Month: December 2019

Halloween Extravaganza: INTERVIEW: Michael Shotter

megHan

Meghan: Hi, Michael. Welcome to Meghan’s House of Books. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Michael Shotter: Greetings! I’m Michael, I’m from Pittsburgh, and I write books!

Meghan: What are five things most people don’t know about you?

Michael Shotter:

  • Before publishing my first novel, I worked as an IT professional for over twenty years.
  • I’m a formally-trained journalist, with a bachelor’s degree in the subject.
  • I’m a musician, and have played guitar in various capacities for over thirty years.
  • I’m a good cook.
  • I’ve been legally blind since birth.

Meghan: What is the first book you remember reading?

Michael Shotter: The Little Red Caboose, who I have it on good authority always came last.

Meghan: What are you reading now?

Michael Shotter: I do more writing than reading these days but I did recently finish Cured: A Tale of Two Imaginary Boys by Lol Tolhurst.

Meghan: What’s a book you really enjoyed that others wouldn’t expect you to have liked?

Michael Shotter: The Glass Flame by Phyllis A. Whitney

Meghan: What made you decide you want to write? When did you begin writing?

Michael Shotter: I’ve written all sorts of things ever since I’ve been able to do so. Consequently, I don’t know that I ever decided to write as much as I instinctively acted on an inherent desire to express myself creatively.

In terms of making the decision to write professionally, the seeds of that were planted in my early twenties during college. For better or worse, they didn’t really take root until my mid-forties, when a series of life events forced me to reevaluate my future as an IT professional. When the dust cleared, I was a writer.

Meghan: Do you have a special place you like to write?

Michael Shotter: At my computer desk, where I do all my work. I’ve never really explored any alternatives to that, but I’m not against the idea in principle. It’s more an “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” mindset at this point.

Meghan: Do you have any quirks or processes that you go through when you write?

Michael Shotter: Sometimes, I physically act out scenes, particularly pivotal, dialogue-heavy ones, a few times before writing them. I’ve done some acting and improv, and I find that those skills can at times help me get a better sense of my characters, especially when they need to say and do things I wouldn’t.

Meghan: Is there anything about writing you find most challenging?

Michael Shotter: I used to really struggle with writing anything related to self-promotion. Even though I’m comfortable with that sort of thing now, I’d still say that finding the time to properly and consistently address all the aspects of my writing career is my biggest, ongoing challenge.

Meghan: What’s the most satisfying thing you’ve written so far?

Michael Shotter: My novels, The Big Men and 309. I’ve certainly written other things in my life that have given me a sense of satisfaction and pride, but the only things that even approach the relevance of those two books in my mind are the songs I’ve written.

Meghan: What books have most inspired you? Who are some authors that have inspired your writing style?

Michael Shotter: Piers Anthony (the Adept series and Incarnations of Immortality), Clive Barker (Cabal), Ben Bova (Orion Among the Stars), Lois McMaster Bujold (Falling Free), Stephen King (the Dark Tower series), and too many others to list.

Meghan: What do you think makes a good story?

Michael Shotter: An original or innovative premise, fully realized characters participating in compelling relationships and activities, and the ability to convey those elements via a strong command of the written word.

Meghan: What does it take for you to love a character? How do you utilize that when creating your characters?

Michael Shotter: Relatability helps, but it can also be compelling to explore a character that’s opposed to one’s own way of thinking and behaving. For example, I can love a villain in a story if they’re presented in a compelling way.

Personally, I always strive to represent my characters in as complete a way as the story allows, trusting that the reader will inevitably bond with them as a result of the familiarity that creates, regardless of the circumstances of the narrative.

Meghan: Which, of all your characters, do you think is the most like you?

Michael Shotter: Mike Maxwell from 309.

Meghan: Are you turned off by a bad cover? To what degree were you involved in creating your book covers?

Michael Shotter: Absolutely. I have a design and publication-production background, so I feel I’m particularly sensitive to that sort of thing. I personally design my own book covers, though I do use stock or commissioned imagery as part of those designs when necessary as I’m not an artist, nor am I a particularly-proficient photographer.

Meghan: What have you learned creating your books?

Michael Shotter: The importance of self-promotion.

Meghan: What has been the hardest scene for you to write so far?

Michael Shotter: In my first novel, The Big Men, there’s a particularly-critical scene fairly early in the book that I’ve always seen as a make-or-break moment in terms of compelling a reader to buy in to the story and its characters for the duration. Without a doubt, it’s the most thoroughly-revisioned, painstakingly-crafted thing I’ve ever written. Thankfully, it fits so seamlessly into the text that surrounds it that I’ve yet to encounter a reader who could successfully identify it without being told where to look.

Meghan: What makes your books different from others out there in this genre?

Michael Shotter: In general, I go out of my way to defy genre conventions. That’s not to say that I don’t occasionally, intentionally lean into an established or expected trope from time to time; however, I do feel confident saying that one of the best attributes of my books is that they don’t readily fit into neat, predictable literary pigeonholes.

Meghan: How important is the book title, how hard is it to choose the best one, and how did you choose yours (of course, with no spoilers)?

Michael Shotter: Titles are very important for attracting new readers. When someone’s not already familiar with your work, you often have little more than your title and your cover art to get their attention in the first place. Once a reader knows and trusts you, I think they become somewhat less vital.

In any case, titles do represent a great opportunity to reinforce or play off of a reader’s expectations, or pique their interest in a variety of ways, particularly when combined with good cover art.

Personally, I like my titles to be fairly literal, while working on at least one additional level that besoms apparent at some point during the story. That can be tricky to pull off but I think I have a fairly solid track record when it comes to titles so far.

Meghan: What makes you feel more fulfilled: Writing a novel or writing a short story?

Michael Shotter: Writing novels, simply due to the sheer effort required to complete them. The scale is so much bigger, the demands and expectations of readers are so much greater in the case of novels. Having said that, there’s absolutely a wonderful, unique fulfillment in crafting an efficient, compact tale that makes economical use of its words but in my experience, novels give me a bigger thrill.

Meghan: Tell us a little bit about your books, your target audience, and what you would like readers to take away from your stories.

Michael Shotter: My primary goal as a writer is to surprise and delight my readers. In everything I write, I strive to give them a unique, memorable experience unlike anything else they’ve read. Obviously, that’s a tall order and it’s objectively impossible to write anything that absolutely appeals to everyone, but I do my best.

It’s worth mentioning that my works are generally targeted at adult readers as I don’t shy away from harsh language and mature themes if they serve the story I’m telling. If you’re looking for kid-friendly books, I’m definitely not your guy; however, I do consider myself quite measured and thoughtful when it comes to incorporating unsavory elements into my writing, which many seem to appreciate.

Meghan: Can you tell us about some of the deleted scenes/stuff that got left out of your work?

