Jack Rollins's Blog, page 8
August 25, 2015
Who Wants to be a Published Horror Writer? (Dark Chapter Press)
Subscribers to the Dark Chapter Press (yes, DCP is my baby, so I’m on about it again) newsletter Dark Deeds were this evening treated to an early-bird look at September’s writing competition image.
This gives the subscribing writers at least a week’s headstart on the competition. Why would that matter? You may well ask. Well, this year, Dark Chapter Press have offered a fantastic prize. Winners and notable entry writers in these competitions will be invited to a secret submission call, with a view to being included in a Dark Chapter Press anthology release next summer.
My story Home, Sweet Home features in Kill For A Copy by Dark Chapter Press and judging by this review, writers are crazy if they want to miss an opportunity like this.
Let’s not even mention the fact that the flash fiction story itself can wind up in another anthology, so that’s technically two publishing opportunities in one.
Stuart Keane and David Basnett, now editors on anthologies for this horror press, both won competitions last year and both featured in Kill For A Copy with me. Erica Chin and Douglas F. Dluzen are two other winners from the last round of the flash fiction competitions who are about to join the ranks of authors published in the Dark Chapter Dungeon, when the Kids Vol.1 and 2 anthologies are released.
Want my advice?
If you’re a horror or dark fiction writer, this is one of the easiest ways to get your foot in the door with a growing, exciting new publisher. Get across to their website, use the form on their homepage to subscribe to the Dark Deeds newsletter, and get involved. You have nothing at all to lose and potentially, a career as a published horror writer to gain…
Can’t believe you’re still here!…
August 24, 2015
Everything You Need To Know About David Basnett (Dark Chapter Press)
Today is a big day. David Basnett, a fellow writer and friend of some 15 years joined my horror publishing outfit Dark Chapter Press today. Alongside Stuart Keane and the man sometimes known as Rob McEwan, David makes up an unholy trinity of horrific minds.
Dark Chapter Press announced his arrival, and first assignment, first thing this morning, as follows:
With great pleasure we’d like to introduce you to the latest member of the Dark Chapter Press editing team. David Basnett and Rob McEwan have been friends for around 15 years and both cut their teeth writing horror together. His uncanny knack for storytelling and his eagle eye for details make him the perfect addition to the Dark Chapter Press family.
David’s first official assignment is to co-edit the Scottish Horror anthology Bloody Heather, with Rob.
We hope you will use the comments section to extend a warm welcome to him, but for now, over to David.
Click Here for the full article and read what David has to say about his new position.
Don’t forget to wish him luck in the comments!
August 22, 2015
Dark Chapter Press – Competitions, Releases & Incoming (Stuart Keane Link)
Stuart Keane has published a piece on working with Dark Chapter Press, and included some details of Kids Vol. 1, his forthcoming first Dark Chapter Press editorial effort, which is shaping up to be one of the most exciting horror releases of the year.
Here’s a snippet of what he had to say:
Today, I want to speak about Dark Chapter Press, an exciting new publishing press based in the North of England (Alnwick, near Newcastle – to be exact).
Dark Chapter Press, as a company, is about discovering new talent. A few months ago, Rob McEwan approached me and offered me a position as an Editor for the press, a huge achievement and a proud moment for me. I’ve worked closely with Rob on several projects in the past and his work ethic is second to none. His passion for all things horror is something I’ve seen in very few people, which is very welcome to see, so saying yes was a no-brainer.
To read the rest of the article, click here.
August 21, 2015
August 19, 2015
Horror Readers in the US, have your say
Horror Readers in the US, have your say and shape the future of horror (5 minute survey) https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/NSVRFTC
(Attention Horror Writers) Compete Your
(Attention Horror Writers) Compete Your Way Into a Publishing Contract http://ow.ly/R3Qof #WritingCompetition
August 18, 2015
The Best Kind of Horror
Horrifying
In the May-June 2015 edition of Horror Fiction magazine Black Static, Stephen Volk wrote a commentary piece called Horror (Not Horror). In the article he poses that “‘Not Really Horror’ may be the new horror”, citing examples of two Hollywood horror movies (stand up Babadook and Oculus) that started with such promise, only to fail to deliver in the end. He compares this to the idea that some non-horror movies such as 10 Rillington Place or Wake In Fright contain more true horror.
