Favorite Holiday: an Open Book Blog Hop post

 

Welcome to Open Book Blog Hop. You can find us every Monday talking about the writing life. I hope you'll check out all the posts: you'll find the links at the bottom of this post.

Which is your favorite holiday and why?

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I find this one difficult to answer. There are a LOT of holidays that have brought me joy, but most of them are also a ton of work and sometimes that doesn't balance out. Some of my best family times AREN'T on holidays at all, and I think that's because there's less pressure or expectations on the day and I can relax. 

So, some thoughts on several holidays: 

Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur: Usually falling in September or October of the Christian calendar, this is basically Jewish New Year, a time for reflection and appreciation, celebration and atonement. I'm not a very religious Jew and I've never really had a religious community in my life, but I've developed my own quiet practice and often get to share a festive meal with family and friends. It's tricky to make space for around a public school schedule, but we try and it's getting easier now that I no longer teach. 

 

I'm pretty famous for my challah.

 

Halloween: I've got a serious spooky streak and I enjoy the aesthetics of Halloween a great deal. Decorating, making treats, etc. It's different now that my kids are grown and no longer trick or treat, but I'm enjoying the new traditions we're developing of hosting parties and watching spooky films together, too. 

Thanksgiving: I used to really resent this one. It didn't feel like a holiday to me, but more like a challenge or hurdle to overcome. A big festive meal of this sort is exhausting. It was especially bad when I was teaching because I really needed the time off just for recuperation. But then my husband and I came up with a system in which we order some of our dishes pre-made and make others ourselves. I'm looking forward to it this year because my 18-year-old is hosting a friends-giving and we'll have a houseful of young people. 

Chanukah/Hannukah (pick your favorite spelling): Since we're a two-religion family, some years ago we decided that our Chanukah observation would be simpler and involve fewer gifts since it's often so close or intertwining with Christmas. We plan a family activity together for each of the eight nights, and make sure we get some of the traditional foods and a chance to play dreidel together at least once. Some of my happiest family memories come from one of the nights of Chanukah. 

Christmas: I find Christmas overwhelming. It's huge. It's loud. It's flashy. My husband's family is Catholic. Luckily, we live at some distance and don't go up to be a part of the whole shebang every year. The gift-a-palooza is always fun and a couple of quiet days setting up and enjoying our new toys and items can be really nice. And it does have some lovely music. It's usually the longest stretch of days off in a row that I get every year, too, which can be lovely if it's not too full of travel and hoopla. 

How about you? Which holidays bring you light and joy? I'd love to hear about it in the comments 

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Christmas with the Menopausal Superheroes, an open book blog hop post

 

 

Welcome to Open Book Blog Hop. You can find us every Monday talking about the writing life. I hope you'll check out all the posts: you'll find the links at the bottom of this post.

Behind the scenes of a Holiday Scene: How did you write a holiday scene?
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I've written two Christmas stories for the Menopausal Superheroes. 

 

"O Scaly Night" has Patrica, the Lizard Woman of Springfield coming to the rescue during what should have been a quiet holiday alone and discovering that she likes helping people.

The idea for the story came to me while I was writing one of the novels in the series, which had me delving a little deeper into Patricia's background and understanding what kind of childhood experiences she had had. 

This story fits into the novel series earlier on, when there was more doubt as to how Patricia would end up using her powers and I liked exploring the ambivalence of vigilantism. The lines a hero does and doesn't cross.   

I wrote it for my newsletter subscribers, and later it was published as part of a charity Christmas anthology: Christmas Lites IX.

  

Click the image to read the entire story for free.

The other story is called "Max's Mommy" and is told by the youngest son of one of her heroes, Jessica, AKA Flygirl. One of the things I wanted for my Menopausal Superheroes was for them to still get to keep their friends, families, and homes. 

All of my heroes have a circle of trust who knows their secret identity and none of them are keeping their abilities hidden from the people they love most. I got to thinking about how her children were handling having a superhero for a mother and came up with this story of young Max watching his hero-mother in action.  