Michael Shotter: For the most part, I have a fairly complete sense of the stories I write before I ever sit down in front of my word processor. As a result, there’s not a lot of fat in my writing process. I’ve certainly tweaked the occasional bit of prose for one reason or another during editing passes but I honestly can’t think of an entire scene or section of a project that I’ve felt compelled to cut after writing it.

That’s certainly not to say that my writing is flawless out of the gate as I’m as big a beneficiary of copious editing as the next scribe; however, I think the degree to which I tend to think about stories and characters prior to my initial drafts goes a long way toward keeping things lean and tidy once the furious typing starts.

Meghan: What is in your “trunk”?

Michael Shotter: In the past, I’ve published original music and the occasional video game. Those are both extremely expensive and time consuming endeavors in my experience that I think I’m unlikely to revisit at this point in my life. Still, given the right circumstances, I certainly have a few “dream” music and game development projects in my “trunk” I’d be tempted to pursue.

Meghan: What can we expect from you in the future?

Michael Shotter: In 2020, I’ll be including that story (and several others) in a new, short-fiction anthology. I’ll be revealing more information about that project shortly after the new year.

Meghan: Where can we find you?

Michael Shotter: Blog ** Amazon ** Goodreads ** Twitter

Meghan: Do you have any closing words for your fans or anything you’d like to say that we didn’t get to cover in this interview?

Michael Shotter: As always, I greatly appreciate the support people have shown for my written works over the past few years. It’s taken a lot of time and effort to establish myself as an author but every time one of you reads and enjoys what I’ve written, it all feels worthwhile.

Also, huge shout out to Meghan’s House of Books for giving me this opportunity. I hope this was a fun and interesting read for everyone!

Michael Shotter is a lifelong resident of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. As a lover of science, fiction, and fantasy, his works aim to push beyond the boundaries of traditional genre fiction into new and exciting realms born from literary craftsmanship.

309

Paperback ** Kindle ** Google Play ** Apple iBooks

Meet Lisa Hudson, a dedicated journalism student, on a beautiful, spring morning in Pittsburgh that proves to be the last ordinary day of her life.

As she struggles to survive in a new reality, forged from catastrophe, Lisa confronts its mysteries and dangers with the aid of intriguing and unlikely companions.

For her, the world will never be the same. For you, the journey is just beginning.

Michael Shotter is a lifelong resident of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. As a lover of science, fiction, and fantasy, his works aim to push beyond the boundaries of traditional genre fiction into new and exciting realms born from literary craftsmanship.

“309” represents his most ambitious effort to date and is sure to thrill fans of both science fiction and high adventure.

The Big Men

Paperback ** Kindle ** Google Play ** Apple iBooks

The pursuit of power is as old as human history. In ancient times and in various cultures, it was believed that a person’s power, indeed their very essence could be literally extracted through a variety of means.

The methods by which this was accomplished were largely lost to the ages or banned and purged from historical records by kings, pharaohs, and the like in efforts to preserve their own power and authority.

Still, the echoes of these ideas and techniques persist. What would happen if a man living in modern society, a descendant of the practitioners of those arts were to inadvertently awaken such an ability and what would be the consequences of that awakening?

“The Big Men” is a paranormal thriller that explores the perceptions, manifestations, and consequences of power as wielded and coveted by men in the modern era. This debut novel by Michael Shotter will keep readers guessing as they are drawn into the world of such men by an outsider capable of taking everything from them.

Academic Displacement

Kindle ** Google Play

In this gripping novelette from the author of “The Big Men” and “309,” witness Roy Carter, a man with everything he ever wanted, confounded by an inexplicable event that completely disrupts his idyllic existence after apparently changing almost nothing about it. Prepare yourself for “Academic Displacement.”

Halloween Extravaganza: Rebecca Besser: STORY: Historical Significance

megHan

Historical Significance

Perry Roberts stood at the top of the stairs, staring down into the black depths of his basement. He held the last box that needed to be stored down there, but he couldn’t make his legs move. The light was on when I went outside, wasn’t it? he thought. He knew it had been, but now it was out.

With a sigh, he sat the box down on the floor, reached into the slight gloom at the top of the stairwell, and felt the switch with his fingers; it was still on. Bulb must’ve blown, he thought to himself with another, deeper sigh.

Thinking hard, he remembered unpacking a box with spare bulbs earlier and headed to the laundry room to retrieved one, also grabbing the flashlight he’d stored there. Grumbling under his breath, he returned to descended into the dark depths of his basement. It smelled musty, damp, and slightly metallic; the air noticeably dropped in temperature with each step. The house was old, having been one of the first built in the small New England town, and the basement was designed to hold the cold so that home-canned goods and other food necessities could be stored there.

“Lots of history,” the real-estate agent had said. “Not many places like this left for just anyone to buy.”

Being the history buff that he was, he couldn’t help but be drawn to its charm, even though it had sat empty for more than a decade and had to be drastically updated before he could move in. One of the things he’d found most fascinating about the place was the old “player piano” sitting in the corner of the basement. He couldn’t figure out how it had gotten down there—the stairs were too narrow and the basement walls consisted of large, rectangle slabs of limestone that looked like they’d been there for hundreds of years.

With the help of his flashlight, he removed the old bulb and shook it beside his ear, and sure enough, he heard the filament rattle. Tucking the flashlight under his chin so he could use both hands, he slid the burned out bulb into the front pouch of his hoodie and extracted the other. As he screwed in the new bulb, he forgot the switch was still on and didn’t close his eyes. When the bright glow of the 75 watt bulb flared to life, he dropped the flashlight with a loud clang and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

After a moment, he started blinking rapidly and looking around the room. Bodies in old fashion clothing lay everywhere—some holding bottles of whiskey or tankards of ale. Slowly they sat up and then stood with leering grins, looking him over like he was a succulent piece of meat. They advanced toward him and Perry spun around; he was completely surrounded and the closer they came the more the temperature of the air around him dropped. He tried to focus on them directly, but the light spots in his eyes prevented him from doing so; as his vision cleared the images began to disappear.

Almost in a panic, thinking he was being attacked, he spun around in a circle with his arms up defensively, looking for assailants. None were there. All he could see now were the leaning shadows cast by the stairs and the stacked boxes; the rough, bare rock of the walls and floor echoed his harsh breathing back to him, giving him a chill that had nothing to do with the climate of the room.

After dropping his arms, taking a couple of deep breaths, and doing another, thorough visual examination of the entire room, he shrugged the occurrence off as his imagination. He bent down and picked up the pieces of his flashlight—having broken it when he dropped it on the hard floor—before he went upstairs, dumped the ruined flashlight in the trash, and carried down the last box. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was down in the basement with him, and kept looking over his shoulder expecting to find them standing behind him, ready to hurt him. He was beginning to wonder if the house might be haunted, but then reminded himself he didn’t believe in ghosts.

