It's Creepy and It's Kooky, and Altogether Spooky (Penny Rader)

Happy Halloween!

Want to add a bit of a thrill or a chill or touch of suspense to your writing? Check out these links:

Foreshadowing and Suspense (Anne Marble)

Keep in mind that not all characters will react to anxiety and crises in the same way. Spend some time figuring out how characters react to suspense, anxiety, and fear. Try to avoid the usual descriptions, such as "her pulse raced..." If you're at a loss for descriptions, remember the last time something scary happened to you. What happened the last time you stepped on the breaks and your car tried to skid? Did your stomach feel like a brick? Did you shriek, or swear? Or did you steer yourself out of the skid and only respond to the stress after you were safe? Use those experiences to color your characters' reactions.

How Do I Captivate the Reader in My Scary Story? (Elizabeth Burns)

Omit excessive detail. Some of the best scary stories skillfully leave it to the reader's imagination to fill in the blanks. It is often what is hidden, or merely hinted at, that sends chills down the spine.

How to Succeed at Writing Romantic Suspense (Shannon Reynolds)

Craft a tense and suspenseful tone. Focus on more than just the scary abandoned buildings or creepy old mansions. Characters reflect tone by how they react to events as they unfold: if the characters are convincingly tense and uncertain of what's around the next corner, chances are your readers will be as well. Throw some twists and turns into your story, surprises that your readers will not see coming.

Ten Tips on Pace and Structure of a Thriller (Jordan Dane)

Hitchcock believed suspense didn’t have much to do with fear, but was more the anticipation of something about to happen.

And we’ve all heard the phrase “Write what you know.” It should be “Write what you fear…what you love…what you hate.” Writing what you fear conveys human emotion that will resonate with readers. Tapping into what makes you afraid will translate into a trigger for the reader as well. And this goes for other emotions too. Drawing on a reader’s emotions will pull them into the story.

Tips for Writing Fiction (Robert Gannon)

What is scary is very subjective, so it's best to write something that scares you.

Try writing about an actual event that scared you in your life. My first horror story I ever felt comfortable sharing (long since lost, of course), involved a string of events that I'm still convinced were caused by a ghost in my house. The genuine nature of the story to me allowed me to effectively tell it to other people. Since I thought it was real, I wrote it like it was real, and that is what scared people.


Writing Horror Literature (Justin Daniel Davis)

What scares people? And how do I tap into it?Well, a good place to start as a source of fear would be the most logical and often overlooked one: yourself. Face it...you’re rarely going to get anywhere by trying to capitalize on what you THINK scares people. Start with yourself...not only is this your most reliable source, but your writing will come across as more genuine, less artificial. What scares you? Monsters under your bed? Loss of control? Ghosts? Goblins? Chores?

~~

So...what scares you? Do you have any tips to share to add a touch of creepiness to stories, maybe just enough to have your reader on the edge of her seat?

Something Wicked... (Rox Delaney)

One more day.  Just one more day before All Hallows Eve, when the veil between this world and the spririt world thins, and communication between the two becomes easier.

Or at least that's what some believe.  It's up to you to decide if you do.

There have been a few scary Halloween nights for me.  When I was very young and lived in the big, bad city (before moving to the little bad small town, then to the big bad middle of nowhere and now back to that big bad city), my older neighbors often took me trick or treating.  One year, as we stood on the corner waiting for a car to drive by so we could cross the street, that car and another car collided.  I screamed.  It was nothing more than a fender bender, but the sound of the crash and my blood curdling scream brought friends and neighbors outside.  At that point, trick or treating ended for me until the next year.

When I was around six or seven years old, I dressed as a Pilgrim girl, in long gray dress, white Pilgrim hat and round collar, all made by my mother, and a blonde braided wig.  Those same neighbors as above had a grandmother who had given them a pair of real, authentic wooden shoes, which were loaned to me for the evening.  Believe me, they were not comfy, but I wore them anyway, determined to be as real as I could be.  The block behind us ended in a circle drive/dead end, thanks to U.S. 54.  As we approached one of the houses near the end, a horrible witch came around the corner.  Scared beyond sanity, I began screaming and ran for home.  When I arrived, I sobbed to my dad what had happened...and then realized that I'd lost my hat and wig during my race for safety.  I cried even harder.  When I finally stopped, my dad walked me back, finally convinced me that the witch wasn't real, and we found my hat and wig.  Once again, trick or treating was over for me until the next year.

