Janel Brubaker's Blog, page 13

Learning to Stop Selling Myself Short

I think most of us have experienced Imposter Syndrome at one time or another. I’m sure some of us deal with it on a consistent basis, especially when there are so many voices telling us how we should go about accomplishing our goals. Holding onto our confidence in ourselves can be one of the hardest things we do as human beings who love to create, particularly when we decide to go against the “professional” knowledge of our industry to give ourselves the best chances at really getting our work out there.

I am a writer of the three main genres: poetry, fiction, and nonfiction. And while there isn’t any rule that says I have to choose just one genre and stick with it, there is a kind of unspoken/whispered guideline that, unless you’re going to write literary fiction, poets should keep their prose to nonfiction. This is because it can be jarring for the audience of a poet, say, to suddenly see them writing and releasing fiction that is very immersed in a fiction genre like sci-fi or romance.

I am not a literary fiction writer. Never have been. I write a lot of fantasy and, most recently, a ton of horror. It’s what I love to write within the fiction genre. And while I’m not necessarily excluded from being both a poet and a genre fiction writer, there is a very loud voice in the back of my mind telling me that I have to choose. Do I want to be a poet or a horror writer? And I resent the implication that I have to choose at all.

However, I also recognize that there is some truth to this implication. It’s one thing for those who write only fiction to dabble in multiple genres and subgenres, especially when a lot of genres overlap already. Sci-fi and fantasy, fantasy and horror, horror and comedy, etc. It’s not uncommon for a book of genre fiction to fit into multiple sub-categories. I think of writers like Neil Gaiman who write across many different sub-genres of fiction, and do so successfully.

However, when I think of prominent poets and the genres they write in, it’s almost universal that if they write fiction, it’s literary fiction. And, much like poetry, literary fiction is not a field that pays well. In my M.F.A., our director said that pretty much only poets read poetry. I think the same is true for writers of literary fiction. And as someone who is branching into poetry with my debut book coming out this year, I’ve found myself wondering what I should do in regards to my fiction.

Over the course of the weekend, I came to a decision regarding my fiction and how I might go about releasing it into the world, and it comes down to giving myself the chance. Self-publishing has become a huge industry that provides a much higher rate of royalties than traditional publishing. Most authors who are published traditionally do not go on to make a lot of money on their books, unless they’re lucky enough to be picked up by one of the top four publishers. And the likelihood of that is extremely slim. Whereas self-published writers, depending on the frequency of their publishing and their dedication to the publicity and advertising side of things, can eventually make between $3,000 and $10,000 per month. This is, of course, dependent on continuous writing and releasing of new material.

Therefore, I’ve decided this will be the next step in my own publishing journey. I don’t know that I will ever make enough to be a full time writer, but it can’t hurt to try, and if it allows me to get my fiction out there, then why not take a shot? It could take me a year or several to build up an actual monthly income from my writing, but even if I’m only making a couple hundred bucks a month, it will be a dream come true. And those self-published writers who set and stick to deadlines and really learn the industry of self-publishing tend to do much better than that.

I’m going to give myself this chance.

Review – Multiverse of Madness

Last weekend I went to see Dr. Strange 2: Multiverse of Madness.

Please note: this post contains spoilers.

Coming off the heels of the incredibly successful, perfectly executed Spider-Man: No Way Home, I was excited for this movie. The first Dr. Strange is one of my favorites of the MCU, and seeing him reprise his role in his sequel film was thrilling. All the more, too, because Wanda Maximoff was in it. But now, having seen the film, I am fucking livid and have a lot to say on the matter.

The vast majority of the writers and directors of the MCU films are misogynistic pieces of shit.

1) WHY is feminine anger ALWAYS vilified? Wanda has so many justifiable reasons to be pissed the fuck off, not the least of which is that she had to kill the man she loved to protect the universe, only to have it mean nothing at all (since Thanos used the Time Stone to bring Vision back and take the Mind Stone).

A loss that she only mentions one fucking time throughout the entire movie, I might add.

She’s lost Steve, the person who brought her into The Avengers in the first place, she’s lost Natasha, she’s lost her brother, she’s lost the life she was building before the events of Infinity War. Her anger is so valid, and yet she’s made into this villain who is willing to sacrifice everything for what she wants, no matter the consequences.

2) What does she want? Her two sons WHO DO NOT EXIST IN HER UNIVERSE. They are a delusion she created.

THIS IS CALLED DISASSOCIATION, and it’s a result of profound trauma.

