#NGHW News 138

 

Hello, Addicts!

Well, how good were this week’s stories! I can’t tell you how happy I am that our judges did not agree. This way, we were blessed with seven stories instead of the promised three. And oh my Odin, what stories they were!

So this week’s challenge was to write 250 words about a monster. Seven monsters we were given, three survived to the next round and then one was picked and deemed worthy of the mini prize – Professional audio production of the winning short story.

Our stories, this week were:
1 LARVAE #teamsumiko
2 THE PET #teamdaphne
3 LINGUA #teamJC
4 BLOODWORM #teamjonathan
5 THE ODDMENTS MONSTER #teamadele
6 THE LAUGHING MAN #teamnaching
7 ALWAYS HUNGRY #teamcat
You can read and/or listen to all these brilliant stories here.

In the discussion after the stories were read, we learned some juicy deets about our beautiful, spooky host, Emz. Our leader into the night is scared of insects and monkeys! And even though the contestants have been warned, it will be interesting to see if any of them draw on this info for their next projects. Knowing what spooks the judges could give them a leg up or tear them down. Only time will tell if any of them dare to scare our dearest Emz.

But this discussion leads me to think … What do our fearsome fifteen fear? What makes our makers of fear jump in the night? I simply had to ask. (And if you’re wondering what scares me, it’s koalas.)

We had some super interesting answers. AE Kirk – our archaeologist – was freaked out by skeletons as a child. Sumiko – the author of LARVAE – has an irrational fear of maggots, which may explain her monster. Naching – our winner for this week’s challenge (oh, had I not mentioned that yet!) – is claustrophobic. Ten points to who can guess what JC is scared of …

One story, which I really wanted to share with you, was from our sweet Daphne. I will let her tell you the story…

“I am TERRIFIED of ladybugs. Yes, the little red and black beetles that populate gardens and children’s story books. I wasn’t always afraid of them–I wore a ladybug dress to my first day of kindergarten–but that all changed when I was ten.
My parents, after twenty-plus years of marriage, finally built their dream home in the Missouri countryside: a magazine-worthy log cabin situated on five acres of wooded land. All was well. The house was completed and we moved in. But at some point during the construction process, ladybugs had laid eggs in one of the interior rooms–specifically, what would become my room.
After a few weeks, the eggs hatched. Thousands of them. While the room had been open to the environment when they were deposited, it was now sealed, locking the beetles inside the house along with me. They were everywhere: in my bed, my clothes, my hair. Their tiny armored bodies blocked out the light that streamed through my windows as they swarmed toward what they thought was freedom. My father would vacuum my room every day (taking the wriggling, writhing mass of insects outside for disposal), only for more ladybugs to appear in their kin’s place. This continued for months before a significant majority of the monsters had been rehomed outside (where I assume they went on to reproduce more of their abhorrent kind). Yet, to this day, when visiting my childhood home, I, without fail, find one of them creeping over a couch cushion or across my arm.”

So, back to the contest. The top three stories this week were BLOODWORM by Jonathan Fortin, THE PET by Daphne Straset and THE LAUGHING MAN by Naching T Kassa. But I totally already spoiled it by telling you that Naching won. Her story, set in a war zone and crossed with creepy bedtime tale, won her this week’s mini prize which you can also hear on the podcast.

Next week on the #NGHW contest is challenge number 3! Write a 450-500 word, non-fiction, blog post about anything horror. This is to test our fearsome fifteen’s ability to blog which is a super important asset for any writer’s career. This is a very different challenge that may see some different contestants take the limelight. It will be really interesting to see how the contestants handle non-fiction. They will be judged on:
• Blog ability. What will appeal to the readers.
• Topic interest. Is it something horror addicts are interested in today.
• Writing quality.
The winner will have their subject discussed on a prominent horror podcast.
So, who will you follow? Perhaps you will be on #teamjonathan – the gothic, demon lover with a taste for the unique and bizarre – or #teamfeind – Cthulu’s best friend and our favourite metal head – or #teamquentin – our filmmaking fan of Frankenstein’s monster – or #teamriley – the beautiful cosplaying gal who loves herself a little bit of Freddy. Let us know in the comments or on the social media.

