Alex Laybourne's Blog, page 92

ROW80: 22.1.11 – A Trip to the Dark Side

Another week has flown by, and now comes to a close. What a week it has been. Work was crazy busy, and the house move has taken up most of the weekend. We now have the living room completely finished and ready… well only the tv and sofa to move, but we are still kind of using those in the flat.

I have still managed to find time to write almost every day. I have also had to work on a few blog posts, but on the whole I editing at least something every day. I hope to make some big progress this week, but cannot complain with the position as it currently stands.

The main thing that has happened this week is that I have gone against everything I blogged about just a short time ago and I have signed up for Amazon KDP Select. I spent a lot of time thinking about it, and am sure it is the right decision. For now at least. I am planning a bigger post on this tomorrow, so will keep it brief here. Basically, the number of books I am selling it almost nothing, despite active campaigning. Of those few sales, I would say 99% have been via Amazon. So I figure, it's only for three months, so why not give it a go.

How many of you have signed up? I am still against the concept that you cannot provide your books to other readers, but in my current circumstances, it doesn't matter.

Have a great Sunday.

Why I Love Writing Fiction on Friday

As a writer, there is nothing I love more than sitting down, grabbing a pen or assuming the position behind my keyboard and just writing. Not thinking, not worrying about work or the weather, just writing.

I am sure you will all agree with me, there is no feeling like it.

I try, although do not always succeed, to write a piece of (short) fiction every Friday. When this is done, I post it here and share it around the various promotion links that WordPress accommodate.

One comment that I tend to get on my short stories, is about grammar and editing. Nothing insulting and nothing that isn't true. Each week my answer remains the same. I do not edit my Friday Fiction pieces. For want of a better word, they are simply free-writing exercises. I start with an idea and just write until that idea is finished. Of course I give it a cursory run through, but I do not do any real editing. Editing isn't what these stories are about. It is about the writing. If I like the story, I will tidy it up, edit and rework bits and add it to my growing collection for use in the short story anthologies I am working on.

I don't know if any of you practice free-writing, but it is amazing. Plus, doing so on a Friday just seems to me to be the perfect way to close the week and welcome in the weekend.

Maybe I am foolish for publishing (on the blog) my writing like this, I don't know, but, I certainly will not change.

The Creature

I awoke to hear a strange scuttling sound. I sat up in bed and looked around. The room was dark, the sun not even caressing the horizon. The world was silent and so I lay back down. My eyes closed, and sleep once again wrapped me in its warm embrace.

I don't know how long it was that I slept, but I was wrenched from my slumber by a burning pain in my leg. I opened my eyes and watched in terror as the bed covers rose and fell in a direction that led from my feet to my head. There was something under the covers; of that much I was certain. I was also sure that whatever it was, was also the cause of the burning pain I felt.

I began to sweat almost instantly, and while the fear of what creature I would see under the covers was certainly a factor; the poison that I could feel filtering into my bloodstream was doubtlessly the real cause.

I knew there was only one thing to do, and so I grabbed the covers, my fingers already begging to grow stiff. The covers came away, and for a moment I saw nothing. I was blinded, and I think it was because my mind was unable to comprehend what it was I saw. The creature was the size of a rat. Its body was black, and distinctly narrow by the head and more bulbous in the rear. A pear would be the closest I could come to describe it. There were three thick legs that protruded from either side of its flank, and the tip of each was round and flat. Later, when I went to examine my injured leg, I would observe that the underside of each foot had what I could only presume to be a suction cup which would bite into whatever flesh it came into contact with. Whether for purchase or for more sinister purposes I still cannot fathom.

A kind of standoff developed between us, and only when the creature moved did I react. I curse myself, for it had been a trap. The creature it seemed was brighter than even I could estimate. With my hand open, I swatted down upon the beast. Only then did I find that its body was covered in barbed hairs, fine to the point of invisibility. So strong was their grip that when I raised my arm, the creature rose with it.

All six legs kicked at air, each one a challenge thrown down to me. Its body wriggled and after a time it pulled itself free. Not before I saw its face, and I swear, even in my fever ridden state, it smiled at me.