We have a woman who, in all reality, probably has massive PTSD, no longer knows what or who to live for, and the writers decide to now add more trauma on top of it all and make her a villain. We’re not talking about Hela here, a woman who has been bloodthirsty her entire existence and just wants power; we’re talking about someone who has been a victim of circumstances entirely outside of her control since the moment we met her, someone who is full of pain, but also love and compassion. And yet we have to sit and watch as Wanda is willing to kill an innocent teenager to live in a universe with her boys. Even when America offers to use her powers to just send her to that universe, so that Wanda doesn’t have to take her powers and kill her, Wanda refuses.

This also perpetuates the “mentally ill people are dangerous and expendable” trope, and I hate it. I absolutely fucking hate it.

3) Yes, I know, it was the Dark Hold that corrupts her and leads her to do what she does, blah blah blah, but that is such a cop out. It still works off the “women are more susceptible to evil” stereotype that the movie doesn’t even try to hide, since Dr. Strange Dream Walks using the Dark Hold and he’s not corrupted. But he’s Mr. Dr. Stephen Strange, so of course he can use the Dark Hold without consequence, even though (as a friend pointed out), up to the point he uses the Dark Hold, he’s been searching for the Book of Vashanti, the Dark Hold’s opposite, and then suddenly, without explanation, decides to use the Dark Hold to stop Wanda.

Moreover, if it really was just the Dark Hold that corrupted Wanda, that makes the end of the movie even worse because it means SHE IS STILL A VICTIM OF OTHER PEOPLE’S CHOICES, who then has to FUCKING DIE because when she finally does reach a universe with her two boys, they’re terrified of her and she realizes she’s become a monster.

FUCKING BULLSHIT.

4) I am so fucking goddamn exhausted by Marvel reducing woman characters to nothing more than their uteruses and ovaries. Joss Wheadon did it to Natasha in Age of Ultron, and now they’ve done it to Wanda, and I’m sick of it.

These are badass, fucking powerful people who could literally do and be anything they want, but because they don’t have kids/are sterilized, they’re not worth anything. Just like how the Russo brothers killed off Natasha in End Game. And how Black Widow didn’t even get her own movie until after her character had been killed off, so now they don’t have to give her a trilogy of her own.

And I keep thinking about the other women characters and how they’re represented.

Peggy Carter? Reduced to nothing more than the brief kiss she has with Steve in the first Captain America movie. Thanks for absolutely fucking nothing, Russo brothers.

Pepper Pots? Literally has no identity, no role in any of these films, outside of Tony Stark’s love interest. She even gets her own fucking powers at the end of Iron Man 3, and then immediately has them taken away. Never uses them. Sure, she wears the suit at the end of End Game, but so what? We hardly see her use it.

Lady Sif? Reduced to nothing more than the rival love interest for Thor in Dark World, and then not even in Ragnarok.

Jane Foster? Thank the movie gods for Taika Waititi, because he is actually doing justice to the powerful fucking women in the Thor comics. She’s now The Mighty Thor.

Valkyrie? She’s now the King of Asgard, thanks to Taika, but because of Disney and other people, we still don’t have a canonical scene showing she’s bisexual. Presumably, this is supposed to change in Thor: Love and Thunder, and I know if it had been up to Taika, we would have had that in Ragnarok.

Gamora? One of the most complicated women in the MCU, and in the end, sacrificed by Thanos so that he could get one of the Infinity Stones, and so that they can get Quill to mess up their attempt at getting the gauntlet from Thanos, so in the end, not even her own character with autonomy, but just a pawn in the lives of the men around her. Fucking gross.

Nebula? A badass who is, in my opinion, one of the only women characters to be given more equal footing in the MCU, but even her character development revolves around Thanos pitting her against Gamora.

Carol Danvers? Captain Marvel is still my favorite MCU film, and yet she’s not anywhere in Infinity War, and is hardly in End Game at all, and only shows up at the end for a bullshit cameo that means absolutely nothing. And so far, no word on a sequel movie for her.

The women in Black Panther are the only ones with really great, unique, character development, and that’s because Ryan Coogler actually cares about the characters he’s working with.

And sure, now we’re getting a She-Hulk series and a Miss Marvel series, but why aren’t they getting their own movies? Why don’t we have an actual MCU trilogy that actually focuses on the women of Marvel? Cause they’re not priority. The shows can fail and Marvel won’t care because they’re not investing hundreds of millions on a movie that might flop.

Multiverse of Madness is just an extension of how much the majority of the writers and directors of the MCU sincerely and truly don’t give two shits about the women of the Marvel Comics.