Stay spooky!

Hugs xxx

Adelise M Cullens

Serial Scribbler : Tips This Season From the Serial Scribbler

This season on Horror Addicts, I’m going to focus on how to build your brand, as well as giving you some tips for building your business as a writer. Below is an outline of some of the things we’ll cover. I hope you’ll get something out of it, and let me know how they work for you!

  • How to build your brand
  • Should I get/be a mentor? What are the benefits?
  • Should I give/get critiqued? What are the benefits?
  • Pointers for building a successful website, and is it necessary to have one?
  • Do’s and Don’t’s for engaging your audience
  • Is Self-Publishing for you?
  • Should I get an agent?
  • What to look for in a publisher
  • I got a one-star review, now what?

Have a question for me and would like to have it answered here? Email me at vasquez@stitchedsmilepublications.com! Don’t forget to put “Horror Addicts Question” in the subject title!

 

 

************

Lisa Vasquez is an author (The Unfleshed: The Tale of the Autopsic Bride, The Unsaintly) and CEO of Stitched Smile Publications, LLC. She volunteers for the Horror Writers Association as the Publisher’s Liaison and is a mentor to authors both there, and with her own company. Her short stories have been published in several anthologies which can be found both on Amazon or on her website: www.unsaintly.com

David’s Haunted Library: Writers On Writing Volumes 1-4

David's Haunted Library

writers-on-writing-omnibus-193x3002xHave you ever thought about being a writer? There are lots of places where you can go to get advice on writing. You could take classes, buy books on the subject or find websites dedicated to the craft of writing. With all the different places to go for information, it may be hard to find what works best. That being said, the best place to go for advice is to authors that have already been published. Writers on Writing Volume 1 – 4 Omnibus: An Author’s Guide from Crystal Lake Publishing is a great resource for newbie writers.

Some of the subjects covered in this book include how you can learn from rejection, making time for writing, character building, finding your voice, how to network, what to expect from writing your first novel and much more. In Brian Hodge’s article, The Infrastructure Of The Gods he gives tips on getting started. Such as getting rid of distractions like turning off your wi-fi and remembering that instant gratification is not something you get from writing a novel. Brian also gives good advice on never giving up because new authors are always breaking through into the mainstream.

Another one I liked was What Right Do I Have To Write by Jasper Bark. Jasper talks about how the circumstances are never right for writing. There are always excuses not to do it but the only thing you can do is make the time and let nothing get in your way. I also like how he shoots down the fantasy that writing is a dream job. He says its fun sometimes but you are working under nightmare conditions, you may spend up to a year completing your first work and even the pros laugh at the idea that writing is a dream job.

One beneficial article in this collection is Finding Your Voice by Lynda E. Rucker. I would  have thought that finding your voice would come natural but in reality it takes awhile. Lynda mentions that it took a long time for her to create a voice that wasn’t an imitation of another author’s voice. She then states that finding your voice is the same as finding your identity. The way to find it is by realizing you have something to say and what you think is important. One thing I learned here is that there are several important aspects to writing.

Even if you’re not a writer and read this book you can get a lot out of it, such as a whole new respect for writing as an art form . My favorite part of this book was entitled A First-Time Novelist’s Odyssey by William Gorman. William takes you all through his five-year journey in writing his novel from doing research, living with the characters in your head, and getting their story just right. He talks about the struggle to find his voice and the massive amounts of revisions before the book was finally published. Writing maybe the most complex art form there is and Writers On Writing is a book that can help you on the path to being a better writer and possibly getting published too.

http://www.crystallakepub.com/

 

You Have To Make Up Your Mind

SerialScribbler

As a publisher, I see this every day. People making excuses for not writing.

“I’m very busy.”
“I have kids.”
“I have a full-time job and go to school.

Stop.

No, seriously. Stop. If you have time to post status updates, and catch up on DVR’ed shows and/or movies, you have time to write. I challenge you today to find out how many minutes you spend posting, typing statuses and how many words you’ve typed in the Facebook (or other social media) vortex.

Is that number over ten? You have time.

Are you watching at least one show a night? You have time to write.

Are you vegging out doing nothing for thirty minutes a night? You have time to write.

