Renee Miller's Blog

Another Year Bites the Dust

Well kids, we made it through another year ripped from a horrific sci-fi novel. How you doing?

To be honest, I’m not sure how I’m doing. Okay, I think. My writing has declined, but I’m not at a stand-still, so that’s good, right? I’m taking more “me” time to preserve a bit of balance in my brain. It’s been a lot of ups and downs, a few trips to the left and right, and some near collisions, but we’re here. 2022. I’m mostly in one piece, so I’m going to be positive about what this year has in store for me.

Also, fuck you, Universe, for not letting Betty see 100. Fucking jerk.

But on to the good stuff. Yes, there is good stuff. This, for example, from Unnerving:

There are a few simple rules in Retail:

The customer is always right, even when they’re wrong.Insults, threats, harassment and physical violence are accepted. Hell, those things are expected.Smile. No matter what happens, you need to get paid.

This is how it’s always been, and how it always will be…

Until today. Enough is enough. It’s time to get even, one nasty customer at a time. Once you get past the sticky issue of morality, revenge is easy. No one really sees the cashier or the stock person at the grocery store. We’re irrelevant and forgettable.

It’s amazing what you can get away with when you’re invisible.

RETAIL is coming January 11! Pre-order yours now.

I wasn’t sure how this novella would be received. I mean, it’s TOTALLY self-indulgent. It’s my rant against the vile industry we call Retail. My therapeutic way of getting back at all the assholes who made me eat shit for decades.

But you all love it, so far…

This book may very well be my savior. Whenever I encounter some dickwad that tries to ruin my day I will pick this book up and I will live vicariously through our narrator. It happens so often that I should probably just keep it on my nightstand. Better yet, maybe I’ll take it with me everywhere I go just in case. Just in case I should ever get the urge to murder someone. This should scratch that itch. I hope.

I guess the only thing left to say is….Renee Miller you are my new BFF and I would love it if you made this into a series as was hinted at the end of the book. EVERY. SINGLE. RAGING. STAR!!! – Michelle (Gooodreads)

I worked in retail for years, so the first couple pages of this unique and refreshing thriller resonated with me quite deeply. And I couldn’t wait to find out more. I mean, a retail worker killing off horrendous customer? Delectable!

And it was . . . – Kay (Goodreads)

Retail is a treat of a read for anyone who has worked retail in the past, especially over the last two years. A dollop of wish-fulfillment, a constantly believable premise and narrator, and customers who., while not right, receive exactly the service they deserve. – Jay (Goodreads)

What a fantastic protagonist – you can’t help buying into her way of justifying what she does, even as you weigh up what is right and what is wrong.  It’s a disturbing book because it feels like it could so easily be a genuine autobiographical account of a retail worker’s life.  I really enjoyed this.  The pace is rapid, the dialogue sharp and credible and the action non-stop. – Louise (NetGalley)

When I started writing the first draft of RETAIL, it was meant to be a series of short stories to “vent” the anger and frustration building up inside me every day at work. That means, except for the murder and maiming, a lot of the situations in the story happened to me or someone I’ve worked with.  So, yes, the shit in this story could happen in the real world. A lot of it did happen. Well, not in exactly the way I describe, but the inspiration for every awful detail came from real life.

And as the writing progressed, this “just for fun” project became something else. My protagonist took shape, her life outside of the stories bled out into the other stories and I realized, hey, I might have something my co-workers would enjoy reading here. I let a couple of them read the first draft (which was awful, by the way, so they should get a big pat on the back for attempting to read that mess) and they enjoyed it.

I eventually sent it to Eddie at Unnerving expecting him to say “Nah, not right for Unnerving.” or something like that, but obviously he did not say that at all.

And here we are. By the way, the cover image isn’t me, but it’s damn close to what I’d look like at work that it’s scary. Just saying.

So, if you’re looking for a funny (if I do say so) read full of blood, bitterness and revenge, check out RETAIL. I think there’s a little something for everyone in there.

And Book 2 has begun. Well, it’s in planning, because the shits and giggles at my day job have not stopped. This time, though, it’s not just the customers getting what they deserve. Think about your annoyingly awful co-workers.

No one is safe.

Also in 2022, look for my sci-fi/horror novel, CLUSTER, from Bloodshot Books.

A developer breaks ground where a plantation ravaged by fire once stood. Within weeks of discovering human remains at the site, Dr. Morris Jenkins discovers a localized epidemic of “suicide headaches,” but patients aren’t just harmful to themselves, they’re violent toward others.

An alien parasite is identified as the cause of the deadly migraines, with only one known survivor; a man named Charles. Morris discovers Charles has abilities that could lead to the end of humanity as we know it. He could also be the source of a cure.

The fate of the world depends on Charles doing the right thing, but Morris suspects the parasite has devoured the last piece of humanity in his soul.

I’ll update this with a link when I have one. Keep your eyes peeled. It’s coming VERY soon.

CLUSTER also started as an exercise. I was working on another project when I got a migraine. I’ve had these since childhood. Sometimes they’re minor annoyances, and sometimes, not often thank God, they’re horrible. This one was the latter. The left side of my body went numb (we’re talking head to toe). I couldn’t speak or move properly. Sort of like a stroke, but without the dying. The aura started in my vision and then, eventually, the pain that I still find hard to describe, burned its way through my skull. I knew eventually it’d lead to me kneeling to the porcelain gods praying for it to stop.

So, I did what anyone would do, I took some Gravol and a few ibuprofen and I stopped working on the story I’d been writing, and described what I was experiencing while I waited for the drugs to work.

And then I left it alone for a while.

A few days later my computer restarted itself, as it does when Windows wants to update, although I constantly click the “turn off automatic updates” thing in my settings, and the page I’d written came up on the retrieved documents notification.

I read it again and thought, you know, it almost sounds like I’ve got a parasite in there wreaking havoc. Then I thought, what if I DO HAVE A PARASITE? What if every migraine is a symptom of something more sinister? What if those suicide headaches I read about aren’t just the body turning on itself, but something ALIEN? What if all this time, I’ve just been a host for some organism planning to take over the world?

From there, CLUSTER took shape and Pete over at Bloodshot Books took a chance on it and offered to publish.

And yes, I think I gave myself a couple of migraines while writing about migraines. I know, it’s probably not possible, but I did have a cluster of migraines during that first week. So, you never know.

So, 2022 is starting strong. I’m hopeful. The pandemic seems to be winding down, although here in Ontario, it’s still ridiculous. I won’t get any further into that, because I just can’t.

I’ve still got a few projects waiting for me to bite the bullet and click the submit button. Just not sure where they belong yet. One I may have mentioned before is called CHUPACABRA. It’s a creature novel that blends horror with a dash of sci-fi. It’s the first time I’ve taken on a novel-length story involving a “monster” and I enjoyed writing it, but I’m not sure how I feel about my execution of it. When I read it, I get that feeling in my gut that I seem to have with books that have been received pretty well, so I’ve sent it a couple of places. While I did get positive feedback from a couple of editors on the writing and the story, it hasn’t been quite right for anyone yet. Maybe you’ll see it before 2023. Maybe not. Stay tuned.

My goals for 2022 are conservative. Keep writing. Try to be positive (but not Covid positive). Don’t kill anyone. I think that’s doable.

A Happy Place Has No Dead Bodies

Last year, when Covid was new, and all this insanity was fresh, I experienced my first sort of writer’s block. It wasn’t that I didn’t have ideas. I had tons. I just couldn’t seem to get them on paper. I’d sit at the computer and nothing happened. Maybe I’d type a few lines, but in less than an hour, I’d be searching for something, anything else to do. There was one week where I cleaned BOTH bathrooms top to bottom TWICE. I mean, I was actively avoiding writing, guys. I fucking hate cleaning bathrooms. I’ll let them get disgusting before I haul my ass in there to do the things grownups have to do. And I washed walls and windows, cleaned out cupboards and drawers. I scrubbed trim, cleaned my oven and my fridge, and washed shit that was in the closet (already totally clean), because it might be dusty.

