Books and TV

Photo by Debbie Safran

I recently had the surreal experience of being featured on an episode of Paranormal Witness. The episode was based on my book In Stone, which was an account of a real-life event. I expected a lot of things. An acquaintance of mine said he doesn't do TV anymore, because they can edit it any way they like, and there is nothing you can do about it. I was a little bit terrified of what we had loosed into the world, but I had resigned myself to it in any case. When I finally watched the episode (Season 4, episode 11,When Hell Freezes Over) I was somewhat relieved. The only thing that was really contrived was the way it ended: With us fleeing to our Mom's house. I get why they did it. The episode needed to have a clear ending and our real story didn't end until three months after the ice storm. In reality, our Mom's place wasn't an option. We had three dogs (also left out of the episode) and our Mom lived in a condo where dogs weren't permitted. Seriously, if we could escape to Mom's, we would have done it a hell of a lot sooner.

I think it's interesting to see the TV version of our story. They actually left SO much out in the interest of time. I think they did a great job with the over-all feel of the experience, a great job portraying the cold, and the actors were pretty great too (wow...that little girl playing my daughter!), but some things are notably different. For one, it was a bit crazy-making to see everyone sitting around in the dark. NEVER would we have done that! We left lights on all the time, even overnight. We were terrified! Also, the house on the show looked pretty run down. Our house was really nice! Having said that, I fully understand how the dark, run down house would contribute to the aura of the story. It's funny though, how many people take TV so literally. I've noticed in some of the comments, people saying really nasty things about us for things that were actually artistic choices made by the show (like the low lighting) and had nothing to do with what really happened. It's a strange world! Of note, we also didn't share a car, and my daughter went to a Waldorf school, not a Catholic school. All irrelevant details, but examples of the difference between TV and real life.

All in all I think they did a pretty decent job. The toughest part for me was the absence of the dogs because they were such a big part of our lives and so much a part of how we coped with that experience. It felt a little empty without them there. I was concerned that the show might try and make things up, but they didn't, not at all. They did have to focus on only one aspect of what was happening though, and that meant a lot that we went through was excluded. Of course, that was necessary and expected. One of the things that TV doesn't tell you about real haunting is that it doesn't always make sense, there isn't always a tidy ending and people almost never behave rationally. It's an entirely irrational situation.

The episode was definitely an interesting step on the journey. When I wrote the book, I felt so responsible for telling the truth. I felt responsible to the people who lived the experience, the folks who so kindly helped to do research, the current resident of the home, so much responsibility to everyone involved. It was difficult to trust someone else with the story. I'm glad I did. I read comments about the book, about the episode, and so many of them are kind and supportive. I love that people have sent me messages on my author page and told me their stories. Sometimes I'm the first person they've told, and it's really emotional for them. I get it! I'm really grateful that I had the opportunity to do the show, and that the book has been so well-received. It's been such a healing process. I hope that by sharing my experience, I will continue to encourage others to do the same. It was a really difficult thing to hold on to. Oh, and for your viewing 'pleasure', here is a photo of the real me in the real house in '97 :-)

                                         

Paranormal

Photo: www.queeky.com

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
-Shakespeare (from Hamlet)

“The day science begins to study non-physical phenomena, it will make more progress in one decade than in all the previous centuries of its existence.”
― Nikola Tesla



I've had a lot of opportunities lately, to think about the paranormal. I'm going to assume that if you're reading this post that you've thought about it a bit yourself (and if you don't believe in the paranormal 1. You might want to stop reading and 2. I don't care, so you might as well go try to invalidate somebody else's trauma).

YIKES but that was snippy! While the mature, polite woman trapped inside me wants to be all apologetic for that last remark, most of me has more or less had it with being called names, and having people who weren't there tell me how lucky we were to live in a haunted house, and how THEY would have done it so much better than we did (and maybe they would have. So what). I really have no problem at all with folks who are genuinely skeptical though. I used to be too, so I totally get it. To be fair, I think most people fall into the 'skeptical' category. I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little envious of those who could hold an objective fascination and excitement around all things spooky, without remembering the fear that we felt. I think some people are so much better at it than others though. It's like, some folks can study big cats of the Serengeti and learn tons about them, get great photos and have exciting stories to tell, and others would go and get eaten by a lion. The unprepared and uninitiated (like we were) would likely fall into the second camp (especially since we never planned on going to the Serengeti, never wanted to go to the Serengeti, and weren't even fully aware that the Serengeti is where we had ended up).

While my interest in the subject has gone on long enough for me to understand the fascination and excitement experienced by others and the desire researchers have to learn more (I share that desire!), the experience was incredibly traumatic for us. I watch shows about it on television (in fact, our story will be on TV at the end of the year) and it either seems as though the goings-on are very dramatic and in your face, or tiny things (that are really open to interpretation) are attributed to paranormal forces. It always seems as though the people involved know just what to do, how to handle it, who to call. The reality was so different for us. I think it was a time/location thing (NOBODY talked much about that stuff  back then). Even today, most paranormal discussions have an element of the tongue in cheek, and while interesting, one rarely hears about what the impact might be on the human psyche.

My sister (a psychologist) who was there in the house with me, compares what happened to us with being in a psychologically abusive relationship. I don't care that we were were rarely touched (well, rarely, not never. Dawn and my daughter were scratched and bruised). To say we were unable to think clearly was the understatement of the century. We were always afraid; afraid to talk, afraid to make things worse. I don't care how many people say "Oh, it's harmless", we knew, KNEW it wasn't. We knew it on a cellular, visceral level. It's as harmless as any form of psychological abuse could be. And hey, I'm not minimizing abuse by saying so. I have been physically assaulted too, and what happened to us in the house was worse. Not only were we tormented, but we had no way to manage and understand what was happening to us. I can't begin to tell you what it's like to not even have full use of your own thoughts, and to live at that level of fear for six months. And we aren't alone.

One of the most touching things about coming forward with our story was the number of people who contacted me via my fan page to tell me their stories. It touched me because, in many cases, these were people who had had really traumatic things happen to them and I was the first person (a total stranger, no less) they felt comfortable talking to about it. I'm so, SO glad that they reached out, and I understand how hard it is to keep a secret like that. If I could have hugged each one of them personally, I would have. Having to keep the secret makes everything so much worse. But not keeping it can lead to ridicule, which I'm all too aware of. And that can feel like being traumatized all over again. Over this past year or so, I've more or less learned to take the 'Taylor Swift/Shake it Off' route, but it was something I had to learn and I needed a lot of help to do so. I still have tough days. The saddest thing though, is knowing there are still people out there who are suffering in silence. I'm planning to do something about that, hopefully by the end of the year. Not sure what yet, but I'll keep you posted.