With an effort, he forced himself to calm down, and after stacking the box with the others he had in the corner, he headed toward the stairs. Pausing, he glanced around one more time and ran his fingers over the now yellow keys of the player piano, wondering if he could get the old thing working. Once again he pondered on how the piano had come to be in the basement and couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation.

“Maybe the ghosts brought it downstairs,” he said with a mocking laugh.

As soon as the words left his mouth a chill ran down his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the air around him suddenly dropped in temperature and he felt like he was being stalked again. Not needing any more encouragement, he jogged up the stairs and could have sworn he’d heard a deep, masculine laugh echo from behind him.

Back upstairs, he turned off the basement light and slammed the short, rough plank door behind him, making sure the old, wrought-iron latch was secure. He pressed both his hand on the door and leaned against it, taking deep, calming breaths, feeling silly about his reaction to his imagination running wild.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts… There’s no such thing as ghosts…” he repeated to himself over and over again, as if in saying it he could dispel the horrible feelings he’d had downstairs.

Perry heard a knock at his front door and almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden and unexpected noise; he stepped from the kitchen into the short, narrow hallway and spied his friend John through the door’s window.

“Hold on,” he yelled, rushing forward and letting his friend in, glad for the distraction. “What’s up?”

John grinned. “Five days ‘til Halloween! What do you think’s up? We need costumes and a lot of ghoulish stuff to decorate this spooky old house of yours.”

Perry laughed and all of his trepidation melted away as he focused on his friend and pushed everything else from his mind. “How could I forget?”

John smacked his forehead in a “Duh!” gesture and pointed with his thumb to his Chevy pickup parked at the curb. “I’ll be out there. Hurry up!”

With that John turned and practically hopped down the limestone block porch steps. He hadn’t been too happy when Perry had decided to move here, wishing his friend would stay closer, but he’d handled it well. They’d known each other all their lives and had just recently graduated from separate colleges. Over the past summer they’d spent a lot of time together catching up, and now they were separated again; growing up was indeed hard to do.

Donning a light jacket over his hoodie—taken from a hook by the door—Perry stepped out into the brisk October wind. Red, gold, and brown leaves littered the yard and street, leaving behind dark skeleton trees to moan eerily as their bare branches danced in the wind. He pushed his hands into the front pouch of his hoodie and his hands came in contact with the lightbulb he’d removed downstairs, and for a moment the memories of his experiences returned. He tossed it in the large trash can sitting in the corner of his enclosed porch, as if ridding himself of the bulb also discarded the disturbing memories permanently, and hurried to join John.

Their day went fast. They’d each found a costume they loved: John, a ghoul of disgusting proportions; and Perry, a very bloody looking zombie. They’d also picked up an array of fake tomb stones and bones to litter in Perry’s yard, to serve as decorations for the huge Halloween party they were planning.

“Stop by the library, would ya?” Perry asked on their way back to his house. “I had the librarian look up some historical information on my house and I need to pick it up.” He paused for a moment and almost continued, asking John if he believed in ghosts, but with a shake of his head he decided not to waste any more time on nonsense.

John raised his eyebrows at Perry’s undecided movements, but when he didn’t say anything more, he nodded consent and drove to the small, out-of-the-way library that served the town.

It took Perry less than ten minutes to retrieve the information he’d requested. John laughed hysterically as he watched his friend come stumbling out of the local library, weighed down with books and printouts of old newspapers.

“Are you writing a book series?” John teased as he leaned over and pushed open the truck door for Perry. “Looks like you have enough research there for five!”

Scowling, Perry managed to maneuver himself, and his load, into the truck. “I didn’t know they’d find this much. Now I feel like I’m back in school!”

John laughed again, shook his head, and drove them back to Perry’s place. They unloaded all their Halloween “goodies” and discussed the party briefly before John left; he had to work early the next day and he knew Perry was itching to get at the materials he’d picked up from the library.

For the next few days Perry poured over the books and old newspaper articles, learning about his new house and its history. He wanted to get through as much of it as possible before the party, and before he had to start his new job; he would begin his career as a website designer the second week of November. The information the librarian had gleaned was very interesting. Apparently the house he was living in used to be a small time, bar-like establishment. It was known for its many visitors of “questionable virtue” and after reading some of the articles, he knew that meant men who lived outside the law. A couple of people had even been murdered in the house, which made him again think of the occurrences in the basement.

One picture particularly interested him. It was taken on October 31st of 1872, according to the notation under the photo. The player piano was in it, but the photograph had been taken in his living room. The people in the photo looked like the ones he’d thought he’d seen in the basement, but he couldn’t be sure because most of them were wearing festive masks depicting demons. The clothing style was the same, as were the bottles and tankards, but he figured what happened could still have been just his imagination. After all, he’d seen plenty of the same in old movies.

The article beneath the picture spoke briefly about the Halloween party, and how wild they’d gotten, referring to a couple of “rough men” who were believed to have been associated with the occult. As he read on, he was disappointed to find that most of the article was missing due to the photocopier running out of toner, at least that’s what he ascertained from the spotty black ink on the rest of the page. With a crocked grin, he looked back at the photo, thinking it would be great to show it to John, since they too were having a Halloween party in the house. As he laid the paper aside, he didn’t notice the date on the top—for the article—was for November 1st, 1872, or that the rest of the article was printed clearly on the back telling of the horrible events of the night of that party, and how no one who’d attended had ever been seen again.

On the night of October 30th, Perry lay down in bed, excited about the party that would take place the following evening. Thoughts swirled through his head about all that needed to be done, and about a certain woman he’d invited, hoping she’d attend. Even with these thoughts it didn’t take his exhausted body long to fall asleep.

Shortly after midnight, icy hands gripped Perry’s ankles and fingernails penetrated his flesh like icicles, startling him out of his warm cocoon of sleep.

He cried out and struggled, feeling hot, slick, wet blood seep from his wounds and soak into his bed, but his efforts didn’t deter the grip that was dragging him out of bed with astounding force and strength. He screamed and grabbed at the sheets, blankets, and mattress, trying to save himself, to no avail.

He hit the floor with a hard, resounding smack. His head bounced off the hardwood with a loud thud that almost knocked him unconscious; blood gushed out of a gash on his head from where it had hit the metal bedframe during the struggle, falling into his eyes, and making the floor slick. Blinking rapidly, he tried to stay awake and twisted around to get a glimpse of who was assaulting him.

“Stop!” he yelled. “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”

There was no answer, no reply to his desperation and pleas.

The darkness prevented him from seeing anyone or anything, and the more he struggled the tighter the grip on his ankles became; he heard his bones crack and felt the shards of their splinters escaping the encasement of his flesh. Crying out from the pain, and imagining that his ankles now looked like pin cushions because of the protruding bones, Perry tried to grab onto anything he could, but it was no use. Every time he would get a grip on something his attacker would either yank him so hard that eventually his fingers broke with loud pops or he would be lifted slightly into the air and slammed back down onto the floor until he let go.