I’m sure if we dug into the deeper meaning behind that, we might say I was stressed from work and the shit on social media, and was trying to make order out of chaos, or maybe I felt doing something I enjoyed so much felt wrong, considering the awfulness around me. Maybe it was just that with so much time on my hands, I got lazy about writing. I’ll admit there were times I’d tell myself there was no point in writing. I should quit because I was never going to make any real money at it or because I wasn’t really that good at it. (PS: DO NOT read reviews when you’re in a fragile mental state. Just don’t.) I’ve been in that mindset before, but this time was different. I almost convinced myself to quit. For a few weeks, I told myself I had. That was it. No more. Eventually, though, I found myself at the computer again, ideas begging to be released on the page, and then I found something else to clean before too long.

I’ve already obsessed over the why of it, and it didn’t really get me anywhere. I was fried. Period. Not by writing, but by life. I think that’s the main reason I couldn’t do it. Today, though, we’re not doing a deep dive into my brain. It’s not a fun place anyway. I want to talk about how doing something you’re passionate about can save you.  

Let’s go back to the early days of the pandemic. I’m an assistant manager at a grocery store in a small town. When Covid first arrived, we went into lockdown. No masks yet, but we had to overhaul our store. The shelves were empty. People were angry. Up went the arrows, signs, and little red circles showing people where to stand, because apparently, we can’t judge distance on our own. We had to make people line up outside and screen them before they could enter. They gave us a list of questions we had to ask. I probably don’t have to tell you how people handled this, but I will. They didn’t handle it. They were assholes. And then we could only allow one person per household in the store. Ten people at a time. That was… ugh. I worked in the store and pitched in as “security” at the door. Side note: NEVER put someone who has issues with being talked down to or yelled at in such a situation. I’m shocked no one got hurt, to be honest. There were moments where I “saw” myself putting someone’s head through a window or shoving something up their ass. I didn’t, but I really wanted to. I did hide in the bathroom to cry a few times. Never in all my years of working retail have I cried at work like that. Never. And I’ve had some pretty awful jobs. Anyway, moving on.

We were yelled at, threatened, and physically attacked. Someone coming at us became such a regular occurrence, that we stopped flinching. That doesn’t mean it didn’t affect us. I’m still a bag of nerves, and it rarely happens anymore. (still the occasional asshole out there, but for the most part, we feel relatively safe) As I said, I wasn’t writing much at this point and I felt everything bottling up inside me. There was a tightness in my chest and a weight deep in my stomach that never left. My tension and anger became palpable. No joke. My poor family had to endure me snapping for no reason. Sometimes I’d just cry. There was no warning. No reason that anyone could identify. I was either pissed at everything or sad. I was manic or completely immobile. There was no in between. If I had a good day where I felt happy or optimistic, I’d quickly begin to wonder when the awful thing would happen, because I couldn’t possibly be in a good mood without repercussions. Then the good mood was gone, and we were back to yelling, throwing things, or crying. Sometimes all three.

Then restrictions eased a little, and we had a few weeks of slightly less stress. And boom! New rules. New policies. New reasons for people to yell at us. Lather, rinse and repeat for a year.

I stopped sleeping. Well, I slept, but I tossed and turned and woke at odd hours. Instead of being tired, though, I felt almost hyper-awake some days. My body was tired, but my brain was like “Full speed ahead!” It was a weird feeling. Not one I’d like to experience again. I actually thought I was going crazy for a while, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. It was like I was floating outside my body waiting for the inevitable train wreck to happen.

Finally, late last summer, I sat down one morning and wrote 5,000 words. I only stopped because the dogs were acting like assholes from so many hours without attention. The next day I wrote a few thousand words again. And again the following day.

Thankfully, the psychotic break never happened.

What I wrote wasn’t great. I probably only kept half of those words (the book is finished now and just got rejected, so… maybe I’ll get rid of a few thousand more). However, I felt the best I’d felt in months mentally. My head was clear. I didn’t feel that uncomfortable weight on my shoulders or in my stomach, my chest didn’t feel tight, and I slept like the dead those first few nights.

Then I wrote a few shorts. Subbed to some publishers. Got a few acceptances and a lot of rejections. Things were normal again. I was in control again. I found myself singing as I worked or dancing while I cleaned. I was me again.

Was it because I got the feels out on paper? No. It was because for months I didn’t feel good about much. I was anxious because I couldn’t force any words and I had no outlet for the frustration and, I’ll admit it, rage I felt about my situation. I couldn’t even enjoy reading. That’s never happened in my life. Reading is my escape even more than writing is, so if I couldn’t even finish a book, what the hell, right? When the damn finally burst and I got those first words down, all of that changed.

I’ve learned that writing is a necessity for me. The whole process helps realign my chakras or whatever. Sitting down, forming that first sentence, then that first paragraph, and the first page. Even going back and editing is something I need. It makes everything seem manageable. Once I let myself enjoy it again, that joy trickled into other parts of my life. I still get irritable. It’s part of my personality. I’m easily annoyed. However, I’m not lashing out or pitching tantrums anymore. I’m not crying in the shower or laying awake at night. I’m content. Well, as content as one can be in our current situation. I can look at a shit situation and see the humor in it or take the glass half-full approach.

I also realized that the cleaning thing (To be clear, I’m a long way from a neat freak) was my way of trying to find order in the chaos. I couldn’t write, so I did the other thing that made me feel better. If I could make my home tidy, then maybe other shit would fall in line. It didn’t, but I tried. Sadly, my house will never be as clean as it was in the first months of the pandemic. Sorry, family. Those happy days are over.

If I never earned another dollar from writing, I can say that now that I’m certain I won’t stop. (Although I still circle the imposter syndrome drain now and then) The process fuels something important in my soul and I think that’s true for all of us. Maybe your thing is gaming or music or painting or rearranging furniture or cleaning your pantry or gardening or (ew) exercise. It doesn’t matter what it is you love. Now more than ever it’s important to find that thing that brings you joy and embrace it. Put it in a strangle hold if you must. Just don’t let it go. It’s yours and you deserve to have it.

Having just one piece of your life that feels right and orderly is so important for your mental health. Even if it becomes difficult, don’t stop. Eventually, you’ll find that joy again and the planets will align, and things won’t seem so dire. To my writer friends who find themselves experiencing a block like mine: Keep sitting down at the computer (or with the notebook). The words will come. I promise.

In a way, Covid helped me realize how lucky I am. It made me love writing again and it showed me how strong I really am. I mean, I didn’t kill anyone. Didn’t even wound them. And there were a lot of people who deserved at least a maiming. I got through this past year without a criminal record, kept my job, and I rediscovered my passion for the horror genre. So, thanks, Covid, for being such a fucker.

I challenge all of you to find your happy place and dig into it. Don’t let this outside bullshit tear you down. Find something you love and love the shit out of it. You owe it to yourselves, and those around you, to find some joy.

I mean, if you don’t indulge your soul, give it what it needs, you might find yourself creating order in other ways… and then burying the bodies under your house.

Never do that. Bury them at someone else’s house.

New Books but Not a New Me

Tis a new year, but not a new me. I figured since I don’t do the resolution shit, I’d also skip the January 1st post where I tell you I don’t do that shit.

I guess I kind of did that anyway just now.

Anyway, 2021 came in quietly at our house. We didn’t want to make too much noise, because last year that seemed to have a very bad effect on how shit went. We decided to get to bed early and avoid wishing anyone a Happy New Year. Didn’t even acknowledge it for weeks. Has it been better than 2020? Meh. It’s not worse, so I’ll be content with that.

I’m still working in retail, still “essential” without the essential pay, and still wondering how the human race has survived with so much stupid in it. I guess that’ll never change.

This month, though, after two years of trying to figure out how to work with this guy around:

 And this guy…

This next guy is a good boy, so we’ll just share his handsome face so he feels included:

I’ve FINALLY figured out a writing routine that allows me to get shit done without the house falling down around me. And I’ve subbed stories to several places over the past few months (for a while, I wasn’t subbing anywhere). Mostly, I’ve been rejected, because that’s how this works. Several of those rejections, though, were the “We don’t usually provide feedback, but are making an exception because… **nice things follow**” kind of rejections. I appreciate these, and they make me feel like I’m doing something right, sort of, but they’re still rejections, so I get about half as bummed as when I get a form rejection. So, I’m choosing to view those rejections as wins.

Glass half-full. That’s how I’m trying to view shit these days. If I don’t, I’ll probably become a serial killer and I don’t think I’d be very good at that. Always running my mouth, you see.