Having said all that (and in spite of my previous, snippy comment), I have been really grateful for ALL the folks who have shown their support. The people who get excited about haunting and want to buy and live in haunted houses inspire ME to keep digging! I still want it all to make sense. My logical mind fully expects that we will understand paranormal phenomena someday, and it's the brave folks who get excited about it all that may be the first ones to sort it out. It's an unusual journey, for sure, but one I'm not done taking just yet.

Silver Lining

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I've had an awful week. There are different degrees of awful; sometimes it means annoying or hurtful, and other times it can mean SO much more. Some weeks seem to be specifically designed to tick all the stress-boxes, and this has been one of them. I don't like to talk about being disabled because I don't like that to be the focal point of my life. Weeks like this force me to stare long and hard at that  'monster' though, and now I'm mad as hell. One of the most difficult parts of being disabled is how vulnerable you are to the foibles and decisions of other people. It doesn't matter how conscientious and careful I am if somebody else's wrecking ball (accidental or intentional...same effect) can still trash my situation. And that's terrifying, because it's MY family that has to live with the mess. I've had a horrid week. It should be over by now, it really, really should, but it isn't. It's that last part that I can't live with.

Okay, I'm done whining. I won't lie and say I didn't call my mommy and cry to her like a freaking baby. I won't lie about the repeat performance I treated my daughter and my bestie to, either. I don't do 'helpless' well, and patience isn't a virtue I have (and in a situation like this it shouldn't be a virtue I NEED). But the emotional piece is now on a slow, rolling boil that I can live with (or make some tea from) and I have the grey matter reengaged.

What have I learned from this? Isn't that the point? What is the silver lining? Well, I've learned that I have options. Had I not been backed into a corner, I wouldn't have had the conversations that led me to that awareness. There's real value in that. Those conversations led to connections. More value. Sometimes the best new ideas are born from the lowest moments.  Well, DUH! Isn't In Stone the best lemonade I ever made (so far!)? I know how to make constructive use of adversity; it's like some magical kind of alchemy we all have access to. Sometimes being forced to consider one's options is the best thing that can ever happen to a person. I was also made aware of what I DO have, and that is a fabulous network of supportive people. It's easy to take those folks for granted, but times like these remind me that I am loved. There is nothing more valuable than that!

One of my friends likes to talk about how the world isn't fair and you have to take what you can get, but I don't accept that. Frankly, that's just pessimistic BS. But once upon a time I subscribed to that. And I tried to be polite and fair to my own detriment. It has lead to a lot of hardship for me. My mother always said that I was the only one who could change it, but I was always so afraid of being unfair or mean. While I believe that no matter what others do, it is our own behavior we are responsible for, I have learned that it's perfectly okay to advocate for yourself. I want EVERYBODY to win, to be happy, to be successful, secure, etc. But I also want those things for myself. I deserve those things. If I don't make decisions that honor that, or if I'm always saying "oh, well that's good enough" so as not to offend, I fail to make myself a priority. Certainly nobody else is, so if not me, then who? Something to think about. Life can't always be about settling and getting by. You know? I'm sure some of you do.  But if you accept that, then that's all there will ever be.

I'll get through this. I guess that is my point. People survive terrible things. I hail from the sunflower tribe, so I won't be kept down long. Sometimes bad things happen, even we do everything right. What do we take from it? What do we learn? Oh so preachy today! Even so, I hope you all are having a great week, and at the very least, are proficient at making lemonade :-)

Q&A

I can't believe it's been almost a year since my first book, "In Stone" was published. And what a wild year it's been! I am so beyond grateful for all the awesome folks who have gone out of their way to support me, all the folks who have read the book and all the kind words coming my way. Thank you, SO MUCH for putting out all that wonderful, positive energy! Not a day goes by when it's not appreciated.

I thought I would commemorate the book's almost-one-year anniversary by answering some of the most popular questions. I actually really like it when people ask questions, and I notice the same ones popping up with some frequency. I normally reserve this space for mind-wandery, whatever's-in-my-head stuff, but it seemed like a Q&A was long overdue. So here goes!

1) Why didn't you just leave?

This has got to be, far and away, THE most popular question I get. The short answer: We didn't have the resources, and we had nowhere to go.

The long answer is much more complex, however. I tried my best to provide some context here by highlighting how we grew up vs. where we suddenly found ourselves. When we rented the house, we were not in a great place emotionally or financially. I describe that time in my life as feeling like I had been pushed down a hill and I couldn't stop falling. Renting this house was supposed to be healing, and we desperately needed it to be. Letting go wasn't just financially impossible, but it was like an emotional last-straw that we didn't have. There was also a part of us that, in spite of what we were seeing with or own eyes, never could come to grips with the reality of what was happening to us.

2) When is the movie coming out?

Haha...the second most popular question! There has been some interest shown in making "In Stone" a movie, but I still don't know if or when it will happen. I wish I had a better answer, but this bit is out of my hands. I will definitely keep you all posted though!

3) I don't believe in ghosts.

Okay, not really a question, but for reasons I don't quite understand, total strangers have walked up to me and said this very thing. My response is usually "Okay...?" followed by me walking away confused. It doesn't matter to me who believes what. For me, it changes exactly nothing. Frankly, it's a little bit like a color-blind person walking up to me and saying "I don't believe in the color red".  Whether or not red exists isn't dependent on any individual belief. I've seen it, so I know it's real.  What would be foolish would be ME not believing in the color red. Am I making any sense? Wishing/hoping something isn't true doesn't make it so.

4) When you noticed things happening, why didn't you research the house?

I have had folks get REALLY angry about us not doing any research while we were living in the house. There were so many reasons for this! First of all, you have to keep in mind that this was rural Vermont in '97-'98. We had no computers, no cell phones and all the ghost-hunting programming was long into future yet. We didn't even have a cordless phone. Any contact information could only be found in the yellow pages, and since none of us had ever even heard the words 'paranormal investigation', we didn't look. If we had, we would not have found anything. It was a different time, a different place, and we were just normal people trying to go about our lives. On the very rare occasion that we summoned the bravery to say "our house is haunted", we were met with laughter and ridicule, which is exactly what one would have expected then. Also, we were TERRIFIED. We were in survival mode, and we innately felt that the more we acknowledged what was happening, the worse it would get. We didn't even talk about it with each other; our fear was that intense. Digging deeper was the LAST thing on our minds. We were just getting through the day. Most people who have lived in a genuinely haunted house totally get it, and for that I have been grateful.

I DID do some research when I wrote the book. What I learned is that it's really difficult to find anything relevant, BUT the Hinesburg Historical Society was able to provide me with some juicy historical tidbits that are included at the end of the book.

5) Are you Catholic?

