The Fear Behind the Smiles

On Writing and The Process

As a writer I do occasionally get asked about my 'process'. Tonight, however, I asked myself about my process, as I've started to realize I've got quite a few idiosyncracies when I get to work on something.

When I'm creating art in any form, be it writing, film, screenplay, or music, there's always one constant: music. OK, so we've got that one constant element. But what else?

With art, I start with the medium and go from there. I prefer pre-stretched canvases to paint on because I'm lazy, plus buying materials in bulk is silly. I do about three paintings a year on a good year, so to have tons of canvas and stretcher frames is not at all cost effective unless there's a sudden rush on the market and prices skyrocket. I can kick myself later if that happens. I also adore the scent of oil paints but suck at the actual ability to paint with it. Acrylics are much easier. I'm lazy AND impatient, and acrylics dry faster. I also adore water colors, but again... one of those things I will probably never master but I have a collection of water color paints that I like to take out and fondle every once in a great while. As for paint brushes, I confess I have no clue which brush would work best for what type of paint. I go through the aisle and feel the brush. If it feels like one I would like to use, I buy it. Easy as that. I'm almost certain I'm using water color brushes for acrylic painting, but I'm more concerned with the end results than being a proper artist. Since when did artists adhere to rules anyway?

With music, I've generally got an idea of where I want to go and how I want to accomplish it. Same with film. There's always an end product in my mind, I just need to translate it into the physical world.

On to the writing process.

Here's where I get weird(er). A lot of my stories start out in journals. Not just any journals. They have to have unlined pages, and they have to be interesting to look at. To me each blank book is reminiscent of a block of stone ready to be sculpted. The book or story is already in there, I just have to bring it out of the pages. If I already have a project in mind, I'll try to match the book to it. Typically I like a good Moleskine in which to write. The pages are a good thickness and smoothness, the covers wear well, and they have pockets in the back for when inspiration hits and all I have are napkins to use as paper.I also adore handmade journals from folks on Etsy.

Each character comes forward to tell me his or her story, and I let it flow through me and onto the pages. These days writing in the journal is more of a jumpstart, especially for longer pieces or novellas/novels. Once I get the story going on the written page it moves over to the electronic typed page. For short stories, I stick with the journal until it's done, then edit as I type it into the computer.

When I write dialog, I sort of channel the characters in a way. It feels as if I'm an actor in a film, and I find that my face makes the expressions as I'm writing it down, in my head I can hear the character say the words, and I more or less feel how they're feeling. Anger, love, lust, happiness, sadness all flicker by with the cursor across the screen or in the flash of a pen on paper.

I'd be remiss if I didn't discuss pens here, at such a convenient transition point. I have a collection of pens that would make an office supply store seem woefully lacking. Some pens are antiques, from the mother of pearl dip pen and still-working button-fill vacumatic Parker fountainpen to the more modern fountain pens, rollerballs, and souvenir pens from various places I've been. A website with writing supplies that is damned near akin to pen porn is Levenger. I could peruse and window shop there for hours.

For writing stories, I prefer certain ballpoints mainly. For some stories that are location-based, I'll pick up souvenir pens to write with so it keeps the memory of the place fresh. I can't explain why I have such an involved process, all I can say is it works, so I'm not about to try to fix it and thin out my pen and journal collection.

Second-Hand Sarah: This Stuff's Getting Real Now...

If you haven't checked out the latest in my fiction forrays, it's high time you paid a visit to the Second-hand Sarah blog, don't you think? It's free. Nothing to download or buy. Just free pseudo-fiction for your reading enjoyment. That's not to say I get nothing from it. I enjoy writing it immensely, and I enjoy feedback.

One of the greatest compliments I've received (and from more than one person, mind you) is that the readers are so excited that I got such a bargain of a house with so much to explore.... .

I guess my story and my writing may have been a little too good. Too real. Too... believable?

I'm not complaining. Not at all. The pics are real pics taken from my own home renovations, my own travels, and a lot of what Sarah went through I also went through at one point, so yeah, the emotion and drive are definitely there. She's my sunny side up, I guess. She's likable. She's human, where I tend to try to pretend that I'm superhuman or not human at all. I scoff at humanity and I've lost faith in mankind. She's been kicked, but she's not staying down. She's the part of me that picked myself up and kept going even though some days it felt like my heart would break. I put on my angry mask every day and walked out of the house snarling.