 So, what was accepted? I shall tell you. On February 25th, Unnerving will be releasing two novellas. First, a bloodier, nastier version of CHURCH (called Church: Cult Edition), with a pretty cool new cover, and SHE AIN’T PRETTY, a sex-fueled nightmare that explores a different type of cult than we encounter in CHURCH. This is just after my birthday, so you guys should pre-order these now, so I feel loved.

Now, the basic idea for SHE AIN’T PRETTY, was inspired by the song of the same title by the Northern Pikes.

NORTHERN PIKES – She Ain’t Pretty – YouTube

I love that song, man. Listen to it all the time. (Stop judging me) I was brainstorming ideas for a Rewind or Die story, when this song came on, followed by THAT SUMMER, by Garth Brooks.

That Summer Garth Brooks – YouTube

I listen to ALL the music, kids. I guess the two songs together wove a few nuggets in my brain and voila! Lily, soul sucking succubus with a goal of total world domination was born.

At the same time, I plotted a second novella, SKIN DEEP, that I haven’t subbed anywhere just yet. That too was inspired by music. She Ain’t Pretty (the song is catchy, guys), and Bad Girlfriend, by Theory of a Deadman.

Theory of a Deadman – Bad Girlfriend [OFFICIAL VIDEO] – YouTube

It’s not often that music inspires whole stories, but I get ideas everywhere, as most of us do. Anyway, SKIN DEEP is sexy (Lots of weird, awkward, killer sex), bloody and weird as well. I really love it.

Finally, I wrote a creature story that I’m calling CHUPACABRA for now. No, this one wasn’t inspired by any music. Pure nightmare/things I think about in the shower ideas here. It’s longer than a novella. A little shorter than what I prefer for a novel, though.

Now, I’ve written monster/creature stories before. I mean, STRANDED, HOWL, and BLOOD LAKE MONSTER are clearly those types of tales. I’ve always wanted to write a full-on Frankenstein style monster, though, that is all about the bloodlust of a full-on predator whose existence is totally our own fault. In Blood Lake Monster, I played with that a little bit, but it wasn’t quite the creature feature idea I’ve been too afraid to attempt up to this point. I mean, can I really keep the action-packed pace required in military/apocalyptic/TEOTWAWKI/The shit has hit the fan types of stories? I’m still not sure. You guys may never read it, because maybe no publisher will ever want it, but I’m happy that I tried it and I am pretty pleased with the result.

Remember, glass half-full.

Also coming down the pipes, although I’m not sure when, is CLUSTER, a sci-fi horror novel that will leave you dreading your next headache. I’ll keep you updated on this one.

My short story TRIAL BY WATER was included in Scare Street’s NIGHT TERRORS VOLUME 7 in December of 2020. I also had a handful of other stories published in various publications in the last half of 2020. You can find all of these on my Amazon page.

I wasn’t going to speak of current events, because God Fucking Damn, People! What the hell is wrong with you all? But I will say this: We’re a year into this pandemic. A mask isn’t a fucking tattoo that will mark you for life. It isn’t a torture device that will kill you or scar you in any way. It’s not taking away any of your rights. It’s not doing anything but keeping your germs on you, where they belong. Aside from that, though, no matter what you believe, it’s a nice gesture that says to others, “I’m a decent person and I care about your well being, because we’re both human beings who deserve to be happy and healthy, so even if I think this bit of cloth is stupid and pointless, I’ll wear it while I’m standing close to you.” Oh, also, some of you can stop with the yelling at employees of stores/offices/medical facilities, who have ZERO CONTROL over the rules they have to enforce because IT’S THEIR FUCKING JOB. Some of them don’t agree with it either, but if they want to pay their bills, they’ve gotta do what they’ve gotta do. If they can suck it up, you can too.

Looking at you, asshole who called me a commie bitch because I informed you my boss made masks mandatory in our store. Some of you need to look up the definition of a lot of shit before letting it fall out of your mouth. Just saying.

PS: This is not an invitation for a debate on Covid, masks or any of that shit. I couldn’t give a shit about this side or that or what’s real and what’s conspiracy, or who’s batshit insane and who’s just bored. This is just a plea from a person who is sick of being threatened, insulted, and abused for just doing her job.

Okay, so, moving on. I’m looking forward to this year and all the potential goodness it holds. Let’s all just let 2021 ease its way in here. Don’t make any sudden movements that might startle it into a shit storm. Just get a few new books to read and tuck yourself away in a quiet corner until all the wrinkles left by 2020 are smoothed out.

Oh, that reminds me: I finished RETAIL. For those who might not remember, I was working on a novella about a retail employee that loses her shit and becomes a serial killer (based very loosely on my own experience in retail). I don’t know where the hell I’m subbing it, but maybe some day, I’ll find a publisher that might be interested, and it’ll be out in the world so you guys can laugh as much as I did as I wrote it. Before then, I might add more blood and rage to make it more realistic.

Comedy, Succubae, and Everything In Between

It seems like I start every post anymore with “Long time, eh?” but you know, long time, eh?

Since this pandemic shit started, it feels like I’m stuck in time. What about you guys? Feel a little trapped? A little dragged down? A little crazy?

We’ve been lucky. Our little area hasn’t had many cases. Oh, we’ll have spikes eventually, I’m sure, because people from other regions, red zone regions, keep coming here to shop and do whatever they’re not allowed to do at home. (Cue big, frustrated sigh) I keep hoping I’m wrong, though.

Enough about the pandemic. It’s boring.

While I feel stagnant, I realized while preparing this post, I haven’t been at a total stand-still. Despite not writing every single day like I used to, I managed to produce quite a bit since this shit show started. First, I’ve got a regular installment in Unnerving Magazine called “BLACK BROTHEL,” an erotic horror series that has been a blast to write. That reminds me, I haven’t plotted the next story yet. (makes a note) And Unnerving released BLOOD LAKE MONSTER this summer as part of the REWIND OR DIE series. You’ve gotta check those books out. Not just mine. I mean, yeah, buy my book, but the other books in this series are damn good, so go on… buy one. You won’t regret it. (Marketing, you know? Gotta be done)

I’m also working on a re-boot of CHURCH, with some extra scenes (and blood) for release next year sometime. I’ve got a few shorts coming out here and there. One is with Scare Street (publication date TBA) and my short INFESTED was included in Red Cape Publishing’s anthology, F IS FOR FEAR. The others I’ll keep to myself until the ink is dry on the contracts. (I feel like mentioning such things jinxes them if it’s not a done deal)

In 2021, my sci-fi/horror novel, CLUSTER, will be released by Bloodshot Books and I’ve finished three novellas in the time I’ve been hanging around here at home avoiding the infected masses. One, I hope, will be published next year. For this one, I dove back into erotic horror. Actually, there are two of them, both with a lot of sex and gore, but only one is in the rewrite stage and close to the point where I can submit it somewhere. The other one needs some research done before I can finalize the outline, but it’s at about 10,000 words at the moment, so it won’t take long to finish.

Other than that, I’ve been working my day job, trying not to kill people. Speaking of killing people… I wrote a thing. I’m not sure what to do with said thing, but it’s essentially “done” and I’m pretty happy with it. What is it? Well, it’s a blend of horror and dark comedy. I call it “RETAIL” but I’m sure that’ll change. Maybe it won’t. Maybe for the first time ever, I’ll have selected a title that stays from beginning to end. I’ve written it in first person POV (for the most part) and it’s about a retail worker who has had enough. It started as a connected series of stories, but after reading through it, I thought, nah, that’s dumb and now it’s still those stories, but as part of one storyline. I know, I make it sound so appealing.

The problem with Retail is I keep getting new ideas. A customer will come in and do something weird or say something awful, like bitch about having to take a cart, because that is clearly the most demeaning and soul shattering thing a person could ever make you do, and I’m like, yeah, you need to die in my book, or yeah, you need to suffer some kind of terrible accident that leaves you maimed for life. Like that guy that told me he hopes I die, because I told him we can’t take returns once they’ve left the store. I’m not the one who needs to die, pal.

Hey, it’s how I cope with this bullshit, all right? You guys do your therapy and I’ll do mine. No customers were actually harmed in the writing of this book, so it’s all good.