Fast forward to small town and high school.  No more costumes.  By eighth grade, we'd even given up painting our faces and going door to door.  But what fun to steal pumpkins and toss them in the middle of Main Street!  Braver souls moved the picnic tables from the park to the streets, and burning hay bales were scattered in the street, making driving a tad difficult. The local grocery store removed all egg cartons.  After Halloween our senior year, I distinctly remember how, when the heater was turned on, my best friend's car smelled of rotten eggs for months and months.  Tricks in town got so bad that mounted police from the city were sent for a few years to try to keep things under control.  One year, after looking for an outhouse to tip over, a group of us ran across the railroad tracks at the edge of town, hoping we wouldn't get caught, and one of the guys and I fell in what's known as "Devil's Hole."  Rumor had it that the six feet deep hole was the mouth of a tunnel than ran underneath the town.  Well, maybe long, long ago it did.  All I know is that climbing out was not for sissies.

Fast forward to the present.  My five grandkids and their parents (and an aunt or two) enjoy trick or treating together---all in costume.  I'm sure the people handing out candy aren't too sure what to think of the mob at their door.  No, the parents don't ask for candy. ;)

Me?  I stay home, turn down the lights, and listen carefully for the whispers of those who have passed on to the next world.  [Have I mentioned that I've had two paranormal experiences?]  Then I turn on the TV, grab a DVD or two, and find something fun to watch.  This year I've decided on Hocus Pocus, followed by Practical Magic.  I know I'm in for a treat. ;)

The Believing and I

When I was growing up, our family and another did everything together. They had three children the same ages as we three. That made six children that experienced everything about the same time as in a small herd of barefoot animation. We went everywhere together and eventually even explored the other side--yup, someone got a Ouija board for Christmas, me. We spent hours in contact with the great beyond--for about three weeks.

Then we found out the great beyond lies. Yes, friends and neighbors, the beyond, speaking to us through the Ouija board, lied. At first we couldn't believe it. Something must be wrong. But, after repeated trials and new tests, there was no longer any doubt, the Ouija control is at the mercy of many forces, but they aren't supernatural. Gravity, slickness of the board, and the underlying subconscious drives of the user/users. Playing wasn't fun anymore, so the spirit board went the way of all presents for children that no longer amuse--it was lost into history.

Fast forward to me as a jaded adult who has taken a look into the occult, seances, witchdoctors, and such. I have developed a theory. Everyone ought to get the chance to play with Ouija boards and such things long enough to find there is not a jot of anything in them. And what did I run across? A local group in a small cafe. I'm a regular customer and one day stopped in and discovered the young ones waiting tables were, in their spare time, using an Ouija board to amuse themselves. As teenagers, I'd have thought they'd have blown through that pretty quickly. However on one of my weekly town days, I noticed they'd merely morphed their interest into contacting perfect strangers on the other side. They were keeping copious notes on name, age, how they died, and did they want to send any special messages to anyone. If those teenagers had spent half of the time they spent contacting the spirit world via the Ouija board studying, they'd have been at the top of their classes.

Weeks passed. A few older, young adults started hanging about. Still the Ouija board spewed info to be written faithfully down. I believe the cafe owner encouraged it, but then maybe she was waiting to hear from a loved one herself.

Not wanting to rain on any parades, I kept my disparaging remarks to myself, however, I had repeatedly refused a turn at the board. Then the final pressure came. Why wouldn't I try? Instead of answering the question, I offered to give it a go. The Ouija board never moved. Then we were both on it. It didn't move. I told the co-operator that it seemed the beyond didn't want to talk to me. The co-operator, one of the most intense operators, immediately asked the Ouija board why it didn't talk to me. With wondrous ability to delve into self delusion, the young woman told me the answer she received. The Ouija board told her I had too strong of a soul. I didn't roll my eyes, but it took a lot of self restraint.

Sheesh. Was there no end in sight? An idea popped into my head. Not the most noble, but it would be interesting for a group of people absolutely determined to experience a connection to the other side. And for me, the devil in me just knew it would be awfully amusing.