I am so fucking angry. I am SO fucking angry.

Do You Need An MFA To Be A Writer?

The quick answer: no.

Unless you’re applying for a job within the humanities that require some kind of degree, you do not need an M.F.A. to be a writer. Sitting down, writing stories or poems or essays, and submitting them for publication do not require any kind of educational experience whatsoever. And even if what you’re trying to get published is a book-length manuscript, it is not a pre-requisite to have any degree. What matters, first and foremost, is how polished your writing is, and this is determined not by your degree, but by your dedication to your craft.

There are, however, many benefits for having a degree that you can list in your cover letter. Firstly, and this is true especially for those who are new to sending out their work for publication, if you’ve never been published before, having a degree to list in your cover letter may set you apart from other new writers submitting their work. It shows that you have achieve a specific level of skill in your craft, that you’ve committed to a certain number of hours to improve your writing. Anything that helps you stand out to editors is going to be a good thing.

This does not guarantee publication, though, and truth be told, it will only take you so far. It may pique the editor’s interest, but the really important part is the writing itself. Now, this is another area where a degree may come in handy, because studying writing absolutely demands time, effort, energy, focus, determination, and dedication. The more we write, the better writers we are. The more we read, the better writers we are. And having even a generic understanding of literature and writing definitely contributes to stronger, more polished writing.

Moreover, having a degree can help writers develop their own writing practice, and this is something that may not help specifically with publication, but it can help with completing creative projects. I have an A.S. in English with a focus in Creative Writing, I have a B.A. in English Literature and Writing with a focus in Creative Writing, and I have an M.F.A. in Creative Writing with a focus in Poetry. I can attest that the bulk of my writing experience has come from my education. I learned to take critical feedback of my work, I learned to become critical of my own work, I learned to be a better reader, I spent hours and hours and hours working on my own projects. This was and still is invaluable information for me.

But you do not need a degree to achieve these things. Writing Groups, especially those that workshop each other’s writing, can – and do – achieve the same thing. There are also workshops you can take through colleges and universities that don’t require taking an entire course, that also can contribute to the development of your writing. Really, the point is to write as much as possible and gain feedback on your work, and you do not need to be part of an educational program to achieve this.

Now, one thing that is important to keep in mind is that many other writers who are having their work published will have some kind of college degree, most likely an M.F.A. To stand out among them without a degree will require an enormous amount of effort, study, and dedication. But, it is, by no means, impossible, and in my opinion, won’t be any harder than spending six years or more getting a graduate degree in writing. And you’ll save a shitload of money since college is absurdly expensive.

As someone with an M.F.A., I definitely would never discourage someone from getting one. But I also know the financial costs of getting one, and I would never discourage someone from trying to be a writer, even if they don’t have an M.F.A. In fact, I think it would be incredibly good for the literary industry to start seeing more talented writers without M.F.A.s sending in their work. So I’ll just say this: if you are in any doubt of whether or not to get an M.F.A., don’t do it. It is a grueling process, one that not everyone enjoys. If you know you want an M.F.A., then go for it. But don’t do it if you have doubts.

Keep writing. Keep creating.

Publishing and Other Processes

We’re still in the typesetting phase of the publishing process, but we are now less than 5 months away from the release of my book and I cannot even begin to describe what this feels like. I can’t describe how exhilarating it is to watch as my next big step as a writer continues to come true. I’ve been published before on the mico-scale; I’ve had individual pieces of work published, as you can see from my Individual Publications page. And I’ve self-published books before. But I have never had a manuscript accepted by a press and gone through the publishing process, each step leading towards the release of my debut book of poetry.

There’s this thing that happens when you’re a dreamer: you live your life looking always outward, searching around you for any potential paths that could lead to where you want to be. You pick up all of the pieces of information you can along the way, you take notes, you ask questions, you push and push and push through the doubt, the imposter syndrome, the fear, the rejection, the growing pains, and always in the back of your mind is this nagging voice of negativity that says your efforts are pointless, that even if you did finish a book, no one would want to read it anyway.

And still, you dream. You set goals. You keep working because even deeper in your mind and in your gut is another voice, a quiet whisper, a barely even audible sound that tells you what you feel to be true: someone somewhere will appreciate your work. Even if only one person reads your work and is touched by it, then the whole writing process will have been worth it. This is what you hope for as an aspiring writer: to have just one person find something of value in your work. And it takes an enormous amount of faith to even get to the place where you believe that much, let alone that an entire team of editors will want to publish you.