The violence continued as he was dragged down the stairs, and Perry suffered so much head trauma that by the time he was on the first floor the world around him was nothing more than a blur seen through drops of blood, flowing from multiple gashes all over his bruised head. And as he was dragged toward the kitchen—where he left a light on all night—he saw that no one and nothing was there; he was being attacked by an invisible force and thought for the first time that he might have been wrong about ghosts.

He heard the piano playing downstairs and laughter with it. What’s going on? he thought before he was finally knocked completely unconscious by a battering from the basement stairs.

Perry regained awareness slowly. He was lying on the cold basement floor in nothing but his boxer shorts. He shivered and tried to curl into a ball to conserve his body heat.

A harsh male laugh barked behind him, making him jump.

Turning his head sharply, he beheld a group of seven men and two women. They were all dressed in clothes from the 1800s. He blinked and frowned. His head hurt beyond belief and his hips, legs, and ankles throbbed. Weak and disoriented, he couldn’t focus or speak.

Desperation soon overcame his weakness when he saw them moving toward him. They didn’t have legs, but floated a foot and a half above the stone floor. The closer they got to him the more transparent they became. Frantically, he tried to crawl toward the stairs, hissing and whimpering at the pain in his ankles and head, but didn’t make it.

Cold seeped into his body, causing him to shiver more violently, as the “spirits” came closer, surrounding him and laughing.

“Sweet hot blood…” one of the men said.

“…and meat!” one of the women exclaimed and cackled.

“What should we do with him?” another of one of the men asked.

“Let’s eat him,” the first man said.

“Wasn’t he going to have a party tonight?” another feminine voice asked almost coyly. “Maybe we should possess him and have our fill of the guests!”

The group laughed and jeered in agreement; many to feast upon was better than one.

One-by-one the spirits drifted over Perry and sank into his body.

He screamed as his body temperature dropped and he felt his consciousness being forced deeper and deeper inside himself. He knew no one would hear him, but he still called out for help. Even if he had been lucky and someone did come to his aid, he knew there was nothing anyone could do.

“He’s damaged!” one of the women said inside him. “Someone will notice!”

“She’s right, you know,” said the other feminine voice. “We’ll have to clean him up.”

“I’ve got it,” one of the men said with a laugh. “I’ll have him fixed up momentarily!”

Perry convulsed in excruciating pain as his frigid body popped and snapped, healing itself of the wounds which had been inflicted upon him during the attack.

“Lovely,” the first female voice sighed.

“Please stop,” Perry cried out from the box inside himself he’d been pressed into; his consciousness was pushed back and he had no control over his body, but he could still feel everything that happened to his physical self. “Kill me, but don’t torture me like this… Please!”

“Oh, shut up!” one of the men yelled and the rest of the unwelcome spirits inhabiting Perry’s body laughed.

“What should we do with him until the party?” one of the male voices asked.

“He’s still all bloody… Why don’t we give him a bath?” asked one of the female voices.

“Oh, yes,” said the other female voice with a giggle.

“You ladies have your fun, but I want no part of it,” a male voice said with slight amusement and a bit of disgust.

The females giggled again and Perry felt himself rising up to a standing position. Awkwardly his body ascended the stairs and he noted that he could see everything around him, but still had no say or control over his body.

Before he was ready, they were in the bathroom and his shorts were being removed.

“My, my, what do we have here?” one of the female voices asked snidely. “Seems we have a naked man to play with.”

“Share!” the other female voice yelled. “You get one hand and I get the other.”

Perry could feel the women becoming more prominent in his body and the male entities slipped back and almost felt like they were sleeping.

“All right, all right,” the first female voice said. “I’ll share.”

They both giggled as they shut the door to the bathroom and found a full length mirror hanging on the door.

“Oh, what fun!” the second female voice squealed.

“Yes, indeed,” the other said with smug satisfaction.

Soon Perry’s hands were traveling all over his body, doing things to himself against his will.

“Please stop!” he groaned from deep within as he was forced to watch and feel what the female spirits were doing to him.

“Don’t you like it, luv?” one voice asked, and both the females laughed.

“Stop!” he screamed, but they just continued to laugh at him.

It took over an hour for them to play games with him and molest him in the shower, after which he felt more dirty than clean; they’d done unimaginable things to his body.

Later that day, John arrived to help with the Halloween party, letting himself in with the key Perry had given him when there was no response to his knock. As he turned from shutting the door, he spotted Perry standing silently at the top of the stairway in his zombie costume.

“Hey, man,” John said, as he jumped in startled surprise. “You scared the crap out of me!” He looked his friend over and grinned. “You’re costume is intense, but I thought we weren’t going to change until after we had things set up for the party.”

Perry’s body just stood there with its eyes staring down at John while the spirits inside argued about how to answer the question and handle this “newcomer”; they finally came to a decision.

“Hello, Earth to Perry,” John said, looking slightly worried and confused at the foot of the stairs. “You okay, man?”

“I’m fine,” Perry’s voice said, being controlled by one of the males. “I was excited and decided to don my festive apparel early.”

“You sound strange,” John said, his confused frown deepening. “What’s with all the ‘don my festive apparel’ shit? You sound old or something.”

Perry’s face sneered at John behind the zombie make-up as he descended the stairs toward him. When he reached the bottom step his arm shot out and he wrapped his hand around John’s throat, squeezing and lifting him off his feet.

“You’re a cheeky bloke,” a strange masculine voice said, using Perry’s mouth, no longer trying to disguise himself. “I don’t like being called old!”

John dropped the bags of stuff he was carrying and tried to pry the strong hand from his throat so he could breathe; he kicked and clawed at Perry’s hand and arm as he was lifted off the floor.

“Now we have to do something with him,” Perry heard one of the male voices say as they again began talking internally to each other.

“It is crowded in here,” another said, “maybe some of us should possess him, so we’ll have more space to move around and breathe!”

The other voices agreed and started to argue about who would go and who would stay. Perry broke into their argument…

“If you are going to do something, do it soon!” he yelled. “Otherwise you’ll kill my friend and have nowhere to go!”

The voices quieted for a moment and Perry’s hand loosened slightly on John’s throat, allowing him strained breathing rather than none at all.

“I think Ginger, Frank, Paul, and Peter should go,” one of the female voices said.

It was the first time Perry had heard them refer to each other by name and listened carefully. Something about the names seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place them. Then it hit him. Those were some of the names of the people who’d attended the Halloween party in the old newspaper article. He wished now, more than ever, that he’d been able to read the end of the article, so he could know what had happened, and was going to happen.

They argued some more and then Perry felt his small containment area expand. Four of the spirits drifted out of his body and into John’s, who was instantly released. He fell gasping to the floor and started thrashing around, screaming and clutching at his body. Finally he stilled and looked around with eyes that weren’t his own.

