Apparently I shouldn’t write paranormal fiction. I keep scaring myself.

The worst part of the above statement is that Random Contemporary isn’t even to the “paranormal parts” yet.  No, I’m on Chapter Four.  It has nothing to do with anything yet.

Despite this fact, I had to get up at the crack of dawn yesterday for Day Job.  In fact, the “crack of dawn” wasn’t even awake yet so, in the predawn hour I found myself in, I turned the porch light on when I was leaving.  You know, in case there were any bears or mountain lions, or zombies roaming around my car.

As I strolled around The Hubs car, my brain–which up until this point had been involved with thoughts of lunch and the question of how I was going to make it from a 5 am breakfast to a 11:30 am lunch without a snack–promptly switched over to: “Well, now, it’s pretty dark outside.  If this was The Walking Dead, you might just round the Escape and crash face first into a pack of walkers.”

Which then turned into, “Isn’t it creepy to think a ghost or something could just be standing there–or there–watching and waiting?”

Which then turned into, “Oh my God, I think something is standing behind me.”

Which culminated in me literally throwing myself into my car, slamming the door behind me, and making sure all the doors were locked.

And then I couldn’t find my keys.

So, yes, as a matter of fact I am a huge chicken.  I have been a huge chicken since I saw the movie Critters when I was five.  I spent the next fifteen years sleeping with my knees pulled up to my chin, just in case some kind of rabid furball showed up and tried to bite my feet off.  In fact…I’m pretty sure I stopped sleeping like that around the time The Hubs entered the scene.  It was probably because he sleeps with his feet hanging off the bed and I figured, you know.  Bait.

Anyway, Random Contemporary has taken on a life of its own and I’ve got all these (hopefully) creepy/paranormal/not stupid ideas floating about in my subconscious.  I almost peed my pants this morning when I rounded the corner from the bathroom and almost walked into The Toddler, who was headed my direction.  He’s like, “Hi Momma!”

To which I said, “Ermehgerd!  It’s 5:30 in the morning!”

Honestly.

Despite my nominal ability to scare myself when writing non-scary material, I’m pressing on with Random Contemporary.  I’ve had a few good ideas for my other two Historical Fiction novels that are on the back burner, but I’ve been at the height of my sarcasm lately.  I’ve been so stressed out with Day Job that my natural defense is snarky wit and sarcastic comebacks.  Unfortunately these, though useful tools, don’t really fit with the two historical fiction plots I’m working with.  We’ll see what happens.  I took a break from writing over the weekend and it was nice just to sit and do nothing.  And what I mean when I say nothing is, I didn’t write or blog.  Instead I did dishes, cleaned the bathroom, went grocery shopping, made a casserole, made salsa, ate birthday cake, cleaned the living room carpet, and paid of The Hubs’ car.  But in between all that, I also fell asleep watching Psycho.  You know.  Because it’s me.

And can I just give a formal and hearty hello to the month of September?  I love fall!  I hate winter.  I hate snow.  I hate ice.  But I really love the crispness of fall and the somewhat cooler weather.  And hey, I got invited to an Oktoberfest party!  I’ll be the kid bringing kielbasa and sauerkraut cooked in beer and brown sugar.  German?  Probably not.  Delicious?  Why yes.

Fall also brings fond memories of going back to school and spending time in Harpers Ferry and Gettysburg.  Fun fact and totally related to the topic at hand: my first “ghostly” experience was in Harpers Ferry.  When we first moved there, we lived in a building called Marmion Row.  One night, I was laying in our bedroom and kept hearing this noise; it sounded like something was pacing back and forth from the window and around the bed.  I drifted off to sleep but was woken up a few hours later by a little voice–directly in my ear–saying, “Momma!  Momma!”

We moved out two days later.

So, when you read that in Random Contemporary some day, you can totally just smile and nod to yourself and say, “She didn’t just write that.  She lived it!”

Meanwhile, I’ll be over here.  Still sleeping with a night-light.  Because we all know that keeps the ghosts away.  Maybe not critters, but definitely ghosts.

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8 thoughts on “Apparently I shouldn’t write paranormal fiction. I keep scaring myself.

    1. I’ll be taking your advice and not watching! You know, after we moved out, we found out a lot of people had weird, ghostly things happen. Maybe not a lot–it was like, three–but that’s a lot for one building.

  1. I frequently creep myself out when I’m writing. That’s how I know that I’m getting to the good stuff, when I read back over my last paragraph and think, “what sick puppy wrote that?”

  2. I feel the same way about my current horror WIP. If it comes into my mind just before I fall asleep, I’m like “Nope!”

    There is such an amazing process that goes with writing creepy things, though. I think it’s translating your own fears and paranoia into the book. It’s one of the most cohesive emotions, I think, because you can feel it at any time.

    Good luck! Don’t let them get you too creeped out, but let a little of it in 😉

    1. Thanks so much! This is my first stab (horrible cliche and I apologize) at a paranormal, let alone a contemporary. I do have a nasty tendency to think up the creepiest things right before bed and usually right after I turn the light out. Or, worse yet, when I’m fumbling around in the dark in the morning, trying not to wake my kids up.

      When I get to (what I hope will be) the creepier parts of the plot line, I’m going to have to write it on the brightest day of the week, in the middle of the mall or something. That’s what made Alfred Hitchcock so fantastic–it wasn’t necessarily the horror itself, but the *idea* of horror that planted itself in your mind and just festered there. Love it!

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