This one I also wrote as a gift to my newsletter subscribers, and I haven't sought other publication for it so far.

Click the image to read the entire story for free.

I really enjoyed writing both of these stories, focusing on just one of the heroes during the holidays and imagining how that might go. Maybe I need to write another one for Leonel, AKA Fuerte! Do you like tie-in stories for series? Do you read winter holiday stories as part of your festivities? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. 

If these snippets caught your attention and you're interested in more, here are the details on the series: 

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'Tis a gift! An Open Book blog post

Welcome to Open Book Blog Hop. You can find us every Monday talking about the writing life. I hope you'll check out all the posts: you'll find the links at the bottom of this post.

Dec 19, 2022 What gift did you want that you never got and might be bitter about? Have you bought it for yourself?

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Somewhere in the fog of childhood memory, I'm sure I was a petulant little brat over something I wanted and didn't get, but from the vantage point of my fifty-first year on planet earth, I know I've been quite spoiled across my life. I don't harbor any of this kind of bitterness apparently, because I can't remember anything like that. 

Even when we didn't have much money, my parents knew how to make gifts seem special, setting the stage and presenting them in a way that made them special. I suppose it's all in what you compare it to.

These days, I'm told I'm difficult to buy for. 

I can see that. 

Small things I need I buy for myself when they come up. Other things, I save up for, but wouldn't generally ask for as gifts because they're too expensive. Like many adults, I often receive quite practical gifts--things I actually need. 

I like giving gifts more than receiving them, though even giving them can become stressful, especially in a household like ours that celebrates both Chanukah and Christmas at this time of year. I have mixed feelings about gift-giving holidays and the sense of obligation that can take them over. 

My husband usually buys me tickets--to a play or concert, or for a trip or something like that. He knows I would enjoy an experience more than a trinket. My mother still buys me clothes, and somehow always knows what size and style are right for me, even though we live three states away and only see each other a few times a year. 

The children often make things, and those are special gifts indeed. 

So, I'll leave you with a sonnet I wrote a few years back. I'm afraid I'm not all that good at sonnets, but the sentiments are genuine. 

Check out the rest of the blog hop at the link: 

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IWSG--Holiday Catch Up

Welcome to the first Wednesday of the month. You know what that means! It's time to let our insecurities hang out. Yep, it's the Insecure Writer's Support Group blog hop. If you're a writer at any stage of career, I highly recommend this blog hop as a way to connect with other writers for support, sympathy, ideas, and networking. If you're a reader, it's a great way to peek behind the curtain of a writing life.

Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG and hashtag is #IWSG. This month's co-hosts are: Joylene Nowell Butler, Chemist Ken, Natalie Aguirre, Nancy Gideon, and Cathrina Constantine!


December 7 question - It's holiday time! Are the holidays a time to catch up or fall behind on writer goals?
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This year Chanukah and Christmas intersect, which compacts my holiday season a bit (we celebrate both at la Casa Bryant). That's both nice and annoying. I think I like it best when Chanukah falls in early December and is complete before it's time to get ready for Christmas. It was really cool the year that Chanukah and Thanksgiving collided, but I think that only happens about every 7,000 years, so I probably won't see that again. 

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Now that my kiddos are a little more independent (at ages 15 and age 22), time off of the day job gives me more leisure time than it used to. I might be called upon to play Mom bus, or get an offer to go do something fun, but the kids can and do largely entertain themselves, giving me the chance to sneak off to my writing oasis and muck about in my world of words. 

An interesting shift here lately has been that I can't sleep past 8:00 a.m. no matter what (hurray? menopause!), but my kids don't want to do anything until after noon, which means I can get 3-4 hours without being asked for much--just dogs who want a walk and a husband who might distract me. I gotta say, it's pretty nice. 