Although I’ve watched a total of none of those four movies mentioned above, what Volk was driving at was crystal clear to me. Let me give you an example of my own. I think that Travis Bickle is a more frightening prospect than Jason Voorhies, because you could walk past a real Travis Bickle on any given day and not bat an eyelash. In fact, you might try not to look at him. He might just give off that vibe that makes you uneasy. He doesn’t need a hockey mask and machete to have that effect on you. A childhood friend of mine lost stability after military service in guess which conflict. His honourable discharge followed sudden and random acts of violence, and the years to follow saw him slip into deeper and darker places, becoming more and more anti-social over time. He’s real, he’s alive. He thought the snipers in the windows above Costa coffee were real too, and that’s why he went into this hyper-anxious state where he started throwing people around.
Now there’s someone you don’t give a machete to.
Horror as a genre is as hard to nail down as comedy. What I think to be terrifying, others will think is a picnic. What others find gruesome, I may find hilarious. There are, however real life news stories that do, or should, horrify most well-adjusted people with a healthy sense of self-preservation. As I write this, news reports run about a suspected bomb attack in Bangkok. I’ll take a leap and drag terrorists into the scene. Whenever such an attack takes place, people tend to think, “That could happen here”, or “That’s really close to here” or close to someone I know, or I used to work there – what if I still did? What if it’s Newcastle next? What if it’s New York again? What if, what if, what if?
It doesn’t have to be terrorist attacks, though. We need look no further than the Ariel Castro kidnappings. There is real horror, because it makes you think and again it comes down to what ifs…
What would you want?
I’ve worked within the health and social care sector for knocking on 15 years now. The people I have supported throughout my career have lived with all kinds of conditions, from young people with learning disabilities, to the very old and infirm, living out their final years in the distorting mists of dementia.
In that time I have been privileged enough to work with and to teach many great care staff, but no matter how great the support they give is, no matter how much they love and respect those who need their care, a common theme arises among them – among us. When we empathise with those living with complex needs, we begin to imagine what it would be like for us – that’s what drives a higher quality of care, or it should. And in that imagining, that common idea surfaces in many, many carers: if I ever get like that, someone put me down.
You’re wondering where my point is, aren’t you? I’m getting to it. I promise, I am.
What is it that makes say, Alzheimer’s so terrifying? Why did the guy I looked like, whose brain suffered catastrophic damage from his motorcycle accident cause us to love him, but realise that if we were him, we’d want you to put a pillow over our faces and finish the job?
What would you want? How much of you do you get to keep after an accident like that? Or how about this scenario: you’re the carer who said “Never let me get like that”, you get that diagnosis of Alzheimer’s, you get your medication and stave off each descending plateau of ability for as long as you can, promising to live each day to the full, spend as much time with family and friends and when you can’t take it anymore, you’ll take a one-way walk into the woods and never have to go too deep into the condition…
What if you miss that window of opportunity, and you wake up one morning too disabled to do the job and end it all? What if your mental capacity is so diminished that you don’t even know what the plan was? It’s too late to go. You’re now going to rely on the carers and be looked after in exactly the way you said would never happen to you. You are trapped. Trapped in your body, trapped in your collapsing life. You have no control over your destiny anymore.
Now what could be more terrifying than that? Or perhaps you aren’t convinced.
To me, though, horror is loss of control.
Earlier this year I read Richard Laymon’s In The Dark. For those who haven’t read it, I found it really enjoyable and here I’m going to drop a spoiler or two, so maybe you need to duck out now and come back after you’ve read it. I don’t want to spoil it for you.
Still here? Okay, well I warned you.
So in the story, Jane Kerry gets wrapped up in The Game, a sort of dangerous treasure hunt of sorts, where the risks get greater and the tasks become more and more sinister. Sinister, creepy and dangerous, in fact.