Anyway, I have no idea who will want to publish it. Maybe no one. Stay tuned.

I’m also working on another creature story. It’s going to be a novel, I hope, but it’s maybe a third of the way done so I won’t get into it too much here. It could change dramatically by the time I type “The End.”

Finally, on the home front, the animals are still crazy, but not as wild. Teddy, the German Shepherd, has mellowed into a neurotic love bug. He wants all the attention, but he can’t just come over for snuggles. He has to do the bad things, so you get mad at him and chase him around. (He licked a lit candle yesterday) Then, when you’ve caught him, he accepts the hugs and butt scratches. Benny, the chocolate lab, is an adorable, dumb, clumsy blob of love. We got him against my will, but I can’t imagine not having him. And Quinn, the Border Aussie, is queen of the house. He’s also neurotic, but he’s the best boy. Never does a thing wrong, except he won’t poop in the yard. Only on walks. Weird, I know.

The cats are good too, but Teddy doesn’t trust the cats. The cats don’t like Teddy or Benny. There was an altercation in which some hissing and screaming and pissing all over the place happened, and now, the cats are isolated in one half of the house, and the dogs are in the other, because if they’re allowed to mingle, someone’s going to die. One cat, Atlas, decided she hated everyone a few months ago and after an epic battle with her sister, Freya, in which they tried to kill each other, Atlas has been given her own domain. She lives in my oldest daughter’s room, where she reigns alone and has all of Court’s attention. Freya gets to claim the rest of that half of the house for herself. She isn’t sure how she feels about it, though. She’s a social butterfly, so she likes to come to the gate and taunt the dogs when she gets lonely.

Yeah, it’s been fun.

The mice and the birds just stay in their cages and don’t bother anyone. I like them very much for that.

Anyway, I guess that’s the end of this installment of what’s going on with me. How about you guys? Finding time to write? Enjoying life in a pandemic? Does anyone really do this blog thing anymore?

Good News is Hard to Find

Hello, friends!

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It’s been so long since we hung out. I almost forgot I had a blog. Terrible, I know, but here I am, back at the writing and hoping the insanity out there slows to a dull roar soon.

I haven’t been doing much on the social media marketing front lately, so I thought now would be a good time to let you know I’m still kicking and still plugging away at this writing thing (albeit, much slower than usual).

Next month (July), my novella BLOOD LAKE MONSTER will be released by Unnerving as part of the REWIND OR DIE series.

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When she finally solves the mystery of her sister’s disappearance, Anya realizes she’s the only one who can put an end to the Blood Lake Monster. Is she willing to sacrifice everything for the town that ruined her life?

 

 

 

 

I’m pretty excited about this 80’s/90’s slasher style story. I based it in Tweed (although everything except the location and the small town flavor of the characters is fiction), on our beautiful Stoco Lake. I hope you’ll check it out. In the meantime, you can check out, ANOTHER PRETTY FACE, my contribution to the first Rewind or Die book, MIDNIGHT EXHIBIT, which also includes stories by Eddie Generous, Philip Fracassi, and Stephen Graham Jones.

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I’ve also contributed a wee sexy story series to Unnerving Magazine, called BLACK BROTHEL. You can catch the first installment in Issue 12. I’ve got a couple more waiting in the wings for future issues. Subscribe to Unnerving to be the first to get these and more awesome writings from a wide range of dark fiction authors.

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Recently, I signed with Bloodshot Books to publish my horror/sci-fi novel, CLUSTER. No release date yet, but I’ll keep you posted. Look for it sometime in 2021.

In 1848, a fire sweeps through a midwestern plantation. Crops flourish later that year, and residents believe the incident is a gift from God.

Until they start dying.

Years later, a developer breaks ground where the plantation once stood. Within weeks of discovering human remains, Dr. Morris Jenkins identifies a cluster of “suicide headaches,” but patients aren’t just harmful to themselves, they’re violent toward others. Before he can identify the cause, the CDC takes over, and Morris is infected as well.

Dr. Catherine Fairchild works feverishly to develop a treatment for the deadly migraines, but her work is halted by a government agent who claims the parasite is alien in origin and must be eradicated, not treated.

But they might be too late, because the deadliest patient, Charles, is about to be set free.

I’ve also finished a novel that I’ve written and rewritten many times over the past six or seven years. I was going to sub it, but (once again) I’m not sure it’s ready for publication. It’s a mystery/sci-fi/horror thing that includes a mad scientist, a secret organization, a rogue agent, and a deadly game of Survivor. I really like the story, but it’s had so many transformations over the years, I might be over it. Still can’t just toss it, though.

We’ll see how that goes.

I’m also working on a project called RETAIL, which is a series of stories that make up a larger story, based on my experience working in, you guessed it, retail. It’s dark, bloody, hilarious (I hope) and a little weird. The best part, I think, is that many of the scenes (except for the murders and maimings), include events that actually happened. And a lot of them are definitely stranger than fiction.

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And finally, I’m working on a creature story set after this whole Covid mess. I decided I can’t not acknowledge recent events in future novels, even if I don’t really want to use it as the basis for anything, so we’re going to fast forward in this book, and use the virus as a starting point for a different kind of horror. My creature in this one (which doesn’t have a title yet) is man-made and the bloodshed and havoc it wreaks is the result of bad judgement, big egos, and terrible timing. Or something. It’s still a very loose outline, so things could change.

Other than that, I’ve got a handful of short stories that are a long way from finished. I haven’t been subbing much, because it’s been difficult to find chunks of time to properly edit anything. I’ve been working a lot more, because people have lost their fucking minds, and instead of my dream of one, very well behaved dog, I have three lunatics that don’t like the sound of typing. Seems to be their signal to act like savages. We’re making progress. I mean, this blog post only took two days to write. That’s pretty good, considering I couldn’t manage more than fifty words at a time last month. I need an office. Someone tell the writing fairies to work on that. Thanks.

That’s it. The only other good news I have is that I’m healthy, maybe a little tired, and grateful that I live in an area that doesn’t see a lot of action (aside from the action I see too much of at work). I have a pretty good life, great friends and a family that loves me, so all in all, I’m doing all right. I hope all of you are safe as well and you’re taking care of yourselves physically and mentally. It’s tough to see the positives when you watch the news or take a walk through social media, but it’s important to remember all the reasons you have to be grateful, even if they don’t seem significant. I know, that sounds disgustingly close to feelings kind of talk, but I think it needs to be said. When shit gets so real it feels like you’re in a nightmare you can’t wake up from, I remind myself of at least one thing in my life that makes me smile. If your thing is as simple as a steaming hot cup of coffee, then embrace that cup (careful you don’t spill) and let yourself enjoy every last drop.

Okay, done with the feels. Next time, I’ll have a good and proper rant for you all.

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What Is Going On?

Near the end of March, we went from normal customer volumes, calmly shopping, buying a reasonable amount of groceries, to this:

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and this…

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and then…

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followed by:

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and now…

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The change was almost overnight. The shit show that ensued over the next couple of weeks was like a sci-fi/horror novel made real. And it hasn’t stopped. Sure, the masses of panic shoppers have dwindled to manageable levels, but each day brings a new nightmare.

As a horror writer, I try to understand fear and ignorance. It’s a big part of what I write. I thought I understood how it would feel to be in a situation like we’re all in right now with this virus, and what others might do/say/think, but I had no idea. A lot of it is indescribable. I mean, I’ve written this post a dozen times at least, and I can’t find the words to convey what it’s been like. Definitely one of those “you had to be there” things, but I’m still going to try to describe what life as an “essential” worker has been like.

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The tension emanating from customers coming into the store I work at is palpable. Even when people are being pleasant, you can almost taste the unease and fear lurking just beneath the surface. It seeps into your pores. You don’t even realize it’s there until long after you’ve gone home, and you’re trying to sleep, and just can’t. I’m a champion sleeper, kids. I mean, if there were a prize for the best person at sleeping, I’d probably win. Go to bed early? You bet. Sleep in? God, I miss that. Naps? Yes, please! I love sleep and it loves me, but I haven’t slept more than a few hours at a time in at least a month. Forget naps. Too much anxiety bubbling in this brain to relax “too” much. It attacks when something minor happens or when something (god forbid) happy comes along. You can’t quite enjoy yourself, because this little thing in the back of your mind keeps poking at you, reminding you the other shoe hasn’t dropped yet.

