk with some great and very kind artists. Their work is displayed, with links on my About The Author page, as to where to find more. It has been an exciting year. And I'm still trying to get more exposure, more publications, and meet new people. For everyone who helps, you have to help someone else. That's the rule. Blood Red Tales is not just about fiction. It's about great artwork and spreading light in dark places. It might be dark and bloody content, but that doesn't mean we can't have some laughs and help others along the way. After all, a dark sense of humor is healthy.

Check out some of the prints, if you are so inclined, and drop those artists an email. We're all in this together. Bringing passion to life.
Later....

Art As Teacher

The funny thing about life and its relation to horror...Or, in this case, art, which we all know reflects life, and vice-versa. As artists, honesty is essential. Without it, where does your art go? Does it fade into the shallow confines of one dimensional expression and fail to skim the surface of catharsis? Without the pain of honesty, no true creation can touch another's life. Of course, there are artists who do not create for others, let alone show the world their work. I create for myself, but still want to show the world my work, so I would like to meet these people and have coffee with them. We could chat about our inner demons, our life-long quest to create, to learn, to pursue. Maybe we could learn a few things about each other along the way.

I'm not talking solely about horror, of course, but art in all categories, genres, and sub-genres. The canvas, music, sculpting, photography, along with writing, and every art form imaginable reflects. It's a mirror. I think as true artists, those who are unafraid to say how they feel, express their honesty no matter how detrimental it may be to them as people or their state of mind. They could care less what you think of them as people. They want their art understood, appreciated. They want you to see them as artists, learn about them through their art. Of course, being a decent person isn't bad either. Hitler was an artist, too, and well...you get the picture.

Artists provide us with something sacred, vital, allowing us to see inside them in ways they can only express through art. This is not only catharsis, in my opinion, but the definition of beauty. Artists are accepting this risk when embarking on the quest, and it's a risk worth taking, at least for the artist. You sacrifice for the sake of the art. Hemingway said "Experience makes the writer," but of course, it applies to all artists, and not just writers. So, this little spiel (not that I know what the hell it's really about, I just felt compelled to write) is something along the lines of honesty, acceptance, pain, and creativity. So, to teach, to learn, we experience pain, the coldness of bleak isolation, the sorrow and anguish of wracking sobs. Yes, it's the old cliche, ladies and gentleman--or underground dwellers--as the case may be. Pain is the greatest teacher, but luckily, as artists, we have an outlet for the confusion, sadness, and turmoil. As to it's relation to horror or art, well, that's where I begin to move this little exercise into a darker abyss.

Like any level of catharsis, some of the greatest work speaks louder through darkness, pain, and sorrow. At least, maybe this is why it reached me on the level it did. Horror made me realize I wasn't alone, and at the time, that was just what little Brandy-boy needed. And let's face it, growing up, we experience nothing but pain. In order to express, I thought loneliness, pain, sadness, and emotional anguish were best expressed through horror. And why not throw in a bleak winter landscape, maybe some freezing rain, just for effect. Ah, now you've got it! The point, I suppose, is that horror--like anything dark or evil--can be therapeutic, thus the catharsis. The blacker the tale, the deeper the understanding; at least I always believed this. Life comes at you hard and unexpected. Sometimes, it can be rude, humbling, and humiliating. Sadness moves, it wracks the body, but it can cleanse. And when it does, there might be enough space for clarity to shift the mind into another perception, or dimension, depending on your preference. Maybe you learn. Maybe you don't. It's a theory based on trial and error, and even as people, (you don't have to be an artist) we're able to appreciate and understand that. The beauty, I supposes, lies in the fact that art, like life, is our teacher, and, of course, vice-versa. We are all artists, in some way, in the painful throes of expression. Life humiliates, shames, pains, and confuses us. So, we cry, but no one hears us. We ache, but no one cares. Until some fateful occurrence, where the possibility presented itself that we touched someone's life. Maybe it made them cry, laugh, or shudder with fear. It doesn't matter. Emotion was evoked. The song had been sung. The tale is done.

As people, as artists, we've bowed as we've left the stage. We've poured our gratitude out and back again. We might be smiling on the inside, but, also, we are weeping torrential currents of light and tears. Life and art hold power. Fearlessness is part of the ingredient, I think. To be unafraid of where your mind takes you. Such a fine fine line, my friends, and perhaps dangerous. Are you willing to take the risk? Well, isn't that why you signed on in the first place? I think it has something to do with sharing the blackest part of you, and not harming, but helping others because of your experiences, pain, and vision. Some have brighter visions, some darker. Both are just as capable of teaching us something new.

I guess, that's enough of a soapbox. Can I get a pompous cheer? Like an evangelical tirade through blogs of horror. That wasn't my intention.