This is one I get a lot but I don't really understand why. I am, but it didn't seem to have any bearing whatsoever on our experience. Maybe folks ask because Catholics believe in exorcisms, but since none was ever performed (or even considered/discussed), I guess I'm not really clear on the relevance.

6) Are you writing another book? And will it be paranormal?

That would be a 'yes' and a 'yes' :-) The next book is going to be a fictional story built around true accounts. It's been slow going because "In Stone" continues to pull focus (a "problem" I'm happy to have!) but I'm having a blast! There's something exceptionally liberating about writing fiction. "In Stone" was a true account and it involved so many people that I really had to keep things truthful and above board. Those who were there said I did so successfully, so YAY! But book two is just between my characters and me, and it's a much simpler path in many ways.

I would be happy to answer more question if you have any, so don't hesitate! If you're local, I will be at the Milton Public Library on Monday night at 6:30, so I hope to see you there!

So much LOVE AND GRATITUDE!!!!!!

Empathy

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I'm in an uber-weird place today. I blame the moon. I like to be funny, but today I'm just not feeling it. I've been a bit hyper-sensitive to the "ugly" in the world lately, and I don't like it. I know it exists; it always has and it always will.  Most of the time I choose not to focus on it. There's a lot of things in this world that are exceptional and amazing too, and I think the more we look at those things, the more we can shape our outlook to something positive. Even so, sometimes I feel like I live in a world devoid of empathy. I don't want to be part of that. Easier said than done.

I know what it's like to be around unsympathetic people. I know what it's like to be humiliated and judged. I think we all do. I know what it's like to be marginalized, verbally abused and physically assaulted too. It's a smaller group that I belong to, but not small enough. I know what it's like to be so betrayed by people I've loved and trusted that I was never the same again. I know what it's like to grow up and realize that nothing I believed in was true. I know what it's like to be told, over and over and over, "You need to figure this out by yourself." I've heard it when I was having the rug ripped out from under me, I've heard it when I was drowning emotionally, I've heard it when I was desperate and asking for help. I drove myself to the hospital in labor. I raised a child to adulthood without a dime of child support. There have been times in my life when just the smallest gesture, just the most minute amount of faith from another person would have made a world of difference, but it wasn't there. I have had to "...figure this out by myself" so consistently that my challenge these days is learning how to trust and work with other people. I'm not complaining! It's new, I've earned it, and it's kind of awesome. But nobody should have to "figure this out" by themselves. That's not why we're here.

But I know what it's like to be angry. Okay, not just angry, but so angry I thought I could be eaten alive by my own rage, and almost was. I can almost understand why people hang on every word of the "news" that tells them who to blame, who to hate and how to feel. And of course it works. If someone is "other" and we get to hate/blame/whatever them, then not only do we get to feel "better than", but it absolves us of  any responsibility for our fellow human beings. We can watch people struggle and feel nothing. We get to be selfish, and feel perfectly justified. Of course it's easy to hang on to that, to believe the lies, to be 'us vs. them'. To develop and cling to a paranoia so intense that we arm ourselves so that we are able to put fatal holes into other human beings as we see fit. Into them. That other created by the hate-factories called "news". How are we okay with this? I mean, HOW ARE WE OKAY WITH THIS?!

I know I'm not the only one who sees it or feels it. I am so grateful for that. But what if we all woke up tomorrow, and decided to trade in our judgement and hatred for empathy? What would things look like then? What if we could be human beings instead of Americans, Canadians, Russians, black, white and brown? What if we recognized that ALL religions (well, maybe not satanism) are, at their heart, based on love? What if we embraced our differences instead of using those differences to kindle fear and paranoia within ourselves or others? What if we saw people struggling, and instead of blaming them, we offered a hand? I know it's possible. In my very own life I have met people who do just those things. Some of them for me. Sometimes, that person has BEEN me. That's how I know we have a choice.

I have been angry and blamey. I know what it feels like. I know how easy it is to just exist in that. But the good people (my mother especially) who have come into my life have allowed me to see something else. We can all be that person for somebody if we want. I choose to be the kind of person I can have respect for. For all of us, it's a choice. You can hate and judge; you can turn a blind eye. It will be your sin to live with. No matter what other people do, the behavior we are responsible for is our own, always. How we treat people isn't about them, it's about who we are. We don't have to be the same to have empathy for one another. If we all had empathy, all the problems in the world today would disappear.

Reviews

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What is this? Yet another blog post? Why, yes indeed it is! I've had a bit of time to myself, and yet have been too distracted to get any REAL work done, so the end result is, of course, a blog post. Today I thought I might address the touchy subject of book reviews. I Know nobody talks about them. It's kind of like fight-club that way. But I am GOING to! I wasn't really going to address it at all, but when things float around in my head unchanneled they tend to go a bit wonky. Ergo, blog post about book reviews.

Until I became a writer myself, I never really gave much thought to reviews. I am learning that they are nearly the equivalent of a tip for waitstaff. Every time I see a good one I'm all "Whoo hoo!" all over again. Fortunately, the vast majority my reviews have been very good. I knew when I published though, that there would inevitably be some bad ones, and there have been ( I got one bad review because somebody couldn't download a sample. Facepalm). I prepared myself by reading the most horrid reviews for my favorite books by my favorite authors, and there were a LOT of them. It's shocking, really, that someone would actually sit down and take that much time to spew that much venom (some people writing lengthy paragraphs!), almost always behind some mysterious user name, or even more often "Amazon customer". I understand the nature of the internet, and I know there is no shortage of people who can't wait to have the opportunity to criticize, but some of what I read was SO over the top. It made me realize that a writer can tell an amazing story, but if the reader has no empathy or imagination it won't matter. And of course, different people just like different things. Those guys certainly aren't losing any sleep over the minority of mysterious strangers who didn't like their work, nor should they. And the criticism certainly didn't stop them from becoming very successful (far more successful than the critics, I would wager!). So why should it bother me? Why is it that, after getting a ton of great reviews, it's the very few bad ones that get under my skin? It's not stopping my progress either, but it's human nature, I suppose. It certainly explains to me why you almost never see a successful writer ripping on another writer's work. There's support and understanding there, and it's very much appreciated.

So, let me start by saying that I'm grateful for how shocked I am by some of the hateful things people say. It means that I'm not assimilated to it, that I don't think it's okay, and my own "compass" is intact. I would never say the things that I've seen written, not in writing or in person. I'm also grateful for the insight; I will always make sure to review every book I read from now on because I know how important it can be to the writer. I love it when folks message me and tell me how much they love my book, but if they don't post a review, they give the haters all the say. I'm grateful also, that my good reviews far outweigh the bad and that I have so many exciting things to look forward to as a result. Hell, I'm grateful that I took an idea and had the stones (lol) to make it a reality. I am the MOST grateful, though, for all the folks who took the time to post all the wonderful reviews! You guys ROCK :-)

Time Travel

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Okay, I haven't really traveled through time (except forward, obviously), but it's felt a bit like I have. I had a book signing last weekend. It was awesome, but as many of you know it's a book about a past experience, and I discussed it at length. Truth be told, it was pretty cool and the folks who showed up were pretty great. Interestingly enough, The book is doing really well. Well enough that I can look into my future with hope, and have to do some financial maneuvering in order to assimilate my shiny new income without wreaking any havoc on my overall financial...stuff (for lack of a better word).