You dream about the manic eyes of people fighting over toilet paper. You remember insults/slights at the strangest times. While you know it’s not personal, it still leaves a little scar when someone calls you a stupid cunt or a lazy bitch or a liar, a cheat, a thief, etc. And I try to be positive every day. Yes, I have rants and tantrums, but I try to make them quick and private. I say good morning to my coworkers and to customers. I ask how they are, and I genuinely want to know. I try to inject humor whenever possible and I find every opportunity to see the bright side. I treat my Sunday shift (which is mostly teenagers) to treats like lunch or donuts and coffee to thank them for all of their hard work and patience. I do this intentionally because I think it’s important to keep smiling. But it’s hard. There are so many negative people around me that sometimes the barrier crumbles and I almost let it devour the bit of light I try to keep burning.

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Mostly, I just want to be able to rest and stop worrying. I’d like to look forward to going into work instead of preparing myself mentally for the shit show I might have to deal with. I’m mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. My writing is suffering and so is pretty much every other thing in my personal life. I’m glad to be working, but I’m also terrified and resentful. Yes, I said it. I’m resentful. We’re essential, but we sure as hell aren’t being treated as such. That $2 raise? I’m grateful someone, somewhere said, hey, let’s give them a little cash for their trouble, but let’s be real here, that $2 an hour doesn’t make up for the bullshit we’ve put up with, and it’s temporary.

The most frustrating thing, I think, is hearing things like, “You work at a fucking grocery store. That’s hardly frontline. Get over yourselves.” Why don’t you come do my job for a few days, sweetheart. Remember, you can’t tell anyone off. You can’t be aggressive. You must remain calm and pleasant at all times, no matter what the person in front of you says or does.

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No, we’re not in healthcare, we aren’t saving lives, and these are the jobs we chose, but we are here, smiling and being polite no matter what, making sure everyone has food and whatever else they need to get through this shit. Yes, healthcare workers are putting their lives at risk to help everyone and they deserve everything and more for their superhuman efforts to contain this nightmare, but those of us working minimum wage jobs that ensure you have what you need don’t have protective gear and we DON’T KNOW WHO IS SICK AND WHO ISN’T. We have surgical masks, sometimes, and gloves. Those are worn to protect our customers just in case we’ve encountered someone who is sick. And we get verbally and sometimes physically attacked for wearing them or for not wearing them. It’s anyone’s guess which thing we’ll be doing wrong.

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As I mentioned before, I have been called every name you can imagine, from a cunt, a bitch, an asshole, to a fucking retard, and more. I have had people get in my face and I’ve had more than a few talk down to me, as though I’m either a child or someone who can’t understand plain English.

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For several weeks, those of us working essential jobs (that are not in the medical field), have worked long hours and have had to adapt to new rules/recommendations every day. First, it was making sure people stay six feet apart. Then it was gloves at cash. Wash your hands every hour. No returns. No outside bags. Sanitize debit machines and belts after every customer. Plexi-glass enclosures. No outside gloves allowed in the store. No drinks or food. Now, sanitize the ENTIRE store and the shopping carts and shelves every hour. Put arrows on the floors. Make customers follow said arrows to avoid running into each other. Police the store. Make sure all customers are maintaining the proper social distance. Stock the shelves, but don’t go into the aisles with people in them. (WTF, right?) Limit people in store to 10… no 15… no, 10. Only one person per household. No children whenever possible. Screen everyone who enters with that awesome list of symptoms that almost no one is honest about answering. Did I mention no outside gloves or bags? Because you all don’t seem to get that one.

Work the door. Be a security guard/health expert while screening. Not qualified to do it but fuck it. Needs must, right? Sir, you must answer each question, or you can’t enter the store. Sir, if you keep interrupting me, I can’t let you in. Sir. Sir, back up. You’re too close. Just answer the questions and you can go in. You’re six inches shorter than me and about fifty pounds lighter. Hardly as intimidating as you’re imagining. Okay, don’t come in. Thank you for finally answering the damn questions. Now, you can go in as soon as someone leaves. Sure, it’s annoying. You think I enjoy asking every single person this shit? Do I like standing in the rain, cold, wind so I can tell you what you should already know? Fuck, no. I don’t like it any more than you do, so suck it up and stop whining.

Ma’am, please follow the arrows. It’s one way down this aisle. If it’s so stupid, why is it so hard to follow? Go around the next aisle. Please don’t pass the man ahead of you. I don’t care if he’s too slow. There’s not six feet between you. Oh, so you’re gonna just do it anyway. Awesome. Yep. Fuck you and your stupid mask that doesn’t even cover your damn nose.

Sorry, we’re out of toilet paper. Out of yeast. Out of flour. Nope, no Lysol this week. Potatoes? Hahaha. Good luck. No cash back at the register. Bank machine is just across the road. No canned vegetables. Maybe tomorrow. Limit on meat. Limit on potatoes is two. You have four. No, you can only buy two bags of potatoes. Because you asshole hoarders cleared our fucking shelves last month, that’s why. Lots of toilet paper now. No, that’s the regular price. It’s not price gouging. There are no sales right now because you guys keep buying it all up. Yes, regular price. Okay, don’t buy it then. I’m sure you’ll be fine with the thousand rolls you bought last month.

No, we can’t allow you to use the restroom. It’s in the receiving area and we aren’t allowed to let people back there. The gas station across the road has a restroom that’s open to the public. Oh… You’re shitting your pants right now…? (This actually happened)

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One of our managers was assaulted by a customer because she wasn’t wearing a mask. Another employee was shamed on Facebook for wearing a mask that “should” be reserved for medical professionals. (It was a dust mask you might use when hanging drywall or sanding floors, by the way. Totally useless for anyone in healthcare) We can’t win on that front.

People work extra hard to bend the rules or find a loophole. Instead of just doing as asked, they connive and scheme and feel like they’ve won some kind of contest for “fucking the system” or something. They hide their dirty gloves in pockets, discard the ones we provide, and put theirs on once in the store. They move items we’ve placed to block areas they can’t go, and go in anyway. They don’t follow the arrows. They touch EVERYTHING. They socialize in the aisles, preventing others from doing their shopping. There’s a lineup around the building, kids. Move it along. And listen, finding a way to disobey rules that are in place for your safety and for the safety of the most vulnerable members of our community isn’t sticking it to the man. It’s sticking it to yourselves.

I should add that we have fantastic customers too. For the most part, the troublemakers aren’t even from Tweed. They’re from neighboring towns or they’ve come from the cities to open their cottages, despite being told not to do that this year. The problem is, no matter how hard you try to remember the patient, kind people you encounter, that one asshole that threatened you or called you a stupid cunt is what sticks in your mind for the rest of your work day.

And yes, you’re totally right; we could quit. No one’s holding a gun to our head. But if we quit, we won’t get paid. We won’t get unemployment or emergency benefits either. So, we have to go to work. We come home to our families not knowing if some idiot gave us the virus or not. Some of us have elderly or immunocompromised family members we haven’t seen in weeks, or who live in our homes. Some of us have young children. Some of us have health conditions that could be life threatening if we become infected, but we still have to work, because we can’t afford not to.

This is what it’s like to work in a grocery store right now. When I hear people bitching and moaning about wishing they could go back to work, I understand. It’s tough. Money is tight. However, if some of you would just do as health experts are asking, we wouldn’t still be where we are. Things would be better. Restrictions could be lifted.

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I’m don’t want pity or sympathy. I’m a big girl and I’m paid to do a job. It’s changed drastically, but that’s fine. Roll with the punches and all that. What I’m asking for is patience and cooperation. What I’ve just described, aside from allowing me to vent a lot of frustration, is intended to make you all understand we’re all in this. We’re all struggling somehow. So, be sensible and stop being selfish. No matter what happens, it costs nothing to be kind or at least civil. Being an asshole won’t change your situation. It won’t end this nightmare. It only makes life that much more difficult for someone else. If making someone miserable makes you happy, then I hope Karma really is a thing and I hope it comes for you hard.