With life, comes pain. With art, comes redemption. Or so we hope. (Maybe a better title would be Philanthropy Through Art. And horror, too.) We learn through both, as painful as it is. The risk you signed on for when you made the commitment. Lessons come in all shapes and sizes. But you don't have to be afraid. Imagination as a lie? A fairy-tale? For shame! I don't think so! There's more realism going on under the shadow of fabrication. Does this mean--as an artist--you are allowed only pain? I don't think I can answer that. All you can do is build a kingdom. We have worlds inside us. Make it real. Teach us what we need to know...

LAST DRESSER DRAWER

Here's a complimentary tale that was published in 7th Dimension, but apparently, is no longer alive and well. 7th Dimension, that is. Hope you like it. It's a short, flash read. And I would love to hear what you think.

LAST DRESSER DRAWER

I come into my apartment and notice the smell, like wet pennies. I flick on the light. It’s small, my apartment. I go to the drawer and open it. There are many drawers, and they are all the same. I open the drawer to Confession and Lies. I see one of my eyes staring at me as it floats in a pool of blood. I didn’t know their eyes could float, now mine because I own them. It surprises me every time. Some of her black hair is in there still, too. The strands make scarlet webs on the outside of the drawer. People think it’s just the way I’ve decorated.

I can’t let anyone see this! What if they start to suspect? My friends are loyal, however, and I trust them.

I dip my hand in the blood and bring a mouthful to my lips. The lights go out, and I am enveloped in total blackness.

I take the mouthful anyway, tasting hair between my teeth. I rub my face in it and close the drawer. I hear the blood slop over the drawer and onto the floor, splattering my feet.

In the dark, I wipe my hands on my coat, adding to the other bloodstains there. I go to the bathroom, turn on the light, and look at myself in the mirror. I smile. I take the black ink out of the bathroom cabinet and paint my eyes and teeth.

I can’t live this way with anyone else. I am all that I can live with. That is enough.

“Villain,” I say to my frightening reflection. “Look at you with blood on your lips.”

I smile, painting my face, wondering when they’ll catch up with me.

Panicking, I finally remember to go to the door and lock it.

“Did you put her body away?” I ask.

“Yes,” he answers.

“Where are her toes?”

“In the silverware drawer. The one above your favorite.”

“That was the one I was just at.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I put out the light.”

I look around, shaking my head. That was close!

“What did you do with her teeth?”

“I ate them.”

“Amanda? Susan?”

“In the cellar behind the wall.”

“Here,” I say. “Help me with the others.”

He helps, and we get the rest of them downstairs.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

“Someone’s pounding on the door!”

“Don’t answer it!”

“What if it’s the police?”

“Tell them you’re in the shower.”

I run upstairs to the bathroom. I paint my face black, rub blood on my hands and face, adding to the color from one of the many drawers.

“Police!” I hear through the door. “Open up!”

I stamp my bloody hands on the cupboards and walls, the refrigerator as I go.

Don’t panic! I think. Don’t panic!

I open the door and put on a winning smile. Blood drips down my chin.

He’s standing there big and authoritative. He’s all dressed in dark blue like the rest of them.

“’Heard about a disturbance down here. Everything all right?”

I nod, pretending to be puzzled. Disturbance? Harmless me? What on Earth could I possibly do?

“What kind of disturbance?”

“Loud noises. Things like that. Bumpin’ and thumpin’. You been jumpin’ up and down?”

I shake my head vigorously.

“No, sir.”

He narrows his eyes.

“Hmmm.”

He looks around, eyeing the apartment.

“Just who are you trying to be, anyway?”

I shrug.

“Little obsession of mine. Like to paint my face. Sometimes, I…”

“Yeah yeah. Just keep it to yourself, buddy.”

I nod.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well,” he says, eyeing the apartment again. “Just try to keep it down, will ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

He looks at me, giggles at my make-up, and shakes his head. He turns, walking back to the patrol car, which is parked under the street lamp. I shut the door.

“Whew!” I say, locking it. “That was close.”

“What did he say?”

I didn’t even know he had come upstairs.

“Nothing. Just to keep it down.”

I look around.

“Well,” he says. “I thought you had a date?”

“I do,” I say. “I was trying to get ready before he knocked on the door.”

“What are you going to wear?”

“Something nice. She’s taking me out, she said.”

“Lucky you.”

I make sure some of the drawers are empty, but I find only one left.

“I thought you were going to buy another dresser. We need another dresser.”

“I’ve been busy. Quit hounding me!”

“Sorry.”

I look through the closet, push a body aside, and find something nice to wear.

“Oh, she was nice,” I say, reminiscing.

“Janice,” he says. “Her name was Janice.”

“Hey, is this okay?”

I turn around, but he’s gone. I go to one of the drawers, finding something to tie around my neck.

“Where the hell did he go?” I ask myself.

New Tales Available!