Perry cringed and whispered, “Sorry, my friend.” He wished John hadn’t gotten involved, and more than anything he wished he would have mentioned what had happened in the basement a few days before, thinking this wouldn’t have happened if he’d acknowledged it. He also thought about the horrible experience he’d had earlier in the bathroom and hoped his friend wouldn’t have to endure something similar when he changed into his costume; as if reading his thoughts, the female spirit who was still inside him laughed softly.

“He might like it, luv,” she said. “After all, you seemed to enjoy some of it.” She cackled with a perverse laugh and Perry didn’t respond.

It didn’t take the spirits long to master the control they had over Perry and John, and they extracted from their brains and thoughts all the things that needed to be done to prepare for the party; they’d just finished when the first guest arrived.

Nicole Winters—the tall, raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty who lived just down the street—stood on the porch with her coat hanging slightly open. Perry heart sank when he was forced to open the door and let her in. She smiled broadly, sporting a sexy fairy costume that would have made him drool if he hadn’t been possessed by crazy entities from the past; some of the comments the male ones were making about her made him panic and try to take back control.

“Run, Nicole!” Perry screamed. “Run!”

But of course, she couldn’t hear him, he still couldn’t control any part of his body, including his vocal cords.

“Shut up, you,” one of the males growled. “We’ll have our fun with this little tart and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Thanks for inviting me, Perry,” Nicole said, stepping inside and sliding off her coat, revealing more of her costume, or lack thereof. Most of it was sheer and see through; the male spirits were going wild.

“Ever seen any dressin’s like ‘em, fellas?” one of them asked.

“No, but I’d like to tear them off with my teeth and devour what’s underneath!” another exclaimed.

John entered the hallway, coming from the kitchen, and Perry saw a reflection in his eyes of what he was hearing within.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Perry’s pleasant voice said, as his hand was placed on her butt and he squeezed.

Nicole gasped and giggled, giving him a wink. “I wouldn’t have missed it. I love Halloween parties. They give me an excuse to dress up.” She was pressing herself against his body now and practically purring with wicked intent in her eyes.

“Oh, yeah, boys,” one of the voices said. “We’re gonna have us a slice of that Heaven.”

They all laughed.

Perry cringed and wished there was something he could do to stop all this, but he couldn’t think of anything.

John walked down the hall toward them and pressed up against Nicole from the back, trapping her between them. He bent forward and whispered something in her ear that Perry didn’t catch. He knew it wasn’t John doing any of it, but he still felt betrayed for some strange reason.

Nicole jerked and struggled, trying to break free, just before her personality flipped and she giggled and sighed, accepting the attention from both men. Perry and John realized instantly when their containment expanded slightly that the female spirits had both moved into Nicole’s body. She began to wiggle against and grope both of the men and pouted when someone knocked on the front door.

“Bloody hell!” she growled. “All these interruptions are spoiling our fun!”

Both of the possessed men laughed. None of them were themselves any longer and just watched and felt everything that happened around them.

Guests continued to arrive for the next forty-five minutes and none of them knew a thing about what was going on. If Nicole, John, or Perry did something strange, the guests would just shrug it off, assuming they’d already started drinking.

A couple times Nicole disappeared from the room with John, and a couple of times she left with Perry. No one really noticed, but Perry was devastated; he really liked and cared for Nicole, and the damned possessing spirts were making them both do tainted and lewd things to each other. He didn’t even want to think about what she was doing with John, knowing it was probably just as bad or worse.

“Why are you doing this to us?” Perry asked as he was again entering the living room where the party was, after being with Nicole. “Why not just kill us? Why play with us like this first?”

“Well, you see…” one of the voices started in a teasing manner.

“Don’t tell ‘im!” another barked. “Then he’ll know!”

“What does it matter if he knows?” another asked. “He can’t do anything about it.”

“Just shut up, you,” the second voice ordered. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

Everything kept moving smoothly along until around midnight, and then Perry’s mouth announced that he wanted to show everyone the player piano in the basement. They were intrigued, so like cattle the twenty-three people at the party (including Perry, John, and Nicole) went down into the basement; Nicole was the last one and she shut the door tightly behind herself.

“What’s going on?” Perry asked from deep within himself. “Why did you bring everyone down here?”

“Shut up!” all the voices barked at him.

Everyone was ohing and ahing over the piano while Perry, John, and Nicole stood at the base of the stairs. No one saw their eyes glow bright red, and no one saw the humans’ bodies transform into red scaled monsters with vicious long claws and mouths full of long, sharp teeth. But they did hear the panting and growling that emanated from them; the guests all turned and screamed.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had human flesh,” the once Nicole growled, running her long black tongue across her teeth. “I want the first bite.”

Both the beings who were once John and Perry growled and stepped forward.

The crowd cringed and moved backwards, pressing themselves against the far wall.

The Nicole-demon lunged forward, and with one clamp down of her jaws, she ripped a woman’s head clean off. Blood dripped from her mouth and onto the floor as she chewed the skull and slurped out the brains within before swallowing it all. The woman’s body fell to the floor and her blood began to drain out onto the stones. Instantly a pentagram made of flames appeared on the floor, encompassing the entire room; the body burned and dissolved to nothing in the fire.

More and more bodies joined the first as limbs were torn from torsos and hips, devoured by the bodies that had earlier been possessed and were now transformed. They gorged themselves on the flesh of the frightened, screaming guests and didn’t stop until they were all dead.

The three stood in the center of the pentagram panting. Their eyes were ablaze with adrenaline and their bodies were covered in the guts and blood they’d spilt.

“It’s time for the last three,” a deep, growling voice said from beneath them as the floor disappeared and turned into a raging, licking fire.

“Yes, master,” the three growled.

The female spirits left the body of Nicole they’d inhabited, and instantly it turned back into the human form with Nicole at the helm once again.

She blinked in confusion and screamed as her body began to burn. Soon there was nothing left of her; the same happened to both of the men.

Once they were consumed the floor reappeared and the fire was gone. The spirits floated in the air, looking at each other.

“I guess that pays our debt to Hell for a few more years,” one of the females said.

“Yes,” a male said with a laugh. “Happy Halloween!”

Days passed and none of the cars in front of Perry’s house moved. Neighbors became angry and then concerned. The police were called and they finally contacted Perry’s family when they couldn’t reach him.

A search ensued for Perry, John, and all of the others, to no avail.

When nothing and no one was found, Perry’s house was emptied and sold.

No one noticed the newspaper article from long ago when it was thrown into the trash, and no one knew to be afraid of what lurked in the basement, waiting for the next Halloween.

Rebecca Besser is the author of Nurse Blood. She is a member of the International Thriller Writers Organization. She has been published hundreds of times in magazines, ezines, anthologies, educational books, on blogs, and more in the areas of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction for a variety of age groups and genres. Her nonfiction article on skydiving was picked up by McGraw-Hill for NY Assessments. One of her poems for children was chosen for an early reader book from Oxford University Press (India). Her short story, P.C., was included in Anything But Zombies! published by Atria Books (digital imprint of Simon & Schuster).

