Anthony Izzo's Blog, page 9
May 3, 2018
Vicious Killers, An Abandoned Asylum, and Mayhem: Enter the Night, Chapter One
Enter the Night is available on all digital platforms. Find out what happens when six reality show contestants come in contact with four escaped maniacs. Here's the first chapter. I'll post one chapter per night for the next few days.
Copyright 2018 Anthony Izzo
One
Truth be told, the mountain gives Bob Grey the creeps.He steers the cube truck up the winding road. Hits the wipers. Snow begins to pelt the windshield. There’s a blizzard coming down from the Canadian Rockies that will hit later next week.“Getting icy,” he says into the Bluetooth headset. “Take her easy,” Gary Meyers says. Gary is in the Dodge Ram behind Bob’s truck. “What’s the name of this show again?” Bob says.“Enter the Night,” Gary says.“How about we call it let’s get the fuck off this mountain? I’ll star in that show,” Bob says, and Gary meets this with braying laughter.He steers the truck around a switchback and continues up the mountain. Takes a swig of coffee from his travel mug. It’s now lukewarm and bitter, but it’s better than nothing. “Why would anyone want to film a reality show up here?”Gary says, “Couldn’t be Hawaii or South Beach, could it?”“Honeys in bikinis and drinking on the beach. That’d be more like it.”They’d passed the abandoned military base at the foot of the mountain, where rusted tanks and trucks sat abandoned behind a chain link fence. Bob is glad they don’t have to drive up to the abandoned hospital near the top of the mountain. He’s grateful to be stopping midway at the lodge.“Lodge should be coming up,” Gary says.Bob spots the rustic sign in his headlights. It reads: Iron Mountain Lodge. He brakes and turns onto the road that goes to the lodge.The road twists and turns. He wishes for a Red Bull and maybe some caffeine pills to keep him sharp. For now, he contends with shitty gas station coffee. Dozing off at the wheel up here would be deadly.The lodge comes into view: it’s four stories tall. Miles of roof. Hundreds of windows. He knows it was a playground for the rich in the last century. The Rockefellers stayed here on a regular basis. Howard Hughes used to rent an entire floor for himself. Now it looks like it wants to swallow people whole. At least in the dark. It’s probably fine, maybe even nice inside.He parks the truck near the front of the lodge. A massive covered porch runs the entire length of the building. Lights appear in his side mirror; Gary pulls up behind him in the Dodge.He spots the maintenance garage; that’s where they are to park the cube truck. It’s loaded with supplies for the week-long shoot. Bob has driven truck all over the country. The current gig with Blackmore Productions isn’t bad. The pay is decent. He’s home for good chunks of time. But right now, he’s shivering and wants to be back at the Holiday Inn, where he can order a Philly cheese steak from room service and watch a pay-per-view movie.He gets out of the truck and the wind screams. He holds onto his Blackmore Productions trucker’s cap to keep it from blowing away. He wishes he’d brought a winter hat.Gary fumbles with the keys before inserting the right one in the lock. He gives it a turn and cranks the door handle.“Don’t just stand there. Help me lift the bastard,” Gary says.They hoist the garage door open and Bob spots a pickup truck with a snowplow attached. There’s also a vehicle with tracks that looks like it belongs to the ski patrol. The boss wants them to leave the truck in the garage and the film crew will unpack it. He notices an odd smell: body odor. Like someone hasn’t showered in a month. Once, he’d gotten a whiff of a homeless guy who accosted him for a handout in Nashville. It reminds Bob of that. “Smell that? It’s really rank.”Gary says, “Probably a dead critter got stuck in here.”“Smells so bad I can almost taste it. I’ll get the truck,” Bob says.“I’ll guide you in,” Gary says.As Bob walks to the truck, Snow whips into his face. The wind moans again. His warm room back at the hotel comes to mind again.Bob picks up his pace and reaches the truck. He hops in the cab. As he’s about to start it up, he hears a high-pitched scream. Someone in terrible pain.He keeps a .44 Smith & Wesson in a case under the seat when he drives. Bob’s kept it there ever since being beaten and robbed on a run through East St. Louis. He gets out the revolver and loads it. There are brown bears on the mountain and he sincerely hopes he’s not about to run into one of those.Bob hops out, bracing himself against the wind. The snow picks up and the garage is now barely visible. It’s going to be a bitch driving down the mountain in this.He reaches the open garage door. “Gary, you okay?” he calls.The snow lets up long enough and Bob sees a man with Gary’s body draped over his shoulder. Blood drips down and stains the snow. The man looks back. He’s wearing a gas mask, an olive-drab coat, and camo pants.He turns and continues walking, carrying Gary like a sack of dry concrete.“Hey! What the hell?”Bob raises the Magnum, realizing Gary is in serious trouble, but he has no shot. The man disappears around the garage.Bob chases after him.