I shook the creature free. Its body landed on the bed, and while I still had my wits about me, I slapped it across the room whereupon it hit the wall and slid out of sight. I listened for the scuttling sound that had first woken me. I heard nothing, nothing but a faint ringing sound in my ears that was. My eyes grew heavy, but not with sleep.

When I next came too, the first fingertips of the encroaching dawn had begun to chase away the darkness in the room. Save for the far corner, which remained impervious to the suns growing power. My body raged with fever, as it does even now, while I write this. Undoubtedly, these will be my last words. How can I write so clearly, while claiming a fever induced delirium you ask? I cannot give you those answers; they do not make up part of my tale. Know just this, if I am not dying from fever, then the imps and elves that now prance on the walls in this small room would have to be real. Their naked bodies are slick with blood and they intertwine in dance, and convulse in evil pleasure before my very eyes.

I know now how much time has passed since I was first bit. Judging by the smell of my rotting flesh I would say it has been some days. Nobody will come looking for me; I chased away all those that ever cared for me. My fingers are now tacky, a strange secretion seeps from my pours. It is a liquid web as best I can tell. My body is wrapping itself within the cocoon. I have not seen the creature since its abrupt departure from my side, but maybe it hides in the shadow that still occupies that far corner.

…..

I have slept, fitfully, my mind filled with images and dreams that have left me aroused yet sickened. The smell of my own flesh has me feeling hungry, and more than once I have found my tongue exploring the skin of my non-writing arm. I wonder, would I taste as bad as I smell? Where has this hunger come from?

I now realize what will become of me. Several large boils have erupted on my abdomen. At first I thought them to be my imagination, but as they grew, so sobered my mind. Now they are the size of tennis balls. My skin has stretched so thing that I can see the fetuses gestating within the fluid sacks that now pulse with a rhythm that I do not control. Three creatures are feeding on my flesh, and now my hunger has a reason. I need to feed the children that I am to bring into this world.

…..

I can resist it no longer; the hunger within me must be satiated. I have bitten three of my fingers from my left hand. Two I have eaten, their crisp texture has done nothing to quell the hunger. If anything, it has grown.

I have become more aware of my surroundings, and I see now that the shadow in the corner is not a shadow, but the creature itself. It has spun itself a cocoon and taken residence in that corner. I can still see its eyes watching me. Just like any parent, it can never rest while its young are so vulnerable.

….

I have eaten my hand to the write, the bones discarded on the ground beside me. I am woozy from the blood loss, but cannot stop neither the telling of my tale nor the devouring of my flesh. It really is the sweetest of tastes. It is a delicate meat that others should take the opportunity to try at least once.

….

The time has come. I know these sentences will be my last. With only one arm left which extends beyond the elbow, and but one side of paper in my lap, I can see no other destination. All I can say, now that the fluid has begun to seep through the cracks in my engorged flesh, is that I hope someone at least finds these words and knows just what it was that befell me.

The first sac has ruptured; the creature is tiny, its body burning hot against my skin. I know it will grow quickly. My flesh is healthy, it will make them strong. It is strange, the sense of pride that fills you the moment you become a parent. Now, as the last two eggs break, I look at my children and smile. My sacrifice was worth every moment of suffering.

The cocoon has also ruptured, and from it emerges a butterfly creature, with wings t dripping with putrefaction. Even had I been of sound mind and able body, I would not have been able to find the words necessary to sufficiently describe what the best as become. It hovers above me. It is watching as its young feed. I cannot feel their bites, not any more. So I must now lay down my pen. My fate is sealed, and my final words I refuse to bequeath to these monsters. So Lord, be merciful to me… a sinner.

The Sex of Social Media

WARNING: THIS IS AN ODD POST!

Don't get any wild ideas about the title. I am referencing sex in terms of gender rather than sport.

It struck me the other day, and I have been meaning to write about it for some time now. I am by no means a social fiend, but I have several hundred 'friends' on twitter, and I honestly do converse with as many as I can. Every now and then a complete loon slips through the cracks, but sooner or later they are de-friended and normal interactions are resumed.

