This week, I’ve done something I haven’t done since I was first published. I’ve begun writing a scary story.
I hadn’t planned to. In fact, it wasn’t even on my radar. However, after reading about a submission call from one of my publishers, my curiosity was piqued.
I’ve built my writing reputation on providing “happily ever after” moments. Could I actually write something that might end in gruesome fashion? Would I even enjoy it?
Here’s the thing. I am having fun. Oh, God, I am having fun! Who knew?
I suppose I should have known. You see, scary stories were my reason for living when I was a kid. From the age of 12, all I read was tales of ghosts, vampires and royal beheadings. Weird kid, huh? I know. It explains a lot.
Even if you look at my romance, my love of the unusual is evident. After all, I think Greek gods might walk among us, I love men who turn into animals and I think seal people are hot. I believe in ghosts and freely admit it. I’ve never seen one (that I know of) but I’m convinced there are levels of consciousness we haven’t yet attained. In other words, I think it’s pretty cool that something else might be “out there.”
I’m not going to spill the beans on this story yet. Knowing me, it’ll probably change five times before I settle on the details.
Does this mean I’m giving up romance and men with abs? No, but I hope this exercise will provide some new insight into writing and light up some new pathways. Hopefully you’ll be seeing this short story in an anthology soon.
And I hope I scare the pants off you.
Photo via Visual Hunt