Rebecca’s main focus has been on horror works for adults. She writes zombie works, suspenseful thrillers, and other dark fiction related to the horror genre/community. She has also edited multiple books in these genres.

Amazon Author Page

Halloween Extravaganza: INTERVIEW: Rebecca Besser

megHan

Meghan: Hi, Rebecca. Welcome to Meghan’s House of Books, and thank you for agreeing to take part in our Halloween Extravaganza. Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Rebecca Besser: Hi, I’m Becca. A wife, mother, and author. I write mostly dark fiction, but have been published in poetry, nonfiction, and fiction for all ages (children – adult). I like to read, watch movie, and cook.

Meghan: What are five things most people don’t know about you?

Rebecca Besser:

  • I’m a sometimes goat midwife, since my son has a small mini-goat farm.
  • I’m a published photographer.
  • I was homeschooled after 6th grade.
  • I’ve been to Israel twice, and have also visited Rome and Holland (all before I was 16).
  • I snore.

Meghan: What is the first book you remember reading?

Rebecca Besser: The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White

Meghan: What are you reading now?

Rebecca Besser: The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

Meghan: What’s a book you really enjoyed that others wouldn’t expect you to have liked?

Rebecca Besser: That’s a hard one… I read a large variety of books and genres. I’ll go with The Shack by William P. Young.

Meghan: What made you decide you want to write?

Rebecca Besser: I have been writing for as long as I can remember. I won an award for a story when I was in 1st grade. But, I signed up for my writing course with the Institute of Children’s Literature after I had a miscarriage. Writing ended up being good therapy for me.

Meghan: When did you begin writing?

Rebecca Besser: Writing for serious? Like trying to get published? About 12 years ago. So, around 2007.

Meghan: Do you have a special place you like to write?

Rebecca Besser: At home, on my laptop. Usually in my living room, on my couch/recliner.

Meghan: Do you have any quirks or processes that you go through when you write?

Rebecca Besser: No, not really. I do like it when my house is quiet and I know I won’t be interrupted.

Meghan: Is there anything about writing you find most challenging?

Rebecca Besser: Finding the time to do it. My family is important to me, so I give them a lot of my time.

Meghan: What’s the most satisfying thing you’ve written so far?

Rebecca Besser: I’ve written a number of articles for Super Teacher Worksheets. One of those articles was about my husband and his job. Writing that was pretty satisfying, especially knowing that it will help educate children.

Meghan: What books have most inspired you?

Rebecca Besser: As a writer? I can’t think of any in particular. I love all kinds of books, writing styles, and story-telling formats. You can learn for any book, even a bad one.

Meghan: Who are some authors that have inspired your writing style?

Rebecca Besser: I’ve never tried to pattern my writing story after another writer. Writing style, I believe, is something unique to each and every writer. No two writers can tell the same story, because their insight and style change everything.

Meghan: What do you think makes a good story?

Rebecca Besser: A good story needs to be told well, easy to follow for the reader, and be interesting. If you can easily entertain and captivate your reader, your story will be loved regardless of the content/genre.

Meghan: What does it take for you to love a character?

Rebecca Besser: I need the character to seem as real as possible. I want to forget I’m reading about a fictional person and actually think I’m reading about a real person.

Meghan: How do you utilize that when creating your characters?

Rebecca Besser: I try to make my characters seem as real as possible. I want them to have quirks, realistic dialogue, and seem like someone you could walk past on the street at any moment.

Meghan: Which, of all your characters, do you think is the most like you?

Rebecca Besser: Oh, that’s an easy one, since I actually wrote a short story with the main characters based on myself and my husband. The story is entitled, “My Kind of Woman,” and can be found in my zombie short story collection, Twisted Pathways of Murder & Death. I named her Brooke.

Meghan: Are you turned off by a bad cover?

Rebecca Besser: Sometimes. But if I find the blurb for the book interesting, I will probably still read it. Some really great books have bad cover. Also, some really bad books have great covers. Covers don’t always represent the book well.

Meghan: To what degree were you involved in creating your book covers?

Rebecca Besser: For my self-published works, I create my own covers using stock art, but sometimes I have an artist do an original cover. Undead Drive-Thru’s covers (both versions) were done by artist, Justin T. Coons. Also, my Nurse Blood novel was inspired by one of his original paintings, which I bought from him and now own. Nurse Blood’s current cover (with Limitless Publishing) is based on some pictures I found on the internet.

Mostly though, I do my own covers.

Meghan: What have you learned creating your books?

Rebecca Besser: I’ve learned to create and format book covers, edit, and do eBook and paperback internal formatting. I can do it all because I worked with some small presses years back and learned a lot about indie publishing overall.

Meghan: What has been the hardest scene for you to write so far?

Rebecca Besser: In an anthology entitled, Fading Hope: Humanity Unbound, my story, “When Plans Fail,” has a scene that was hard to write. The book was about hopelessness. My story was set in the zombie apocalypse. The characters were a young mother and her infant. The mother was bitten when she attempted to get supplies, mainly food, and she tried to take the baby and find someone to care for it. Unfortunately, she didn’t find anyone before she started to turn. She didn’t want to eat her own child… so she ended the baby’s life so she wouldn’t hurt it and it wouldn’t suffer and starve to death.

That was hard to write, and I imagine it was hard for the reader to read.

Meghan: What makes your books different from others out there in this genre?

Rebecca Besser: I try to stay away from the mainstream norms of the genres. Nurse Blood is an organ harvesting thriller, which isn’t a huge genre. For zombies, I try to do stories with themes I haven’t seen, heard of, or read before. My Zpoc Exception Series (ebooks) is based on characters that are immune to whatever is making people zombies. They get bitten, they get sick for a time, and then they’re fine. Undead Drive-Thru only had one zombie in the entire book. Undead Regeneration, the sequel, has zombies, but not at apocalypse level.

Meghan: How important is the book title, how hard is it to choose the best one, and how did you choose yours (of course, with no spoilers)?

Rebecca Besser: I used to really struggle with titles, but I’ve gotten better. I decided the title needs to have something to do with the book, like I’m summing up the entire book/story in just a few words. That’s incredibly hard. I usually have a few working titles and pick one when the book/story is complete. It really helps if I can take a line or phrase out of the actual work to use as a title, but that rarely happens. You also have to make sure the title actually sounds interesting so you can catch people’s attention. Because, you know, it isn’t hard enough already.

Meghan: What makes you feel more fulfilled: Writing a novel or writing a short story?

Rebecca Besser: I feel fulfilled if the story is told well. It doesn’t matter the length of the work. Making everything make sense in a way that will engage and grab the reader is fulfilling always, no matter what the work is. I really enjoy when I can make things clever in a way that there’s this huge “Ah-ha!” moment, especially at the end.

Meghan: Tell us a little bit about your books, your target audience, and what you would like readers to take away from your stories.