And now the looking outward, the taking of different paths, the resilience and pushing have lead me to this moment. My manuscript is going to enter the world this year. In a matter of months. I have a cover already picked out and designed. All editing has been completed. These poems are “done,” polished, finalized. And while there is still a lot to be done before the release date, there is also a culmination of what has already been done, and I can hardly believe the size of it.

My book has been blurbed by a handful of writers I love and respect, poets who have inspired me in so many ways. I have readings being scheduled and planned. All the things I only ever dreamed I would do as a writer, I’m now seeing them unfold.

I’m overwhelmed by this today. Overwhelmed by the fact that just a few years ago, back on this date in 2019, I was still married to an abusive ex, I was living in the midst of horrific traumas, and I was utterly ignorant of the trauma that would come in the months to follow. I never would have believed anyone who told me that, in May of 2022, I would be only a few short months away from having my debut book released. I never would have believed that I would have even survived all of what I went through over 2019 and the first half of 2020. I still carry wounds and fears, but among them all are little blooming flowers that remind me what I have in my heart and body: poetry.

I have poetry. I have writing.

And I will continue to write until I can’t anymore. It’s my seed of promise. My ritual of self-making and self-discovery. My armor.

Finding a Nice Routine

My work schedule is consistent. I work the same times Monday through Friday. I’m usually home by 5:00PM every weekday, which leaves me several hours to make dinner, eat, get some minor cleaning done, play with my puppy, read, and prepare for bed. And even though there are times when I don’t get the things done that I plan to, it’s comforting and helping to know that tomorrow will have the same number of hours in it.

Of course, right now I’m on my Spring break between spring and summer semesters, which means that on June 1st, I’ll have somewhat less time available every day after work. But really, I don’t mind the busyness. I like knowing I have things to do. And I like making time for the things that matter most to me. I’m learning how to give myself permission to not have to do everything in a single day. It’s okay to let some things trail into the next day.

My grades came in for Spring semester. I got an A in one class and a B in the other. And really, I’m perfectly fine with that. I’m relieved and happy that I’ve been learning how to manage my own expectations of myself, and that I’m learning how to prioritize the classes I’m taking, and recognize when it’s okay to not push myself to the point of exhaustion. This world is already exhausting enough on its own, let alone to someone with anxiety, depression, PTSD, and autism. I want my classes to be a source of joy and energy for me, not dread and annoyance.

I’m about a quarter of the way through Pet Semetary. It is an absolutely phenomenal book. So far, more intriguing than scary, but I think it’s building to the horror slowly. My goal is to finish it before the start of Summer semester. To be honest, I’d like to finish it this week, if I can and possibly get myself through another Stephen King novel before the semester starts. Especially since I’m taking a class on Monsters this coming semester, I think it would be great fun to have read a couple of novels about monsters beforehand. But we’ll see.

I’m also extremely grateful today to the handful of poets who have written blurbs about my debut collection of poetry. I’m waiting on a couple more blurbs to come in, but the ones that have already have absolutely blown me away. I honestly don’t even know how to process them, to be quite honest. The one I received yesterday compared my poems to that of Sharon Olds and Danez Smith, two of my favorite poets, and two of the poets who shaped my early relationship with poetry. She also encouraged me to send my manuscript to Sharon Olds, and I don’t know if I will, but fuck, just having that encouragement is incredibly motivating.

I still can’t really believe I’m going through this. It feels surreal, almost dream-like, to see my poetry received like this. I’m absolutely thrilled to see where the rest of this year takes me and my debut book of poetry. Remember: the world needs your art.

Mary Oliver & Other Poets

When I think of the poets I want to emulate, I find a list of beauty and amazement.

When I think of how often I want to write, how much dedication I want to have for my craft, how many books I read in a year, I imagine Vi Khi Nao. She is prolific and immense and overflowing with words and creativity. She writes as often as she breathes, which is to say that she is always writing, always creating, always existing as poetry. I aspire to reach that same level of creative expression.

When I think of myself as a nature writer, I envision Mary Oliver. Also prolific and immense, her writing has shaped and guided me since I first read her work back in 2016. The ways in which she catches such beautiful moments in nature reinforce the urges I have to get outside and walk in the woods, alongside rivers, gliding fingers over fields of grass. She holds such space for herself as a member of the natural world and each poem is a prayer to the earth and all her inhabitants.