Jane is warned by her friend that she is losing control, that she is in fact being controlled, manipulated into staying on in The Game. As the Master Of Games leads her along, it becomes clear he has more than just the entertainment of watching Jane struggle through the tasks in mind, and the tasks begin to shift into a psycho-sexual territory: change into this nightdress and lie in the coffin. She knows he’s watching her as she strips, he always is.
The pawn, Jane is injured several times, kills, is almost killed on a few occasions, is nearly raped, and finally in her confrontation with the Master Of Games himself, as she fights for her life, she is indeed penetrated, hurt by his massive dick.
Her experiences increased in intensity as she spiraled deeper into The Game, unable to take control and get out of it. At the end, is it a stronger version of herself who comes through, or mental cripple, driven mad by the insane things she has experienced?
You see, the horror in all of that for me was the loss of control. The loss of choice once one choice had been made. There was no tentacle monster, no hockey-mask wearing killer, just a guy with a sick mind. A manipulator. A groomer.
When Jane picked up that first $100 bill in the library for finding that book, did she expect that this put her on a direct collision course with the Master Of Games’ throbbing cock? Of course not, but she went along with The Game and ultimately, the ability to choose, the control, was taken away from her.
I remember feeling very threatened in a souk in Kusadasi while on holiday with my partner. We’d gone quite a bit off the beaten track and down some very narrow lanes. It seemed like every eye was on us – on her. We had come to a place that felt very unsafe. Now, obviously, we were ok. It was probably just paranoia, but my fight-or-flight reflex was certainly primed on that occasion. The old Spidey-sense was tingling. What did I imagine was going to go wrong had we not turned around and gone back to a more tourist-orientated area? What if that decision to go that far off the reservation came with dire consequences? What if control and choice had been taken away from us by that simple mistake? What if? What if? What if?
Horror can be forged by testing one simple question…
What are you prepared to go on living without?
That fear of changes being forced onto your body, of irrevocable alterations to your mind – things that may forever change one’s sense of self, is something I find fascinating. Perhaps I find it fascinating because it’s a fear I hold strongly and I am certain I’m not the only one.
Some people would avoid a fight because fighting is wrong. Others avoid fights because the loss of a tooth would have a huge impact on them.
Question: What’s more horrifying or painful than losing a tooth in a fight? (and no, the answer is not several teeth)…
Answer: Losing half a tooth in a fight.
Perhaps you don’t agree, but let me go a little further. When your tooth is smashed out, all you have to do is stop the bleeding, or you may even be able to press the tooth back in and have the socket take hold once more if you’re really lucky.
But half a tooth? That’s a different matter. That fight you have on Saturday night that sees half of that tooth broken out and your dental nerve inflamed, inflicting agony on you every second of the day? That’s a fight you won’t get to forget in a hurry. Especially when your dentist is closed until Monday morning.
Your smile is changed. Your face has changed. The way you have to eat is now changed. Your attractiveness is impeded. You have been changed.
But what if it isn’t a tooth, or half a tooth? What if it’s an eyeball, or a finger?
So before I go a little further, let’s gather the thoughts I’ve scattered throughout this piece. I’ve talked about horror coming from:
Fear of things that could really happen feeds the impact of horror.
Loss of control.
Freedom of choice being taken away entirely.
Making choices that openly lead you into a position where you can no longer choose.
Making a fatal error.
Changes being forced onto your mind, body or soul.
The irreversible nature of all of these things.
I apply these thoughts to my own horror creations, but I only realized recently that this appeared as a common theme throughout my work. Now, if you’re not familiar with my stories, this would be a good time to duck out of the blog. There may be a couple of spoilers ahead, so I’m holding the emergency exit open for you right now and pointing you in the direction of Amazon…
Still here? Good, you must have already read some of my work… or maybe not! Maybe you’re still here because you have no intention of reading it!
Let’s look at good old Dr Blessing (The Cabinet of Dr Blessing, published by Dark Chapter Press). He makes, in essence, one decision. One critical, earth-shattering decision, against the advice of his most trusted friend. He chooses to let an unknown creature live. As a result of this, the hopeful, forward-thinking man undergoes tremendous physical and mental change. He loses family and friends, his livelihood and some of the consequences of that single decision stretch out as far as all of London… and potentially the world!