He catches up with the guy behind the garage, where the ground slopes downward. The man scurries down the embankment. He’s large but moves with the grace of a big cat. Again, Bob raises the gun, but he can’t shoot without possibly hitting Gary.He can’t believe this is happening to his buddy. He’s known Gary eighteen years. They have hundreds of war stories from the road. Like that time at the Bunny Ranch near Vegas, which was legendary. Bob reaches the embankment. It’s steep and rocky. There’s a good chance he’ll lose his footing and take a spill, but he has to help Gary. The stranger disappears into the blowing snow. Bob follows, sidestepping down the embankment. He picks his way over and around rocks. The snow stings his face. This is crazy.Halfway down, his foot hits a rock and he falls forward. He tumbles down the embankment. His ankle turns with a sharp crack. Something pops in his wrist. He skids to a stop and ends up on his back.Fresh blood dribbles down his chin. He tries to push himself to his feet, forgets about his injured wrist, and howls with pain. It’s sprained at the least, and the ankle feels just as bad. Bob looks back up the embankment; he can’t see the garage. Even worse, he can’t see himself getting back up there on one leg. He peers down the embankment; the abductor is gone.He’s lost the gun in the fall. He resigns himself to crawling back up the embankment and calling for help.The ground crunches off to his right. It sounds like footsteps. Someone materializes out of the snow; he’s hooded. Is that a fucking gas mask? The person towers over Bob. He knows this is going to end badly.The person hunkers down and there’s a terrible, hot pain in Bob’s belly. Something stabs upward and it feels like his insides are being torn out.He screams, but it melts into the wind and carries over the mountain.
Copyright 2018 Anthony Izzo
One
Truth be told, the mountain gives Bob Grey the creeps.He steers the cube truck up the winding road. Hits the wipers. Snow begins to pelt the windshield. There’s a blizzard coming down from the Canadian Rockies that will hit later next week.“Getting icy,” he says into the Bluetooth headset. “Take her easy,” Gary Meyers says. Gary is in the Dodge Ram behind Bob’s truck. “What’s the name of this show again?” Bob says.“Enter the Night,” Gary says.“How about we call it let’s get the fuck off this mountain? I’ll star in that show,” Bob says, and Gary meets this with braying laughter.He steers the truck around a switchback and continues up the mountain. Takes a swig of coffee from his travel mug. It’s now lukewarm and bitter, but it’s better than nothing. “Why would anyone want to film a reality show up here?”Gary says, “Couldn’t be Hawaii or South Beach, could it?”“Honeys in bikinis and drinking on the beach. That’d be more like it.”They’d passed the abandoned military base at the foot of the mountain, where rusted tanks and trucks sat abandoned behind a chain link fence. Bob is glad they don’t have to drive up to the abandoned hospital near the top of the mountain. He’s grateful to be stopping midway at the lodge.“Lodge should be coming up,” Gary says.Bob spots the rustic sign in his headlights. It reads: Iron Mountain Lodge. He brakes and turns onto the road that goes to the lodge.The road twists and turns. He wishes for a Red Bull and maybe some caffeine pills to keep him sharp. For now, he contends with shitty gas station coffee. Dozing off at the wheel up here would be deadly.The lodge comes into view: it’s four stories tall. Miles of roof. Hundreds of windows. He knows it was a playground for the rich in the last century. The Rockefellers stayed here on a regular basis. Howard Hughes used to rent an entire floor for himself. Now it looks like it wants to swallow people whole. At least in the dark. It’s probably fine, maybe even nice inside.He parks the truck near the front of the lodge. A massive covered porch runs the entire length of the building. Lights appear in his side mirror; Gary pulls up behind him in the Dodge.He spots the maintenance garage; that’s where they are to park the cube truck. It’s loaded with supplies for the week-long shoot. Bob has driven truck all over the country. The current gig with Blackmore Productions isn’t bad. The pay is decent. He’s home for good chunks of time. But right now, he’s shivering and wants to be back at the Holiday Inn, where he can order a Philly cheese steak from room service and watch a pay-per-view movie.He gets out of the truck and the wind screams. He holds onto his Blackmore Productions trucker’s cap to keep it from blowing away. He wishes he’d brought a winter hat.Gary fumbles with the keys before inserting the right one in the lock. He gives it a turn and cranks the door handle.