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So for those of you struggling with younger kids and finding quiet time for writing, I'll offer that it has gotten easier with time. And for those of you who never had kids, I see what you meant about the freedom that affords! 

Assuming everyone stays healthy, I anticipate a little catch-up time this year, at least until the grandparents come to visit, then all bets are off! (But grandma and grandpa time is wonderful in its own right, so I'm not complaining). 

Here's hoping your holidays feed your creative life, too, and give you the right balance of family and "me" time. 

Finding my Holly Jolly This Year

 Normally, it's pretty easy for me to build up a head of steam and some excitement about Christmas. What's not to like? Pretty lights, time off of work with people and dogs I love, an excuse to spoil those people and dogs with gifts and food. It sounds lovely.

But when you're the mom of the family, it also sounds like a lot of work--those lights, gifts, and special moments don't happen without some preparation and planning and this year . . .well, I'm pretty darn crispy. 

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See, last school year, I worked two jobs at the same time because my school district decided that one teacher could teach both children physically in the room and children attending class from home via zoom at the same time, with no change in pay or other responsibilities. People left the profession in hoards. 

But I didn't. I'm back in the classroom this year, but I'm a shell of my self and struggle with energy and empathy exhaustion. 

I did my best to give myself recovery time. I didn't take any summer teaching work despite HUGE pressure to do so, and I kept my writing life low-commitment, too. But seven weeks off didn't do it, and I started the school year still burnt-out from last year. 

So, as holidays approached, my feeling about them was more exhausted-before-I began than excited. 

Chanukah helped. 

Years ago, we decided that instead of nightly gifts, we'd do nightly family activities, sitting by our candles and remembering what we do this for.  The eldest was able to join us for first and eighth night this year, quite a coup in her final year of college crazy-times. We baked, drew, listened to music, played games, and watched movies. One night though, we had to declare "introvert night" where we spent time ignoring one another and going to our separate corners. 

My latkes were perfect this year, and we started a new tradition of JFC (Japanese fried chicken). The prayers and candles still brought me a peaceful contentment. 

Then, we started making the shift into Christmas, and . . . I just wasn't feeling it. Even as I ticked things off my list in anticipation of all the good times (Christmas Eve pajamas, stocking stuffers, once-a-year treats), it felt like stress management more than joy. 

So I decided to turn to books to save me. Up until Christmas, I'm reading only holiday-themed books. Here's what I've read so far: a mix of nonfiction, classics, and romance. 

A Christmas Carol read by Tim Curry was perfection itself, and on a scale of zero to holly jolly, The Christmas Hirelings by Mary Elizabeth Braddon gave me all the right feels. The light romance approach of The Dreidel Spin made me feel like I'd just watched two deserving friends find one another, and the magic of food and kindness made the Moonglow books a delight. There are seven of those, and if I don't fit more of them in this year, I'll come back for them next Christmas. 

I'm in the middle of two more right now: 

A Christmas murder and some sweet morality tales. Quite a contrast.  Still in my Kindle are a few Christmas reads written by friends and colleagues as well that I'm hoping to read before the 25th arrives: 

I'm grateful that my winter break starts a few days ahead of Christmas this year, giving me time to sit by the fire reading and continuing to try to stoke the fire of my holiday spirit, so I can really enjoy the gifts the season brings. I'm grateful, too, that my family understands how tired and crispy I am and doesn't expect me to travel or host guests, but just to rest and recoup. 

Are there any stories or activities that help put you in the holiday spirit, even when your candles are burning low? Tell me about them in the comments! I'd love to know. 

On Headaches

My first husband didn't believe me when it came to my headaches. I guess he thought I was exaggerating to get out doing things I didn't want to do. He didn't really get headaches, lucky bastard. 

I was never lying though. No, "not today, honey, I have a headache" games from me. Just waves of pain and a need for quiet stillness in the dark. 

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I've always been susceptible to them. Sinus headaches, allergy headaches, stress headaches, migraines. I manage a lot of life through the haze of some kind of headache or another because if I gave in and went to bed every time I had a headache, I'd be there more often than not. 