In The Séance (Dark Chapter Press), Sally Kench decided to attend a séance with friends. The interruption of the mysterious and malevolent Aubrey Levi-Black sees Sally suffer horrendous injuries and a complete mental collapse. There are other characters who enter into this plot and who are forever changed, beyond control, beyond repair… beyond even the boundaries of the world around us.
Then I wrote Anti-Terror for Stuart Keane’s graphic Carnage: Extreme Horror collection. I’ve already blogged about the departure that particular piece was from my existing work. Regardless, that same theme pops up in there. How much would you want to survive? How much could you suffer and still wish to live on? What could you lose, and carry on without?
Finally, in my most recently released piece, at the time of writing, Home, Sweet Home featured in Kill For A Copy, again released under Dark Chapter Press, I really drilled into this. Almost every character in that story loses something. In some cases, it is a lost friendship, perhaps, but for the majority of the players in there, the changes are huge.
In Home, Sweet Home, the clock is ticking. The damage and the effects of the damage sustained by characters is as real as you could read. Keith and Mandy choose to move into their new home, but the agenda of someone around them dictates that their choices are not to be their own for very long. Just because you’re unconscious, doesn’t mean the bad guy stops what he’s doing, and the results are some of the most nerve-shattering scenes I have ever written.
So while the perpetrators of the horror, or the implements used are not all necessarily grounded in reality, the reactions and the damage, the pain, the loss, all of these things, should be grounded in reality. If a writer has done his or her job in the first place, you would already care about the characters and the situations they find themselves in. If they do it really well, you’ll start to empathize with the characters; you’ll switch places with them and suffer their wounds, sustain their losses and wonder, how could you survive that, and would you even want to?
The writer might even be kind to you, and show you how the character overcomes this adversity and somehow manages to claw back something for themselves… revenge, perhaps… some sort of catharsis or healing, maybe. Or they may leave the character and you now connected to them, in the chilling darkness of a life beyond all hope… and make you wonder… what if…
Pleasant dreams,
August 10, 2015
Quick review: The Strings Of Murder by Oscar De Muriel
I’ve just finished this book and I thought I’d share a brief review with you. I think many of my followers and fans of my work will get a kick out of this book, as I did.
A really engaging story of murder and mystery with a splendid measure of supernatural suspicion in the mix.
Initially I found Ian Frey a little difficult to get to know, but before long at all I was right there with he and McGray, crawling through the muck beneath Edinburgh on the hunt for clues to this great crime story.
I’m looking forward to more from Oscar De Muriel and as my edition of this book had an additional short story contained within, called The Hunt, the hints are in place for Frey and McGray’s next outing… I can’t wait!
Next up Ravensdowne by David Basnett.
June 10, 2015
Support the new wave of horror writers
The aim of my new Kickstarter is to gather interest in the forthcoming Dark Chapter Press horror anthology, “Kill For A Copy”. Backers essentially place pre-release orders on this fantastic collection that will be fulfilled in late June, early July 2015. The goal is two-fold. The first outcome is that those who backed the project, who then read the e-book that they helped to launch, could review “Kill For A Copy” on Amazon and Goodreads when released for general sale and help to generate buzz through social networking and word of mouth.
At present, as a new small press, our marketing is very limited and with a practically non-existent budget. The royalties from sales on Amazon come in drips and drops and so get consumed by the usual bills and overheads associated with running a small press. That’s where the second outcome becomes clear.
Through this Kickstarter project, instant sales of “Kill For A Copy” would generate a lump-sum of funding, from which I could raise more awareness through focused advertising to reach a carefully targeted audience, including a half-page advert in a UK horror magazine.
I can produce 10 promotional copies of Kill For A Copy to issue to reviewers and bloggers and additional copies to offer in competitions/giveaways on Booklikes and Goodreads.