“Don’t just stand there. Help me lift the bastard,” Gary says.They hoist the garage door open and Bob spots a pickup truck with a snowplow attached. There’s also a vehicle with tracks that looks like it belongs to the ski patrol. The boss wants them to leave the truck in the garage and the film crew will unpack it. He notices an odd smell: body odor. Like someone hasn’t showered in a month. Once, he’d gotten a whiff of a homeless guy who accosted him for a handout in Nashville. It reminds Bob of that. “Smell that? It’s really rank.”Gary says, “Probably a dead critter got stuck in here.”“Smells so bad I can almost taste it. I’ll get the truck,” Bob says.“I’ll guide you in,” Gary says.As Bob walks to the truck, Snow whips into his face. The wind moans again. His warm room back at the hotel comes to mind again.Bob picks up his pace and reaches the truck. He hops in the cab. As he’s about to start it up, he hears a high-pitched scream. Someone in terrible pain.He keeps a .44 Smith & Wesson in a case under the seat when he drives. Bob’s kept it there ever since being beaten and robbed on a run through East St. Louis. He gets out the revolver and loads it. There are brown bears on the mountain and he sincerely hopes he’s not about to run into one of those.Bob hops out, bracing himself against the wind. The snow picks up and the garage is now barely visible. It’s going to be a bitch driving down the mountain in this.He reaches the open garage door. “Gary, you okay?” he calls.The snow lets up long enough and Bob sees a man with Gary’s body draped over his shoulder. Blood drips down and stains the snow. The man looks back. He’s wearing a gas mask, an olive-drab coat, and camo pants.He turns and continues walking, carrying Gary like a sack of dry concrete.“Hey! What the hell?”Bob raises the Magnum, realizing Gary is in serious trouble, but he has no shot. The man disappears around the garage.Bob chases after him.
He catches up with the guy behind the garage, where the ground slopes downward. The man scurries down the embankment. He’s large but moves with the grace of a big cat. Again, Bob raises the gun, but he can’t shoot without possibly hitting Gary.He can’t believe this is happening to his buddy. He’s known Gary eighteen years. They have hundreds of war stories from the road. Like that time at the Bunny Ranch near Vegas, which was legendary. Bob reaches the embankment. It’s steep and rocky. There’s a good chance he’ll lose his footing and take a spill, but he has to help Gary. The stranger disappears into the blowing snow. Bob follows, sidestepping down the embankment. He picks his way over and around rocks. The snow stings his face. This is crazy.Halfway down, his foot hits a rock and he falls forward. He tumbles down the embankment. His ankle turns with a sharp crack. Something pops in his wrist. He skids to a stop and ends up on his back.Fresh blood dribbles down his chin. He tries to push himself to his feet, forgets about his injured wrist, and howls with pain. It’s sprained at the least, and the ankle feels just as bad. Bob looks back up the embankment; he can’t see the garage. Even worse, he can’t see himself getting back up there on one leg. He peers down the embankment; the abductor is gone.He’s lost the gun in the fall. He resigns himself to crawling back up the embankment and calling for help.The ground crunches off to his right. It sounds like footsteps. Someone materializes out of the snow; he’s hooded. Is that a fucking gas mask? The person towers over Bob. He knows this is going to end badly.The person hunkers down and there’s a terrible, hot pain in Bob’s belly. Something stabs upward and it feels like his insides are being torn out.He screams, but it melts into the wind and carries over the mountain.
Vicious Killers, An Abandoned Asylum, and Mayhem
Enter the Night is available on all digital platforms. Find out what happens when six reality show contestants come in contact with four escaped maniacs. Here's the first chapter. I'll post one chapter per night for the next few days.