Of course the past is gone, and the future is yet to come, which means it is still the present which can be the most troublesome. So I have one leg in the past, one in the future and one in the present. I'm no math whiz, but I'm pretty darned good at biology and I know three legs are just not normal. No wonder I'm tired. It is what it is, and all the great stuff that's going on keeps me buoyed and optimistic most days. I'm uber grateful for that, and for the surprising (and kind of wonderful) amount of support I have been getting. Some days, the gratitude is overwhelming in an awesome way that is entirely new to me.

Having said that, I have been dealing with something unbelievably frustrating and dehumanizing the last few weeks. I won't go into it because it's all solved now and the "what" is less relevant than the effect it had on me. I've felt like I was in a nightmare where I was screaming for help but nobody could hear me. For weeks. I'm happy for the insight the situation provided to me: it gave me some clarity around where I would someday like to put some of my energy in the interest of helping to make the world a better place. Nobody should have to deal with what I've gone through the last few  weeks. And make no mistake; I am an assertive person who has no trouble at all advocating for myself or persisting until a problem is solved (if that weren't the case, the problem STILL wouldn't be dealt with). I am actually tenacious as hell. Not everybody is, and some people could sorely benefit from somebody advocating for them. There needs to be something in place for that purpose. Something to think about.

I'm grateful it's over and grateful for the insight provided, but it has still left me feeling, oh, I don't know. I guess the best way to put it is injured on a psychic and psychological level. I'm exhausted and it feels a bit like there's still a hole in my soul. How very dramatic, lol, but I know some of you will know what I mean. Essentially, I've had the psychological sh** kicked out of me, and it left a mark. I had a boss many years ago that created that sort of feeling, like a psychic vampire who made me face every workday with a dread so intense it caused physical symptoms. Yeah, like that.

Anyhoo, the point is to heal, I suppose. It would be much easier if the winter would relent and I could spend more quality time outside. I'm kind of an "outdoor kitty" and the long confinement of winter can really make me feel a lot more vulnerable to the shenanigans of the way of the world. My natural springiness is a bit compromised, and that means I'm internalizing more. Scary thought! It's getting better though. I have work, and walking a little close to the dark side certainly helps that, lol. I also have prayer, chocolate and Rescue Remedy, a fairly infallible combination :-)

To those of you who have ever felt like I have these last few weeks, who have ever felt like nobody could hear them screaming for help, don't resign yourself to taking it. Never do that. You're worth fighting for, so do it! Remember, if people treat you like crap, it isn't because you ARE crap, it's because they don't know how to treat people. Feel bad for them, and hope that they learn what they need to so they can become decent folks.

On that overly dramatic and emotional note (I really resent it when I feel compelled to emote. I'm an Aquarius, dammit!) I will leave you with a bit of shameless self-promotion in the form of a shiny new updated book trailer :-)

The Why of it

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I get a little crazy when I'm writing.  Okay, I'm not sure that crazy is the right word, but oddly enough I can't come up with a better one. Some writer I am :-) I suppose "lost", "focused", "down the rabbit hole" would all be apt descriptions. I need not be working on some epic masterpiece (and to date have never attempted such a lofty pursuit), but it doesn't matter. I certainly go somewhere.

I'm writing another book, which looks to be the first in a three-book series. It's funny how these things seem to happen: I start out with a very clear picture of where I want it to go, and then it sort of takes on a life of its own. I wonder where it all comes from, this "other" life. I'm sure much of it lurks in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind just waiting for the opportunity to be brought to light. A scary thought on many levels. Even scarier, I write horror. One can't write what one can't imagine. But even on those rare days free of distractions and shiny things, the days when things flow most easily, writing is consistent work. I've been asked more than once why I do it, especially considering the financial uncertainty and the time commitment. For that, I have no good answer, other than because I have to.

Okay, maybe that doesn't apply so much to books (I don't think), but that's not all I write. I write a lot, and have for years. I've had a journal since I was young, and then I wrote poetry. Most of it was dark and troubled like my thoughts at the time; life hasn't always been kind, but some of it was still beautiful. I wrote in school: creative writing, English, humanities. And then I discovered (eventually, after many years) the world of online media. I wrote on Myspace, about everything, all the time. And it was such a relief. Some days (and maybe you feel this too) my head is just so filled with thoughts and my soul so filled with...I don't know, that if I didn't have an outlet I might burst. Does that give me a right to make my outlet public? Or to have the audacity to believe that I can make a living at it?  That remains to be seen. But my inner magic 8-ball says "Signs point to yes" on most days. The good days, when everything feels possible, like I'm being pulled like a magnet forward to some as-yet-to-be-determined place where I belong.

But what the hell does that mean? I guess that part of the picture isn't so clear. I've been told that my name means clarity, so maybe that's forthcoming. In the interim, I'll just fumble around in the dark like I always have, bumping occasionally into something that might be good fodder for a horror novel. Write what you know. That's the rule, isn't it? A strange thought from someone with a generally positive and overly optimistic outlook, don't you think? Blame it on the moon; it's glow creates shadows. We all have our darkness.

Maybe 'crazy' is the right word after all?

The REAL Zombie Apocalypse

The calm before the storm...

I spend a lot of time people-watching. I don't mean in a creepy, voyeuristic sort of way, but just observy.  I am my daughter's ride to and from work so I spend an inordinate amount of time just sitting in my car and waiting. I pass the time by listening to the radio and watching folks to-ing and fro-ing about their lives. This time of year, I am struck by the large number of people who accessorize their cute, woolen hats and puffy coats with incredibly sour faces. I get it, I really do. The frost sets into my bones right about this time of year and doesn't fully thaw until sometime around mid-May or so despite my best efforts to keep warm. I've lived in Vermont my whole life (except for three years I spent in Maine) so you'd think I'd be acclimated by now. Oh, I suppose I am. But 'acclimated' and 'happily adapted' are two very different vibes. Mostly, I suck it up and deal, just like the folks I watch on an almost daily basis.

Early mornings are the most entertaining time. Many people have yet to imbibe their morning caffeine and the combination of lack of coffee AND puffy clothes is pretty amusing. The usual winter shuffle is accentuated significantly when folks are still half asleep. These slow, lurching and only half-aware folks that I see on a regular basis have given rise to a theory: The zombie apocalypse will not be brought about by reanimated corpses, but by bundled-up, pre-coffee Northerners on their way to Starbucks.