But not really.... inside of my little black heart is Sarah optimistically typing away with my fingers. More and more I find myself exploring the fictitious old Victorian home in my head and poking inside the closets and cellars in search of more blog posts. So far I haven't been disappointed. This week alone Sarah and I found a secret passageway, a mysterious tower in the woods, and countless journals filled with all sorts of writings. We found a bunch of other stuff, too, but I won't spoil the surprise.

More and more I find our personalities merging into a more realistic person. She's a little too sunny, and I'm kind of gloomy. Combine us both, and there may even be a normal person there.

The transformation first began when I had my son. After he was born, I found I didn't want to leave behind a legacy only of darkness and horror writings. I wanted to leave him something he could show people and say, 'My mom wrote these books!' and not have them smile politely while nodding and backing away. I wanted to leave him something that he could show to people and they may actually say something like, "Holy crap, that's YOUR mom?!"

Or better still, when he gets older, it's a project we can work on together. Maybe even build a miniature version of the house in order to take outside pictures for the blog.

Either way, it's the little blog that could, and it's so great to see folks enjoying the story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. It's even more great to see folks getting inspired by Sarah herself and her spunky optimism. Here's to the momentum picking up!

For those following the blog, I've got a TON of pics to edit and get ready to be posted for when she FINALLY gets up to the attic. And yes, I do in fact own a LOT of antiques. More than I realized.

I'm having far too much fun with the Second-hand Sarah blog. :)

What's All This Business About a Vampire Tadpole?

I went to the doctor and got these vitamins complete with fish oil gelcaps. Luckily the blue pills are chewable, and they don't taste too bad at all.

Mostly what I'm indicating in this picture is the insane overpackaging of these vitamins. These came one blister pack per box- yes, there was even a cardboard box on top of it. To quote my nephew, "I was like WHAT?!"

For those who have friended me on Facebook and follow my wacky hijinks (thanks! :) ), you may have noticed mention of the vampire tadpole's immenent arrival.

In fact, here's the exact status update: "The vampire tadpole has been sighted. Expect world dominance by December and bow before it!"

So aside from following the whims of something that doesn't even have a brain yet, I've been thinking.... We are at our most powerful when we're mere cells in the womb. We have pure dominance over the woman carrying us, and thus have dominance over those she holds sway over.

One example is my sudden love of breakfast foods. I went from being an advocate for sleeping til noon and skipping breakfast entirely to checking out the Breakfast Anytime! sections of various eating establishments. Fried eggs and toast seem downright heavenly, and orange juice has become something we keep in supply. Pancakes even look good practically anytime where I rarely used to eat them.

More details on the vampire tadpole to come. In the meantime, I need to go eat something.

The Story Behind "Home for X-Mas"

When Derek Handley initially contacted us of the Cover Stories gang to write a holiday euphiction I admit that I considered claiming flu-like symptoms and hiding under the bed til the holiday season had passed. I'm not big on holidays unless it's Halloween.

The thing is, I like Derek. I consider him a pretty close electric friend, in fact. He has this way about him that just makes you want to say 'yes' to his ideas and then make them happen 150%. So I said yes, and I gave it 150%. My first ever holiday piece.

Being that I'm me, the Hallmark special based on my story 'Home for X-Mas' will most likely not happen anywhere in the future. For the record, it ended much happier for Saint Nick than my initial story concept.

The idea came as many of my ideas come: late at night, and usually when I'm just about to fall asleep. I could see the end of the story, and it was bleak. Very clearly I could see a cozy living room, very Donna Reed decor. Everything was perfect in this Norman Rockwell living room. Too perfect. It was unsettling, and the old  Victrola was playing a warped record with the song 'I'll Be Home for Christmas' playing over and over again in a scratchy but endearingly hair-raising kind of way. On initial inspection I couldn't see a damned thing wrong with the room. The kids wore their footie pajamas and set out a picture perfect plate of cookies while mom sat on dad's lap and they kissed under a held sprig of mistletoe. Picture. Perfect.

It struck me as sad that I distrusted this happy family and scene so much instead of embracing it as an ideal to aspire to, but again there was something wrong. I just hadn't figured out what it was yet.

That's when I looked in the fireplace. Amidst the happily crackling flames that the children played near I made out the charred remains of red fabric spread over the logs. Gaping holes dotted the back of the garment where flames had burned their way through, and the white trim was blackened in the embers. All that was left of the belt was the smoke-damaged glint of a buckle attached to what looked like a mummified snake.

I glanced up at the family in a sort of horrified daze. The kids were oblivious to the implications of that charred red suit. Perhaps they hadn't even noticed it. The parents... they smirked knowingly at me, and the father raised a snifter of brandy as if toasting my detective work.