Copyright 2018 Anthony Izzo
One
Truth be told, the mountain gives Bob Grey the creeps.He steers the cube truck up the winding road. Hits the wipers. Snow begins to pelt the windshield. There’s a blizzard coming down from the Canadian Rockies that will hit later next week.“Getting icy,” he says into the Bluetooth headset. “Take her easy,” Gary Meyers says. Gary is in the Dodge Ram behind Bob’s truck. “What’s the name of this show again?” Bob says.“Enter the Night,” Gary says.“How about we call it let’s get the fuck off this mountain? I’ll star in that show,” Bob says, and Gary meets this with braying laughter.He steers the truck around a switchback and continues up the mountain. Takes a swig of coffee from his travel mug. It’s now lukewarm and bitter, but it’s better than nothing. “Why would anyone want to film a reality show up here?”Gary says, “Couldn’t be Hawaii or South Beach, could it?”“Honeys in bikinis and drinking on the beach. That’d be more like it.”They’d passed the abandoned military base at the foot of the mountain, where rusted tanks and trucks sat abandoned behind a chain link fence. Bob is glad they don’t have to drive up to the abandoned hospital near the top of the mountain. He’s grateful to be stopping midway at the lodge.“Lodge should be coming up,” Gary says.Bob spots the rustic sign in his headlights. It reads: Iron Mountain Lodge. He brakes and turns onto the road that goes to the lodge.The road twists and turns. He wishes for a Red Bull and maybe some caffeine pills to keep him sharp. For now, he contends with shitty gas station coffee. Dozing off at the wheel up here would be deadly.The lodge comes into view: it’s four stories tall. Miles of roof. Hundreds of windows. He knows it was a playground for the rich in the last century. The Rockefellers stayed here on a regular basis. Howard Hughes used to rent an entire floor for himself. Now it looks like it wants to swallow people whole. At least in the dark. It’s probably fine, maybe even nice inside.He parks the truck near the front of the lodge. A massive covered porch runs the entire length of the building. Lights appear in his side mirror; Gary pulls up behind him in the Dodge.He spots the maintenance garage; that’s where they are to park the cube truck. It’s loaded with supplies for the week-long shoot. Bob has driven truck all over the country. The current gig with Blackmore Productions isn’t bad. The pay is decent. He’s home for good chunks of time. But right now, he’s shivering and wants to be back at the Holiday Inn, where he can order a Philly cheese steak from room service and watch a pay-per-view movie.He gets out of the truck and the wind screams. He holds onto his Blackmore Productions trucker’s cap to keep it from blowing away. He wishes he’d brought a winter hat.Gary fumbles with the keys before inserting the right one in the lock. He gives it a turn and cranks the door handle.“Don’t just stand there. Help me lift the bastard,” Gary says.They hoist the garage door open and Bob spots a pickup truck with a snowplow attached. There’s also a vehicle with tracks that looks like it belongs to the ski patrol. The boss wants them to leave the truck in the garage and the film crew will unpack it. He notices an odd smell: body odor. Like someone hasn’t showered in a month. Once, he’d gotten a whiff of a homeless guy who accosted him for a handout in Nashville. It reminds Bob of that. “Smell that? It’s really rank.”Gary says, “Probably a dead critter got stuck in here.”“Smells so bad I can almost taste it. I’ll get the truck,” Bob says.“I’ll guide you in,” Gary says.As Bob walks to the truck, Snow whips into his face. The wind moans again. His warm room back at the hotel comes to mind again.Bob picks up his pace and reaches the truck. He hops in the cab. As he’s about to start it up, he hears a high-pitched scream. Someone in terrible pain.He keeps a .44 Smith & Wesson in a case under the seat when he drives. Bob’s kept it there ever since being beaten and robbed on a run through East St. Louis. He gets out the revolver and loads it. There are brown bears on the mountain and he sincerely hopes he’s not about to run into one of those.Bob hops out, bracing himself against the wind. The snow picks up and the garage is now barely visible. It’s going to be a bitch driving down the mountain in this.He reaches the open garage door. “Gary, you okay?” he calls.The snow lets up long enough and Bob sees a man with Gary’s body draped over his shoulder. Blood drips down and stains the snow. The man looks back. He’s wearing a gas mask, an olive-drab coat, and camo pants.He turns and continues walking, carrying Gary like a sack of dry concrete.“Hey! What the hell?”Bob raises the Magnum, realizing Gary is in serious trouble, but he has no shot. The man disappears around the garage.Bob chases after him.
He catches up with the guy behind the garage, where the ground slopes downward. The man scurries down the embankment. He’s large but moves with the grace of a big cat. Again, Bob raises the gun, but he can’t shoot without possibly hitting Gary.He can’t believe this is happening to his buddy. He’s known Gary eighteen years. They have hundreds of war stories from the road. Like that time at the Bunny Ranch near Vegas, which was legendary. Bob reaches the embankment. It’s steep and rocky. There’s a good chance he’ll lose his footing and take a spill, but he has to help Gary. The stranger disappears into the blowing snow. Bob follows, sidestepping down the embankment. He picks his way over and around rocks. The snow stings his face. This is crazy.Halfway down, his foot hits a rock and he falls forward. He tumbles down the embankment. His ankle turns with a sharp crack. Something pops in his wrist. He skids to a stop and ends up on his back.Fresh blood dribbles down his chin. He tries to push himself to his feet, forgets about his injured wrist, and howls with pain. It’s sprained at the least, and the ankle feels just as bad. Bob looks back up the embankment; he can’t see the garage. Even worse, he can’t see himself getting back up there on one leg. He peers down the embankment; the abductor is gone.He’s lost the gun in the fall. He resigns himself to crawling back up the embankment and calling for help.The ground crunches off to his right. It sounds like footsteps. Someone materializes out of the snow; he’s hooded. Is that a fucking gas mask? The person towers over Bob. He knows this is going to end badly.The person hunkers down and there’s a terrible, hot pain in Bob’s belly. Something stabs upward and it feels like his insides are being torn out.He screams, but it melts into the wind and carries over the mountain.