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Midnight Exhibit

Tomorrow (January 23), the first book in Unnerving’s REWIND OR DIE series will be released. I’m excited and terrified to have my story, ANOTHER PRETTY FACE, included in MIDNIGHT EXHIBIT VOLUME 1, alongside Stephen Graham Jones and Philip Fracassi.

Look at this thing of beauty:

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Now, when Eddie at Unnerving first mentioned this opportunity, I was like, “Man, no way is my work going to stand up alongside these two. I can’t even…” I’m like that every time my work is included in a collection/anthology that features authors I fan-girl, by the way.

And then he outlined the inspiration for the collection, the “feel” it should have, and I couldn’t let my little writer insecurities keep me from at least trying to come up with something cool. I loved Tales from the Crypt, Tales from the Darkside, Twilight Zone, and every slasher film from that era I could get my eyes on. I mean, I’m an eighties baby, after all. How could I not write the shit out of this kind of story? I still have some nerves about being good enough, but I love the story I wrote, so it can’t be all that bad, right? I guess if it is, you’ll have the other stories, which are guaranteed to be great.

In other news (It’s been a long time since I had news to share, eh?), I have a novella that will be part of Rewind or Die. THE BLOOD LAKE MONSTER will be released by Unnerving in July, and I’m working on a series of short stories titled “Black Brothel” for Unnerving Magazine. These will have a lot of blood, sex and humor (I hope), so stay tuned for that. Later this year or early next year, my novel CLUSTER will also be released. More on that when I can announce the who and when and such.

I’m also working on a horror novel/collection titled RETAIL. It’s a collection of linked stories (that should also stand alone) told by a single narrator, based on my experience working in, yep, retail. The number of times I’ve been at work and heard myself and others say, “You can’t make this shit up,” has inspired me to use said stories, while also making shit up, as part of something. There will be blood, of course, a little sex, maybe, humor, because obviously, and some unease, because we’ve all “been there” in one way or another. We just didn’t kill or maim anyone over it. Well, most of us haven’t. Writing this has been therapeutic. Now that I’ve written about them, I don’t look at these characters and think, “Fuck, I hate you people.” Instead, I think, “Fuck I hate you people. I’m gonna write you the worst death ever.” And then it’s easy to smile and say “have a nice day.” I actually look forward to their assholery.

The tricky part of the whole project is knowing that my coworkers will immediately recognize some of the characters (maybe even all of them) and a few will recognize themselves. I’m not worried about lawsuits and whatnot, because a lot of the content is 100% fiction, but there are little nuggets of reality that will have everyone at work looking at me a little longer, maybe giving me a wide berth when I get annoyed… actually, that’d be a good thing. I’m not worried anymore. It’ll be great.

And, finally, I’m editing stuff that’s almost finished so I can sub it somewhere. I’ve got a couple of novels that need a little more horror, a little less, whatever it is that’s wrong with them at the moment. I’ve also started working on a serial killer thing. It’s from the POV of “the one that got away” and I’m hoping it’ll be pretty disturbing. We’ll see. It’s  in early stages, so I could decide it all sucks, and if it does, it’s likely I’ll abandon it for something shinier later on.

Between work, taking care of the zoo we have living in our house, and a hobby turned side business that weirdly helps to keep me sane, I haven’t had a lot of time for anything other than staring blankly at a screen/page and wishing I wasn’t so tired. I feel like I haven’t done much this past year, but now that I list it all, I see that I’m wrong. True, I haven’t subbed as much as I usually do, but I’m still plugging away, writing new stuff, and slowly getting it out there. These updates are just as much for me as they are for you. Maybe more so, because they make me feel a little better about the times I do absolutely nothing with my day.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m almost finished binge-watching this pirate thing, so…

Crime Fighting and Other Stuff I’ve Been Doing

Been a while, huh? 2019 is almost over, and while it went fast, it was a pretty overwhelming year. Lots of shit happening in my writing world and my personal world. My writing has slowed down, but I’m still finishing enough projects to satisfy that inner lunatic. Problem is, I’m not subbing as much, which is frustrating. I’ll fix that. Promise.

Well, what’s new? We still have too many pets and they suck a lot of the time I’d rather be writing away from me. However, they’re totally worth it.

… most of the time.

In September, Unnerving released my brutal family saga, THE ONE YOU FEED. (PS: Still looking for reviewers, so, you know, if you want a copy, just contact me). In October, my short horror story, BROKEN, was included in Aphotic Realm’s Halloween issue. That’s a pretty cool read (the whole issue, I mean) so you guys should check it out. You won’t be disappointed.

And I don’t think I have anything else coming out in 2019. Sometimes I forget things, but I keep spreadsheets, so I’m pretty sure that this is correct. I have a story, VIRTUAL HEALING, which is supposed to be coming out in Lycan Valley Publications’ GAME OVER: BLACK BOOK SERIES VOLUME 3, but there’s no release date on that yet, still, so I’ll let you know when I know.

Now, 2020 is looking to be a good year already. Hope I didn’t jinx myself.

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On January 23rd, you can pick up a copy of MIDNIGHT EXHIBIT: VOLUME 1, which is a collection of stories by me, Stephen Graham Jones and Philip Fracassi. You can’t see my face as I write this, but believe me, I’m THRILLED to be included in anything with such amazing talent. I’m still a wee bit giddy. Hopefully, my story is at least close to as good as theirs. And check out this cover. I mean… LOOK AT IT.

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On July 23rd, BLOOD LAKE MONSTER, a novella I submitted to Unnerving’s Rewind or Die series, will be released. I loved everything about this project. It was fun to write and mostly fun to edit. I hope it’s as entertaining and disturbing as I think it is. Also, you guys SERIOUSLY need to check out that entire series (link above). So many awesome titles coming out this year from amazing authors.

I’m hoping to release other bits and pieces somewhere between, but we’ll see. I’m working on a sort of secret project that, if I’m able to pull it off, will result in a sort of series of short stories that share a setting and a few characters. It’ll have an 80’s/90’s slasher flavor, with dashes of humor and, yes, sex (Did you expect anything less from me?). When I know more on that, you shall know more.

In personal news, recently I was looking for something to get the kids interested in. Something to drag them out of their rooms for a little while each day. A hobby, if you will. In the end, they’re still in their rooms and I got a new hobby, because you should never have just one creative thing on the go. What is it? Candle making. Well, candle making and bath products (soap, lotion, etc.). It’s crazy, but I find the process of making this stuff almost therapeutic. Bonus side effect: I’m working stories out in my head as I work, so it’s also helped my writing productivity. The only problem is, I’ve now got a shit ton of stuff that I’m never going to use, because there’s just so much of it. I can’t give it all away. I’ve tried, but there’s SO MUCH. So, I’m thinking side business? We’ll see. I’m working on scents for these products that work in the horror/writer world, like one that smells of books, wood and cozy corners (think old library or bookstore), and one that brings a certain detective to mind (think cigarettes, whiskey, rich old wood, etc.; things you’d find in a detective’s thinking cave… or a writer’s cave… oooh!), and of course, horror themed scents, like psycho (a blend of pleasing and unexpected scents that keep you slightly off-kilter), a certain camp where people die, or a dark forest. I’ll let you know if they work out and I’ll probably try to sell them to you.

I almost forgot that I’m working on a new book. It’s still in planning stages, although I have a few thousand words written. Let me give you a bit of back story on that. I’m an assistant manager at a grocery store in a small town. My shifts vary, but I always have the Friday night and Sunday shifts. I’m not sure why, but those shifts are never uneventful.

Just a couple of weeks ago, I was stalking a suspected shoplifter through the store. She sometimes comes in walking, and sometimes she’s in one of those motorized wheelchairs. A lot of folks around here scoot around on those, even when they don’t need it. DUI, be damned! They still got wheels. Anyway, so we knew she liked to put shit in a bag she hung off the chair, and no one asked her to look in said bag. We can’t unless we see her put shit in or we see it in there and she leaves without paying for it. This time I did see her, and I did ask what’s in the bag, and she actually showed me. Two packs of cheese, some hot dogs and something else I can’t recall. Anyway, I can only imagine how it feels to catch a serial killer, because I was so FUCKING THRILLED to catch a lowly shoplifter, I couldn’t even deal with myself. She claimed to have purchased said items at the store across the road. Now, I know and she knows that store doesn’t sell these items, so I called her bluff, and the other store, to prove it. She then said (while I was on the phone confirming her lie) “I gotta go to the dollar store,” (it’s 9pm and that store closes at 6), and off she speeds on her chair. I didn’t know those things could move so fast, but by the time I got out the door to tell her not to come back, she was speeding around the corner. Now, this woman is rumored to have a fondness for crack, but I’m not sure if that’s true. I do know she has crazy eyes and I was a wee bit afraid she might lose her shit. Okay, I was kind of hoping she would. Entertainment is important on a Friday closing shift, all right? Don’t judge me.