When I think of the types of imagery and descriptions I want to use in my work, I imagine Joyelle McSweeny. Her choice of syntax, her use of physical as well as surreal imagery evoke so much passion, so much raw honesty that it’s almost painful. Her poems move with this cadence that feels so urgent, and yet the style of her writing demands time, demands that eyes move slowly across the page so that the poem can penetrate as it was written to.

As much as I love poetry, and as often as I read poetry, I do not see myself in every poet I read. I do not feel connected to every poem. Even the poets that impress and inspire me the most do not always resonate with me and my experience as a human being, or as a writer. In fact, those poets are often the ones that stay with me the longest and teach me the most about my own work. But sometimes, they’re poets that I read (and love), and then move on from.

I guess I mean that I love a lot of poetry, but I don’t see myself “as” every poet I read.

Why is all of this important? Good question. Perhaps it’s not. All I know is that, since I was a kid, I have imagined myself as some of the writers I’ve read. As a kid/teen, it was an exciting dream. As a young adult/college student, it was a goal post. Now, as an aspiring poet, it’s a destiny made manifest. And I believe that it has come about primarily because I don’t just read to say I have; I don’t just read to mark off a number in my Goodreads Challenge, and I don’t just read so that I can move on to the next book. There’s nothing wrong with any of those things, by the way.

But I read to search for the pieces of myself that still need to be discovered. I read to learn. I read to grow. I read to remind myself that, no matter how good I am/will be at writing, there will always be more room for improvement.

I’ve known a lot of writers over the course of my life, and it has surprised me greatly how many of them hold an almost dismissive view of the importance of reading. Some of them didn’t read at all. And while I definitely think that every person’s relationship with reading will be different, it never ceases to surprise me how many people who aspire to be writers don’t take reading seriously. Don’t get me wrong: I absolutely 100% support those who read primarily for pleasure. But even then, I think the end goal should always be to walk away from a book at least a little different than we were when we started.

Even the most entertaining of books can reveal pieces of ourselves we didn’t know were there.

My point is that we should always be moving towards the type of person/writer/reader we want to be, even if those steps are slow and steady. Any opportunity we have of reducing how much our ego plays into our work, is an opportunity worth taking.

One Month

It has been one month since I started my new job as an Assistant Project Manager.

Learning has been somewhat slow. Mostly, I’m still shadowing my supervisor, taking notes on all of the estimates he quotes potential clients, and then getting my foot in the door as much as I can. But our commercial division is just us two, so my supervisor can’t just drop everything to teach me the ropes, so a lot of my days consist of just watching what he does, paying attention, and then asking questions when I can. Luckily, most of what he does is pretty repetitive, so there is a process to all of this. Plus, I have been getting more and more experience with each week.

Yesterday I went on my first official errand for the company. I drove a company truck to pick up some parts at a vendor nearby, and that was exciting. I got to meet a couple of people that my supervisor works with a lot. Knowing that my name is becoming familiar to the people we work with is extremely exciting for me. And everyday, I get to learn new things and contribute more and more. It’s really fulfilling. And I wouldn’t have this job if I hadn’t taken a chance and applied for it, believing is myself and advocating for the income I wanted to make.

It’s Friday. It’s sunny, even if it’s cold. And I’m grateful.

Setting Up Summer Plans

It’s mid spring, but my heart and soul are with the summer woods.

My favorite places to go on the Clackamas River Corridor are, unfortunately, burned away. So now I’m going to have to find new woods to spend time in. I have hiking plans for the summer, and I’m sure my partner and I will go to the beach at least a couple of times, but mostly my summer plans are to find the places surrounded by trees (especially next to a river), where I can take Kiki and sit and read and write.

I went to the Molalla Corridor a lot over the course of summer in 2020. It’s a bit of a drive from where I live in Portland, but it’s worth it for the quiet and seclusion of the country wilderness. I would take my camping chair and sit alongside the river for hours, just reading, writing, and watching the birds fly around the cliff ledges. I wrote a lot of poems about what I saw, but really the beauty wasn’t in what I created, but rather it was in the environment itself. There’s just something about being surrounded by trees that connects me to my most magical self.

And I thoroughly believe that trees are magic.

I want to go camping, but I doubt that will happen this year. I didn’t make camping plans early enough, so all of the reservations are likely booked up anywhere within reasonable driving distance. But one thing I do want to try and make happen is a writing retreat out in a cabin in the woods with either just myself, or with my partner, or with other writing friends who want to get away and focus on their projects. The typical ins and outs of every day life makes disconnecting from distractions just…hard. Especially when I have the tendency to overthink anyway. And I do so want to be outside this summer more than I was last year. I just gotta make it happen, I suppose.

