Vince Churchill's Blog, page 9

Selling, Takes Me Away To Where I've Always Heard It Could Be

I’m often asked what’s the toughest thing about being a writer. A few years ago I would...

All creative folks have issues they deal with. I’ve never...

All creative folks have issues they deal with. I’ve never had a problem with writer’s block, or confidence, but I still struggle with the issue of my creative identity.

I’ve always felt like I was two distinct people, much like the classic tale of Jekyll & Hyde. Over the years, I’ve allowed “Hyde”, the much darker, hedonistic part of my personality, to have more and more creative control of my projects, and readers haven’t been disappointed. I worry my work will become repetitive and so dark that no one will want to read it, but the real battle is when my subconscious goes to war against my organized creativity. I crave to create creepy, sexy sideshows out of every project, but not every great idea is suited for that, yet my “Hyde” seems to have the talent to mutate ideas from PG-13/R into unrated/X rated adult projects. Needless to say, those type of projects have limited commercial appeal. And hence the struggle.

You’d have thought I’d have dealt with it by now. I’m 6 books in & counting, but I’m still not 100% comfortable about who I am. I suppose as long as my readers aren’t suffering, it’s just the cross I’ll have to bear. I may never be able to crawl clear of the pit into the creative sunshine.

The last month has been very hard. I was already losing a slow...

The last month has been very hard. I was already losing a slow and steady financial street fight, but when a family situation arose which ended my full-time nanny duties with my infant granddaughter, I got dropped into the cold waters of the depression pool. I became much less productive, slept more and more, yet less and less well. I became negative and mean and just not very likable. Every direction I looked, I was screwed. I felt like I was wearing damp, chilly clothing every day.

I wallowed in self pity. And no, I didn’t wallow for attention on Facebook, which a growing, non-depressed part of me is really starting to despise. 

Eventually, I got tired of my own bullshit stench. The time came to end the pity party. A switch flipped. I left the house. I went back to the gym. I forced myself to be productive, and suddenly I was. I had a book draft to complete. A new job to find. Christmas HAS to be saved.

Time to be the singularly unique individual named Vince Churchill again. Ought to be easy enough. I’ve done it before.

The sun shines again.

Quicksand and my life have a lot in common at the moment. You...

Quicksand and my life have a lot in common at the moment. You might know the peril around you but no matter how cautious  and careful you are, you can still make the wrong step that can be very, very costly.

There’s also that feeling that the harder you struggle, the more energy you waste, and the faster you sink. I feel like that right now. I’m not sure where to focus and apply myself to have the greatest impact, but I don’t have much time to figure it out. 

Whether a novelist or screenwriter, this is a horror...

Whether a novelist or screenwriter, this is a horror writer’s time of year. Halloween is a little more than a week away and every day I wallow in horror films around the clock. I’m often asked about the inspiration of my work, and there’s no doubt my books are fueled much more by the great horror films I’ve enjoyed more than the scary novels I’ve read. I’m a child of the 60’s, and I believe the seventies comprised the greatest decade of horror movies and thrillers. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, The Exorcist, Jaws, The Last House on the Left, Straw Dogs, Deliverance, Assault on Precinct 13, The Omen, The Hills Have Eyes, Rabid, Alien, Dawn of the Dead, Demon Seed, I Spit on Your Grave, It’s Alive, and, of course, the granddaddy of them all, John Carpenter’s classic, Halloween. Having been joyfully infected with the spirit of these, and many other minor masterpieces, my goal is to convey the same vicious, unrelenting, no-holds-barred dark fiction as many of the 1970’s films I lovingly endured.

But my earliest memories of celluloid fear had their roots deep in the black and white thrillers made famous by Joan Crawford and Bette Davis. Films like Hush Hush, Sweet Charlotte, I Saw What You Did, I Know Who You Are, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, and Night Walker. It was amazing how scary a movie could be based on its musical score and deep, dark shadows. There was very little on-screen blood, no naked co-eds, but oodles of dreadful, scary moments galore. There’s a part of me that wants to take on that challenge someday, and the world will find out if I’m able to write the scariest PG black and white movie EVER. And as black and white horror goes, Psycho and Night of the Living Dead inflicted plenty of (excuse the pun) psychological damage on me.