Rebecca Besser: Undead Drive-Thru and Undead Regeneration are Scifi zombie books about a man who comes home, turns into a zombie and is protected by his wife—she keeps him as kind of a pet. Things go bad. People get hurt. Things happen and lives are changed.

Nurse Blood is a serial killer organ harvesting thriller. A group of a couple medical professionals, a couple thugs, and a black market dealer kill and part out people for money. That, and they have a warped sense of righteousness, because they’re killing one person to save many lives (depending on how many organs they get from their victim).

Twisted Pathways of Murder & Death is a short story collection of various horror stories, from broken humanity to monsters.

Zombies Inside is a short story collection of various zombie short stories I’ve had in anthologies (there’s a brief history of each story after it in the book). That was also has a short story by guest author, Courtney Rene.

Zpoc Exception Series: Re-Civilize series is currently available in eBook only, and is about the few among the many that are immune to whatever is turning people into zombies. Thus far, there are four character books available that start from the outbreak to where they meet. I’ll do a novel series also, with all the characters together after that point, when they’re turned into a team to help re-civilize the world for humanity after the zpoc (zombie apocalypse).

Hall of Twelve is a short story Scifi horror eBook about monster from a different dimension who come to Earth to use humans for food.

Curse Bounty is a short story western zombie story about outlaws that rob a bank. When the sheriff asks for help tracking them down, he’s given help from a zombie bounty hunter.

Heart of a Soldier is a short story YA Scifi story about love, healing, and hope.

My main audience is anywhere from YA to adult. I like to provoke people to think, to ask themselves what they would do in the characters’ situations. At the same time, I want to entertain people.

Meghan: Can you tell us about some of the deleted scenes/stuff that got left out of your work?

Rebecca Besser: There’s not usually much I take out. Nurse Blood has a missing flashback for Roger, because the publisher insisted I take down the word count a bit. Otherwise, you usually get it all.

Meghan: What is in your “trunk”?

Rebecca Besser: I have idea journals with so many ideas they’re too vast to put here. But, even if they weren’t, I don’t share my unwritten ideas with many people, at least not until I start writing or am at least halfway done.

I was told once to never throw any drafts away, even if things change majorly in the story, because one day you could use those bits or ideas to write something else. I have a bunch of those in a writing folder on my comp somewhere too.

Meghan: What can we expect from you in the future?

Rebecca Besser: Scary stuff. Stories that are hard to read because they question morality and the reader’s humanity.

Meghan: Where can we find you?

Rebecca Besser: I make it easy to find me, since everything has a version of my name.

Website ** Blog ** Facebook ** Twitter ** Instagram

Meghan: Do you have any closing words for your fans or anything you’d like to say that we didn’t get to cover in this interview?

Rebecca Besser: Thank you for having me on your blog and including me in your event!

Also, thank you to all the readers that love my work—you inspire me when things get hard.

Rebecca Besser is the author of Nurse Blood. She is a member of the International Thriller Writers Organization. She has been published hundreds of times in magazines, ezines, anthologies, educational books, on blogs, and more in the areas of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction for a variety of age groups and genres. Her nonfiction article on skydiving was picked up by McGraw-Hill for NY Assessments. One of her poems for children was chosen for an early reader book from Oxford University Press (India). Her short story, P.C., was included in Anything But Zombies! published by Atria Books (digital imprint of Simon & Schuster).

Rebecca’s main focus has been on horror works for adults. She writes zombie works, suspenseful thrillers, and other dark fiction related to the horror genre/community. She has also edited multiple books in these genres.

Amazon Author Page

Halloween Extravaganza: Suzanne Madron: A Night on the Town with a Voodoo Vampire

megHan

A Night on the Town with a Voodoo Vampire
or, How I discovered My Halloween Parties’
Signature Drink

Some things stick in the sieve of my brain better than others. This particular piece of mental debris has clung to the inside of my skull and followed me from my time in Philly to where my travels eventually brought me. It’s a night that ended up infiltrating my Halloween party tradition.

It was a random night and one I chose to turn into yet another one of my infamous South Street Pub Crawls. They usually consisted of me announcing to anyone I happened to be near that I was wandering down South Street in Philly and drinking in every establishment I came across until I either found one I liked enough to sit in for more than one drink or had enough exercise and alcohol to get to sleep. My days in Philly were dark days.

Earlier that evening I had wandered down into Olde City, not necessarily in search of adventure or as I came to look upon it afterwards, misadventure, but there I was, sitting in a bar fashioned after a New Orleans Mardi Gras pitstop. I was already three bar visits deep, so I wasn’t necessarily looking for something to drink more than I was looking for ambiance and a place to relax and write. The bartender was nowhere in sight when I sat down, in fact, the entire place was empty except for me. I took a seat at the bar and admired the carved wood with mirror backdrop, then opened my notebook and started to write.

He appeared out of nowhere. One minute I was alone, the next minute there was this guy sitting next to me watching me write. And before we even go there, no, he didn’t have an accent, and as far as I know he wasn’t a vampire. Unfortunately.

We started chatting and then the bartender came back from whatever tear in space and time bartenders and waitresses go to when no one’s looking. My companion asked for a drink recommendation. The bartender smiled and said, “The Voodoo Vampire is popular.” I no longer remember the exact measurements from that night, I only know it’s a blend of vodka, Chambourd, Grenadine, and cranberry juice. I suspect my version of it may be stronger than what was served to us that night.

After watching the bartender mix up this intriguing blend, I asked him to make me one, too. And so it began…

My friend and I wandered through Olde City, and more people joined us along the way like some sort of pied piper of drunkenness. We spread the word of the vampire and ended up bringing the entire entourage back to the vampire bar with us to round out the night with a final drink.

Fast forward over a decade to my annual Halloween parties and the signature mixed drink that is just as charming and as dangerous as an actual vampire might be. The drink that united a band of inebriated misfits on the streets of Philadelphia. A drink that will leave you drained and half-dead the next morning if you dance too long and too far with it, and that’s the Voodoo Vampire.

Suzanne Madron is originally from the Bronx, NY, but grew up in northeastern Pennsylvania. Yes, the woodsy part. No, the other woodsy part. No, not the one with the pterodactyl sightings, the other one with the re-enactors.

When not writing horror, Suzanne writes hard-boiled noir and speculative fiction under the pseudonym James Glass and post apocalyptic stories under the name Xircon. Currently she lives on a battlefield with her husband and son in the less woodsy part of Pennsylvania. YEs, her house is most likely haunted.

Halloween Extravaganza: INTERVIEW: Kenneth W. Cain

megHan

Meghan: Hi, Kenneth. It’s been awhile since we sat down together. What’s been going on since we last spoke?

Kenneth W. Cain: Yes, it has, and thank you so much for having me again. It’s been a busy year, not unlike last year, but different. I’ve taken on more editorial work as of late, working for some new publishers like In Your Face Publishing and Silver Shamrock Publishing. There’s some good opportunities coming for writers out there, so stay tuned.

