I'm rediscovering a real joy (does that sound right?) for horror-speculative fiction. Weirdness, grossness, what-the-fuck-ness. It's what I'm all about right now.
One story clocked in at just under 10,000 words (perhaps I got lost with the plot) and another just under 2,000 (perhaps I never found the plot).
We'll see what the editors think. I quite liked them, but would love any feedback and a chance for editing with fresh eyes. We shall see.
Now. Recently I watched Sinister. Since the age of 15, I've struggled to watch horror films. I can read it, write it, discuss it and not be disgusted when a client shows me a video on their iPhone of their leg being operated on. But viewing a horror film, particularly one with a supernatural element, freaks me the fuck out. Give me straight up psychological gore any day.
But I got through Sinister, albeit looking through an inch gap of the blanket draped around my head. I earned my bravery hugs. I thought that at a 15 rating it couldn't scare me that much. I stand (and shiver) corrected.
I bought What Really Frightens You? on a whim at Asda. The blurb sounded good (horror writer throws out a call for readers' fears and then all hell lets loose) and the cover seemed to imply excellent effects.
I switched it off within five minutes. I genuinely thought the beginning was a spoof, like a film within a film. The next scene of exposition was a huge infodump, somewhat akin to a porn film trying to ram (pun intended) a plot line into the next gratuitous hour or so. Even the acting and camera work screamed of an open casting call and being shot in a trailer in a motel-ridden part of Hollywood.
So what really frightens this reader? That I paid five fucking quid for that DVD and now I can't return it because I took the plastic off.
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