People who don't suffer from headaches really can't understand what the pain is like, much the way people who've never broken a bone or never birthed a child cannot truly understand what a sufferer is suffering. 

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I woke with a doozy this morning. Felt like a hot piece of steal was piercing the left side of my head, with a point of impact feeling on the forehead, and something else in the middle of my skull, like a hot golf ball swelling and trying to burst its way out though my cheek. 

Waking with a headache is especially terrible. Like the day has pounced before you were even alert enough to defend yourself. Unfair. Dirty pool, old boy. 

I tried vacating the bedroom and going through the morning motions--letting the dogs out to pee, feeding them, making a cup of tea. Sometimes moving makes things better. I'm a medication-avoider. I don't like to take pills, even basic pain-killers, if there's something else I can do and feel better. 

Not this time, though. The pain kept increasing, making me worry I was going to vomit and giving me heat waves, even after I caved and took a sinus pill, so I had to wake Sweetman on his holiday and get him to take over dog duty so I could work on finding some relief. It took a range of things: that sinus pill, a nasal rinse, a shower (for the steam), lots of nose-blowing, a defensive sleep nap with the pillow shoved against my aching cheek to apply counter pressure. 

But I woke with only the residual ache and a cautious feeling. Whew! I'm relieved it ended after only a couple of hours, and that my head chose a day off to attack me on, so I didn't have to try and create sub lesson plans through that pain. My best guess is that my head was angry about the amount of dust I got into yesterday cleaning up to host Thanksgiving. I hadn't done anything else that usually triggers a pain wave like this. 

Any other headache sufferers out there? What do you do to find relief, besides medication? 

MLK: Poet of Justice

We had a school holiday on Monday for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. There are only a few Americans who stand high enough in our country's esteem to warrant a day away from work and I hope enough of us stop to consider the reason for the observation.

There's a lot to admire about this man and the lasting good he helped usher into our country.

It's worth remembering, too, what it cost him.

But when I think about Martin Luther King, Jr., it is his words that echo in my heart and mind.

When my daughter was in 5th grade, I went with her class on a trip to Washington DC. I've been several times to see that fair city, but I had never before visited the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial.

It does him proud. The statue is grand, and striking. Visually, the way the man seems to be emerging out of the unformed stone behind him speaks to strength and struggle, the unfinished nature of the work of justice, and of dignity.

The best part, though, is all the quotes.

The walls are lined with many of his words.

It was a joy to stand there listening to 5th graders reading them aloud to each other and nodding with the truths that echoed in their own hearts.

The man had wonderful ideas, but more important to his legacy, he expressed them well: memorably, poetically, powerfully.

Some of my favorites:

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that."

"I have the audacity to believe that peoples everywhere can have three meals a day for their bodies, education and culture for their minds, and dignity, equality, and freedom for their spirits."

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of convenience and comfort, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy."

"True peace is not merely the absence of tension; it is the presence of justice."

“We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in Germany was legal.”

Slowing Down for Snow Days

Time, it seems, has sped faster with each year of my life. Most days are so stuffed that at the end, I fall onto the sofa feeling like I've been run over. It gets to me after a while, even when the things my day is stuffed with are all pleasant and fun. 

I get frazzled and grumpy if I don't get to slow down, appreciate, and reflect often enough. 

Writing is good for that. It's a quiet, solo activity, reflective and thoughtful. But there are times when even that is not enough to reset my equilibrium. 

But, as I write this, I'm on my second snow day, with the possibility of yet another one coming. The timing couldn't be better. Thank you, Mother Nature! 

My house was well stocked with yummy things thanks to our Chanukah preparations. Our power

stayed on, so we could enjoy the full gamut of entertainment options we've gathered over the years. We had enough wood for fires and all four Bryants were already at home when the weather hit. 