I’m also celebrating the two year anniversary with my partner next month. The weekend of our anniversary is actually the weekend of the Portland Pride Festival, and I’ll be going to that with a couple of my friends, so my partner and I will celebrate the weekend after, hopefully with a trip to the coast. I don’t know if it’s just pent up excitement from being socially distanced for such a long time, but I’m full of anticipation for summer. I’m excited for my second semester of my M.A. program. I’m excited to keep moving through the publishing of my debut book of poetry. And I’m excited to feel the warmth of the sun after such a long winter.

What about your summer plans? Anything exciting?

Getting Back Into Stephen King

It’s official: I am a horror movie buff.

I started watching/reading horror back in 2019, and since then have found myself on an absolutely incredible journey with all things horror: books, short stories, movies, television shows, etc. I started with Carrie by Stephen King, and while it was intense, I can’t say that it was “scary.” The movie or the book, although I will say watching the movie was more sad for me, while reading the book was more disturbing. Then I read Salem’s Lot, also by Stephen King, and it was wonderful. Reminded me very much of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which is one of my favorite monster novels. And while it, too, was intense, I wasn’t scared. Then I read Misery (again by Stephen King), and that book definitely freaked me the fuck out. It was so much more visceral than the other two novels, and Annie Wilkes is an absolute marvel of a villain. I’m also obsessed with serial killers, so that true crime lover in me was enjoying that aspect of it, too.

I’ve also read King’s The Shining, which remains, to this day, one of the most amazing reading experiences of my life. It was a slow burn, and intense burn, and by the end, terrifying. That book straight up haunted me for months. I had nightmares for several days in a row about Jack Torrence, and it took months before I could pick up another King novel. And that ended up being The Mist, which was good, but not on par with The Shining. Then I read Rose Madder which I absolutely loved until about halfway through, and then by the end I wished I hadn’t started the book at all. I did not like that one at all.

As for television shows, I’ve watched American Horror Story (all but the most recent season), The Haunting of Hill House (SO FUCKING GOOD), The Haunting of Bly Manor (which was boring and I did not finish it), and Archive 81 (SO FUCKING GOOD and Netflix had to cancel it). I guess Stranger Things qualifies here, too. As much as I love AHS, I think Archive 81 is my current favorite horror show.

And now the movies. I’ve watched a lot of different types of horror films, some of which I’ve liked, some I’ve loved, and some I’ve hated.

Silence of the Lambs: zero stars. Amazing performances by Anthony Hopkins and Jodie Foster, but the movie is hugely transphobic, and I could not get over that as I watched the film. Do not recommend.

The Blair Witch Project and the third movie, Blair Witch: fucking outstanding, terrifying movies. The docu-drama style of filming heightens the terror and pulls the audience into the woods.

The Ritual: basically The Blair Witch Project, just with a different premise and different ending. It was good, had great acting and beautiful cinematography, but by the end I felt like the writers really didn’t know what they were doing.

Midsommar: Most. Beautiful, Horror. Movie. Ever.

The Blackcoat’s Daughter: outstanding movie. Slow burn with one of the best “jump scares” I’ve ever experienced. I actually gasped out loud and hid under the covers.

Get Out and Us by Jordan Peele: two of the scariest, most intense films I have ever seen. Jordan Peele is an absolute genius.

Hereditary: disturbing as fuck. Really well done, and such a slow burn that I was not at all prepared for where the movie ended up going.

The Witch: another slow burn that wasn’t scary so much as it engaging. The ending was much more intense than the rest of the film. I will say, though, it has one of the best screenplays I have ever seen.

It Chapter One and It Chapter Two: I loved, loved, loved both of these films, though the first one was much better, and there were moments that I was definitely frightened. But the beauty of these films isn’t the “horror,” but the love between the characters. I’ve had actual dreams where I’m Beverly Marsh because of these two films.

The Conjuring Trilogy: holy shit, these movies are stupendous. The first two, especially. I was not much of a fan of the third, and obviously the actual Ed and Lorraine Warren were sketchy people, at best. But the movies were still so much fun, and the first one definitely terrified me.

So now, after seeing all of these movies (I have many more on my list), I’m reading Pet Semetary by Stephen King. I saw this book listed as one of the top 50 most terrifying books of all time, so maybe this will be the first truly horrifying book of King’s I read?

I’ll keep you updated.

Poetry – “Letting the Sun Go Down Upon My Anger”