Dark Chapter Press was established in August 2014 following a successful campaign to launch the Jack Rollins novella The Séance. Since then, the Dark Chapter Press website has received almost 50,000 visitors and featured excellent monthly competitions from August 2014 to February 2015.
In January, the Dark Chapter Press site hosted Writer’s Block Month, where writers at all stages of their career gave advice on coping with the dreaded block. Contributors included Shaun Hutson, Graham Masterton and David Moody. The response to our initial open submission call was literally overwhelming and we recently called up prolific horror writer and editor Stuart Keane, to lend us his support. Stuart is taking the lead on one of our planned summer releases.
Now well-established with horror writers, it is time to move to the next phase and focus on attracting new readers to the exciting line-up of books we are launching this year. This includes Flashes In The Dark (a collection of flash fiction stories), Bloody Heather (a Scottish horror anthology), Under The Knife (a medical horror anthology) and Kids (as if parenthood isn’t horrific enough), which has proven to be so popular with our horror writers, that we have had to open up submissions to a second volume..
You are invited to join the launch of this new anthology, which will see your name included in the Special Thanks Kickstarter Backers page of the anthology, and on the Dark Chapter Press website. Not only will you have supported this fantastic book, you will also have supported a small business to develop, and expand its reach. Imagine that, in a few years’ time when Dark Chapter Press has dozens of titles in the stable – you were there at the beginning, helping us to make sure we could grow. You get to feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like you just ate a warm and fuzzy creature. One of the authors from this anthology has written about his experience with us. He’s put it better than we can, and is perhaps a better source of information than us just telling you what we do: http://www.thydemonsbescribblin.com/scribblin-maniacs/help-feind-and-dark-chapter-press
Please take the poll below, and if you would like to back this exciting new project, and see your name in a book right there with Shaun Hutson, please follow click here.
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May 17, 2015
Excerpt from Home, Sweet Home, by Jack Rollins – Kill For A Copy @Dark_chapter_UK #horror
Before I give you the sample of Home, Sweet Home, I’d like to fill in some of the background for you.
In the forthcoming Dark Chapter Press anthology Kill For A Copy (details of which you can find here), my story marks a return to the fictional town of Tilwick. I have not released a story from Tilwick since 2003, when, years before Kindle and Nook, I released an e-book called Matt Carsun: Saturnine through doomed e-book platform No-Spine.
Matt Carsun, as central character in what was intended to be an ongoing horror/dark urban fantasy series, is a young man who resides in the town of Tilwick, a place in North East England so protected and secretive, that it appears only on maps printed and bought within Tilwick itself. The citizens of Tilwick may only leave when they are 18 years old and when they have passed examinations to show loyalty to their dark master, the exiled demon Mammon.
Mammon, having been blamed for Lucifer’s failed uprising as told of in Milton’s Paradise Lost, has forged a new home among humans, where he utilizes his powers to maintain the balance of his small realm, and where the worship of the humans around him enables him to live on through the generations, shifting from human body to human body every 200 years or so. In Matt’s time, a cohort of demons attempt to win favour in Hell by coming to Tilwick to topple the disgraced angel, but in doing so they cause a chain reaction of terror that ultimately sees Tilwick’s master drawing upon his ancient reserves of strength deep within the earth upon which the town was built, and in doing so, unleashing supernatural forces that threaten the safety and sanity of his people. Of course, a certain young businessman named Matt Carsun becomes embroiled in the plot and I won’t spoil how, but he certainly finds himself in great danger and with personal and moral tests to address as he strives to save the people around him from the evil machinations of a town that treats individuals as puppets whenever the master so desires…
Long overdue a reboot, I am working to bring this story back in a new version called simply Carsun, but in the meantime, here is an excerpt of a new story which takes place in the same town during the period described, when Mammon has tapped into those reserves of ancient supernatural energy, and events both strange and horrific break loose on every street.
(Note this is not the final draft and is a “warts ‘n’ all” sample before editing).
Taster of Home, Sweet Home By Jack Rollins
“I know it’s not our dream house, Keith,” Amanda admitted, pressing her firm body against her husband. She kissed the tip of his chin. “But, we can make the place our own and I’m sure we’ll be happy here.”
