R. Saint Claire's Blog, page 2

Halloween Haunts and More!

New Release!

Halloween has turned into a holiday as bustling as Christmas, which is probably why I’m finally getting around to sharing my thoughts on the new collection I launched at the beginning of October. At least I managed to release it just in time for Halloween! I’m thrilled to share that the collection, which includes five short stories and a novella, hit the number one new release spot on Amazon in its category. That’s definitely encouraging! This collection is designed for teens and young adults, focusing on all the fun chills without diving into anything too gory. If you’re on the lookout for some cozy companion stories for those chilly October nights, I’d love for you to check out Halloween Haunts, only 99 cents for the ebook during the month of October!

Too Much Exposure?

If you’re an artist or a creative individual, you won’t want to miss the latest episode of The Right Brain Café podcast, produced by my Book Worms partner, James DeFeo, and me. This week, we dive into a crucial topic: the ongoing pressure artists face when deciding between working for exposure versus earning money. Is exposure truly beneficial, or does it undermine the value of your craft? Join us for an insightful discussion that could change your perspective on the choices you make in your creative journey.

While you’re busy with your Halloween shopping, don’t forget to pick up our Halloween issue of Book Worms Horror Zine! It features stories by Grady Hendrix, author of “Paperbacks From Hell,” and popular horror writer Clay McLeod Chapman. Issues are selling out quickly, so be sure to get your copy today!

Finally, please leave a message about how you plan to spend Halloween. Do you dress up, attend parties, or turn off the lights and hope to avoid any mischievous tricks? Whether you celebrate (or not), please have a haunted good time!

Season of the Witch!

Our Halloween issue of Book Worms is now on sale! Our mail-only zine with a limited print run continues to impress with stories by Grady Hendrix, Clay McLeod Chapman, and more! The zine is available at Big Cartel and select indie bookstores.

Issues are selling fast, so get your worms today!

Happy Vamptember

This summer has been Hellish in many ways I’d rather not enumerate. I’m just glad September is here at last. I welcome crisp autumn days and cooler temperatures, and my way of celebrating the welcomed change of season is Vamptember, a reading challenge I participate in with some BookTube buddies every year. Vamptember, for me, is always a warm-up (or should I say cool down) to Halloween.

As someone who consumes- and writes- almost exclusively horror books throughout the year, this month, I’ll focus solely on vampire lore and legend. I’ll start by revisiting a classic I loved as a teenager and have reread at least twice since. The TV mini-series terrified me. Give up? Of course, it’s ‘Salem’s Lot, probably my favorite King. The book is a wonderful combination of literary ambitiousness and pulp horror conventionality–King at his best. As a warm-up to reading the rather dense novel, I listened to the BBC’s radio drama, and what a pleasant surprise! That Doug Bradley plays Barlow is icing on a black velvet cake. yum.

I’ll be reading and discussing sections of the novel on my YouTube channel, Regina’s Haunted Library, each week and offering additional vampy challenges along the way.

So, let’s embrace fall with Vamptember. Check out my new video for all the deets and be sure to follow my co-hosts.

Deadline – September 1!

Call for Submissions – Book Worms Issue #6

The Million Word Rule

A little under four years ago, I made the decision to start tracking my word count using an Excel document. As of today, I have surpassed the half a million mark. In the world of writing, there’s a popular belief, often attributed to Ray Bradbury, that one must write a million words to achieve mastery. In all honesty, I may already be close to or have exceeded that milestone. My first novel was published seven years ago, following numerous years of writing short stories and screenplays. I won’t include blog posts or school assignments, nor those handwritten attempts at first novels stashed away in the attic. But for the sake of organization and accuracy, let’s consider that I’m halfway to that million-word goal.

If I write another eight to ten novels (mine are typically on the shorter side), I should have a better grasp of what I’m doing by then. The key, I believe, is to persist in the same activity with increasing dedication; eventually, clarity will emerge. As long as I’m not just endlessly typing like Jack Torrance, but also actively editing, shaping, and daring to publish these words in some form, improvement is inevitable.

Make sure to listen to James DeFeo and my weekly podcast, The Right Brain Café, for invaluable insights into writing and creativity. This week, we delve deep into the concept of failure in creativity. It’s time to realize that perhaps those million words are just a warm-up to one’s greatest achievement.