Imagine if you will, the frozen North if not a cup of Joe (not even at Starbucks!) were to be found. It would be disastrous, the casualties immense. It would start at local Starbucks locations, but it would spread from there as even the (usually very caffeinated) baristas join in the desperate, lurching mob. The words "coffee", "tea" and "latte" would be grunted repeatedly with ever-decreasing enunciation as the now mindless hoard overtakes the city. Those few who had stockpiled their coffee and were therefore coherent run screaming in confusion as the slow but relentless mob continues on their tenacious course to find the one thing that sustains them...a cup of coffee. I can picture the scene: Glass breaks as Abercrombie and Hollister employees (who subsist almost entirely on Starbucks) break free from their respective pods and join the lurching mob.

Where will it end? It could end several ways I suppose. The best case scenario is that someone, somewhere is able to provide these "zombies" with their much-needed caffeine before too much damage is done. But the most likely conclusion is all manner of mayhem and shenanigans occur causing much damage and destruction, and then everyone falls asleep because they didn't have their coffee.

My daughter really needs her own car.

Facetubeinstatwit#$%-what?!

Photo: www.theguardian.com

I don't usually feel old or outdated. My daughter would happily tell you I'm like a dinosaur, but from a personal perspective I don't feel much different than I did when I was twenty. With one exception: All the tech-stuff baffles me.

Let's be clear here; I am a reasonably intelligent person who is capable of learning new skills and integrating them into my life. The fact that I have this blog that I almost know how to use correctly AND I'm accessing it through a computer I sort of can make work is proof of that. But it isn't easy for me, or comfortable. And now I'm really trying to utilize social media to promote my book, and it's creating quite a stir within my psyche. I feel like I'm trying to learn a new language, and in a way that's almost exactly what I'm doing. Historically, my language-learning hasn't gone so well. I used to know a fair bit of French (of the Canadian variety. I grew up on the border.) but forgot most of what I knew just by moving a couple of hours south and never hearing/using it. I tried to learn Russian for a minute, but couldn't retain any type of motivation so I put it aside and didn't go back to it. Not the most excellent track record. But this "new language" is about marketing and survival in a technological world. It's a language that the kids innately know, and when new things crop up they assimilate them at an astounding rate. I may not feel like a dinosaur, but I suppose in some ways that I am.

To be fair, I grew up in a very different environment. I was born in 1969, I was a child in the 70's, a teenager in the 80's. I also grew up in a small town in rural Vermont, so however behind the times were, my part of the world was even more so. I remember being really stoked because we had a color TV with three channels. I remember how awesome it was to have our own, private phone line (vs a party line). I remember telephones with dials, the long, twisted cord that held the receiver to the body of the phone (which was screwed into the wall.) and fighting over it because there was only one in the house. There was no such thing as an answering machine. People were home to answer or they weren't. There was no call waiting, just a busy signal. I remember in the 80's when VCR's first came out. The idea of being able to watch a movie in your own home was mindblowing. You could rent a VCR with your evening movies. They were really expensive so very few households had their own. There was also something called "Beta" that was like a smaller VCR tape, but they didn't last long. I remember playing "Pong" and "Pac-man" on my uber-modern Atari video game. The first portable phones were enormous car-phones that only the very important and the very wealthy had. They were sort of a status symbol, and I only ever saw them on TV. They were big, blocky things with antennas. When I was older and took my first computer course, the discs were actually floppy and what we were learning was MS DOS. I'm telling you, the world was an entirely different place.

It was sort of a trade off I suppose. I miss people actually looking into each others faces when they talk. Now, everybody always walks with their heads down because they are looking at their phones. Manners and people-skills have completely disappeared. THAT feels like a real loss. Nobody really connects anymore, but I've kind of gone off on a tangent I hadn't intended to go on.

Connecting in today's world means being proficient with all the social-media options available. And it's not enough to be proficient with just one. You have to be able to navigate most of them, AND make them talk to each other to reach the maximum number of people. YEAH for how small the world has become as a result of all the new ways there are to connect, but woe to those of us who struggle with the logistics! I think I sort of did it though. I figured out how to post this blog on Twitter and have it automatically post on my fan page on Facebook. I like the fan page idea, because it gives me a place for my shameless self-promotion without bombarding my friends who may not give a rat's furry behind about my book. Cool Beans :-) But I realize that the small bit that I've managed is just that; the tip of the iceberg. There is much left for me to tackle, and I feel like a tyrannosaur trying to do it with my ineffective, tiny arms.

 Don't worry about me though. I'll figure it out :-)

Paradox

Photo: en.wikipedia.org

The difference between reality and fiction? Fiction has to make sense. -Tom Clancy

What Mr. Clancy said is great thing to keep in mind, especially when you're writing fiction. But human beings really seem to be the most comfortable when their reality makes sense too.

Sometimes I drive myself crazy trying to solve puzzles that apparently have no solution. I don't mean the physical kind like the little wooden balls and cubes that come apart or the Rubik's cube (which also comes apart with a little determination;-). I had a handle on those a long time ago. And really, if you solve them or don't, what difference does it ultimately make? The puzzles that intrigue me the most are the ones I can't seem to sort out no matter how hard I try.

One of those apparently unsolvable puzzles is the basic premise of the things I write about: The paranormal. As I'm beginning to do the research for my next book, it's easy to understand where legends begin and how they persist. There is really no mystery there. What I DO find mildly baffling though, is the consistency of information from widespread and seemingly unrelated sources. I might even be able to explain that much without straining myself; stories pass from one generation to the next, but people don't stay on one place. That's the simple answer, and most likely the right one. But the stories are just so darned consistent.

Let's make something clear; I don't believe in the paranormal because I want to. I have a very uneasy relationship with the paranormal world. I was just an average, relatively normal person, minding my own business and living my life the best I knew how when this happened. It's easy to read books like mine, to hear stories and to dismiss them outright as total BS. I know because I've done it. I've nodded politely, made the right noises (something along the lines of "Oh, how interesting...") but secretly thought to myself that it was a monumental crock of sh**. But I wrote this book, I was there and I know it's not a crock.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr. said "One's mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions."  

Okay, that's all well and good, but what do you do if your mind is blown? What if you have seen with your own eyes, things you can't possibly explain? And things that have never been adequately explained by anyone? Well, I know what I'm doing: I'm throwing myself into it in the hopes of finding some answers while carving out what I hope is an entertaining niche for others. It's fun, and let's face it; it helps me to embrace the illusion that I have some kind of hold on this stuff and therefore some manner of control over it. Now that is a crock. But it helps me to sleep at night.