The real question is, “Is writing a priority to you?”  That’s where you need to make up your mind. Writing takes hard work, dedication, and commitment. There’s no boss over your head most of the time making sure you’re not slacking off. You have to be in it, every spare moment that you have. If you can DVR a show and catch up with it at night or for a few hours on the weekend, you have time to commit, you just aren’t doing so.

If you sit down to write and someone can talk you out of it, you’re not committed to it. They don’t believe it’s a priority because you haven’t set the standard or the boundaries.

Writers that are serious about their craft do not allow interruptions. Friends and family will learn that it’s “Do Not Disturb” time and eventually, you will have time to write.

Recently, with my publishing company we held a meeting and discussed what our slogan for the month would be. We chose, “Are you all in?”

Well, are you?

KIDNAPPED BLOG: Released by Selah Janel

halogokidnappednotdateby Selah Janel

For me, a horror story begins as a what if. I like to suspend belief when I plunge my characters into a situation, and this also tends to keep me from uber-focusing on only one style or subgenre in horror and dark fiction. I’m just as open to writing evil invisible friends that can end the world as I am vampires, zombies, fairy tale eldergods, or naïve serial killers looking for love.

As you can imagine, my family is very proud.

However, sometime’s it’s hard to jump start an idea, or even find the right way to portray it to get it started on paper.

Flash fiction has always been a challenge for me, but I love writing prompts because they tend to immediately activate the what if portion of my brain. If I have a couple words or a phrase, I’m much more likely to start jotting down something than I am if you tell me “write something scary!”

You do that, you’ll probably get something sarcastic about bunnies, just sayin’.

At any rate, once I have a direction, the rest tends to just…pour out.

This is a classic example. I was taking part in a blogging campaign right when I first started my blog, and there were flash fiction contests every so often. I think the prompt for this was “wall” and I had like five hundred words or so to tell a tale. I love little moments like this, and I still really like this piece. It’s amazing what can come out of a person’s brain in five hundred words one you’re given a direction.

Released

Shadows crept along the wall as velvet grey fingers seared right through the mortar between crumbling bricks. The longer Morgana stared, the more her suspicions were reinforced. The crawling, skittering veins and puddles of effervescent nightmares were not attacking the wall, but were coming from it.

“I stared too long,” she murmured, as if to convince her terrified logic that she was still alive. “I looked too closely and saw into The Wall. Somehow it saw me.” Past scrawled orange graffiti, under the brick, Morgana had seen it. And it had been trapped safely away, because it was evil.

She’d been warned to ignore the Cobbington Village Wall. No one remembered when or why it had been built across Shepherd’s Field, but the entire village population was content to let the whole place fall to neglect if it meant they could ignore The Wall.

“I just had to go for a walk,” Morgana whimpered, unable to move or even blink away from the skulking, oozing touches of the vile nothing that leaked out. “I just had to listen to the talk shows and change things up a bit. I couldn’t just be content watching a movie, eating dinner on my own, and falling asleep on the couch.” What had seemed a horrible prison sentence even thirty minutes ago was suddenly heaven; why had she been so stupid as to long for more than her humdrum, cashier, sweat-suit life?

The black entity that The Wall had held captive for so long oozed and splatted onto the grass. It sucked the life and color away as it claimed the good and simple of everyday life into its clutches. Morgana watched numbly as the ground, the air, the ants at her feet screamed and shriveled into grey nothing. “All I wanted was something different!” she stammered as the tendrils crept towards her toes. “Why did I have to go outside today?”

The rippling darkness chuckled and slowly flowed over her feet like spilled porridge, devouring her beat-up sneakers in its cold, blank grasp. She choked back a cry when the slimy ice feeling gripped her ankles.

“This is better,” the living tar streaming over her feet burbled into her mind. “They tried to hold me back for so long…now I’ll use you to return to Cobbington. We’ll both break free from the village, you and I.” Morgana tried to scream, but the horrible realization that at least her life would finally be interesting actually made her smile as her thoughts stopped becoming her own. For its part, the darkness growled its thanks before everything Morgana knew faded.

