To Celebrate my 3 year move – repost of The House Where the Things Go Bump in the Night

Otherwise known as my house.  The one I painstakingly sweated tears and blood to get in time to move, the one that brought me to a better place to live, the one that brings old charm into a beautifully old neighborhood, and the best place I have ever rented.  Mind you, this place was built in the 20’s so there are a lot of elements good and bad that mix into all of this.

Until it gets dark of course and I take notice of all sorts of things.  Every little sound from the creaking of the floorboards, the small drip coming from the tub, tree branches scratching my windows, and of course things always dropping onto the added-in skylight in the kitchen.  As I am in writers mode at this time of night all these tiny simple things turn into something grandiose in my mind and it runs away faster than I can keep up.

You see, I do have a few fears of the house.  Yes me, the one who kills people off with a pen swifter than you can get a paper-cut, I do have fears.  Granted some are warranted (like needles and snakes) while others are purely subconsciously settled.  Those won’t budge so I figured, hey let’s share 🙂

Lets start with what I like to call the Goblin Door.

ImageSee that tiny door?  I’m sure its not hard to miss.  It sits quietly in my kitchen between a door and the refrigerator.  Most would pay no mind to it or take it as it is, a door to something necessary.  I don’t see it that way.  I see it as just what I imagine.  A door that somehow lurking behind it sits a goblin determined to come out and catch me at the most inconvenient time.  So naturally, I have put a few obstacles in its path.  First, I have a tin object hanging from the LOCKED door, so if it were to slide open the tin falls and I’m alerted to the beginning of a bumpy night.  For good measure I usually throw the bin in front of it, followed by the broom, and a few containers filled with dog and cat food.  This by far is creepy enough.  Let’s move on to the other thing that really bothers me.

My basement.  You’re thinking, “yeah so its a basement, no big deal a lot of people don’t like them, but they are only basements and nothing else.”  Or is it?  Who is to say that this house is not sitting on top of a portal to the other world, the goblin door just being one of many places these creatures my come out?  It can be pretty easy to tell that something could be amiss in the supernatural world just by looking at things.

The stairs.  yes, the stairs.  Woohoo, simple.  Yet why in the world are they held up by rope?  That is something that baffles me and flashes red lights as I squeeze myself down them.

ImageThe moment I step down from the stairs I am greeted by tons of old brick, dirt, and rock since the house was built into a hill.  Pipe after pipe above me leading sometimes from nowhere to nowhere.  I turn to the left and what can I see?

A place Goblins can go to and from their other realm (or whatever creatures that might decide to visit)

Image

 

I can only imagine some dark disfigured creature slithering out of that hole and leaving behind heaps of ash.

I proceed a bit further and something people haven’t seen in a while is what looks to be an old coal generator of sorts, complete with real lumps of coal on the ground. To me, this seems like an easy storage units for nibbles the goblins save for later.

ImageOf course we could always hope that the reason these goblins have been kept at bay was because they  haven’t found a use for me yet.  Maybe they’re the kind that prefer to EAT the coal, or bricks, or concrete, add a multitude of minerals to the mix.  Let’s hope this is the last place they stop for if they want a midnight snack.

Image

 

So there you have it folks.  My house, my imagination, and the creep factor.  I will tell you one thing, I kid you not, I have a sword that for any reason I hear ramblings, scurrying, clanking, or to even go to the basement after the sun goes down (it has windows, but lighting is left up to two dim bulbs) I will use to the best of my ability.

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The House Where the Things Go Bump in the Night

Otherwise known as my house.  The one I painstakingly sweated tears and blood to get in time to move, the one that brought me to a better place to live, the one that brings old charm into a beautifully old neighborhood, and the best place I have ever rented.  Mind you, this place was built in the 20’s so there are a lot of elements good and bad that mix into all of this.

Until it gets dark of course and I take notice of all sorts of things.  Every little sound from the creaking of the floorboards, the small drip coming from the tub, tree branches scratching my windows, and of course things always dropping onto the added-in skylight in the kitchen.  As I am in writers mode at this time of night all these tiny simple things turn into something grandiose in my mind and it runs away faster than I can keep up.

You see, I do have a few fears of the house.  Yes me, the one who kills people off with a pen swifter than you can get a paper-cut, I do have fears.  Granted some are warranted (like needles and snakes) while others are purely subconsciously settled.  Those won’t budge so I figured, hey let’s share 🙂

Lets start with what I like to call the Goblin Door.