The pen couldn't write fast enough to get it all down as the story unfolded around me. I could see this very dark tale of horror, and then I stopped writing. I stared at the pages and
hated myself. How could I kill Santa Claus? Even worse, how could I kill off Santa knowing full well that my mother still believes in him?

I put the pen back to the page and began to cross out certain things, add certain other things, and created a much more light-hearted story than what I had started.

And now, for your reading pleasure, I present to you.....

Home for X-Mas: A Holiday Tale of Dysfunction 

Writing by the Light of a MacBook and Candles

The pic at the right has nothing to do with the obsession du cette nuit, but I thought I would share, nonetheless. It was my avatar's Halloween costume at the virtual night club I run in Second Life called The Hanging Cages. This year I went as Lilith from my own novels. And yeah, it was a lot of fun.

Tonight found me in the throes of a writing binge. Rather than force it away with mindless Facebooking or random surfing, I buckled down and did what any goth gal would do: I lit a ton of candles and put the band Rome on a loop. I got so caught up in the yummy scented candles and atmosphere that I kind of forgot to write. I jotted down something instead that looks much more like Enochian angelic script. I have no idea what it means, but I'm assured that it'll be a hit. Somewhere. Someday.

Tonight found me working partially on the latest project: The Nemesis Diary (a working title that I may end up changing after finding out there's a show with a name that's close to it, and I don't want the two confused for one another).

I posted some of it to my Facebook page (feel free to friend me: suzi.m.author).

'Back in My Day' and Other BS Spewed by the Pharmaceuticaled Masses

Admittedly, when I made the comment/post of 'Back in my day, vampire novels had vampires in them' I meant it as a joke... sort of. With the mudslide success of Twilight and all kinds of nonsense spewed forth by the mainstream media, it's actually kind of hard for me to get my vampire fix. Yes, I'm reading the Sookie Stackhouse series, and yes, I'm watching True Blood AND The Gates, but I'm left feeling empty and vaguely disappointed. I mean, where's the FEAR? These people are sleeping with a giant parasite, a potentially violent parasite, and yet there's less of a shrieking terror and more of an 'oh n0es!' surrounding it all.

A quick check of my collection of vampire fiction left me a little more sane-feeling. Historically, vampires were not pretty. There was nothing sexy about them, and they certainly didn't glitter, shimmer or shine. These were blood-sucking resurrected corpses, afterall. The lamia of ancient Greece was a blend of various animals with the torso of a woman (gotta get boobs in there, natch). She went around killing babies. Granted, the story behind this monster is a sad one, as often happens with ancient Greco-Roman myths. And usually there's some poor sot getting tormented and abused by the gods just before dying a horrible death. Those were some jealous gods, and they had a knack for torment. Hats off to them.

Then there's the later vampires embodied in good ole Vlad the Impaler and his relative Countess Elizabeth Bathory. Following that there were the resurrected corpse types which usually meant Plague was around somewhere lurking. And not a pretty death by any means. The original Nosferatu film depicted an outright monster.... and then came Hollywood....

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE Bela Lugosi. There was an underlying unease throughout Dracula that left you both intrigued and terrified.

So where did the vampire story go awry and transform into a fountain of youth with fangs? And a little too much oil in the T zones...

As a writer, I've come to the conclusion that I need to buck the system and go in a completely opposite direction, for those folks who are looking for real horror, or just a fun read. In other words... literature.

After Much Waiting.... It's Here! Cover Stories Officially Released!

What a wild ride, but it's finally done! The international anthology featuring ten writers from around the world is finally available for your ordering pleasure at the Cover Stories Official Storefront.

And for those who are in the know, happy solstice! Couldn't have planned that release better, in my opinion. :)

Thanks for the Apology Note, USPS

Today's adventure began with a squishy splat on my doorstep, right around the time the mail guy was shoving stuff through the mail slot. I had ordered a bunch of supplies, so I excitedly opened the door, then stared in confusion as the scent hit my nose.

It wasn't a bad scent, but very perfumey, and I thought I was holding a package that had a hippie dress in it. Not so!

The plastic wrapped package I soon realized was the perfume oil supplies I had ordered. The package was saturated with oils,  as was the apology note from the USPS. It basically said 'Sometimes we really mess up your stuff. Sorry about that.'

Yeah.... My supplier was very nice about it, though, and promised to send the next package extra padded. 

This is the second run-in I've had with the post office this month. And I used to so love them because it meant cool supplies were showing up. Now apparently it means I have a 50/50 chance of getting a lot of broken stuff to play with.

And I still reek like a French whore after unpacking everything today. A very nice-smelling French whore.....