Copyright 2018 Anthony Izzo
One
Truth be told, the mountain gives Bob Grey the creeps.He steers the cube truck up the winding road. Hits the wipers. Snow begins to pelt the windshield. There’s a blizzard coming down from the Canadian Rockies that will hit later next week.“Getting icy,” he says into the Bluetooth headset. “Take her easy,” Gary Meyers says. Gary is in the Dodge Ram behind Bob’s truck. “What’s the name of this show again?” Bob says.“Enter the Night,” Gary says.“How about we call it let’s get the fuck off this mountain? I’ll star in that show,” Bob says, and Gary meets this with braying laughter.He steers the truck around a switchback and continues up the mountain. Takes a swig of coffee from his travel mug. It’s now lukewarm and bitter, but it’s better than nothing. “Why would anyone want to film a reality show up here?”Gary says, “Couldn’t be Hawaii or South Beach, could it?”“Honeys in bikinis and drinking on the beach. That’d be more like it.”They’d passed the abandoned military base at the foot of the mountain, where rusted tanks and trucks sat abandoned behind a chain link fence. Bob is glad they don’t have to drive up to the abandoned hospital near the top of the mountain. He’s grateful to be stopping midway at the lodge.“Lodge should be coming up,” Gary says.Bob spots the rustic sign in his headlights. It reads: Iron Mountain Lodge. He brakes and turns onto the road that goes to the lodge.The road twists and turns. He wishes for a Red Bull and maybe some caffeine pills to keep him sharp. For now, he contends with shitty gas station coffee. Dozing off at the wheel up here would be deadly.The lodge comes into view: it’s four stories tall. Miles of roof. Hundreds of windows. He knows it was a playground for the rich in the last century. The Rockefellers stayed here on a regular basis. Howard Hughes used to rent an entire floor for himself. Now it looks like it wants to swallow people whole. At least in the dark. It’s probably fine, maybe even nice inside.He parks the truck near the front of the lodge. A massive covered porch runs the entire length of the building. Lights appear in his side mirror; Gary pulls up behind him in the Dodge.He spots the maintenance garage; that’s where they are to park the cube truck. It’s loaded with supplies for the week-long shoot. Bob has driven truck all over the country. The current gig with Blackmore Productions isn’t bad. The pay is decent. He’s home for good chunks of time. But right now, he’s shivering and wants to be back at the Holiday Inn, where he can order a Philly cheese steak from room service and watch a pay-per-view movie.He gets out of the truck and the wind screams. He holds onto his Blackmore Productions trucker’s cap to keep it from blowing away. He wishes he’d brought a winter hat.Gary fumbles with the keys before inserting the right one in the lock. He gives it a turn and cranks the door handle.“Don’t just stand there. Help me lift the bastard,” Gary says.They hoist the garage door open and Bob spots a pickup truck with a snowplow attached. There’s also a vehicle with tracks that looks like it belongs to the ski patrol. The boss wants them to leave the truck in the garage and the film crew will unpack it. He notices an odd smell: body odor. Like someone hasn’t showered in a month. Once, he’d gotten a whiff of a homeless guy who accosted him for a handout in Nashville. It reminds Bob of that. “Smell that? It’s really rank.”Gary says, “Probably a dead critter got stuck in here.”“Smells so bad I can almost taste it. I’ll get the truck,” Bob says.“I’ll guide you in,” Gary says.As Bob walks to the truck, Snow whips into his face. The wind moans again. His warm room back at the hotel comes to mind again.Bob picks up his pace and reaches the truck. He hops in the cab. As he’s about to start it up, he hears a high-pitched scream. Someone in terrible pain.He keeps a .44 Smith & Wesson in a case under the seat when he drives. Bob’s kept it there ever since being beaten and robbed on a run through East St. Louis. He gets out the revolver and loads it. There are brown bears on the mountain and he sincerely hopes he’s not about to run into one of those.Bob hops out, bracing himself against the wind. The snow picks up and the garage is now barely visible. It’s going to be a bitch driving down the mountain in this.He reaches the open garage door. “Gary, you okay?” he calls.The snow lets up long enough and Bob sees a man with Gary’s body draped over his shoulder. Blood drips down and stains the snow. The man looks back. He’s wearing a gas mask, an olive-drab coat, and camo pants.He turns and continues walking, carrying Gary like a sack of dry concrete.“Hey! What the hell?”Bob raises the Magnum, realizing Gary is in serious trouble, but he has no shot. The man disappears around the garage.Bob chases after him.