I’ve been very fortunate to  have two books published this year. The first, an erotic thriller called Hyde, and my latest, an end of the world road trip called Goodnight, My Sweet, both have tones that have direct subconscious feeds from old school films. Most people have heard of The Story of O, based on the classic novel, which has a direct link to Hyde’s twisted journey of self discovery, but I’m not sure a lot of people remember the quiet and thought provoking black and white end of the world film, The World, The Flesh, & The Devil from 1959. The story is centered around emotion and relationships much more than the doom of humanity.

I celebrate horror most every day, but when October and Halloween roll around, the creative pump is primed for some of my best work. So, after watching Squirm this morning, I’m back to creating bookshelf nightmares.

I’ll see you soon.

Over the years, I’ve developed quite the reputation as the...

Over the years, I’ve developed quite the reputation as the sideshow barker of writers, selling his books out of the trunk of his car. I loved the challenge of selling books and I always thought each sale counted. Now my books sales pay my bills, and the fun is GONE. I’m just over it. I feel more like a strong arm collector than a book salesman. The daily stakes are just too high to be fun. Might be time to turn over my megaphone when I sell out my remaining stock. I so look forward to the day where my trunk doesn’t hold my financial future. 

Well, I have to tell you, this has been the most frustrating...

Well, I have to tell you, this has been the most frustrating fall season I’ve experienced in my last decade of writing. I have two new books out, which is a blessing, but I’ve never had such a long string of possible book signing & selling events not happen, or in the case of major convention Scarefest, being a total bust.

Since late August, I’ve reached out to a myriad of local bookstores, local college bookstores, haunted house venues, local community organizations, and indie bookstores in St. Louis & Chicago and haven’t even gotten email or voice mail responses from my inquiries. It’s been a very eye-opening last several weeks. It’s hard not to take it personally when you speak directly to a bookstore event coordinator & they say they’re going to call you back and they don’t, even after a follow-up email (& email is their chosen form of communication). Now that my livelihood depends on these book selling opportunities, its hard to laugh them off. Bills have to be paid. 

With Halloween right around the corner, and as a writer of dark fiction, I figured to have 4-6 events in October, but I’m stuck at three, and these final two are not destined to be earth shattering on the sales front. With the holidays and my wife’s 50th birthday on the horizon, I’m not sure how all this is going to play out. Some writer’s have experienced writer’s block. I have not. But right now, I’m experiencing book seller’s block, and it’s just as deadly…ha ha ha.

I have no choice but to keep at it. Giving up is not an option. Exploring a day job is. Not sure how all this is going to turn out, but as frustrated as I am, I don’t have time to pout.

Spit, yes. Pout no.

In the beginning…So, while in the midst of a very low-key...

In the beginning…

So, while in the midst of a very low-key event last night, I began writing the opening for my latest book, SIMPLY SEVEN,  a very intimate & ugly look at the war between heaven and hell, and where that leaves humanity. I dreamed the opening scene a few weeks ago, but let the images and dialogue simmer until my mind was ready to vomit it back onto my laptop. It’s beautifully surreal, and sets the perfect tone for the brutal shocks ahead. I’m really hoping SIMPLE SEVEN becomes the best book I’ve ever written.

It’s off to a great start.

Creatively, I feel like Medusa. My mind is a a writhing tangle...

Creatively, I feel like Medusa. My mind is a  a writhing tangle of serpents, each aggressively seeking to escape and prove its own value. Right now my brain is  bouncing between 4 different projects. That’s what happens when I’m not writing. My mind simmers, and then reaches the boiling point until I’m almost forced to write the project I’m most excited about. And now that I’m raising my game as a scriptwriter, the tangled nest of fun, ghoulish ideas is that much more crowded. 

Halloween being right around the corner seems to be adding extra punch to my creative juices. Let the fun begin!

So, in the midst of today’s earthshaking thunderstorm, I...

So, in the midst of today’s earthshaking thunderstorm, I decided it was time to get serious about a 70’s style horror script idea I’ve been mulling over for several weeks. It’s called CAGES, and without getting too specific about the story, it’s the exploitative tone of many classic low budget 70’s chillers I’m looking forward to instilling, with a  couple of different twists I’m hoping will really amp up the tension and give audiences a more imaginative horror experience. I have a feeling CAGES will either be the first horror script I’m going to sell, or that I’m going to find a way to get made.