The Insomnia Monster Strikes Again, Producing Digital Men and Monsters

The night is stormy, which would usually be a great opening for an intense story somewhere out there in literati land. Sadly all it means for me is a sleepless night.

I'm definitely not afraid of a good thunderstorm. Quite the opposite. I love them. Dark and stormy nights are my bread and butter, after all.

The downside to a really good thunderstorm (or upside, depending on how optimistic I feel at the time) is that it's like sticking my finger in a socket, pure energy rush and buzzing with creativity.

I have had zero caffeine today in hopes I could sleep tonight at a normal hour. The storm rolled in around 9pm and that was it. I've been supercharged ever since.

Rather than play the woe-is-me card and mope, I decided to do something - dare I say it? - productive. The digital image you see here is made with a combination of Poser and Photoshop. The main meat and potatoes of the Big Guy's face, head and background were all done initially in Poser. Finishing touches, such as pallor, hair, eyes, and shadowing were all hand drawn in Photoshop. It's not as easy and effortless as it seems, but it is a labor of love.

I'm a regular Pygmalion when it comes to my characters. One of these days I'll have to summon up the rest of the characters into digital format. So far they only exist as the initial concept drawings, sketches, and rough paintings I did back in 1993 when I wrote the first draft of NEMESIS (aka Book 1 of the Immortal War Series).

So on this particular dark and stormy night, I'm listening to a fun and extremely eclectic mix of music from Lycia and Lady GaGa to Grendel and Fields of the Nephilim. Issues? No way. I have subscriptions and franchised newsstands for my blend of problems. I've created the digital art gracing this post, and gotten some writing done. The Moleskine has even seen some ink tonight, which will eventually find its way into a digital form of dark comedy story. 

Oh yeah, the dark comedy. Inspired by, of all things, eBay. I thought I had seen everything til I saw ghosts, djinns, and vampires bonded to jewelry and sold on the cheap in a digital marketplace. After sorting through page after page of items, I found myself wondering how the inhabitants of the jewelry/objects felt about their lot in life. Most importantly being stuck in jewelry, dolls, or in some cases even just a box, and sold at auction. And so the story was born.

Feel free to get up-to-the-damn-near-second updates on my Facebook fanpage. Feel free to post something and say hello, too. I talk to my fans because I'm a friendly sort.

Speaking of fans... got recognized by titles and storyline in my fave local yarn store a couple of weeks ago. It was my first recognition. I was so in awe I asked them for THEIR autograph. Based on the experience, I've decided to start an autograph album of people who've read my novels. To hell with famous people autographs, I want the folks who admire my work enough to say hello to me.

Feel free to join the fun on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/manage/?act=37195941#!/pages/Suzi-M/54616181082

Tip the Dancer...

I know I shouldn't be so attached to anything I intend to sell, however... I'm absolutely gaga (possibly even Lady GaGa) over a new yarn that I spun up and will be posting to my BizarreYarns Etsy shop called 'Tip the Dancer'. Yes, 'Tip the Dancer', shown here to the right.

It may possibly be that I'm thinking back about the days when I still very much had my Devil-may-care attitude firmly in place and would actually attend such establishments what where the dancers may or may not have been clothed. But in all seriousness, I really can't get over the beautiful mess this yarn is. It's got golden yellow mixed with black and glitter, aqua, pink, and deepest purples. I know, I know... I'm a yarn geek. I admit it.

I even listened to stripper music - well, my idea of how stripper music should sound, anyway, i.e. lots of grinding industrial beats that are just slow enough to do some awesome dips and seductive twirls - while spinning it up. It was really hard to not slap on a whole lot of black eyeliner and redder than red lipstick and go out to the nearest goth club and dance til dawn instead of spin yarn, but there you have it. And there I was, spinning yarn like a good grown up instead of partying til dawn.

Just looking at this yarn makes me giggle and want to hand it a dollar.

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Other updates in the mundane existence of an undergroundly popular writer (over 200 copies of my novels have sold to date, so thanks there, Kindle Krowd!)... well, the garden is happening. I built a retaining wall over the past week, and got a nice sunburn doing it. Today I'll be heading to Lowe's while all the good people of town are at church. Downside is we'll be hitting after-church breakfast crowd on the way home.

I also have some cool antique typewriter key jewelry posted to the Smiling Goth Etsy shop. 

So get over to the shops, buy my novels, and feel free to drop me a line. Always happy to meet a fan! Speaking of hearing from fans, met my first person who knew me by my novels while I was out shopping for fiber.

How. Friggin. Cool.