He catches up with the guy behind the garage, where the ground slopes downward. The man scurries down the embankment. He’s large but moves with the grace of a big cat. Again, Bob raises the gun, but he can’t shoot without possibly hitting Gary.He can’t believe this is happening to his buddy. He’s known Gary eighteen years. They have hundreds of war stories from the road. Like that time at the Bunny Ranch near Vegas, which was legendary. Bob reaches the embankment. It’s steep and rocky. There’s a good chance he’ll lose his footing and take a spill, but he has to help Gary. The stranger disappears into the blowing snow. Bob follows, sidestepping down the embankment. He picks his way over and around rocks. The snow stings his face. This is crazy.Halfway down, his foot hits a rock and he falls forward. He tumbles down the embankment. His ankle turns with a sharp crack. Something pops in his wrist. He skids to a stop and ends up on his back.Fresh blood dribbles down his chin. He tries to push himself to his feet, forgets about his injured wrist, and howls with pain. It’s sprained at the least, and the ankle feels just as bad. Bob looks back up the embankment; he can’t see the garage. Even worse, he can’t see himself getting back up there on one leg. He peers down the embankment; the abductor is gone.He’s lost the gun in the fall. He resigns himself to crawling back up the embankment and calling for help.The ground crunches off to his right. It sounds like footsteps. Someone materializes out of the snow; he’s hooded. Is that a fucking gas mask? The person towers over Bob. He knows this is going to end badly.The person hunkers down and there’s a terrible, hot pain in Bob’s belly. Something stabs upward and it feels like his insides are being torn out.He screams, but it melts into the wind and carries over the mountain.
April 24, 2018
A Good, Bloody Time on the Mountain
Enter The Night is complete. I made the corrections that my proofreader suggested. This one's straight up horror. It's got creepy, abandoned buildings, escaped psychopaths, and a brutal storm that's bearing down on the characters.
I had fun writing this one and creeped myself out a few times (usually a good sign).
I'll be uploading it to Kindle and other e-book platforms soon. Trying to come up with a release date so I can build a little anticipation over it.
Here's the a draft of the cover copy for Enter the Night:
They came to the mountain to hunt ghosts. They ended up as prey.
The Iron Mountain Asylum once housed the criminally insane. The worst of the worst. Four men escaped the asylum and were never caught. The legends grew. Some said they lived on the mountain, killing anyone who crossed their path.
The contestants on a reality show called Enter the Night are about to find out if the legends are real. Six people. Non-stop filming. A week exploring the abandoned asylum and the military base near the mountain. The contestants will find out that there are things far more frightening on the mountain than ghosts.
I had fun writing this one and creeped myself out a few times (usually a good sign).
I'll be uploading it to Kindle and other e-book platforms soon. Trying to come up with a release date so I can build a little anticipation over it.
Here's the a draft of the cover copy for Enter the Night:
They came to the mountain to hunt ghosts. They ended up as prey.
The Iron Mountain Asylum once housed the criminally insane. The worst of the worst. Four men escaped the asylum and were never caught. The legends grew. Some said they lived on the mountain, killing anyone who crossed their path.
The contestants on a reality show called Enter the Night are about to find out if the legends are real. Six people. Non-stop filming. A week exploring the abandoned asylum and the military base near the mountain. The contestants will find out that there are things far more frightening on the mountain than ghosts.
April 14, 2018
Draft of Horror Novel Finished
The draft of Enter the Night is finished. I gave it an edit and now it's off to the proofreader. I'll be posting excerpts from it in the coming weeks.
I'm about 25 pages into writing The Last Ride. I initially envisioned it as a novella, but it has the potential to become a full novel. I've been working on this one longhand in my notebooks. I'm finding there's less distraction from social media and the writing's going well.
Got in a workout this morning and finished up a Batman sketch I was working on.
Hoping to see A Quiet Place next week. We have our tickets for Infinity War and are going opening night.
I just read James Scott Bell's How to Write Pulp Fiction. Currently reading Screenwriting Tricks for Authors by Alexandra Sokoloff. It never hurts to brush up on craft techniques, no matter how many books and stories you've written.
I'm about 25 pages into writing The Last Ride. I initially envisioned it as a novella, but it has the potential to become a full novel. I've been working on this one longhand in my notebooks. I'm finding there's less distraction from social media and the writing's going well.
Got in a workout this morning and finished up a Batman sketch I was working on.
Hoping to see A Quiet Place next week. We have our tickets for Infinity War and are going opening night.