Anyway, the point is, I see and hear a lot of weird shit at work. There’s a guy who stuffs eggs in his pants. Not cartons of eggs. Individual eggs. This guy also hoards recyclables (not sure why) and has a bit of a rage issue. He wears pajamas ALL THE TIME. Another guy stuffs meat down his pants. Usually it’s chicken wieners or bologna, but we’re pretty sure he’s taken the $5 club packs of lunch meat as well. Those are bulky. I know, what’s up with the pants stuffing, right? This guy smells like old shit and body odor, has about four teeth, and likes to hit on the teenage cashiers. We have a guy who is obsessed with conspiracies and he likes to come in, corner one of the stock boys or cashiers and rant about the latest thing about to bring about Armageddon. He even has pages to give out with his website and a bit of “information” to get you hooked. Apparently, we came from aliens and our “ancestors” are going to return any day now and some of us won’t survive what comes next, because we fucked up. I don’t know. I really don’t know.

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Another guy steals bacon every Sunday and brags about it to his buddies at the bar. Working on catching him. Nobody steals the bacon, bitch. It’s expensive.

There’s so much more, but we don’t have all day, so I’ll leave it there. I’m a crime fighter. That’s the important thing to remember. We also get all the gossip at work. Customers know so many dirty things. I don’t know where to start, so I’ll save it for the book. Sometimes, my coworkers and I discuss said weird shit, and we like to play a little game of “what’s that guy really up to?” Basically, we just spitball potential backstories for the whack-jobs. Anyway, they keep saying, “Renee! That should be a book.” So, it might be. I’m not sure. We’ll see. That’s how CATS LIKE CREAM came to be, so you never know. This could be amazing.

So, now, as the new year approaches (I know it’s only November), I’m thinking about what needs to change and where I hope to be by 2021. Same old shit, right? This year, I’m actually in a good place. I’m a little anxious, but the only way I’d have no anxiety is if I were dead, so I’m cool with a little angst. I’m not making resolutions. My only goal is to continue moving forward in my writing/publishing, and to keep the amount of animals in our zoo to its current number, which is 9, not counting the humans. I think that’s doable.

Why so glum, chum?

I know it’s a rough world out there, and shit’s kind of messed up lately, but the amount of negativity I see on social media seems excessive. Maybe I’m just noticing it more than I used to, because I have a new book coming out (get it here), and I’m having my usual breakdown because I’m worried everyone will hate it, or maybe it’s because of new connections. I could’ve friended/followed a particularly large group of jerks. I don’t know really, but it’s gotten a little frustrating and sometimes downright depressing.

I often wonder, though, why people feel the need to be so hateful/negative all the time? I think it’s because some of us like to hear ourselves talk. Just showing off or trying to feel better about ourselves. Some people are attention whores and negative shit gets a way bigger response than positive. And sometimes it’s just a matter of being clueless. Some people really don’t know they’re being negative. Maybe it’s just how they’ve lived their lives to this point and no one has pointed it out. Other people think being mean or criticizing someone or something shows how witty they are or makes them look better somehow. Occasionally, you might just be having a shit day and need to lash out. It’s okay. We’ve all been there.

So, I wanted to take this opportunity to remind authors, particularly you indie folks who rely heavily on the internet for marketing and whatnot, that you don’t have to get sucked in, and you don’t have to leave. It’s easy to continue to have an online presence without becoming a psycho. How?

Reviews/Reviewers – There’s a reason authors are told not to read their own reviews; book reviews are for the reader. They’re not meant for us. Sure, some readers tag us so we know they’ve left one, but we don’t have to read it and we definitely don’t have to respond. If you are going to read reviews of your books, remember it’s not personal. Try to find a nugget in the negative ones that helps you improve going forward and if you can’t, just move on. It’s not worth the head space.

Trolls – The simplest option for dealing with trolls is to delete and block them from your social media platforms, but I know that sometimes it’s not possible. In those rare cases, ignore, ignore, ignore. Starve those bitches. Don’t give them the emotional sustenance they need from you. If they get nothing, no replies, no response of any kind, they’ll move on. I know, sometimes it’s just the principle of it. I mean, those fuckers are getting away with acting like douchebags and no one ever says anything. But think about this for a minute: If no one responded to them, ever, then they’re getting away with nothing. They’re just talking into their own asses. What a bunch of knobs, eh?

Doomsday Preachers – Okay, I should explain these kids, because that seems a little dramatic. When I say doomsday preacher, I’m talking about those people who share negative and/or controversial links/comments/statuses regularly. The sky is falling and we’re all gonna die and so on. These people are often just attention seekers and aren’t actually trying to hurt anyone. It’s depressing, though, reading about some things. You assholes who share images/videos of dead babies and animals being abused need to stop, by the way. I hate you. Anyway, if you have a preacher on your social media, consider their intentions and then decide if it’s worth keeping them around. If they’re a friend, you can mute them or unfollow their posts. It’s simple, no one is hurt by an unfriending, and you don’t have to be brought down every day by shit you don’t want to think about. I know, we all have to face reality, but we don’t have to do it every second. I like to go online for a mental break sometimes and seeing that shit has the opposite effect.

Negative Nancy’s – Similar to a preacher, a negative Nancy just can’t see the glass half-full side of anything. They’re overly critical, sometimes hostile, and tend to be suspicious of every good deed. If you’ve got a friend/follower who always seems to point out the downside to everything, or who is overly critical of every single thing they read/watch/hear, don’t try to approach them in the same manner. By that I mean don’t criticize their criticism. Does that make sense? Fighting fire with fire causes a bigger fire. See? Just ignore them or, if you’ve got an opinion so strong you have to share it, point out your position/voice your thoughts, and then let it go. You’ve got better things to do with your time.

Political Pits – I NEVER discuss politics online. NEVER. Why? It’s just too big a clusterfuck to bother. I have my personal feelings on what’s happening and I feel strongly about some things, but not strong enough to get into a circle-jerk with some online rando that leads nowhere. I won’t even do that with friends. You can share if you want to. I do enjoy reading the wide range of ideas/beliefs out there, but don’t get sucked into an argument if someone disagrees with you. Debate if you wish, but don’t let it get ugly. It’s not worth it. You’re not going to change the world because you won an online debate with an asshole. Sorry, but it’s just not going to happen. If you feel so strongly about the way the world leaders are doing shit that you can’t not talk about it or argue about it, then maybe you need to actually do something to change things, like, I don’t know, run for office yourself. If you’re not willing to do that, then let people have their thoughts and opinions. Just because you disagree doesn’t mean they’re wrong. Even if they are wrong, you probably won’t change their mind.

While I’m on the subject, I tend to avoid discussions of religion as well. I just feel like it’s such a deeply personal thing, we don’t need to get nasty. If Joe over there believes the rapture is coming and we’re all going to die because we’ve sinned too much, whatever. Let him build his rapture shelter and walk away.

Bonus Tips:

Remember, your power is never “taken,” it’s given away. No one can have psychological power over you unless you allow it.

Sometimes you just have to agree to disagree. Walk away. The discussion is over. Thank the person for their input and leave it alone.

When you start to feel down or angry, take a break. You don’t have to avoid being online, but if there’s a platform that seems to bring you down all the time, leave it alone for a day or two. Put some emotional distance between yourself and what’s on there. Trust me, it helps.

Laughter is magical, so humor is a pretty nifty tool for dealing with negativity. Use it in response or to cope with the black plagues of the internet. Try to see the bright side or try to laugh at their ridiculosity. It’s really all you can do, because letting it affect you emotionally or psychologically only hurts you.

Lead by example. If you want to change the way your followers/friends interact, then show them how to behave. When they see you won’t be sucked into negative nonsense, they’ll either leave or they’ll do the same. It’s pretty easy to do and makes for a much more productive experience.