But here's a hell of a question to throw out there: HOW can this stuff be explained? Oh, I've seen all the 'investigative' shows and heard about all the spiritual aspects, but what is the real, tangible explanation? Is it possible, given all we know about the world in general, to find real answers? As much fun as it is to tell stories and speculate, and as much as I hope my scary book is a success, my sleep would be much improved if I knew that real answers were on the horizon.

The Kristel Show

Photo: Tom Coggio

in·tro·vert  (ntr-vûrt, ntr-vûrt)tr.v. in·tro·vert·ed, in·tro·vert·ing, in·tro·verts

1. To turn or direct inward.

2. Psychology To concentrate (one's interests) upon oneself

(From  www.thefreedictionary.com )

Yup, that's me. Let's face it, I didn't become a writer because I was a social butterfly who loved being out and about. Out and about in the woods on a beautiful day, especially on a horse? YES. In public, where people are? Not so much. Sure, I've done lots of socializing, but I usually would only go out if I knew the band or I was drunk (or more often, both). I would love the music and hang with folks, but even so I felt like I was still in my own little bubble, jamming to my own wavelength. Check out the photo on the right: I'm the sullen-looking one in the middle, flanked by my very outgoing sister and very outgoing daughter who felt entirely comfortable smiling for the camera (as per the usual). Lets be clear though; I'm not ACTUALLY sullen, or shy, or insecure, or any of those other undesirable qualities that folks tend to equate with my hermit-like behavior. I'm sort of awesome in a twisted and humorous way. I'm just not much of an attention seeker. But that needs to change, and I need to find a way to do it well, my way :-)

Our whole lives, we all called my sister the "Kerrie Show". Whatever was happening, she always had to be at the center of it. My mother is also very outgoing, having no trouble whatsoever giving lectures on humor and health to large groups of people and unerringly creating a joyful and happy atmosphere. I spent much of my time pouring over books of all kinds at the library, or hiding in the barn cleaning my saddle while rocking-out to 80's hair bands on the radio. Then I had my daughter, another outgoing personality in my orbit. How do I compete with that? Historically, there has been no point in trying, and furthermore I have never felt the desire to be the center of attention. My brain is SO busy that I LIKE being observy, I like having the time to process what's going on without all eyes on me. THAT is why I write; because I can do so in relative isolation, in a bubble of quiet (and in my dinosaur pajamas, dammit). But hiding under a rock doesn't sell books. I believe that it really aught to in a fair world, and if it did I'd be a marketing GENIUS, but alas it is not to be.

I have to get out there. And I'm realizing that in order to do that I need not compete with any other "Show". I just need to create "The Kristel Show", a stand-alone unit of entertainment and fun that is unique and present and selling books :-) I need to get comfortable with the idea that promoting my work is part of my job, not some narcissistic need for attention and praise. So I'm going to do it, and I'm not going to apologize for it. I've worked really hard to own and occupy my space. So, welcome to The Kristel Show :-)

By the way, here's me book: "In Stone"

The Darker Side!

Photo: Taylor Baranova

I set up this blog with the intention of having an outlet for my 'lighter' thoughts and ideas. For the most part, the meandering and varied topics have provided just that. While it's true that other appropriate names for this blog might have been "Verbal Incontinence" or "Proof That I Need Editing", I have been very pleased by the number of folks who have read my posts. Whether you read my blog because you find it interesting, or because you find it relateable, or even because it's like a train wreck you can't look away from, I appreciate you. THANK YOU for the continued support:-)

If there is a lighter side, then a darker (edited!) side must exist, right? And so it does: In Stone , my first book, is now available! Here is a taste:

"The house looked innocent enough. There was nothing to distinguish it from any other quaint, older home nestled within the rural Vermont landscape. For Liz, Charlie, Donna and Willa it was a dream come true; exactly what they needed. Each of them had escaped hardship longing for the comforts of loved ones, hearth and home. The spacious house, the location and the timing all seemed so perfect. But none of them could imagine the horrors that awaited them as the house revealed its secrets. "

Yes, it's finally an honest-to-gosh 'thing'. To all those who regularly witnessed me skulking about in my dinosaur pajamas while talking to myself and gripping a cup of coffee like it was my last friend on earth, there really was a point to it all :-) And now, it's time to knuckle down again and write another one.

I can't tell you much about the next one, just that it was inspired by a nightmare...

Publication

Photo: scotlandpubliclibrary.org

So, it looks like I'm getting published. Like for real. It's strange how 'weightless' I feel about the whole situation. In my fantasy world, my scary little book would come out right before Halloween, and it looks like that is exactly what is going to happen. It's strange to think that I actually finished the "marathon".

It didn't go smoothly for me. There are some writers who can sit down, focus and be brilliant in six months. I am not one of them. Perhaps part of it is lack of experience. Who knows. I am not one of those naive individuals that believe in the 'waiting for inspiration' fallacy, either. Writing is work. It is awesome and largely fulfilling work, but work nonetheless. At least for me. I suppose it's different for everyone. I will admit though, that on a good day I struggle for every bit of focus I am ultimately allowed. So what. It takes as long as it takes. And it probably took a lot longer than it should have. I wrote the last line on 11/11/11. Everything else since has been clean up, editing, etc. I finally had to admit that it was never going to be perfect, so waiting until it was was futile.

I don't think my book is beautifully written. I don't think it's supposed to be. It's a narrative about the most terrifying six months of my life. There were beautiful moments, but they were fleeting and buried within the greater horror of the rest of the story. It is what it is. As the writer, I'm completely incapable of being objective. I can only hope that you are entertained and engaged by my story, and that you come away from it feeling some of the abject terror experienced by the characters. Such a noble goal, hehe...

I have had the book and all work related to it in my life for so long that it seemed strange to just hand it over. Now comes the second most terrifying part: Putting it out there for the world to see. Sure, I do that in increments with this blog and have done it on a small scale with little things that I've written. I was really encouraged by how many people read the short story I wrote for you folks last Halloween (and a little frightened by how many more hits the end got than the other parts...so dark and twisty!). Anyway, thank you for that. It helped to give me the courage I needed to say "Here, go put that out into the world for anyone to access". I feel like I just bought a sort of lottery ticket, but one where I risk considerably more than a couple of bucks. But that's what it's about. Sometimes the only way forward is to look fear in the face, tell it off, and move forward anyway. So this is me being brave.  Stay tuned to this spot for the shameless self-promotion to come, and thank you for, well...being you :-)

When Things Go to Hell

A beautiful sunrise for you all:-)

What a week, eh? As I write this, the police have already killed one of the suspects in the Boston Marathon bombing and are in hot pursuit of the other. And it's not the only tragedy of the week. This post is not about tragedy though, so I'm not dwelling there or getting into all the reasons why we should be fearful or sad. I think human beings are far too aware of that already. I'm more interested in how we can react positively to these tragic situations. In that light, I would first like to offer my love and condolences to all those lost and injured, and their loved ones. While it's always a good idea to forget our sorrow, people should never be forgotten.