I just read James Scott Bell's How to Write Pulp Fiction. Currently reading Screenwriting Tricks for Authors by Alexandra Sokoloff. It never hurts to brush up on craft techniques, no matter how many books and stories you've written.
April 6, 2018
Writing Update 4/5/18
I have about twenty pages left to edit on Enter the Night. My plan to release it in late February got delayed due to some family issues. Should have it for sale by month's end.
The Last Ride, my apocalyptic novella (that very well might turn into a novel) is moving along. Getting a good chunk of writing done longhand by working on lunch breaks, etc.
Currently reading: The Wolf Road by Beth Lewis
There's a number of movies I'd like to see. A Quiet Place and You Were Never Here are among the current releases. Looking forward to Infinity War, Solo, and Deadpool 2 in May.
The Last Ride, my apocalyptic novella (that very well might turn into a novel) is moving along. Getting a good chunk of writing done longhand by working on lunch breaks, etc.
Currently reading: The Wolf Road by Beth Lewis
There's a number of movies I'd like to see. A Quiet Place and You Were Never Here are among the current releases. Looking forward to Infinity War, Solo, and Deadpool 2 in May.
March 25, 2018
Writing Books That Will Improve Your Craft
I took a glance at my office bookshelf and figured I'd post about the writing books that are on my shelf/Kindle. This is by no means a complete list, but these are some of the books that helped me along the way. I still refer back to them.
1. Stein on Writing and Grow Your Novel by Sol Stein
2. The Kick Ass Writer by Chuck Wendig (Wendig also has a number of other writing books out, some of them in list form. All have great advice)
3. Plot & Structure by James Scott Bell (any of Bell's writing books are excellent). I also recommend The Art of War for Writers.
4. Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight Swain
5. How to Write a Selling Screenplay by Christopher Keane
6. How to Write Page Turning Scenes by Holly Lisle (Lisle also has several other good books available on writing)
7. The 30-Day Book Marketing Challenge by Rachel Thompson (Thompson's website is also full of great tips for marketing and promotion)
8. The Novelist's Essential Guide to Crafting Scenes by Raymond Obstfeld
9. Make a Scene: Crafting a Powerful Story One Scene at a Time by Jordan Rosenfeld
10. Zen and the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury
11. A Writer's Tale by Richard Laymon
12. The Right to Write by Julia Cameron
13. On Writing by Stephen King
14. Self Editing For Fiction Writers by Renni Brown and Dave King
1. Stein on Writing and Grow Your Novel by Sol Stein
2. The Kick Ass Writer by Chuck Wendig (Wendig also has a number of other writing books out, some of them in list form. All have great advice)
3. Plot & Structure by James Scott Bell (any of Bell's writing books are excellent). I also recommend The Art of War for Writers.
4. Techniques of the Selling Writer by Dwight Swain
5. How to Write a Selling Screenplay by Christopher Keane
6. How to Write Page Turning Scenes by Holly Lisle (Lisle also has several other good books available on writing)
7. The 30-Day Book Marketing Challenge by Rachel Thompson (Thompson's website is also full of great tips for marketing and promotion)
8. The Novelist's Essential Guide to Crafting Scenes by Raymond Obstfeld
9. Make a Scene: Crafting a Powerful Story One Scene at a Time by Jordan Rosenfeld
10. Zen and the Art of Writing by Ray Bradbury
11. A Writer's Tale by Richard Laymon
12. The Right to Write by Julia Cameron
13. On Writing by Stephen King
14. Self Editing For Fiction Writers by Renni Brown and Dave King
March 7, 2018
45 and Beyond
I turned 45 this past Sunday. My wife took me out and we had a nice dinner at the Griffon Gastropub in our hometown. She also made pizza and tacos over the weekend, plus some amazing cupcakes. The only damper on the whole thing was the hacky/phleghmy/cold/flu thing that latched on to me. I'm feeling better today and planning to put the finishing touches on Enter the Night.
At 45 I haven't gotten where I've wanted to be, writing-wise. Yet. I thought I was on my way in the world of traditional publishing at one point. I had sold my first novel, started working with a well-known agent, and got a two book deal from my publisher after the first. The relationship with the agent didn't go anywhere. I tried writing a thriller that was honestly the worst book I've written. A little lesson: You can't write a book from some template in a how-to book, which is what I tried at the time. Any instructional book that promises you'll be able to write a blockbuster novel is likely full of crap. Write true and write what you love.
I went indie shortly after that. It's had its ups and downs. The sales aren't where I'd like them to be, and some days it seems like every other writer on the planet is doing better. But I love the freedom and knowing I can write whatever I want, whenever I want.