I'm pleased, proud, privileged, honored--you name it--to announce the release of Twisted Tales 3, and the Abominations Anthology. Both are featuring tales I'm rather proud of and have worked hard on over the years. When I first dabbled in horror, I was bombarded with short story ideas I thought were original, exciting, and literary. I fell in love with a lot of these ideas and tried--over the years--to hone my craft around these tales. In other words, I tried to find my voice through these particular horror stories. We had been through a lot together, and I always thought of stories, especially the short story, as children. You nurture them, shape them; you get them ready to face the world and send them off, hoping for the best. I'd rewritten, lost, resurrected, and rewrote these tales probably hundreds of times. And as many times as I wanted to let go of them, I knew there was more work to do, so I went after them all again. Each time, it was like reliving something special that I loved. I loved these stories, and I didn't--in some aspects--want to let them go. Each time I worked on them was a special time for me. I loved being there; I loved getting to the end, and I loved feeling the proud, fatherly satisfaction of what it may be (I'm just assuming) to be proud of one's children. In a span of fifteen plus years, I grew to love these tales in ways I'd never thought, saw them gain shape in ways I never imagined. Some of those tales like Richard Korbett, Barriers, and Silly Girl were among the first. They were difficult and challenging, at times insanely frustrating, but always worth it. What child isn't? I wanted them to be the best they could be. The Ghost of Korrim McKarthy (Twisted Tales 3) and Mosquito (Abominations) were among these original ideas. I can't tell you what it means to me to see them in print. The rest of the original horror story ideas are still hidden, waiting to see the light of day. I'll just have to be patient, but we're working on it. Anyway, if you were so inclined, the links are on the www.bloodredtales.com main page, if you haven't noticed them already. Of course, any support is always greatly appreciated, and I am open for you to tell me what you think. Just drop me a line.
Signing out.

P.S. Twisted Tales 3 is available as an ebook and a paperback. If you want the paperback, you will have to click on the Amazon link. Thanks again everybody. Hope you like tales!

The Latest from the Front Office...

It wasn't easy getting rid of the St. Patrick's Day Girl. I'm a sucker for pin-ups, though, so Happy Spring Cleaning, Everyone!

Also, it hasn't been easy keeping these posts updated the way I should, either. Between work, writing, submitting, and playoff hockey, I get bogged down. I know I'm not the only one, and who knows how many people really read this anyway. I've been working on another novel called Castle Juliet, which is anything but horror, dedicated to a very dear friend of mine, Diane Evans. Through lives and worlds away, sometimes we imagine living many lifetimes with our closest friends, and Castle Juliet is no exception. It is the story of a boy and girl, both ten, and both the best of friends. I wanted to get away from horror for a bit and try something bright and more uplifting, so I spent the winter reading Dickens and working on this novel. It is about 99.9% completed without a publisher. I'll shop around for it a bit more later, perhaps.

Anyway, the Twisted Tales III anthology is soon available. Here is a pretty cool link where you can check out an excerpt from one of my tales, the cover of the anthology, and anything else that might tickle you in all the right places. http://www.double-dragon-ebooks.com/single.php?ISBN=1-55404-567-3

I was pretty excited they used my tale for the excerpt. I recommend reading the story out loud during a camp out, in the middle of the dark, silent wilderness with all of your friends.

Also, I was lucky enough to get another story accepted by Timothy Deal for the Abominations Anthology. Their theme is creatures and critters, so I sent them Mosquito, a little vacation trip to Florida--that, of course, goes terribly awry. My ode to Dracula tale. Anyway, thank you so much Timothy, for accepting the tale! It's one I'm rather proud of.

Also, for this blog, I thought I'd give an idea of what I've been doing lately. For those who haven't read The History of Love by Nicole Krauss, I urge you to do so. Simply a beautiful story. Also Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Foer is worth the read. I've been in memoir mode lately, too. I've thoroughly enjoyed Touching the Void, Into Thin Air, Manic by Terri Cheney, The Quiet Room, Pete Hamil's, A Drinking Life, Lucky by Alice Sebold, and The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, which is simply amazing. Some of these are older titles I'm sure you've read. I'm still trying to catch up on what are popular but worth-the-read- titles. The beauty of literature is that there's always great stuff to read, and you can never catch up.

On the movie front, I recommend Martian Child, the film starring John Cusack. Yes, I know it's not horror, but just bear with me. On the horror front, The Ruins was pretty tasty, too, though I still haven't read the book. I simply couldn't wait. There's a great scene from up above of the town going berserk in 30 Days of Night you might enjoy. I was impressed. Also, The Orphanage, though a while back, was flat out creepy. I highly recommend it, and it won't kill you to read the subtitles.

The main priority these days is writing and submitting, paying the bills, and staying well fed, which I hope you're all doing as well. I've decorated the house with horrifying cinematic movie posters, which is also something I've wanted to do for a long time. "Hello Girls!" I always say to the pin-ups when I come home. (The Elvgren prints, like the Spring Cleaning above. Give me a little credit, will ya?) Hockey corner is by the television, and the gourmet coffee is always brewing. Sometimes, I opt for hot chocolate. Just because it's spring, doesn't mean there isn't still snow in Colorado. It's a good life, and I'm smiling more now than ever before. I'm a lucky man...

With that, I hope you are well, my little underground dwellers. We'll see you next time...