Use your voice. I know, I say walk away and don’t react, but when something is just getting way out of hand, and you cannot ignore it, use your words. Ask questions. Make sure you’re not misconstruing someone’s comments/behavior. For example, someone makes a negative comment on a status or link you’ve shared, you can ask “Hey, what’s up? Why are you upset about this?” or whatever. Maybe they’re not upset at all. Maybe they’re trying to be witty and failing miserably at it. If it’s a matter of someone just being an asshole, it’s okay to say “Hey, not cool. We don’t do this on my page (or whatever applies).” If that’s not enough to make them act civilized, then delete and block.

Variety is the spice of life and of online marketing. Don’t rely on just one platform to do your thing. Spread it out over several. That way, if one platform (looking at you, Facebook) becomes too much to deal with, you’ve got others to use instead while you take a break.

And it’s okay to just walk away from it all sometimes. Take care of yourself first. If you’re really having trouble dealing with shit, then shut it down, pick up a book, turn on some Netflix, and unplug from your social media for as long as it takes to get your head back in the right space. Just don’t stay away too long. We’d miss you.

The One You Feed

In less than two weeks, THE ONE YOU FEED will be available (pre-order your copy now!) and I usually do a “the inspiration behind” post for new releases, so…

First, let’s all just look at this fucking amazing cover by Eddie at Unnerving:

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Okay, now, on with the stuff that makes me uncomfortable. My inspiration:

Many years ago, I was struggling with how to make a reader feel what I wanted them to feel while reading my stories. I had yet to learn that the writer has to feel it first. When it was explained to me, I couldn’t quite grasp the mechanics of it. I spent so long trying to avoid feeling certain things, it was difficult to connect to that side of myself. So, my mentor at the time told me to write about something I’ve never shared with anyone. Something that affects me on a deep and intensely personal level. Write something short and don’t share it with anyone. It’s just for me. Connect with a feeling that makes me uncomfortable and go with it. I chose a scene from my childhood. It was a gut wrenching and awful experience. I hated every second and I deleted it almost immediately after finishing. I wish I’d printed a hard copy so I could have burned it too. I’m still cringing at the memory of that piece of writing.

But that wasn’t the inspiration. It’s the spark that lit the fire. The inspiration is something I’ve felt guilty about for most of my adult life. As most of you know, I grew up in a small town. If we had tracks, I probably lived on the wrong side of them. My mom was married twice to abusive men. The first almost killed her. The second almost killed her and himself. People often asked “Why does she stay?” It’s a good question. The obvious, one, right? Why the hell would you not run for the hills the first time he hits you? Why would you stay if he tells you you’re stupid, worthless, or ugly? Why would you accept an existence so full of darkness and depression, you’d consider leaving this world instead of leaving him? If you’re going to put up with it, then you deserve whatever you get.

It took me a long time to understand my mom’s reasons for staying. It wasn’t until I found myself in a place that I swore I’d never be in, that I finally got it. Why does she stay? Because she loves him. Because she loves her kids. Because she doesn’t think anyone else will love her. She stays because she’s too afraid to leave. Because she thinks she doesn’t deserve better. Because he said he’ll die without her. Because she’ll die…

And so on.

I’ve also heard people say “If he loved her, he wouldn’t hit her.” Again, it’s not that simple. My stepdad loved my mom, but he hated himself more. It took him a long time to understand and correct his behavior. Sadly, she paid the price for that lesson and it tainted their relationship forever.

When discussing any kind of abuse (violence, sexual abuse, etc.), we tend to ask things like, “Why wouldn’t he/she tell someone? ANYONE?” or “Why let it go on so long? Someone would’ve helped him/her if he/she just asked.”

Sometimes asking for help validates your fear that you’re not good enough, because you’re admitting that you’re too stupid or weak to stand up for yourself. And, worst of all, it means sharing your shame with someone else. It makes it real and goddamn it, you worked too hard to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. It’s sounds illogical if you’ve never been there. I get that. You have to understand, though, that kind of thinking makes sense to the person in the situation.

I told more than one adult what was happening in our house. I expressed fear for my safety and my mom’s. I was told, without exception, that it was my mom’s fault. ADULTS told me, a child, that my mom stayed because she liked the attention. She was dramatic. She provoked him. She LIKED being a victim. Why else would she get involved with another man who hit her? She was the common denominator in both situations, so obviously, she was the problem. They said if she really wanted a better life, she’d just leave. If she really loved her kids, she’d stop letting him hit her. She was to blame for our misery. And I believed them. For many years, I was angry with my mom for staying instead of being angry at my dad for hitting her. I was terrified of being around anyone who was drinking alcohol (sometimes I still have this fear), and I blamed my mom for that, not the person who got drunk and unleashed his rage on her. Every time he came home drunk and I heard them fight, every time he hit her, every time she cried about it later, or covered up a bruise or a fat lip, or made lame excuses for a sore ear (he ruptured her eardrum more than once) or explained away a chipped or loosened tooth, I was furious with her. I blamed her instead of him. When she tried to take her own life, my rage was so intense I couldn’t even be thankful she didn’t succeed. I was just so tired of her being weak and allowing this to happen.

And that’s what inspired this story. Like so many before me, I was taught to blame the victim and it not only hurt my mother, it hurt me.

I want readers to walk away from this book knowing that all of the horrific stuff we’d rather not see or know about, isn’t a problem caused only by the people involved. It’s everyone’s problem. For example, everyone in our town knew my dad hit my mom. He didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t have to, because no one said a word. No one stepped in to stop it. No one told him it was wrong. No one asked her if she was okay or offered to help. The only time I heard anyone say anything was when they shamed my mother for “putting up with it.”

Because I was (wrongly) taught to blame the victim, I became the child who thought she was broken, worthless and utterly alone when someone who should’ve protected me, hurt me. I didn’t ask for help, because I believed I did something to make it happen. I’ve been the girl who said no too late and I didn’t tell a soul what happened because it was my mistake. I’ve been the woman who believed that being with someone who was occasionally cruel was better than being alone. I’ve believed that I didn’t matter. It took me a long time to feel “good enough” for anything or anyone and I still struggle with those things now, especially the guilt over blaming my mom, but I don’t talk about it. Who wants to share that kind of negativity?

You might find it interesting that I started writing this the day after I signed the contract for THE ONE YOU FEED with Unnerving. It’s been sitting in my “drafts” for months, because there are too many feelings involved. I mean I’m a horror author. We don’t do feelings! (I’m joking, by the way. We totally do feelings.) I’ve been sitting here for FIVE HOURS, reading and re-reading instead of publishing it, because talking about this stuff  makes me feel anxious. I don’t like that I blamed my mom for what happened to her. I don’t like admitting that I was weak in any way. There are things I’ve experienced that I’ve never talked to a soul about. I know I haven’t really talked about them, but even acknowledging they happened is fucking hard. For much of my life, I’ve been told those things are no one’s business. If no one knows about it, you can pretend it didn’t happen to you, and then you can be positive and move past it. I’ve worked hard to forget some things and to separate my life now from what it used to be. I want you guys to see me as a strong, intelligent woman who can take care of herself. I fed the right wolf and dwelling on the past only wakes up the one I’ve tried to starve all these years.

Sharing the shit that almost broke me destroys the illusion of strength I’ve worked so hard to maintain, so I’m uncomfortable about this whole thing. I can’t share the inspiration for this story, though, without also sharing the rest. I mean, I asked for help once. It wasn’t well received and I’ve never asked again. I don’t want anyone to fall into the same pattern that I did. When you see someone who is hurting, you should say “What can I do?” instead of telling that person how you think they can help themselves. And sometimes the best and only thing you can do is listen.

Now, this book is not going to change the world, I know that, but if just one person stops and thinks or tries to understand a situation, before blaming the victim, then I feel like I’ve accomplished something. If someone who’s struggling feels less alone, that’s even better.

And on that note, I’ll end this mess with what I wish I’d said to my mom and anyone else who needs to hear it:

If you’re not ready to ask for help, it doesn’t mean you’re weak or worthless. You have no reason to be ashamed. You’re still here. You’re still fighting. You are fucking amazing and you matter. You have a voice and someone will listen when you’re ready to use it.