Meghan: Who are you outside of writing?

Kenneth W. Cain: That’s a difficult question, as I’m not sure I really know anymore. I’ve been doing a bit of soul-searching on that question as of late, actually. I like to think I’m a good listener, in part because I care about most everyone I meet. I’m a bit of a bleeding heart, and I believe in treating people as I would have them treat me, so I strive to respect people, even when that favor isn’t returned. I guess I’m just a bit of an old hippie.

Meghan: How do you feel about friends and close relatives reading your work?

Kenneth W. Cain: Nervous. I’ve made huge strides in my writing career, yet that has never changed. I often feel ashamed of my writing, that it’s lacking too much, that I’m a hack. It’s quite difficult to turn that off, the critic, but that’s likely also part of why I’m making those leaps to begin with.

Meghan: Is being a writer a gift or a curse?

Kenneth W. Cain: Well, it’s both. It takes a lot of talent to write something good, so I have the utmost respect for anyone who does. But it’s not a great paying gig, so in that respect it’s a curse. And people can fling a 1-star review at you in seconds, after months (maybe years) of hard work. Also, it’s hard to turn off. I’m ALWAYS thinking about writing. ALWAYS.

Meghan: How has your environment and upbringing colored your writing?

Kenneth W. Cain: I grew up in more of sports-related family. It was expected I would be playing Major League Baseball by now, but that wasn’t in the cards for one reason or another. I guess I’m lucky I took an interest in writing when I did, or I might not have that to rely on. It’s been the best job I’ve had, though my boss is always nagging me. ☺

Meghan: What’s the strangest thing you have ever had to research for your books?

Kenneth W. Cain: I was actually just thinking about this the other day. Someone asked on Facebook or Twitter and it got me thinking. I’m not really sure. I’ve researched an ungodly amount of harrowing topics, but perhaps my research on Nazi Germany was the most terrifying. I wouldn’t say strange—not at first—but things pop up that shock the hell out of you. Then, next thing you know, you’re diving down a rabbit hole for hours on end, jotting notes about this and that, wondering if there’s a story there.

Meghan: Which do you find the hardest to write: the beginning, the middle, or the end?

Kenneth W. Cain: The beginning. Most stories start in the wrong place, so that’s the first challenge.

Meghan: Do you outline? Do you start with characters or plot? Do you just sit down and start writing? What works best for you?

Kenneth W. Cain: I’m a pantser, so I’m always flying by the seat of my pants. That means I know as much as the reader, and I do think that helps me determine whether a scene is working or not at times.

Meghan: What do you do when characters don’t follow the outline/plan?

Kenneth W. Cain: I celebrate. Tear down the walls. Draw outside of the lines. Be different. It’s a lot like real life, unpredictable at times, as it should be. We should celebrate our differences. Grow from them. Same with our characters.

Meghan: What do you do to motivate yourself to sit down and write?

Kenneth W. Cain: I sit and write. Nothing more to it. Though, without my morning coffee, I might be lost.

Meghan: Are you an avid reader?

Kenneth W. Cain: Slow, but yes. I’m always listening to podcasts that have stories or audiobooks, or reading my Kindle, and I’m typically editing at least one book by another writer, so there’s that too. I wish I was a faster reader though, because I’m ungodly slow, and my TBR pile is through the roof.

Meghan: What kind of books do you absolutely love to read?

Kenneth W. Cain: I like reading in my genre mostly, but I like self-help books and Sci-Fi. Space operas and such.

Meghan: How do you feel about movies based on books?

Kenneth W. Cain: Some work, most don’t. People will crucify me for this, but I thought The Count of Monte Cristo was better than the book. Same with The Postman.

Meghan: Have you ever killed a main character?

Kenneth W. Cain: Too often, I suppose. Sometimes, you don’t have a choice. I’m currently shopping a novel where the main characters all die somewhere in the middle of the story. Don’t worry. It will make sense when you finally read it.

Meghan: Do you enjoy making your characters suffer?

Kenneth W. Cain: Absolutely. Suffering is part of life. It’s part of growth. We learn from our mistakes. Our characters are no different.

Meghan: What’s the weirdest character concept that you’ve ever come up with?

Kenneth W. Cain: I recently wrote a flash piece from the POV of a tree. I guess that’s kind of strange.

Meghan: What’s the best piece of feedback you’ve ever received? What’s the worst?

Kenneth W. Cain: I’ve had a lot of great writers pay me compliments, and that’s been humbling. Very much so. But I try not to focus on those things, as they can distract from growing as a writer. But if I had to pick one, it was being compared to Matheson. I mean, that’s pretty awesome for me. Not so much for him.

The worst was an early rejection that informed me I should never write again. And I almost listened to her, too. Her rejection has a lot to do with how I carry myself in this industry now. It was a highly unprofessional response.

Meghan: What do your fans mean to you?

Kenneth W. Cain: I love to hear from them. Love to get notes, reviews, blog posts. It’s overwhelming. I’m completely honored anyone is taking the time to read my writing.

Meghan: If you could steal one character from another author and make them yours, who would it be and why?

Kenneth W. Cain: Ig from Joe Hill’s Horns. He’s just a well-rounded character. I feel like I really got to know him better than most characters.

Meghan: If you could write the next book in a series, which one would it be, and what would you make the book about?

Kenneth W. Cain: Koontz’s Frankenstein series. First off, I LOVE the original. Shelley was a master. Second, it’s an awesome series with some really cool concepts.

Meghan: If you could write a collaboration with another author, who would it be and what would you write about?

Kenneth W. Cain: I’ve been asked to collab with a few, but haven’t gotten into it so much. It could be fun, and I’d like to try it, but the writing styles would have to gel. And the personalities. My list would be long as to who I’d like to collab with. A better question might be, who wouldn’t I want to collab with?

Meghan: What can we expect from you in the future?

Kenneth W. Cain: If I can sell everything I’m shopping around right now, you’re looking at two new short story collections, a novella, two novels, and several short stories (a couple of which have already been sold). October saw two of those short stories out, though one is a reprint for a charity anthology.

Meghan: Where can we find you?

Kenneth W. Cain: All my social media links are on my website. Check it out. Stay a while.

Meghan: Do you have any closing words for your fans or anything you’d like to say that we didn’t get to cover in this interview or the last?

Kenneth W. Cain: Mostly, thank you for having me… again. And to all my readers, I’d say what I always say: Pleasant nightmares.

Kenneth W. Cain is a prolific author with four novels, four short story collections, four novellas, and several children’s books among his body of work. He is the editor for Crystal Lake Publishing‘s Tales From the Lake Volume 5 and When the Clock Strikes 13. The winner of the 2017 Silver Hammer Award, Cain is an active member of the Horror Writer’s Association, as well as a volunteer for the membership committee and chair of the Pennsylvania chapter. Cain resides in Chester County, Pennsylvania with his wife and two children.