“I know, I know. I just loved the old maisonette. I’ll get used to it,” Keith said, sighing in resignation. The maisonette was sold and he was officially a resident of Tilwick’s Golden Acre Park estate.
Peering over Amanda’s shoulder, brushing her blonde hair up behind her neck, Keith observed the cul-de-sac, washed in the muted orange of sunset. His battered Ford Focus appeared somewhat out of place among the BMWs and Land Rovers of their neighbours. The patchy lawn of the front garden, the cracked driveway, the too-small-to-park-a-car-in garage, the one-hard-cough-and-down-they-come fences, all of these things, they made Keith feel as though a huge sign reading Lowest Earners in the Neighbourhood should be erected out front.
Keith had voiced his opinion before the move and Amanda had reasoned that since the property had been uninhabited for two years, nobody would be surprised that the place needed some work. Handing him a glass of a fruity summer red wine, Amanda attempted to free Keith from the mental swamp he kept falling into when he thought about the house and its gardens for too long.
He took a gulp of the wine, recognising Amanda’s distraction tactic and hoping that it would work. She slipped a hand to the front of his jeans and fondled him with just the right amount of pressure in the right place to state her intent without hurting him.
“Which room would you like to christen first, Mr Corgan?” she purred.
Keith almost spat his wine across the window, only just managing to swallow his drink in time. In doing so he avoided the destruction of the white vertical blinds he had installed the previous morning. He clasped a hand over his lips and let out a half-laugh, half-cough.
The white baby monitor plugged into the four-gang extension by the TV flickered to life, with two of the three green LEDs blinking, showing that only a low level of noise had been detected. Little Alex’s cries usually drove the baby monitor up past the third green light and into the two red LEDs that indicated a loud noise had been detected. A second later, with the LED’s still flickering slightly, a snuffling noise was heard through the small speaker. Alex let out a little moan and settled down once more.
“I wasn’t expecting him to settle in his new room so well, tonight,” Keith commented.
“He’s very adaptable,” Amanda said. She pinched Keith’s bottom, adding, “You could learn from him.”
Keith frowned at his wife, something was missing. “Hey, where’s your wine?”
Amanda flashed him a grin and rested her head on his shoulder. “I have some news for you… Daddy.”
“You’re fucking kidding me?” Keith cried, returning his wife’s wide grin. “Really? Well, it must be true, or you’d be drinking, nothing as sure as that!” he said, answering his own question.
“You’re happy then?”
“Happy? I’m over the bloody moon! How long have you known? The move, Jesus the move… Mandy, are you sure everything’s alright?”
Amanda stroked Keith’s upper arms. “Everything is fine. I’ve known for a couple of weeks, but I knew if I told you, you’d probably call off the move.”
“Tricky cow.”
“Well, it’s done now.”
“And you won’t be lifting a finger ‘til he’s here,” Keith warned.
“He? Another little chap, is it? We’ll see. And besides, I’m only about six weeks pregnant. I’ll be doing plenty right up until I can’t move anymore. Alex needs his mummy.”
“I know, I know. I just don’t want you to get stressed out again. You know how it was when you were carrying Alex.”
“Yes, Mr Corgan. But this is different, we’re here. We’ve got a view, and space, and nice neighbours.”
“So you say, I haven’t met them yet.”
“Well, that’s the next bit of news. I’ve invited them over this weekend.”
Keith rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Oh, brilliant.”
They chatted excitedly about the baby and how Alex was going to be a brilliant big brother. Keith drained his glass and returned to the kitchen. The wine bottle rattled against the lip of the glass as his hands trembled. The thick red liquid poured across the oak veneer of the work surface, trickling over the edge to splatter and pool on the marbled linoleum floor. Keith cursed under his breath and slammed the wine bottle down before him. His pressed his flat palms onto the work surface and pushed a hissing breath through his clenched teeth.
Closing his eyes he felt the sting of tears and the lurch in his stomach as the reality of the situation – that they would never again leave Tilwick, that the second child would essentially root them to this evil old place – took hold and squeezed all hope from his heart.