I am sure you have all seen these questionnaires and silly little games in other people's statuses. The first name in your friend list is your future wife, the third will be the postman to you third ex-sister-in-law who is incidentally name number 7 on the list. You know what I mean.

Well, the other day I was just for the sake of office boredom looking at the names in my list and seeing where they related. I was strangely shocked to find that all ten displayed names were women.

When it comes to my Facebook account, I am hardly known for my screening. If someone wants to be my friend, and their profile doesn't scream 'PHONEY' to me then I accept them. Similarly, it they are a writer, I will offer my friendship to them. So it struck me as odd that the majority are female.

To reinforce it, I checked the top 10 list regularly, and there was never more than 2 men in the list. Now, I am not saying that out of all of my friends, there are no men, but there certainly seems to be a trend there that leans towards the feminine persuasion.

Is this because Social Media – especially Facebook – is used more by women than men, or is it something about the profiles that we use. Are the male writers out there, and I mean Indie writers rather than the 'world famous' traditional published authors (King, Koontz and the like) less likely to advertise themselves in their profiles? It seems unlike to me, as every writer understands the importance of social media.

It is most likely that this means nothing, but I noticed it and it struck me as vaguely interesting. Take a look at your own Facebook friends and see if you notice the same thing I do. I would love to know.

ROW80: Mid-Week Mayhem

So, the middle of the week has arrived. With the move still be contended with, I am kind of all over the place at the moment.

My daughter finally slept through the night last night, which meant that for the first time in 4 days I slept in my own bed and not on the sofa.  I felt great for having 5 and a half solid hours of sleep. I then left the house for work, and my 30 minute commute took just over 4 hours. I was not happy at all, but at least the accident that closed the road had no fatalities.

On the writing front I have managed to work on my editing every day this week and am approaching the 100 page mark. That would put my at 66% complete and is a small personal milestone. Don't ask my why, for I don't really know the answer.

I haven't done much reading in the last week or so. Mainly because free time has been non-existent. I am reading the works of H.P. Lovecraft currently, but as they are more collective bodies or work, I will add a novel into the mix also.

My other, smaller goals all seem to have been cast along the wayside, but I will get back to all of them once the move is finished. The date is set at Friday 27th which is great because it gives me the weekend to get the kids settled into the routine and the new house before I start the new week with my goals laid out and my head somewhat more tidied.

So, that's about it for me, a frustrating day but all in all a successful week until now. I also have a very nice piece of Fiction planned for Friday, I just need to free up the time to write it.

How are the rest of you doing with your goals?

Allow Me to Introduce: Kimberly Kinrade

Today, it is my absolute pleasure and honor to hand my blog over to the wonderful (and award winning) Kimberly Kinrade. Kimberly's YA novel Forbidden Mind was the first book on my TBR list for 2012 and I enjoyed it so much I have placed it right back on the list again.

Kimberly very kindly agreed to answer a few questions for me, and so, without any further waffle from me, we shall begin.

As a horror writer myself, I simply have to ask this question first.

1. What is your favorite scary movie?

I think I'd have to say the Paranormal Activity movies. I loved those.

2. If you could be any character in Fiction, who would you be?

Syd from Patti Larsen's Family Magic. She's part witch, part demon and very awesome!

3. What is your favorite color?

Depends on my mood. Purple or blue usually. Sometimes red.

When I was younger I got kicked out of my English class for using this classic excuse. The only thing was for me it was true .

4. Has the dog ever eaten your manuscript?

Lol No. Which is good, because rarely do I have a manuscript in print. The dog would have to eat my computer. That'd be bad.

5. What do you consider your biggest failure?

Not getting my PhD. But it's no longer a failure for me, just a different path chosen.

6. Do you laugh at your own jokes?

Depends on the joke. J

7. When you were a child, what did you want to be when you were grown up?

Everything, and a writer. Eventually I settled on writer.

