Disturbing Me

To tell you the truth, I never meant to be a horror writer. Everyone knew me as the sci-fi guy; that’s where I began. But, somewhere, along the way, this became the artistic avenue I connected to the most.

I say, whenever possible, “I am a horror writer.” Because I want that to stick. I want people to get what that means, even if I am not sure, myself, what I mean.

I’ve talked, at length, about my want for and to create dark stories. I do not fully understand my proclivity, but I know it has affected me. At some point, after I’d spent a good deal of time trying to come up with horror concepts, and studying other instances of it, it became clinical. Continue reading

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Flash Fiction: Pile Of Stones

I’d never learned to count past ten, so I’m not quite sure what age I am. We keep marks on the door and the walls, with chalk and dirt and mud. And fecal matter. So, if we ever learned how long a year is, we could figure it out, and then we’d know our ages.

Until then though, I am somewhere past ten. And for the last five of that ten, I’ve been in this room. They bring me birthday gifts, and I counted them. Each one was a slightly larger sack. I wear them until they are too small. Continue reading

How To Disturb In 5 Easy Steps

My head is swirling today—I’m going through the overload that comes with consuming too much good media. And it is making me have trouble coming up with a topic to talk about and write about.

Now, to be clear, I am not “blocked.”

I have too many ideas right now. I want to talk about the future, and the world, and art, and getting ideas for writing. I want to write ten books and then go on several podcasts.

But, as these sorts of things go with actual life, I have things that need doing. So, I decided to fall back on something simple, something I understand on an intuitive level when it comes to making art.

And that is creating disturbing things. Continue reading