At 45, I'm not there yet. I'm hoping to have many more years to write stories. With any luck, there are many miles to go and lots of stories still to tell. I'm going to keep writing and putting stuff out there. We'll see how it goes.
At 45 I haven't gotten where I've wanted to be, writing-wise. Yet. I thought I was on my way in the world of traditional publishing at one point. I had sold my first novel, started working with a well-known agent, and got a two book deal from my publisher after the first. The relationship with the agent didn't go anywhere. I tried writing a thriller that was honestly the worst book I've written. A little lesson: You can't write a book from some template in a how-to book, which is what I tried at the time. Any instructional book that promises you'll be able to write a blockbuster novel is likely full of crap. Write true and write what you love.
I went indie shortly after that. It's had its ups and downs. The sales aren't where I'd like them to be, and some days it seems like every other writer on the planet is doing better. But I love the freedom and knowing I can write whatever I want, whenever I want.
At 45, I'm not there yet. I'm hoping to have many more years to write stories. With any luck, there are many miles to go and lots of stories still to tell. I'm going to keep writing and putting stuff out there. We'll see how it goes.
February 28, 2018
Horror Novel Nears Completion
Enter the Night is around 51,000 words. I have a few more scenes to write, and it will be done. Then it's an edit before passing it on to the proofreader.
I gave away a couple copies of The Damage Factory to some coworkers. They seemed excited to read it, and I hope I gained a few fans.
Saw Black Panther over the weekend and enjoyed it. Another solid entry in the Marvel universe. Great to see some strong female characters on screen, as well.
I've also done some preliminary work on The Last Ride, an apocalyptic novella. Mostly stuff in a notebook on breaks at work. I'll be ramping that one up as soon as I'm done with Enter the Night.
I gave away a couple copies of The Damage Factory to some coworkers. They seemed excited to read it, and I hope I gained a few fans.
Saw Black Panther over the weekend and enjoyed it. Another solid entry in the Marvel universe. Great to see some strong female characters on screen, as well.
I've also done some preliminary work on The Last Ride, an apocalyptic novella. Mostly stuff in a notebook on breaks at work. I'll be ramping that one up as soon as I'm done with Enter the Night.
February 18, 2018
Writing Update 2.18.18
I'm coming down the home stretch with writing Enter the Night. It's at about 47,500 words. I'm shooting for just over 50K words, although it might go a little longer. I also started writing a novella set in a flu-ravaged, apocalyptic world. It's called The Last Ride, and I hope to have it on sale sometime this spring.
I watched The Cloverfield Paradox on Friday night. It's been getting hammered by critics, from what I've read. It wasn't terrible, but it felt like a generic sci-fi movie to which they tacked on the Cloverfield universe. I liked the other two Cloverfield movies quite a bit (Cloverfield is one of my favorite monster movies), so this one was a disappointment.
I've been toying with the idea of setting up an Etsy shop for my drawings. Still not sure about that yet, but I suppose there's nothing to lose, and it's relatively cheap to list items on their site.
On the artwork front, I've continued with LOTR-themed drawings. This is a recent one I did of the Witch King. I took a picture of it on our dining room table. There's a bit of placemat visible on the right hand side. I'll either edit that out or take a new pic if I put this up for sale.
I watched The Cloverfield Paradox on Friday night. It's been getting hammered by critics, from what I've read. It wasn't terrible, but it felt like a generic sci-fi movie to which they tacked on the Cloverfield universe. I liked the other two Cloverfield movies quite a bit (Cloverfield is one of my favorite monster movies), so this one was a disappointment.
I've been toying with the idea of setting up an Etsy shop for my drawings. Still not sure about that yet, but I suppose there's nothing to lose, and it's relatively cheap to list items on their site.
On the artwork front, I've continued with LOTR-themed drawings. This is a recent one I did of the Witch King. I took a picture of it on our dining room table. There's a bit of placemat visible on the right hand side. I'll either edit that out or take a new pic if I put this up for sale.
February 4, 2018
Writing Updates 2.5.18
I've hit the 43,000 word mark on Enter the Night. I should be wrapping up the first draft this month. I've begun some preliminary work on my next release, tentatively titled The Last Ride. It's a novella set in post-apocalypse America, and I like the premise. It should be a faced-paced, action filled read.
No huge plans for "The Big Game" tonight. Am I allowed to say Super Bowl? Are the NFL lawyers reading this? The family and I are going to eat snacks and hope for a Patriots loss and some decent commercials.
No huge plans for "The Big Game" tonight. Am I allowed to say Super Bowl? Are the NFL lawyers reading this? The family and I are going to eat snacks and hope for a Patriots loss and some decent commercials.
