We did it! You and I, together . . . it was a lot of sweating and screaming but once it started to crown we POPPED that sucker right out and into the world. There was much rejoicing. And exhaustion.
Been off social media most of this year, mostly due to being far too busy. Social media is a huge distraction, so I elected to lay low and barrel through various projects:
A new novella (No contract . . . yet . . . but there is an interested party.)
A new collection of short stories
Proofing the half-dozen-and-change manuscripts for Rooster Republic’s 2018 releases
Creating a whole load of key art for book covers
But the thing that has begun to eat my every waking hour is a feature film that will shoot over a handful of days later this year. The project is a horror film, and though I don’t want to get into too much detail this early on, I can at least give you a hint as to what it may be about:
It has been way too long since my last post, but in my defense I am pretty lazy.
Ha, just kidding, a little bit.
It’s been too long since my last post and so much has happened since then I am at a loss as to what to cover, first.
I’ll default to the writing.
Now That We’re Alone is still selling well and exceeding my expectations. The number of reviews on Amazon (currently at 18) have been steadily increasing, too, which is a nice surprise since it took my novella, Necrosaurus Rex, the better part of two years to get as many reviews as Now That We’re Alone has gotten in four months. Hopefully, that number keeps going up, even if it is at a snail’s pace.
The fog of it all.
The nights are cold and the days are warm. And so it goes, in this desert climate, that sometimes the night is so cold and the day so warm that the area finds itself shrouded in heavy fog. Last week, we were treated to such an event, one with the added benefit of a light snow. To say a hike up in the hills was eerie is—perhaps—a bit of an understatement. From above, the basin looked as though I wandered the outskirts of Silent Hill.
It’s Stephen King’s birthday. Now, I’m not going to blow smoke and proclaim “HE’S MY FAVORITE EVER” but I’d be bullshitting you if I said he hasn’t made an impact on me.
Because I was born in 1980, I never knew a world of horror that DIDN’T include Stephen King. And I was a pretty early reader. I was probably five or six when I took my parent’s mass market paperback of Night Shift to the storage room in our basement. It was as secluded as you could get in a tiny 1950’s ranch-style house. And I read. And those stories were creepy, for sure.
But holy shit did “The Boogeyman” totally wreck me.