As a group, the Bryants finished some lingering projects for school, cleaned up, caught up on laundry, baked, slept extra, played games, read, played in the snow, petted the dog and told him he's pretty, and just sat and talked beside a fire with cocoa. 

Even the husband who still had to work, because his work can be done from home, got to sleep later, avoid driving, eat warm food prepared with love, and enjoy better breaks during his day. 

We didn't run any errands, do any shopping (except maybe the clicky kind: online), visit anyone outside of walking distance, or attend any events. 

I'm glad the weather forced us into a little quiet time just as we needed it. All of us are the better for the lull. 

#31 of 31 Days of Halloween: Writing Horror Flash Fiction

Today I'm playing along with a blog hop: The Storytime Blog Hop and finishing my 31 Days of Halloween. Participants are asked to post a speculative fiction story less than 1,000 words quarterly.

I've been writing horror and Halloween-themed flash fiction all month for Bliss Morgan's Nightmare Fuel, so here's one of my favorite stories of the thirty-one I wrote this month. If you'd like to see the other stories, you can view the collection at this link.  I enjoy writing these short horror pieces each October and I hope you'll enjoy reading!
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Starving Artist

At first, she wove thin silken death for small foolish creatures, like the others of her kind. Subtle work, invisible unless you stood in right place. Intricate, delicate, effective.

It didn’t satisfy her. She wanted more. Something lasting.

She raged each time one of her creations was destroyed. She rebuilt over and over, until finally she decided it was time to move someplace more secluded.

She found an abandoned house and spun it throughout with masterpieces which hung glittering with condensation in morning light until the house glowed as if filled with gems. It made her heart full with delight for a while, but this too became not enough.

Wind blew through broken windows and snapped the edges, flinging her work aside. Frustrated, she fumed in cold silence, her heart turning chill with anger. Even here, alone, it was not enough.

Then she noticed the thick white ribbons of frost that streaked across a window. Inspiration. She sucked in great gasps of frigid air to fuel her. When she spun again, the strands were thick and soft and beautifully white. They glowed in moonlight and sun alike.

No insects disturbed their cold beauty, but hunger was nothing in the face of such creations. When she died, resting in the middle of a unbroken lattice of white snow, she had never been happier.

Be sure to check out the other stories in this blog hop. Happy Halloween Reading!

Snow White Tabloid Style, by Fannie Suto
The Halloween Dance, by Barbara Lund
Her Majesty, by Katharina Gerlach
Chris Bridges Posting Storytime Blog Hop.  Give her shout out and say Hello!
Black Moon, by Lauren M. Catherine
Poe's Heart, by J. Q. Rose
Hanks A Lot, by Joe Bouchard
In The Gray Lake, by Karen Lynn
The Right Honorable Brotherhood of Spirits, Poltergeists and Ghosts, by Vanessa Wells
Life of a Pumpkin, by Bill Bush
Why Should I?, by Gina Fabio
Reaper, by Juneta Key

#30 of 31 Days of Halloween: La Llorona

La Llorona is not a story I grew up with, but one I learned as an adult. She's a creature of Latin American folklore, a ghost or demon who preys on children who wander too far from home or on cheating men, depending on who is telling the story. She's a character in the traditional of The Woman in White, who is also a vengeful ghost seeking retribution for her wrongs or forgiveness for the wrongs she has done.

She's been gaining in popularity here in the United States, making an appearance on an excellent episode of the popular television series Supernatural. 

I love how these stories pull from many of my favorite ghost story elements. How ghosts can be remnants of powerful emotions, like vengeance, or how wandering as a ghost can be a punishment for wrongs, like filicide. Sometimes there's a phantom hitchhiker vibe to the stories, when the woman in white wanders the road, and might wreak horrible revenge on the man who picks her up.

There's a lot of meat to those stories and I end up being sympathetic both to the "monster" and to its victims, which is a place I like a horror story to take me.