***

Selah Janel writes in many genres and wrecks them all. When she’s not writing, she’s making trolls and other costumes. Check her out at the following places:

Blog: http://www.selahjanel.wordpress.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/authorSJ

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/SelahJanel

KIDNAPPED BLOG: Echoes in Purgatory by Alex S. Johnson

halogokidnappednotdate

Echoes in Purgatory

by Alex S. Johnson

Her face swims in front of him. Curly red hair, green eyes, a concerned expression. In the next second she will touch his hand and it will all come back.

Every scarlet detail.

He wonders if she’s actually there with him, or just a projection of his subconscious. Whatever that might refer to here, in this unstable realm.

Shane knows what the priest would have called it, in Catechism classes. Purgatory. Limbo. The place in between.

Or just some extremely fucked up remake of Groundhog Day.

It amazes him that he’s held on to his sense of humor. But Shane’s ability to laugh at things that should, by all accounts, pin him to his mattress in the iron grip of depression, or catatonic shock, continues into the afterlife. This hinterland, where the only constants are frustration and despair.

She touches him. He glances up, looks into her eyes. She’s about to ask him what’s on his mind.

Honey,  you have no idea.

They’ve been friends since the previous semester, when she rescued him from an awkward moment with his Psychology professor. Which was around the same time he’d seen the flyer on a bulletin board at the Student Union.

Test Subjects Wanted For Clinical Trial.

And there was money attached, not a lot, but sufficient to cover his tuition. They hadn’t renewed his scholarship after his grades slipped at the end of Freshman year. Too much partying and not enough diligence in the library. Since then it had been touch and go, living off credit cards and dreading the prospect of spending the remainder of his professional life paying off the interest. Never mind the principal.

“What’s wrong, Shane?”

“Nothing.”

“Look, we’ve known each other for a while now, and something’s bothering you. Is it the money? Because I can always…”

He headed that one off at the pass. “I can’t, I just can’t. Just be my friend.”

“Of course. That’s a given. But honestly, I can afford it. And it would just be a loan. You can pay me back when you’re able to. I know you will. I trust you.”

The way he’d trusted the men and women in sterile whites. At first he’d been given to understand that the trials were for some kind of new drug, an anti-anxiety medication. But as the weeks passed, the little white paper cups with the tiny red pills gave way to tests. Tests that strained his nerves to the breaking point, induced anxiety rather than dialing it down. They assured him that everything was proper, in order, that they were following strict scientific protocols. But he left the lab feeling like a toy that had been hammered to bits. Or a lab rat that had pressed the wrong lever one too many times. The smell of scorched flesh in his nostrils. His own.

Shane never remembered the sequence of slaughter until he’d been engaged. That was one of the terms they’d used, one of the words that floated around in his head like a dead leaf in a pond. Engaged, or cut into the narrative.

They might just as well have called it being possessed, like the film he’d seen in Cultural Anthropology of the Voodoo Priestess ridden by the Loa. That was what it felt like, a dark imp pressing against his back and shoulders. Razor sharp claws scratching at his skin.

After waving goodbye to Lara he’d dashed across the quad, total tunnel vision, focused on breaking out the weapons cache in the utility cabinet in back of the gym.

Even now he wasn’t sure what the weapons were, just that they fit his hand and he knew how to fire them.

“I trust you too.” He trusted that she would never fully understand why he’d snapped. Neither did he. All he knew was that he’d slung the machine gun around his neck and started in with the pump-action rifle, picking off members of the varsity basketball team before charging into the cafeteria. Then he’d opened up with the machine gun. Shane was just as shocked as the onlookers as the bodies slammed to the floor. As he looked down at his hands, which had never handled anything more dangerous than a slingshot as a kid, briskly slamming off rounds like a professional mercenary.

It was like watching a silent movie after awhile. Deadly quiet, only the noise of his breathing and his thundering heart. Scraps of dialog fluttering by him, around him. The pools of blood spreading on the yellow tile. Sirens. His own voice breaking through, ordering them face-down on the ground. Knowing they would never rise again.

The warmth of her fingers cut him out. He started.

“I’m really worried about you,” Lara said. “You look absolutely exhausted. You really need to start taking better care of yourself.”

