Junior Inquisitor

Junior Inquisitor

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Women in Horror Month, and other scary things


Welcome once again everyone. Here in the DC region, the weather has been horrific (sorry, not sorry) and temperatures are in the 70s. In February. I hope it stays this way, and is not a cruel week or two of hope before the area becomes a frozen wasteland once again.

I continue to bang away on the keyboard, getting about 1K of words knocked out daily. Currently I am working on a new horror series, and I think it’s going well. Really enjoyed writing the gun fight in the parking garage last night. Let us hope it survives editing.

As you can see I had some help, and inspiration this weekend with my writing. And no the porch is still not quite done. Grrrr
Where are the Cenobites Daddy?
Speaking of women in horror, have I got a treat for you – It women in Horror Month, and I, in my own small way am helping a bit. Ladies, take it away

 Suzie Lockhart

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Suzie-Lockhart/e/B00DTIG29I
Convinced she was destined to be an artist, Suzie Lockhart attended The Art Institute of Pittsburgh after graduating high school, but the gnawing urge to write remained with her. She originally wanted to write romance novels, but after discovering the innate ability to tell chilling tales, Suzie embraced her inner-creepiness.

When I saw ‘Scary Confessions’ as a possible topic for WiHM, my inner voice prompted me to let her out of the cage I keep her in.

The prospect of letting Inner Voice out was a very frightening one, indeed…the one rattling around inside my skull isn’t akin to the one that prompts Anastasia Steele to explore tawdry sexual encounters with Christian Grey.

Well, not usually.

My inner voice is more likely to encourage me to make the fast food employee, who really pissed me off because she can’t count change without the assistance of the cash register, or the driver who nearly hit my car because he was in such a hurry to get to wonderland, pay. Make them pay, she hisses. (And trust me, my fellow writers, she does not need an ‘S’ word to hiss…)

Make. Them. Pay.

“C’mon,” I argue, “she’s just a kid. I mean, they aren’t even teaching cursive writing in school these days, let alone how to count change!”

Then I feel bad, because I know a few teachers and I know they work hard.

I consider the young guy who cut me off earlier, driving a fancy sports car while talking on an expensive-looking cell phone. I decide to take a new approach.

“It’s the parents!” That is my next argument with Inner Voice. Now, I feel terrible for blaming teachers. I figure the kids can’t be held accountable for things they don’t know. We are still on the topic of the young girl who couldn’t count change. “They are too busy to help kids with their homework. And parents are spoiling kids rotten.”

Take that, Inner Voice.

Well shit. As I’m writing this, I realize I forgot to help my own kid with math homework. Did I remember the spelling test…? My eyes land on my little girl, sitting in the midst of her fancy dollhouse, surrounded by at least a hundred Monster High dolls.

Inner Voice smiles her delinquent smile.




Naching T. Kassa

Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/Naching-T-Kassa/e/B005ZGHTI0/
Naching T. Kassa is a wife, mother, and Horror Author. She is a member of the Horror Writers Association and a contributor to the Demonic Visions series.

The worst nightmare I ever had, the one that fuels my writing, is about a terrible and demonic creature. Even now, shivers crawl up and down my spine at the mere thought of it.

I was four when I had the dream and my older sister, who slept in the bunk bed above me, heard my cries. I tried to tell her what it was but she didn't quite understand so, she decided to draw a composite picture of it. I described it to her as follows.

"It had vampire teeth."

She drew them.

"And, eyes. Big eyes."

"What else?"

"It had wings."

"Ok. Like this?"

"Yes. It's body was made of bread. There was lettuce in the middle."

"It was a flying sandwich?"

"Yes."

Ok, so the first great fear of my life was a flying sandwich that wished to eat me. It made my heart jack-hammer, my pulse race, made me freeze as I tried not to be seen. It became the nightmare fodder and the mole hill from which my horror mountain grew. I'm grateful if a little confused by it.
 
It seems trivial compared to the fear out there now.

Website: http://frightenme.weebly.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/nachingkassa
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Naching-T-Kassa/e/B005ZGHTI0/





Very impressive. Check them out, read their work, and as always, leave a review.

Small confession time, I might have spent a bit more than I expected for Valentine’s Day for the Lovely Dr. Farish. As such I need to pay off some credit card bills before I’m once again the victim of Redhead Wrath.

So help a guy out, grab a few of my excellent books, and help me stay in my wife’s good graces.

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4 comments:

Debbie Christiana said...


Great post, ladies!

Wendy Howard said...

Loved your posts! Remembered a dream I had as a kid with an undead bloody guy in a coffin-sized, aluminum lasagna pan with foil covering it.

roh morgon said...

Inner voices and dreams. Hmm. Sounds like a lethal combo!

Naching Kassa said...

Your Inner Voice gave me chills, Suzie!
Hahahahahahah! I love your lasagna guy, Wendy! That's scarier than a sandwich!