ImageSee that tiny door?  I’m sure its not hard to miss.  It sits quietly in my kitchen between a door and the refrigerator.  Most would pay no mind to it or take it as it is, a door to something necessary.  I don’t see it that way.  I see it as just what I imagine.  A door that somehow lurking behind it sits a goblin determined to come out and catch me at the most inconvenient time.  So naturally, I have put a few obstacles in its path.  First, I have a tin object hanging from the LOCKED door, so if it were to slide open the tin falls and I’m alerted to the beginning of a bumpy night.  For good measure I usually throw the bin in front of it, followed by the broom, and a few containers filled with dog and cat food.  This by far is creepy enough.  Let’s move on to the other thing that really bothers me.

My basement.  You’re thinking, “yeah so its a basement, no big deal a lot of people don’t like them, but they are only basements and nothing else.”  Or is it?  Who is to say that this house is not sitting on top of a portal to the other world, the goblin door just being one of many places these creatures my come out?  It can be pretty easy to tell that something could be amiss in the supernatural world just by looking at things.

The stairs.  yes, the stairs.  Woohoo, simple.  Yet why in the world are they held up by rope?  That is something that baffles me and flashes red lights as I squeeze myself down them.

ImageThe moment I step down from the stairs I am greeted by tons of old brick, dirt, and rock since the house was built into a hill.  Pipe after pipe above me leading sometimes from nowhere to nowhere.  I turn to the left and what can I see? 

A place Goblins can go to and from their other realm (or whatever creatures that might decide to visit)

Image

 

I can only imagine some dark disfigured creature slithering out of that hole and leaving behind heaps of ash.  

I proceed a bit further and something people haven’t seen in a while is what looks to be an old coal generator of sorts, complete with real lumps of coal on the ground. To me, this seems like an easy storage units for nibbles the goblins save for later.

ImageOf course we could always hope that the reason these goblins have been kept at bay was because they  haven’t found a use for me yet.  Maybe they’re the kind that prefer to EAT the coal, or bricks, or concrete, add a multitude of minerals to the mix.  Let’s hope this is the last place they stop for if they want a midnight snack.

Image

 

So there you have it folks.  My house, my imagination, and the creep factor.  I will tell you one thing, I kid you not, I have a sword that for any reason I hear ramblings, scurrying, clanking, or to even go to the basement after the sun goes down (it has windows, but lighting is left up to two dim bulbs) I will use to the best of my ability.

Image

 

 

 

Reflection on why I do what I do – winding down day one of promotions

For all those who grabbed an e-copy of Rise of a Queen on the first day of the promotion I hope you’ve jumped into it or getting it set for the lovely Labor Day holiday weekend. Don’t forget to tell your friends before the promotion is over because I honestly write because I love to do so. I love to entertain, I love to fill the brains with something besides the ooey gooey spaghetti that sloshes around in them sometimes, although I haven’t written a zombie book yet so that may be something on the table for later. *pushes plate of spaghetti away*.  

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Anyway, what was I saying? Oh I remember, sharing what I’ve written. To be a writer, a person really has to love what they are doing. Most artists do. Why? Because we usually don’t make a big steaming plop of Monopoly money like a lot of people who may have chosen something else for their career. Actually most authors tend to hold what we call “day jobs” those things you push through so you can rush home and jot down those ideas that kicked through that 10 a.m.  meeting you were supposed to pay attention to. Yeah, I’ve been there and done that. Personally I do it because I can’t help it. No matter what I do, there is always something to be written down no matter how much it makes sense at the time or if it is even something other than random words put together by what may seem like silly string. Do you know the oddest thing? All the stress it can cause, all the research that has to be done (and oh so much research that’s going on for me right now I feel like I’m back at University), all the beta readers with wonderful feedback, the editing process done 10x or more; it makes me happy in the end. I’ve finished it. I did my hardest to make it something I wanted to share with the world. I’m not perfect by any means, and you if you caught some of my earlier drafts the giggles that would have come out of your belly would have been funny to see, but I am passionate about my work. Isn’t that what it really comes down to? My passion? No, not THAT kind……10 foot pole; wrong author on that subject. The passion of imagination, storytelling, visualizing every scene in my mind long before I can even put it on paper. Every bit of it makes my heart beat at it fullest. That is why I am happy to hear when people like what they have read from me (even my little jots of old school poetry or deep thoughts on another blog) and tell me so. I also, honestly, adore criticism. For one, it reminds me that I am human and that I do make mistakes and maybe what I’ve written is just not their cup of tea. Things I say, or write, can be confusing or just done terribly. I would love to know all of that because I can never grow without that kind of criticism.

Okay, so enough of my getting all mooshy and talking about my big love for writing, I will leave you with my hopes of your enjoyment of a small piece of me in Rise of a Queen and I’ll bounce up out of here. I’ve got a promotion to run 🙂