#29 of 31 Days of Halloween: Werewolves

Of all of Halloween's creatures, my favorite is probably the werewolf. Cheesy or terrifying, I love the Jekyll and Hyde torment of a good werewolf character.

I don't remember when I didn't now about werewolves as a mythology, so I'm not sure who my first fictional werewolf was. Maybe Eddie Munster? Or Wolfie from the Groovy Ghoulies?

But An American Werewolf in London has remained a favorite film of mine since I first saw it as a teenager. It's the first thing I think of when I think of werewolves.

The special effects were amazing, but what really made it for me were the performances. When the two young men were frightened on the moors, I ran with them in my imagination. David Kessler's disbelief about what was happening to him and fear as he began to believe that maybe he wasn't "just" suffering delusions and hallucinations got me, too. It was also one of the first films I saw that combined the horrific with the comedic, which is a combination that still grabs me when I can find it.

As an old movie buff, I also love The Wolf Man. It's stilted at time, but oh-so-atmospheric and menacing at others. The 2010 update was equally flawed, but spot-on in some ways. I loved the family curse element of that story. Teen Wolf was a movie that I LOVED when I was younger, though I haven't seen it since and still haven't gotten around to watching the more recent TV series.

I loved Oz on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and was grossed out by the transformation portrayals in the first season of Hemlock Grove. Being Human (both versions) was fun, too, for the ways the bitten character tried to cope.

Got a favorite werewolf? Something I should check out? Let me know in the comments!

#28 of 31 Days of Halloween: Spooky Sounds

In so many spooky scenarios, it's the sounds that get you going, make you nervous and edgy. Footsteps echoing in empty spaces. Distant wolves howling. Tiny scritching sounds that might be rats trapped in the walls. Dripping liquid. Creaks and groans of old wood. Wind through dry leaves. Murmuring voices where you think no one is present.



Right up there with shadows, the right kinds of sounds can feed my imagination and let me build up a good case of the heebie jeebies. Combine spooky sounds with other atmospheric details like moonlight and fog and we've got ourselves a setting for a horror story.

One of the advantages movie and television have over print media is the ease with which they can convey sound. Literally, they can make you hear it. It's harder for writers, but when done well, sound can be a very effective way to build tension.

What kind of sounds make you nervous? Got a favorite horror moment when it was the sound that got you? I'd love to hear about in the comments.

#27 of 31 Days of Halloween: Masks

What is it about masks? Whether they're sitting on tables, hanging on walls, or covering someone's face, they are so inherently creepy. Something about those frozen facsimiles of faces, whether they imitate life, or distort it.

At the Halloween store, I can creep myself out just by standing at the wall of masks for a while. My vision will trick me into thinking the expressions have changed. Sometimes especially on the rigid ones that totally can't change expression.

The Phantom of the Opera, Michael Myers, Darth Vader, Leatherface. So many scary characters have been made that much scarier by the omission of their faces.

Got a favorite scary mask character? I'd love to hear about it in the comments.

#26 of 31 Days of Halloween: Zombies

I didn't grow up on zombie movies like some folks did. My family didn't go in for Romero films and I was still only 14 when the first wave of Zombie films went by. If I had wanted to see them, my parents wouldn't have let me.

But when I re-met the man who would become my second husband, we went to see Dawn of the Dead, (2004) together.

I loved and hated it.

I remember in particular, being really creeped out by the idea of a zombie baby (a pregnant woman had been bitten and was in labor). I had my feet pulled up in the chair with me, I was so sure it was going to be terrifying. Then, the baby came, and it was a zombie. But it was still…cute. I was so relieved!

Since then, I've watched a lot of zombie movies and TV shows. They definitely can make a great catalyst for storytelling, putting characters in survival situations and given them the chance to reveal their true mettle. So many times the real monsters are still human.

Got a favorite zombie story? I'd love to hear about it in the comments.

