I’ve learned some valuable things about the world from being a Mortician and writing Horror Stories.
Here are a few of them:
Dead men do tell tales, they tell them all of the time.
You just have to be willing to listen.
Horror Stories are like Love Stories minus the pretense.
I hate The Lord of the Ring Movies…I’d rather watch a Twilight ( the tween Vampire movies ) Marathon then sit the Lord Of The Ring Movies. I’d rather shove a fork in my eye. There’s no reason for that to be on this list. I just felt like putting that here.
When you’re embalming bodies you get super thirsty. So drink a lot of water before you embalm. I’m not kidding.
When I write a story about Death, or The Devil or Cannibals I get my best ideas after watching shows like Cake Wars or Chopped because the contestants on those shows would take their Moms down for that Ten Thousand Dollar prize.
( Yep. That’s a cake )
Never, ever write about the Dead if you have a funeral background. It’s unseemly.
The living are fair game.
I’m sorry, but I’ve learned this to be true: If you’re writing a horror story and you’re not laughing I’d say you’re not connecting with your writing. How can I say that? Come on. You’re getting away with murder or something anti-social or wicked
Even if it’s just in your head.
It’s enough to make one positively giddy.
I listen to Tom Waits before I write. Sometimes ABBA. Does that surprise you? That’s probably why I can do the same when I write.
Years ago I really wanted a wolf tattoo ( considered myself fierce ) and then I changed my mind and wanted Anubis ( because I was an embalmer, so it made sense ) and than I wanted allons-y ( I was in that frame of mind…actually still am).
I guess by this point I could have had three tattoos.
So I mentioned it to my sister.
My sister made it clear to me that somewhere out there, there is a tattoo needle loaded with hepatitis just waiting for me to walk in so it can infect and kill me.
I now know more than any one person needs to know about diseases you can get if you were to get a tattoo- but not to worry, my Sister is convinced that needle has my name on it so don’t worry you could use it and you’ll be fine.
And then I told my Mom.
I’ll bet you think can see where this is going.
You don’t know my Mom.
She thought it was a great idea.
She suggested little flowers, not roses though. But pretty little flowers- maybe on my shoulder or ankles ( Yes, plural ).
She told me how nice it would look with my skin coloring.
I told her what I wanted and she said, ” Oh. That’s nice too. But remember. Get small ones or nobody will notice your face or your hair and your face is so pretty.
So I went from feeling like a fierce, fearless, rebel to the daughter of a woman who is a fierce, fearless, rebel and I thought:
” I could tattoo my face and I will never be able to make being a rebel look so smooth and easy as my Mom was in that conversation.
And I still don’t have a tattoo.
If my blog were a house, would you brave the long lonely drive here
Once you’ve arrived you wouldn’t have to knock, just walk right in and take a seat, feel free to read a few pages of what I’m working on.
I don’t mind.
It’s pretty quiet here on most days, sometimes I have bad spells and don’t feel like myself. That doesn’t happen very often and if it does while you’re here…well…you can always leave.
Just do it quickly.
If you want to look around you’ll find here and there the things I’ve worked on, safely stored but not locked away. Things in my house have taken on a life of their own.
No I’m not laughing.
I just have a little tickle in my throat.
So I hope you’ll visit my house.
I hope you’ll spend a little time here.
I’m willing to bet though, that once you’re in my house you’ll never, ever leave.
:::One Of My Neighbors:::