8. How do you react to a bad review of one of your books?

It's never great getting a bad review, but I used to be a theater critic so I know how the game is played. They don't bother me too much, usually. If one is particularly upsetting I'll email a close writer friend who loves my work and they cheer me up. J

9. What's the most blatant lie you've ever told?

When my brother and I were kids, I whispered in his ear that he should throw all of the stuffed animals we had out the window. He got in trouble, obviously. When my parents asked what I had whispered in his ear, I said "I told him I loved him." The truth eventually came out and I was in even bigger trouble!

10. What is the biggest sacrifice you have made for your writing?

I gave up a job that paid a lot to focus on my writing. I've also given up a lot of sleep. Not sure which I miss more, the money or the sleep! lol

11. What inspired you to write your first book?

My first novel, Forbidden Mind, was inspired by a dream I had about a girl who could read minds and who was rented out as a spy to rich people.

12. So Kimberly, 2011 was quite a year for you. Bits of You &Pieces of Me , Forbidden Mind and the first in your Chapter Book series; Lexie World . Aside from world domination what are your plans for 2012?

Is world domination not enough? Lol 2012 is going to be epic. First of all, wedding bells are ringing. October 6, 2012 Dmytry Karpov and I will be married in a castle in Nova Scotia. I can't tell you how excited I am about that! Also, the rest of the Forbidden series and Three Lost Kids series will be out and I will be publishing The Reluctant Familiar (the first of a YA/MG series) and another trilogy, The Chronicles of Corinne.

It's going to be a grand year!

13. What books have influenced your life most?

The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis for one. I think as a child that whole series opened up my imagination and gave it wings.

14. What was a time in your life when you were really scared?

Well, the most scared I've ever been is a horrible story of waking up from a nap to discover that my ex-husband had left me and taken our nursing, infant daughter with him—leaving her at a random person's house so he could go drinking all night. That 20 hours of searching for her was the worst in my life. But better to tell a funny, scary story…

The funny scary story:

The phone rang. I checked the caller I.D., shocked that my friend was calling me from Holland. I stepped out on the front porch so I could take the call without the noise of my three little girls interfering.

We only got as far as "hello" in English and Dutch when my all of my kids ran outside screaming.

"Mommy! Mommy! Something is wrong with the house. We have to move NOW!" They were hysterical. I thought for sure the house was on fire… or worse.

I ran inside, expecting a huge disaster, but didn't see anything.

My oldest pointed across the room. "Look there, Mommy. In the kitchen. I was just watering the plants. I don't know what happened!"

I looked across the living room into the kitchen, but still didn't get what the emergency was. My friend waited on hold patiently—paying a fortune for each minute my children screeched about our house.

Then I saw them. My stomach clenched in disgust and my heart tried to escape my chest and run away in fear.

We were under attack from multiple directions. Mutinous, evil and more dangerous than they looked, they infiltrated our home in small, mobile teams of soldiers.

My beautiful African plants—the only plants I'd ever been able to keep alive longer than a week—were covered in a black swarm from hell. Long lines crossed our white walls like living, moving scars.

Ants.

Apparently, when my daughter watered the plants it signaled an entire army of ants that it was time to come out of hiding and attack.

I feared and loathed them in equal measure, and now they were taking over my kitchen. My children began to scratch and cry from bites the demons had already managed to inflict on their innocent flesh.

I screamed and begged my friend across the world to come save us from the ants. Give me dragons, demons, blood sucking monsters—anything but ants.

Knowing that I was the only hope my children had of survival, I faced my fears and rushed the offending plant life—which had apparently been hosting entire battalions of evil—outside to the backyard. I sent the girls to the bathroom to bathe and mitigate the damage to their skin and proceeded to spray every inch of my kitchen, and the plants, with every chemical I could find in my cabinets.

Our house quickly became a toxic site habitable only by those in HAZMAT suits.

My poor African plants, impervious to neglect, dehydration and abuse, finally succumbed to the tortures of poison. Once the air in the house was safe to breathe again, we were able to resume our lives. But it took many weeks to stop scratching imagined, and real, itches from the monsters that once invaded our home.

My Dutch friend mocked my fears, accusing me of overreacting. He took back his mockery when I emailed him the pictures.