“Come to Daddy”

In honor of Father’s Day, here are my top ten diabolical dads in horror cinema from bad to worst.

10. Harry Cooper From Night of the Living Dead (1968)

Harry’s arrogance causes problems for the zombie survivors until Ben proves his alpha status by shooting ole Harry in the gut (entirely justified), and little Karen finishes him off in the basement. Harry, you only made things worse.

9. Larry Cotton from Hellriaser (1987)

Milquetoast Larry demonstrates the inherent evil of passivity. If he hadn’t bled all over the spare bedroom so “mummy” Julia could get him a Band-Aid, his evil brother, Frank, would have never fed off his blood enough to re-animate and cause all the chaos. The only time Larry shows any balls is when Frank is wearing his skin. “Come to Daddy,” indeed.

8. Ben Rolf from Burnt Offerings (1976)

Even when he’s playing it nice, there is something downright sinister about Oliver Reed. If you saw Dad coming at you in the pool with those blank shark eyes, you’d scream for Mommy, too.

7. Richard Carmichael from The Changeling (1980)

Although the patriarch only appears in a brief flashback scene, the pure evil of this father’s dastardly deed proves that less is more when it comes to providing lasting chills in horror cinema.

6. Grandpa Sawyer from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

Meeting the family has never been more horrifying. Who needs Geritol when you can feed Gramps on your date’s blood? You’ll never find a more petrifying patriarch.

5. Nathan Gardner from Color of of Space (2019)

Dad starts acting really weird in this twisted cosmic tale based on a Lovecraft story. Nicolas Cage going “full-Cage” makes it even weirder. Wonderfully so.

4. George Lutz from The Amityville Horror (1979)

You know James Brolin as George Lutz is losing his marbles when he wanders around the house in a full beard and wearing his tightie whities. Also, what’s up with that obsession with the fireplace? Let’s face it. Dad’s freaking out, and we’re scared.

3. Harry Powell from The Night of the Hunter (1955)

The ultimate wolf in sheep’s clothing, Mitchum’s preacher/lady killer is truly horrifying. When little John Harper defiantly declares, “He ain’t my dad!” we feel it. “I got something trapped in my barn.” Yup. Powell’s an animal through and through.

2. Guy Woodhouse from Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

John Cassavetes is perfectly cast as the smarmily handsome actor who makes the dirtiest of deals. Although technically he’s only Damien’s stepfather, Rosemary doesn’t know that until the final scene. I love it when she spits in his face. He deserves much worse.

1. Jack Torrance from The Shining (1980)

Nicholson’s Jack is cinema’s ultimate diabolical dad. Seriously, would you trust this guy?

Who are some of your favorite fiendish fathers of horror cinema?

Call for Submissions – Book Worms Issue #6

All of Them Witches

As Book Worms Horror Zine enters its second year, we’re thrilled to announce that this year’s Halloween issue will be all about Witches. This time around, we’re looking for fiction, poetry, and essays of the witchy kind.

Frequently Asked Question: What kind of stories are you looking for?

We generally enjoy “fun”, “80s style” horror reminiscent of the zine’s old-school vibe, but we’ve also been blown away by fresh voices that take the genre in a new direction. That being said, the best chance for your story being accepted by Book Worms is to follow the submission guidelines. Make sure your story is of the horror genre, mail in your submission versus email, meet the deadline, and don’t exceed the word count limit. And if your story doesn’t make it, please keep trying. We’ve had to turn down many excellent stories due to space constraints alone. A good way to get an idea about what we’re looking for is to read our current issue or one of our back issues that are still available.

A Few Tips:

Mail early. Unfortunately, we’ve had a few submissions lost in the mail and that didn’t arrive until weeks after the deadline. Consider writing shorter stories. Sometimes we have just enough room to a 500-800 word flash fiction piece.

It might also be helpful to explain what we don’t want.

Paranormal romance (Love the genre. It’s not right for Book Worms.)Anything with a political theme. Beyond the pale violence or pornographic material. Keep it fun, kids.Submission Guidelines

Deadline: September 1, 2024

Payment is 8 cents a word for fiction and essays (1500 words or less). $25 for short poems (ten lines or less), $50 for longer poems. Includes one contributor copy.

No reprints or multiple submissions please. Exclusive rights for six months after publication.