I have been largely impressed by the role of social media this week, and incredibly impressed by my friends. Social media has helped to keep people in touch with each other, and positive, loving posts have been passed around relentlessly; far more than fearful and ugly ones. One of my favorites has been a quote by Fred Rogers: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." The quote became so popular that it made the news.

And people DID look for the helpers, and BECAME the helpers in droves. Humanity at it's worst was offset completely by an overwhelming and heartwarming show of humanity at it's most-loving best. And the media actually reported the positive! I LOVE that when a small minority tries to impose their ugliness on the world, the world responds with ever-increasing kindness and love. That's what I will take away from everything that happened this week. I will use these tragic events to strengthen my faith in humanity and to increase my love of same. Imagine how powerful that sentiment can be as it ripples out and touches us all, encouraging everyone to do the same. It seems to be where most of us are at, anyway. I understand that it's more difficult for some.

I think of it like panning for gold. If you simply eliminate the focus on things that cause pain and heartbreak, you will be left with everything good. That's what you keep and take with you. The more you practice "panning", the more adept you become at sifting through and eliminating the scurf. I will admit that at times, it really IS work, but it's worth it.

So today I offer you my faith and love, and I promise to put that energy forward into the world on behalf of those who have suffered. In that spirit I have found a photo a beautiful sunrise for you all, to remind you that no matter how bad the storm, the sun always rises again to bring us light, life and hope:-)

Tradition

The word "tradition" has been thrown around quite a bit lately, and it's a word I both adore and despise. I think tradition can be wonderful and warm; it can provide security within its familiar parameters. I love family traditions, especially those that center around holidays, and I'm completely and endlessly fascinated by the rich and myriad traditions around carriage driving and fox hunting. But tradition can be stifling. Some horrible things have been perpetrated under the guise of tradition. Like anything else, there is usually something very negative to be found in fervency.

Where people are concerned, traditions need to remain flexible. Humanity is fluid; our ideas and ideals grow and change as our understanding of the world and our place in it evolve. Pathological adherence to tradition can interfere with natural progression if it's allowed to. Inflexibility is often cast aside, shed like tight and dessicated old skin, left by the wayside to go extinct like the dinosaurs: Evolve, be flexible or become obsolete. It's not a new concept. It's an idea that exists in history, religion, nature. Yet it's so hard for human beings to grasp. We fumble about the dark, mistaking our intelligence for superiority and worse; we define our personal value by our ability (or the ability of others) to acquire stuff. And then we fight about it. We destroy and kill each other over it. We make stuff and currency more valuable than people. I don't want to fight, but I don't want to understand, either. I wonder what operates under and within a society that puts money before people, self before others. I wonder but I don't really want to know. No religion in politics, I agree with that. But...

I believe in the spirit of humanity. I believe the spirit within me gives me structure, morality, an innate sense of right and wrong. To be a person of morality means it carries forward into all things. To be a bastard in business, the bastard must exist. There is no excuse for treating people badly. None. I don't believe selfishness is worthy of emulation. It's not an example to follow, or something to be proud of. I don't believe we secure our rights by denying the rights of others. I don't believe in denying the rights of others in order to adhere to outdated and outmoded traditions. I don't believe in peace through intimidation. Maybe I'm the dinosaur. But I'm not alone.

Call me what you like. Call me irresponsible, lazy, pointless; tell me I don't matter and that it's okay if I starve and my children starve and my parents starve. Perpetuate the myth, it doesn't matter, because it IS a myth. I'm not alone. I'm not the only one who's been cast aside, lied about, vilified, scape-goated, disenfranchised, dismissed, alienated, insulted...underestimated. And we know the lie for what it is.

Good people live in this world. There is hope for humanity if we reach out in united and honorable purpose, with both ourselves and each other in mind. Or we could keep doing what we're doing; wasting our time, energy and resources to useless purpose, snapping at each other over ideology and ultimately, irrelevance. But I have to wonder; how long will we glorify acquisition above all? Selfishness as a worthy trait? How long will we pride ourselves on our propensity for violence? It doesn't matter. It's not for me.

I pray for this world and this humanity that I love.

Horror, or something like it

Nosferatu

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love this time of year. I am currently taking a break from a horror-movie marathon, and can't help but feel somewhat gleeful (and okay, giddy) that they are so prevalent right now. My favorite movies involve the supernatural and actually have a plot and a budget. While I do believe there is a place for B horror films, I don't really dig them. I'm a thinky person with a need for mental stimulation, and I don't feel the least bit challenged by movies that were created with the 'Soft-core porn+demented serial-killer+increasingly-bloody deaths = gross' formula, whether it be at a cabin in the middle of nowhere, a beach, a mansion of some kind, etc. B-O-R-I-N-G. And let's face it, unbelievably unimaginative. I would like to comment here that we have sadly low standards in terms of what we consider entertainment, but I think in this era of "Jersey Shore" and "Honey Boo Boo", that would be entirely redundant. No, I don't personally watch any of that nonsense, either. But I digress.

My point is that I have a fortuitously-timed, scheduled lazy day. The sky is heavy and grey, I can hear the hissing of leaves being tossed around, the smell of falling leave and rotting vegetation is delicious, pumpkin everything is for sale and my daughter just went crazy baking 'nanner' breads. All is right in the world today, and it deserves to be acknowledged.

One would think, because of past experience, that ghosts and dark shadows in every storefront would scare the crap out of me. Not so much. When you've lived through the real thing, paper cutouts and whimsical imagery is even more fun. Okay, I'll admit to taking exception to the fake spiders. They've ALWAYS scared the crap out of me, and my fear of them always has been and remains borderline-clinical. But if you really want to scare me, make the phone ring. If you want to terrify me beyond reason, trap me in a dark room with a stone wall. The things that really scare me, though my fear may be utterly justified, would seem silly to anyone else. The things that scare most other people fill me with mild amusement. It's a quirk.

In honor of this beloved month of October, I have started to write a short story for this blog. I say 'short', but my inability to be truly succinct means that it's probably going to run over three or four days. I'm having a blast writing it, and I hope you enjoy it. And I hope you are enjoying this spooky month (of course the beautiful leaves and the cool nights too;-) as much as I am.