Anyone would have been blind with fear had they seen what I saw that day.

Let's change it up a little bit. Next week your partner in crime love and life Dmytry will be my guest, so let's see if you two can answer a few questions about each other. No cheating now.

15 What's Dmytry's favourite fruit?

Oranges

16 What's Dmytry's favorite colour?

Red

17 I do this quite regularly with my wife. The last question I believe was 'If you had to eat someone, which Nationality do you think would taste the best. So seeing the Dmytry is a horror writer . Has he ever raised a story idea with you that was so horrific that it kept you up at night?

Not really. He does have some great short stories that are horror, his primary genre is epic fantasy, so that's what we usually stay up all night talking about.

Kimberly, thank you very much for taking the time to answer these questions. I am sure that, wedding aside, 2012 is going to be a great year.

Stay tuned, because at the same time next week, Kimberly's husband to be, and equally amazing writer Dmytry Karpov is my guest.

Bio.

I was born with ink in my veins and magic in my heart. As a child, where others saw shapes in clouds, I saw words. But I was also an entrepreneur at heart. So when my business arrangement with the Tooth Fairy ended, I went pro by writing my fantastical stories and selling them to all my neighbors.

Fast forward…um…many years and many college degrees later…and I am now a published author after a long career as a journalist and freelance writer.

Though I have written in many genres and fields, I am most passionate about the world of the paranormal and fantasy. Look for these exciting young adult paranormal novels coming soon from Evolved Publishing.

Forbidden Mind (a trilogy) She reads minds. He controls minds. Together they might get out alive.

Death by Destiny (a trilogy) She was born to power, power that could destroy worlds. He was born to stop her, whatever the cost. They didn't plan to fall in love. Will it save them or lead to their foretold destruction?

and…

The Reluctant Familiar (a series) When fate takes hold of her life and thrusts her into a world of gods and goddesses, Agnes must decide: Is she a normal 13 year old girl, or the most powerful witch alive?

And for the children, check out The Three Lost Kids Trilogy coming December 2011 through Evolved Publishing. With full color illustrations, this unique chapter book series for 3-9 year olds follows three sisters as they enter magical worlds and learn important life lessons from the new friends they meet there.

When I'm not writing, editing and writing some more, I spend my time with my three little girls who think they are princess ninjas with hidden supernatural powers, our two dogs who think they are human, and the one man who is my soul mate and writing partner.

Here is a family portrait from Lexie World (The Three Lost Kids, #1)

To learn more about Kimberly and her work please visit her website or click on any one of the book covers below.

     

Why I Love ESPN

The majority of my posts this week have been more therapeutic than constructive, and so I thought I would lighten the mood a little bit today.

I am a big sports fan. My wife is not, and me, possibly being too nice do not force her to watch sport because I know she dislikes it so intently. The only show I really want to watch is Match of the Day, which is a weekly highlight of the English Premier League. Plus it has the best theme tune ever.

Taking the above into consideration, and the fact that my kids also don't like it when the cartoons are changed during tv time, I am left with only the late night hours for my sporting fix. Couple this with a daughter that won't sleep. I was on the sofa with her from 00:30 last night… again (3rd day in row), you can only imagine my immense joy at discovering my cable provider also included ESPN (America). So now, no matter what time my daughter wakes up I can be relatively certain that there will a live game of something on television to keep me entertained.

Incidentally I think this discovery has given my wife a new insight into sport, because now I am all too happy to get up and sit with our daughter. With Green Bay playing at I believe 02:30 my time tonight – tomorrow morning – I am almost sitting here with crossed fingers that she wakes again. Plus with me, my daughter goes straight to sleep on the sofa, while with my wife she likes to cause trouble.

ROW80: Bringing an Early End to the Week

I know that normally the ROW80 weekend update is done on a Sunday, but I have some things to say and intend on calling an early end to the week. Next week will therefore be gifted an eighth day. I am fine with that because I have big plans.

To summarize my week I only need one word, however I will treat myself to two…

 

… Double Bollocks

I still haven't managed to write a word,.I have read but a few pages, and have been in an all around daze / foul mood. Although it has certainly improved as the week moves towards its close.