ACCEPTING MAIL-IN SUBMISSIONS ONLY!

Mail your submissions to: La Regina Studio/Grundy Commons/925 Canal Street/Bristol, PA 19007

*In the past, we’ve made some special allowances for writers living outside the USA. But due to the overwhelming amount of submissions we receive, we are now only accepting mail-in submissions.

Decision notices are sent through email so there is no need to include a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Please include your email address with your submission. All submissions must be typed (cover letters preferred but not mandatory) and be properly formatted.

Be sure to check out our Podcast and follow us on Instagram.

New Book Worms & The Right Brain Café

James Defeo and I have been chatting a lot about creativity, so we decided to not limit our podcast to only fiction writing, but to expand it to include creativity in general. The new name, Right Brain Café, reflects the change. Check out the latest episode below.

Book Worms Horror Zine

The new Book Worms is out and it’s all about rock and roll horror, truly a match made in Hell! This is our biggest issue yet, featuring new fiction, funky artwork, and a book review of THE SCREAM by the “OG” of old-school horror fiction himself, Will Errickson of the seminal horror blog: Too Much Horror Fiction. So, if you love horror and rock and roll, check out the latest Book Worms!

I discuss Book Worms and more in my latest BookTube video, and if you get there in time, you can enter the Book Worms zine and T-shirt giveaway.

Back on Wattpad

As a proud Watty award winner, I’m happy to be back on Wattpad after a brief (roughly one year) sojourn, where I switched to Kindle Vella (see my video for more about that experience). I may move a new story back to Vella at some point. Still, for now, Wattpad continues to be my story workbook: a safe space where I can try different genres (like the fantasy duology I’m close to finishing) and receive feedback from fellow authors.

One story I recently completed, spurred on by a Wattpad novella contest, is a YA paranormal romance called Trust in the Shadows. It’s about a high school student who meets her “soul mate,” who may be her savior or just a weird guy she should avoid like the plague. The contest winner has yet to be announced, but I am proud to say the story received an Ambassadors Pick award for Round Two. Even if I don’t win, I’m glad I participated.

The contests and the camaraderie keep me coming back to Wattpad. Next on the writing docket is my new slasher horror in a setting I know well: a theater! It’s called Final Dress, and I hope to have it out this fall. Please comment below and tell me what you’ve been reading and writing. 

Aldo’s Curse

A Carni Supplement Short Storyby R. Saint Claire

I caught Aldo’s eye, the one still partially open. The right eye was already purpled and crusted shut. But the eye locked on mine, his left one, glowed with fiery rage – no sign of submission despite the torture inflicted upon him.

“Ciao, buffone, dove e la scherzo addesso?” rasped a voice from the crowd, followed by a clot of dung that slapped the back of Aldo’s head and made his poor old cap jingle. He still wore the costume of his trade: belled cap and motley tunic, albeit now reduced to rags and blackened with filth. Despite the defiance in his eye, the old clown had suffered from his ordeal. When they led him to the gallows, old Aldo was the very picture of the broken man. I’d tried to warn him that even if his japes against the Duke’s infidelities made the ladies titter behind their fans, the Duke was still a proud man. But Aldo went too far, comparing the Duke’s manhood to a limp sausage during the feast to Saint Giovanni Battista. After that, the Duke set his sights on Aldo’s only child, a daughter named Isabella.

It was hard to imagine how such a lovely girl sprang from Aldo’s loins, but at sixteen, Isabella’s graceful figure towered over her father. The courtiers claimed truthfully that she was the loveliest face ever to serve the Duchess’ bedchamber. But she was innocent as well as beautiful, and soon the Duke demanded she serve his bedchamber as well. The poor child fell in love with the great Francesco de Medici, and when he threw her away with a child brewing in her belly, her shame led her to fling herself in the Arno. Her death caused barely a discernable ripple in court, although behind closed doors, there was outrage. I tried to comfort Aldo, to remind him it was his job to amuse the Duke. Besides, if his daughter fell to ruin, it was his own fault. But Aldo’s countenance had traveled beyond the harbor of grief and anchored in the dark sea of wrath. His attempts at vengeance, however, were weak at best.