#25 of 31 Days of Halloween: Shirley Jackson

Shirley Jackson should be some kind of patron saint of Halloween. She wrote some of the horror stories that haunt me the most deeply. She's best known for her short story "The Lottery" which many a high school student read in their English classes, one of the few horror stories we were allowed in the curriculum alongside Edgar Allan Poe.

One of the scariest things about that story and many other of Jackson's works isn't the supernatural.  It's the people. The psychological torments we inflict on ourselves and on others. We Have Always Lived in the Castle has always been my favorite, but The Haunting of Hill House is a very close second.

It set the standard for Haunted House stories, with discord and distrust among the inhabitants, disagreement about what did and did not really happen, or what the probably causes might be. The atmosphere of long shadows, both of past events and of long windows shining with impossible light. No one knew that atmosphere like Shirley.


Who could forget that first paragraph (which is also the last):

"No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone."

The house itself is the main character of that novel, and that's true of the recent adaptation by Netflix as well, even though the story takes little else from the original text. It's like reading Hamlet or Macbeth, where you're not sure from one moment to the next if its madness or magic going on. There's room for both interpretations in every moment.

That ambiguity is the heart of gothic storytelling, and it beat in Shirley Jackson's chest full bore.

#24 of 31 Days of Halloween: Classic Gothic Horror

I've been on a classic literature journey for the past four or five years, reading all those books I've always meant to read and hadn't gotten around to yet and participating in a First Monday Classics Book Club to meet up with other readers like me who enjoy a book with a bit of heft and gravitas.

Alongside works like War and Peace and The Grapes of Wrath, we've also read some classic works of speculative fiction. The Island of Dr. Moreau, Jane Eyre, Rebecca, Frankenstein. On my own, I've gone back for Dracula, The Turn of the Screw, The Castle of Otranto, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, and The Haunting of Hill House.

Some of these stories I've known and loved for a long time even though I had never read them, because the stories are that ingrained in popular culture, television, and movies. Others I had read, but many years ago. Some are like embracing a long lost old friend.

I like the quiet, slower nature of some of these stories. how the horror takes a while to manifest and leaves the characters (and the reader) with room to doubt that supernatural elements are really at play. That self-doubt got more than one character into a tricky spot.

The new writing project that is tapping on my shoulder right now is a gothic romance. I think I'm set to pen a good one with all these classic tales bumping around in my imagination.

#23 of 31 Days of Halloween: Daylight Ghost Stories

Traditionally, ghosts come out at night. Maybe they like the quiet, or they are just easier to see when the light is less glaring. But I like daylight ghosts, too. Visiting a lonely or abandoned place can feel just as haunted when the sun is shining as when the moonlight does.

That's the thought that struck me when I wrote my own daylight ghost story, "The Girl in the Pool." Why should ghosts only come out at night?

Today is release day and I'm happy to show off the collection here. I'm sharing the pages of this anthology with seven other authors:

• JD Blackrose
• R Michael Burns
• Paige L Christie
• Jason Gilbert
• Tally Johnson
• Suzette Vaughn
• Robert W Walker

If you're looking for a quick bit of scary to brighten your Halloween, I hope you're check out Off the Beaten Path 3. It's available in all the usual places :-)

Here's a teaser for you, (one of my favorite parts of my story, when Becky first appears):

There was a pool in the yard across the street, and I would sit on the swing that my step-dad had hung from the big tree in the yard for me, spinning around in a useless circle and watching the hot, Southern sun sparkling on the empty pool, wishing someone would invite me to go splash around in it.

The people who owned the pool were older, like someone’s grandparents. They kept the pool for their grandchildren, I guess, but the grandchildren weren’t there much. So, most of the time, that pretty blue water sparkled in the sun with no one to play in it.

Stephen wondered why they kept it uncovered when it was used so seldom. The old couple themselves never seemed to get in the water. But the old man was out there every morning, skimming the insects and leaves out of the water with a giant long-handled net that I found fascinating. That and the weird socks he wore. Mom said they were compression socks, meant to help with circulation. I thought they made his real legs look like fake ones. 