I struggled to put my finger on it all for a while, and while my Rant – I should have been more specific and said personal flagellation rather than society based rant – hit on the fact that I didn't like giving up control in a situation, or rather, being excluded from a  situation that concerned me greatly, it was not the sole source of my mood.

The last few weeks at work have been busy. I have far too much to do, and not enough time to do it in. I work for a rather flat organization in terms of personal growth, and the work that I do is in no way, shape or form what I consider to be fun, fulfilling or even vaguely motivating. Having a family to feed however, I go. I give my 100% 8 hours a day and then come home. I turn off and leave the office behind. What is done is done, what isn't done will be done tomorrow. The past few weeks however, I have tried hard to make myself a better employee. Not that I was a bad one, far from it. I give my all every single day. But I tried to be better. I logged on at home in the evenings, I had half days of holiday every day this week (from Wednesday on) but still worked bits in the afternoon and evenings. I am now sure that it is this 'give a shit' attitude that has caused my moods. I do not turn off, work is always on my mind; deadlines, both pending and missed haunt my every waking thought.

To a degree I am ok with that, because I am after all an adult. I have three children and a house to support, I am the sole 'salaried' worker at the moment as my wife is busy raising our children, and suffice to say that my writing is not yet anywhere close to becoming the reality I hope the dream will one day be. I am currently selling books at a rate of 1 a month. Hardly a retirement fund. I am sure the stress I put on myself in this area and the success I demand of myself also contributes somewhat, but those writing based foul moods are more frequent but much quicker. Lasting perhaps an hour or so.

I digress…

I am to a degree willing to work like I have been. However, what do I get for my extra efforts? I am told that my extra hours – which I do not get paid for - are not believed. It was said in those very words, not even slightly hidden or less suggestive. Then, when I work from 7pm until midnight on a day that was supposed to be a vacation, having already worked most of the day, I am not told thanks or good work, but rather… 'Make sure you do your work right.' Which is a bizarre comment in itself as my accuracy has never been and I can assure anybody interested that it never will be, an issue.

So I am done with the new me. I will go back to giving my 100% 8 hours a day and the rest is my time. To spend with the kids, to spend on my writing. Time to drive those sales up. I mean reviews are all amazing, so it is just a promotional problem, or so I like to believe. I will spend time with my wife, and not be thinking about the next project on my to-do list. I will read and enjoy myself and not give a holy fuck about the office until the next time I set foot within its walls. Why, not only because my efforts are not appreciated, not because anything we do extra becomes automatically expected, but because quite simply… I do not give a damn.

I work to live, I do not live to work.

Ok, so this ROW80 update turned into a little bit of a rant also, but I make no apologies, and ask for no forgiveness. Not today, not after this week.

 

Weekend is here… Good God Almighty

I like to spend my Friday writing fiction. Normally I set aside this – the best – day of the working week to concentrate on a short story of part of a short body of fiction that will be published on this site.

However, those of you that follow me on Twitter (or to a lesser extent) Facebook will know that this week has not been your a-typical week for Alex. (See yesterday's rant)

So instead, I decided to remove today's post and opt for a little bit of music. Toby Keith is one of my favorite singers. (Yes I am an unusual fellow – Horror writer, father of three, and a country music fan) and this song is the perfect Feel Good song for any Friday and should if I had my way be played every Friday at 5pm when people leave work.

Enjoy

I like to spend my Friday writing fiction. Normally I set...

I like to spend my Friday writing fiction. Normally I set aside this – the best – day of the working week to concentrate on a short story of part of a short body of fiction that will be published on this site.

However, those of you that follow me on Twitter (or to a lesser extent) Facebook will know that this week has not been your a-typical week for Alex. (See yesterday's rant)

So instead, I decided to remove today's post and opt for a little bit of music. Toby Keith is one of my favorite singers. (Yes I am an unusual fellow – Horror writer, father of three, and a country music fan) and this song is the perfect Feel Good song for any Friday and should if I had my way be played every Friday at 5pm when people leave work.

Enjoy