Until next time:-)

History

"Spooky Tree" photo by Lana Pinto

 I did it, or started it at least. I finally looked into the history of The Infamous Brown House. And it was FUN. I have seen it done on TV, but the reality was far more confusing and less conclusive than anything fictional. For starters, the inevitable Startling Revelation Involving Microfiche was not part of my actual experience. It began with perusing listings to find the picture and subsequently the address of the house. I recognized it right away, a feeling in my gut more than anything. From there it was a search though enormous book after enormous book; each getting older and harder to read than the one before it. I learned that the neighbor's outrageous account of the house's history was not only feasible, but likely. I followed up my trip to the town clerk with a visit to the public library. I searched the few historical tomes available; black and white and sepia windows on a past I could scarcely imagine. Though there were many interesting anecdotes about the area, none were specific enough to be useful. I learned that yes, the original structure was indeed built in the late 1800's, that fires were common and bears were a danger. Nothing supported the specifics of the haunting (though the prevalence of fire was certainly interesting, considering), but nothing negated it either. The ladies at the library were incredibly helpful and interested in the book. They suggested that I contact the historical society, which I've done. Now, I wait. At least this time I wait with interest and eagerness and without fear.

I enjoyed my research. Though my initial pass revealed nothing conclusive, I was taken in by the spirit of these early Vermonters and it made me want to know more. More story ideas perhaps? I do love my monsters but ghost stories, especially those based in historical fact, could be a hell of a good yarn too. In fact, a good ghost story would be my favorite thing to curl up with (in addition to an afghan and a warm beverage) on a wet or cold day. Hmm...It really is up to me, isn't it? But first, I need to get this project done and out there.

 I don't think it's a secret that I like to escape into fictional realms of my own creation (which my current project isn't), but it bears mentioning again just the same. When the world is a rapidly rotating vortex of sad circumstances, financial stress, political ugliness and an unnatural state of being (read: my current horse-less-ness), I like to make myself a cup of strong Irish tea and visit a place where all is possible: my own imagination. Just because my current project remains stuck in the pipeline does not mean I can't do something else too. Sometimes, when all else just seems to be beyond my ability to manage it, just the act of doing something, anything really, can break the spell of stagnation. And it has given me an idea.

Halloween is coming. I love Halloween, I love the spooky atmosphere, the darkening sky, the wind and the blowing leaves. I love that I think I saw somebody staring down at me from the window of the empty apartment next door, and that sometimes I hear things. What if...

Until next time:-)

Curiosity

Today's the day I suck it up and do some research. I'm not opposed to research on principle, in fact many of my major life choices have been the result of countless hours of it. But this is different. This time, I have to take a closer look at something I actively ran (almost literally) from: The Infamous Brown House. The Infamous Brown House of my former reality, and of past and current nightmares. I wrote the story of all that happened to us there; a terrifying tale of relentless and unexplained occurrences. I relived those sleepless nights and the waking horrors of those days already. I needed to. I needed to do it for myself, and for those who shared the experience. Today, stories of haunted houses abound. But then, fifteen years ago, nobody talked about it. Embarrassment kept us quiet and the story stayed dark and coiled and waiting within me. I left that house a haunted human being; what more did I need to know? I don't know the history of the place. I didn't feel like I needed to. No matter what happened, it wouldn't validate or negate our personal experiences. It was what it was. But this is a world of "why?" and it has become apparent to me that no ghost story worth it's salt comes without a history. I've been strongly encouraged by folks I have deep respect for to take this step. I finally had to admit to myself that, yes, I need to do this. So today's the day.

Maybe I will find nothing. Though it has rarely occurred to me that this might be the case, the fact of the matter is that it might very well be. Maybe I will find some magic something that will make sense of it all and provide new understanding into the whole affair. More likely it will be somewhere in the middle. I can only speculate. I am sure though, that I have made it a bigger deal than need be. I have put this off, and in doing so put off the completion of a long project I desperately want to see finished. You see, I'm still afraid. All the writing, the joking, the hopes for success, none of it diminishes the very real fear we experienced, the very real trauma we have lived with since. This isn't just a book I wrote. It's our story. I love writing about the occult, but don't really have the stomach for experiencing the reality of it. Some of you may know what I mean.

But it's time. It's time to dig out the truth, or as much of it as I can find. It's time to finish this, one way or another. "My" time of year is approaching, and it feels like it's the book's time too. It's ready to be born in earnest. It's time to release it all; the book, the fear and the hesitation. It's time to embrace my well-developed sense of dark and morbid curiosity and make it work for me. I can do this...

The Dark Side of the Lighter Side

It's raining outside. I like a day like this once in awhile. Rainy days give me the excuse I need to hunker indoors and get indoor things done. I'm probably one of the few people who looks outside in the morning, and upon seeing rain says "Oh cool!" Rain means a lazy day for me. I realize that whether or not I have a lazy day is entirely up to me, so perhaps I should be more clear: rain means a justified lazy day.

If it's nice and sunny outdoors, I feel compelled to be out in it. I was raised to be an "outdoor kitty", to spend as much time as possible taking full advantage of every bit of sun. We would swim, ride our horses, work in the garden, dig for worms, read in the grass or just sun ourselves until the sun started to go down. Almost every summertime memory that I have is of being outdoors. To this day, I have a really difficult time relaxing indoors when it's sunny. I don't have many of my former outdoor activities to keep me busy any more, but I spend time with my dog and walk until my feet are killing me (plantar fasciitis sucks). To stay indoors comfortably, I need an excuse. Rain is that excuse. It's raining outside.

I have been listening to the rain, enjoying a cup of coffee and perusing other blogs. I love to read blogs. I love to read the thoughts of other people, to understand different perspectives and to learn something new. Reading a blog is almost like reading someone's personal journal sometimes. Unlike an article written in journalist fashion, blogs tend to have a much more 'human' feel that I appreciate. It's like someone is taking the time to share a piece of themselves.

People set their blogs up to reflect what they are about, and each blog has it's own unique 'feel'; from a reader's perspective its the online version of visiting peoples' homes. I totally dig the individuality, the colors, the images and the graphics that people choose to represent them. More insight into that person's uniqueness.

I have noticed, in spite of its title, that my blog is perhaps one of the darkest blogs out there. Maybe the darkness on my blog is the lighter side of me, hehe. Or maybe I like to occasionally provide light via the content. Occasionally. Maybe those brief snippets are the exception that proves the rule; the things that keep us hanging on just a little longer, just in case...

I don't think I intended to make it dark. It was a subconscious thing. When I chose my background, I thought "yes, here's a haunted room...this is what I know..." It made me feel simultaneously comforted and just a little edgy; therefore normal. Maybe I thought you might feel and appreciate it too, that it would invite you to come in, to sit down and stay awhile. My font is a little crazy. Self explanatory.  But it makes me think: should I brighten things up, and make my blog a lighter, Lighter Side of Darkness? Or do I keep it as is, letting the light, when it occurs, be that much brighter for the contrast? Hmmm.....Things to think about on a rainy day...