After two weeks or so, I had established a lonely pattern of cartoons until my mom kicked me out, then puttering around our yard until she called me in to eat. I was sitting out on the swing reading one of the fairy themed books I was so into that summer when someone called out to me. “Hey, kid!” I looked up. There was a little girl, maybe just a smidge older than me, leaning on the fence around the pool and looking at me. She smiled and waved when she saw me. “I’m Becky! Want to come swim with me?” 

Boy, did I! I ran and got my mom. She was unpacking yet more kitchen stuff. There was a lot to unpack, combining all of our stuff with all of Stephen’s stuff. It was taking a long time to figure out where to put it.

Still, Mom was happy to hear I’d had an invitation, and took a break to help me find the right things. A few minutes later, I was wearing my swimsuit and carrying a towel and we were crossing the street together. Mom knocked on the door. When a tall, slender woman with tall white hair answered, Mom explained that we were the new neighbors from across the street. “My daughter said that Becky invited her over,” Mom said. “Would it be okay if she came over and swam with her?” 

“Becky?” The woman’s voice sounded strangely full of emotion. “Definitely! Please! Come in!”

#22 of 31 Days of Halloween: Shadows

When you have a good imagination, shadows can be dangerous. Your mind can turn them into monsters, serial killers, demons, and any number of other lethal things. Even if its really just the ironing board you didn't put away or your own dog.

Creators of horror have noticed of course, and movies, television, and art make great use of the shadow, both for comedic and horrific effect.

One of my favorites is the shadow of Nosferatu from the movie of the same name. The guy is creepy enough when you're looking straight at him, but in shadow, it's somehow worse. He's larger. Exaggerated. And somehow fluid. None of this bodes well for the watcher.

I have a teeshirt that pokes fun at this image, with Nosferatu chasing the oblivious Shaggy and Scooby of Scooby Doo fame up the stairwell.

Batman knows the power of a looming shadow too. Hence the cape and cowl.

Or how about those stories where the shadow is separate of the person? (almost as scary as a reflection that moves independently).

Hmmmm…now I'm not sure if it's better or worse to sleep with a nightlight. After all, light makes shadows.

#21 of 31 Days of Halloween: Jump Scares

Once my sister and I went to see a terrible monster movie together. It was SOOOOO predictable that it wasn't even scary. But you know what? I still jumped for every jump scare. It's why I'm not allowed to hold the popcorn anymore.

My favorite kind of jump scare? The fake out. The one where it turns out to be a cat and the character turns away, relieved only to then immediately face the actual scary bad thing!

It works on me every time, even though I know its coming. It's an adrenaline laced reaction that is immediately followed by laughter, either at the movie or at myself. A beautiful combination.

Here's a great supercut of some good cat-scares:

#20 of 31 Days of Halloween: Urban Legends

I didn't know what urban legends were the first time I heard one. It was at a slumber party and I really thought my friend knew a guy who had picked up a hitchhiker who turned out to the be a ghost. Well, I was skeptical that he had told my friend the truth, but I believed there was a guy who had told her the story, at least. I was a gullible kid.

By the time I heard about the hook-handed maniac who stalked Lover's Lane, I knew that the claim of direct connection to the story was a lie, but it was too late. I was "hooked." (Ha! See what I did there?)

Now, I love urban legends the same way I love fairytales. I collect versions and notice variations with joy. Like the hitchhiker version where he lends the girl/ghost his jacket and finds it later draped over her grave? Hand over heart: I *love* that telling. Romantic AND creepy.

I like the nonprofessional telling, where someone claims to have heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend.  Even when you've heard it before, it's fun to shout the punchline/jump scare together: Humans can lick too! or The calls are coming from inside the house! 

Creepy Pasta has picked up the mantle of this kind of storytelling and lots of YouTube channels follow legends of Slender Man or other creatures that haunt our imaginations.

Do you have a favorite urban legend? I'd love to hear about in the comments.