I succumbed to temptation.

Drinking my coffee, I drawled out that if a person really wanted to talk to the dead then a seance was better. My, oh, my. They were all over that like ants at a picnic. I told them how to do it:

First: get a table

Second: get a table cloth. Lace would be nice, but if you don't have one, any will do

Third: have something personal from the person whose spirit you wish to talk to

Fourth: get a candle.

Fifth: sit around the table. If you can, hold hands.

Sixth: just as the sun sets, attempt to contact spirit/ask a question of the spirits

The last instruction was to remember that spirits do not have vocal cords. If they answer it could be by any way they can. Be prepared for a 'sign'.

Off home I went, smiling the whole while. I figured there was at least six people about to scare themselves silly. They were ripe for it. That seance was going to be a success! When I reached home, my beloved husband was there and asked about the smile. I told him that if all went well at about fifteen minutes after sundown, I expected a call.

Almost to the minute, a call came in. Yes, it was an excited seancer. The young lady reported that she'd just had the time of her life!! Yes, it was true, the spirit had used a truck horn to communicate. Did I mention the cafe was on the highway?

In the end, it wasn't finding out that the spirits don't really speak that put a stop to the Ouija board, it was parents. It seemed the parents thought that Ouija boards contained demons and devils and banned the use. Well, what can you say to that?

I have always wished that the Ouija board participants could have discovered quietly on their own that there is nothing in a Ouija board that isn't in themselves, a final closure if you will, for flinging open the door to the other side only to find a blank wall. But then, who am I to determine where the spirits live?

My Halloween Memories (Melissa Robbins)

Halloween is my second favorite holiday. Columbus Day has the first spot. Oh, I jest. It's Christmas.

Anyway, I grew up in the northeast where Halloween was hugely popular. Every year, my family would pile into our gray station wagon and drive along the windy road through the woods to Butler's Orchard. Sitting in the “way back,” my sister and I looked out for the ghosts and witches hanging from the trees.

Soon the woods gave way to a large opening where hay bales and pumpkin sculptures abounded. Pumpkins were painted and dressed as famous characters. I remember Snoopy laying on his doghouse as being my favorite.

After admiring the sculptures, my family rode a hayride to a large field where everyone could choose their perfect pumpkins. Serious business for my family. Round and fat? Long and skinny? My sisters and I always wanted the biggest pumpkin we could find.

Before leaving Butler's Orchard, we stopped at the Farm Market for other fall supplies. They had the best apples and apple cider. The funny shaped gourds amused me. Mom would select small pumpkins to make pumpkin pie. It amazed me that she could get pie filling out of a pumpkin.

The big day was just as special. Dad carved the pumpkin and Mom had our costumes ready after spending hours making them. I can remember being a mouse, scarecrow, pirate, angel (twice), witch, and a Cabbage Patch Kid (showing my age with that one).

Every house gave out candy and my sisters and I attacked every one. Okay, maybe not every house, but it was not from lack of trying.

I still dress up for Halloween. I do it for my kids. Nodding head. I want them to love Halloween as much as I do. I may even sew a costume or two.

As writers, we create our own worlds that come alive on paper. Halloween allows those worlds and words to jump off the page. Hmm. My sisters are writers too. I wonder if there is a connection between a love of writing and a love of Halloween.

One October Night

A friend and I had an interesting experience one October years ago. We were in our late teens and had just arrived at a weekend retreat hosted by a church camp. It was dark, and while the immediate area where people were arriving was lit, the edges where there were woods and a creek were rather creepy. I looked up and happened to glance at a cabin set on the creek at the edge of the woods.
"Hey, I said to my friend, "What are those two guys doing out there?
They look like they have some kind of light suits on."
"Wow, those are awesome, let's go see."

We walked toward the two guys, noticing how they were standing. One had his profile to us, leaning against the doorpost of the cabin with one foot propped up on the doorpost, knee sticking out. The other stood next to the first, feet shoulder length apart, arms akimbo. They looked like they had bright white neon lights from head to toe. All we could see was the lights, no features.