In a moment he would jump to his feet and plead some inane excuse. He picked up a single French fry and dabbed it in the ketchup cup. Feeling the surge come on him, fighting it back, hoping somehow that with all his prayers, this moment would be different. With God’s help, he might cut himself out of the narrative entirely. All a bad dream. Waking up in his student apartment with the Bowie posters on the ceiling and the metallic balloons, half-deflated, that bumped about the ten foot square space as a reminder of his drunken homage to Andy Warhol.

“I’ve got to get to my tutorial,” he burst out, looking at his watch as though it were a prop. He slicked his fingers through coal-black hair and regarded Lara with warm brown eyes that now looked black.

“I thought your tutorial was Friday,” she said.

“They changed it around. Look, I’m an absolute idiot at math and I really need to pass this course.”

As he ran across the quad, he looked back and saw her gazing at him through the cafeteria window. Her last sight of him alive.

And he was cut back in. Game on. Behind the walls he saw the green gridlines as they’d flashed to him through the Google glasses, over and over, until they haunted his dreams. Yet until some internal switch clicked, and the clock was running, the grid existed only as a faint flicker at the corners of his eyes, detached from the physical environment of the school, from the trials, from the before and after of his tenure as a lab rat.

Because there was a before and this was definitely an after. It started like a sickness, with Lara’s look of concern, her offer of financial help, wiping off the grease of the meal with a napkin, wadding up the napkin and pushing it into the cup of ketchup, dumping out the red plastic baskets into the trash, Lara half getting up, then sitting back down again, his forcing a smile and a wave as if everything was actually going to be ok, this time.

Shane’s glasses have misted up, but they’re another prop. That morning he’d put on contacts, automatic pilot, as though he wore them every day.

He sheds his t-shirt and dons the bullet-proof vest, puts on the black trenchcoat, slams shut the cabinet door and heads for the gym. His progress is inexorable, his will not his own.

And thus it runs until it stops and begins again, like a tape loop, a film, a memory of the future that slips relentlessly into the past as the past melts into the present.

There would always be echoes in Purgatory.

Always.

HorrorAddicts.net 112, Horror Addicts Guide to Life

ha-tagHorror Addicts Episode# 112

Horror Hostess: Emerian Rich

Intro Music by: Valentine Wolfe

writer’s workshop winner | lacuna coil | frankenstein: the true story

Find all articles and interviews at: http://www.horroraddicts.net

 

201 days till halloween

malcolm stewart, jesse orr, kathy bates, misery, stephen king, american horror story, hotel,  addict on the street, the walking dead, talking dead, salem, izombie, dan shaurette, lady gaga, poltergeist, jurassic world, mad max, fury road, unfriended, kbatz, kristin battestella, frankenstein: the true story, horror addicts guide to life, baycon, once upon a scream, laurel anne hill, j malcolm stewart, sumiko saulson, heather roulo, david watson, the undying, ethan reid, zombie, plague, top five, mimielle, makeup, vids, dj pitsiladis, nightmare fuel, werewolves, wisconsin, morbid meals, dan shaurette, berry fool, april fools, free fiction friday, emerian rich, dark soul, dawn wood, music corner, lacuna coil, swamped, jesse orr, grant me serenity, black jack, dead mail, nadine, writing, james, how to get on the show, sandra, zombie movies, scared of the dark, marc vale, advice, horror writer, inspiration, murderer, victim, jesse orr, genesis

 

 

FinalFrontCoverHorror Addicts Guide to Life now available on Amazon!
http://www.amazon.com/Horror-Addicts-Guide-Life-Emerian/dp/1508772525/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1428730091&sr=8-1&keywords=horror+addicts+guide+to+life

Baycon.org

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Write in re: ideas, questions, opinions, horror cartoons, favorite movies, etc…

horroraddicts@gmail.com

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h o s t e s s

Emerian Rich

s t a f f

David Watson, Dan Shaurette, Marc Vale, KBatz (Kristin Battestella), Mimielle, Dawn Wood, Lillian Csernica, Killion Slade, D.J. Pitsiladis, Jesse Orr.

Want to be a part of the HA staff? Email horroraddicts@gmail.com

b l o g  / c o n t a c t / s h o w . n o t e s

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