The two clumsy assassins he had hired now hung on either side of the scaffold. Courtiers and ladies sat on balconies facing the piazza while the crowd of peasants crushed loudly in front of the main event: the execution of Aldo, the Duke’s fool. Aldo had soothed the Duke’s childhood woes with juggling routines, accompanied him on hunting trips when he became a man and lifted the burden of rule with wit and wise counsel. And now, I watched Aldo’s legs tremble in loose hose as he climbed the wooden stairs to meet his grim fate.

The crowd hushed when il carnefice, the executioner, mounted the gallows with heavy tread. Forcing Aldo’s hands from his assumed prayer pose, he yanked the old jester’s arms behind his back. The sound of cracking bones evoked cheers from the crowd. I glanced at the Duke, whose face simmered with satisfaction behind steepled fingers. I wondered if the rape and ruin of Isabella hadn’t been enough to satisfy his lust, but I kept those thoughts to myself. I couldn’t risk my position and family’s good name for sentiments over a stupid fool.

But how hard it was to see the man strung up by his broken arms, his one shoulder bulging unnaturally from its socket, his belled slippers pitifully paddling the air. I never had the stomach for violence, hated even to hunt wild boar with the Duke, but I couldn’t run away now or even shield my face from the slow torture of a man who was once a friend to all.

A soft cry escaped the whitened lips of Lady Beatrice, who stood beside me. I caught her as she fainted, and the distraction gave me an excellent excuse to lead her to a bench away from the crowd, now cheering with the madness of the Colosseum, where martyrs’ torn limbs and spilled blood entertained the pagans of old. I asked myself if we Christians were any better now.

As the lady recovered, I was compelled stand on the bench to see what had ignited the crowd so suddenly. I shuddered to see the executioner’s knife carving a deep grin into Aldo’s cheeks. I felt like fainting myself then, especially when I saw the Duke and Duchess openly laughing at the man’s ordeal. I thought of Isabella and how her face resembled the Virgin gazing down from her lofty throne high on the cathedral’s facade across the piazza. Can no one stop this torture and just hang the man? I wanted to shout, but of course, I said nothing, only secretly praying for it to end soon.

Aldo was left to hang for a moment by his mangled arms. A hideous marionette, he pirouetted slowly from the scaffold. And with each rotation, the grin carved into his face seemed to lengthen, turn upward at the corners. I realized, with a sickening shock, that Aldo was laughing, a pealing cackle that silenced the crowd. My stomach churned when I saw his teeth shining white through the parted flesh.

“Ti maledico!” Spit and blood flew from Aldo’s deformed mouth. “Vi maledico tutti!”

I curse you all!

The last words he uttered as the noose was placed on his neck, “La mia piccola Isabella,” moved a few of the crowd to pity, but only some. A group of laughing boys lit fireworks. A sudden storm scudded across the sky, the black clouds pierced by white lightning. The Duke and Duchess and their minions retreated behind the velvet curtains of the balcony door to attend to their supper. The pageant was over. Aldo was dead.

There were heavy storms for the next several days followed by oppressive heat, which caused Aldo’s bloated flesh to blacken and tear the seams of his motley garb. Even the rose gardens edging the piazza couldn’t mask the stench, and at last, the poor fool was cut down and carted away without even the dignity of a Christian burial.

Joined together by some unseen force on the fateful day, Lady Beatrice and I were married soon after. Haunted by the memories of Aldo’s ordeal, I left Florence and purchased a vineyard in the south to set up a new life. While riding out through the forest one day, I felt the devil on my back and drove my horse faster and faster until it reared up and threw me to the ground.

Shaken but unhurt, I lay on my back gazing at the sky. Among the clouds was Aldo’s face with its hideous carved grin; the treetops rustled with sinister laughter. I climbed back on my horse and rode away, but I could never escape his curse. None of us could. The Duke was impaled through the eye with his own dagger when his horse threw him some weeks later while hunting. He died in agony, followed by the Duchess, who fell into a decline and never recovered. My vineyards dried up, leaving me nearly penniless, and my dear wife died giving birth to our daughter, who joined her mother in the grave soon after. I had named her Isabella as a tribute to the old buffoon, but he would not be appeased. Aldo’s curse lingers to this very day.

La maledizione!

CARNI, a carnival horror novel by R. Saint Claire, is available in print and ebook on Amazon.

*Aldo’s Curse by R. Saint Claire Copyright @rsaintclaire 2024