At that moment, another friend ran up to greet us and we stopped to talk for just a moment. When she ran on, we both looked out toward the cabin and the guys were gone.
"C'mon, let's go see what they were up to," I urged.
With eager curiousity, we hurried to the cabin. As we drew closer to the door, we both slowed down, then stopped in confusion as we saw the padlock on the door, the cobwebs covering the door, the uttter evidence that no one had been there for quite some time. I felt a weird skittering sensation up my back, realizing that whatever we had seen, it wasn't two guys from the camp standing in the doorway.

We retraced our steps and walked toward the cabin again, hoping to see again whatever we had seen. We saw nothing. We have our own conclusions about what we saw, but it was a very strange experience.

When a Stranger Calls (Penny Rader)

I grew up in the country. Lots of farms around. Very few actual neighborhoods. I attended a really small school. One day a mom asked if I’d consider watching her kids every day after school for a couple hours. I didn’t want to commit to an every day thing until I’d spent time with the kids so I agreed to babysit while the parents went out.

Did I mention I lived out in the country? Well, the B’s lived even farther out in the boonies. In a tall, multi-storied house all by its lonesome. Didn’t know this until Mr. B and I pulled into their driveway.

Everything started out okay. Met the kids. They were cute. Mr. & Mrs. B headed out the door. Before too long I heard a “thwap, thwap, thwap.” I probably didn’t mention that I’ve always been something of a coward. I was never going to be one of those nightgown-clad heroines who foolishly went down into the dungeon to see what the noise was. But…since I was the babysitter I had to suck it up and check it out. I drew a deep breath and forced myself to search for the source.

Thwap. Thwap. I peered around doorways. I had a hard time hearing the noise because my heartbeat was reverberating throughout my entire body. Several rooms later I finally found the culprit – an open window and a banging window shade. Whew! Crisis averted and my heart slowing back to its normal rhythm, I closed the window and headed back downstairs.

You know how they always tell kids to not tell strangers your parents aren’t home? But they don’t really tell you what to do in that situation? What’s up with that anyway? You probably guessed what happened next. Um-hmm. The phone rang.

Me: “Hello?”
Stranger: “May I speak to Mrs. B?”
Me: “Uh…she’s busy.”
Him: “I really need to talk to her.”
Me: “She’s really busy and can’t come to the phone.”
Him: “Okay. Let me talk to Mr. B.”
Me: “He’s busy too.”
Him: sigh
Me: waiting…hoping he’d just leave a message.
Him: “This is Mrs. B’s brother. I’ll just come over.”
Me, inside my head: Aaaaack!!!
Me: “Wait! Please don't come over. I’m the babysitter. Mr. & Mrs. B aren’t here."
Him: “Just tell them I called.”

Did I mention that my imagination sometimes goes into overdrive? That call freaked me out and I was absolutely certain some raving lunatic was on his way over to murder, ravish, and pillage, but I could not show my fear in front of the kids. So, I calmly got them all into their jammies and settled in their beds. Then I planted myself in the corner of the couch, squishing myself down under a quilt until I was as small as I could make myself. To anyone watching I would appear to be watching the TV, but actually, I had one eye on the front door and one eye on the picture window.

There are lots and lots of noises in the country. Spooky noises. Tree limbs smacking windows. Wind shaking just about everything. Howling animals. It’s enough to give a 13 year old girl a heart attack.

Boy, was I relieved when Mr. & Mrs. B got home. (Though there was a moment of extreme panic when that door opened!) The next day I called and told Mrs. B that I wouldn’t be able to take the every day babysitting job. (In my head I added or any other babysitting job!) My excuse: I had too much homework. She believed me. Her kids had tons of homework, too.

Yep, I’m a wimp. And I hate babysitting. And I still don't know what you're supposed to tell people when they call and ask for the parents.

~~

Do you have any scary experiences you'd like to share with us?

Fears Come In All Sizes And Types

I thought long and hard and missed my day yesterday to blog due to farm hell. But now we're finished with harvest and everyone can go back to their own corner, I'm ready to proceed.

What I was thinking about was the horror of election time. Characters are shredded, points are made, and the electorate would like to put ear muffs on the kids.

However, over the years I've been growing ever more aware of things around us not being as I thought they were. Imagine that. As my eyes have been opened and the area behind my ears dried out, I realized that a lot of people don't vote. Then I kept my ears open and discovered that unlike what the news-people will tell you, that it isn't voter apathy that keeps people from voting, but fear; fear of the unknown, fear of making a fool of oneself, and fear of making a mistake. So, I started talking to people, one on one, why they didn't vote--exactly why. Many didn't know how or who to ask. Many didn't know how to decide. Many felt too stupid. I realized that what we needed to help us conquer our fear is a little basic information:

Let us start with how to vote.

To register to vote:

Go to your local driver's license renewal location or your county clerk's office.

You can register as a party member (Democrat, Republican, Communist, whatever your pleasure) or

You can register as an Independent, meaning you're registered to vote, but not declaring a party. If you don't declare a party, you can't vote in their primary--just the general and special elections.

Now you're registered. What next? Call your county clerk, tell them where you live, and ask where the poll will be set up for you. Usually, you are informed by mail. A poll is a place to vote. It can be a school, a government building, or the living room of someone's house.

On voting day, go to the poll, between the hours of 7 AM to 7 PM (hours may change to more but never less) and vote. Some areas allow early voting. Again, call your county clerk and ask if it exists in your local area and how to go about it. There may even be mail-in options.

How to vote? The machines, papers, or whatever necessary to do the job changes regularly. There is always an explanation at the polls on how to use the equipment and someone there to answer any questions or demonstrate them. It is very ok to ask. Ask several times if you need to. Like I said, the equipment changes regularly enough that even a season voter has to ask questions.

What to vote? Ballots or explanation pages are set on tables so that you can read and understand them before actually entering the voting area. They are there to be read by anyone.

How to decide what to vote:

You decide that too. If, when you get into the room, face to face with the ballot, and all of it makes no sense, then finish it without making marks and turn it into the poll lady as if you did. No one will look at it. They can't by law. We have secret ballot in this country. It really is secret. No one sees it except to count from it. Your name is never on a ballot unless you're running for office!

Are you too stupid to vote?

No! You may not be comfortable choosing a president. Fine, don't vote that section. You might not be comfortable voting on a judge position. There is nothing that says a voter has to vote on every issue or even every race on a ballot. If you have a strong opinion on whether your neighborhood needs a new swimming pool and that is one of the issues, then vote your yes or no vote! If you have a little time before voting day and want more information, then look a question up. For example; this November we vote on whether we want to change our wording in our state constitution to clarify our right to bear arms in the state of Kansas. On this one, if you believe it to be an independent, a personal right, then vote yes. If you believe it to be a militia or military right, vote no. Oddly, this has been unclear in our state since before the first world war ended in 1918! You are also free to NOT VOTE on this issue even though you might on others. There are other issues on your ballot that might not be on mine in a different district. Ballots are individualized for each district depending upon the needs of those people (electorate). Some things on the ballot are the same for all Kansans. One would be the choice of president. The governor, state attorney general, state treasurer and many more are open for voting on when the terms of the individual offices are up or someone has left office.

Other voter items are on local school board members, mayors, city councilmen, and even sometimes whether to put in a stop light at a specific location. Don't keep yourself from making local decisions that make a difference in your every day world, because you wish to stay out of the state and federal decision making.

Does your vote count? Every vote counts. I've had to count them. We strung them on a huge curved needle with a heavy string attached to it and a button on the other. As each ballot was counted and looked at by six people, the ballot was strung on the string to keep from accidently counting a ballot twice. The people counting votes are from several parties, no party is left alone with ballots. Ballots are never left with only one person in attendance.

CAUTION: No one is allowed within a certain distance of a polling area to influence you to vote a certain specific way. This is illegal in most states. Report it.

A weird little question: Do you know how long/big the constitution of the United States really is? It will fit in your shirt pocket with room for an ipod and takes a half hour to an hour to read.

I hope this little bit of information helps dispel the biggest fear of the season--our electoral process. If you think this info doesn't fit with a writerly life, think again. What the government does sways the mood of the people. As the mood of the people goes, so goes their money. As the money of the people go, we writers want them to buy what we sell. What romance writers sell is hope. If the people prosper, they buy retail. If the people do not prosper, they go to the library. We need the people to prosper, vote accordingly.