Jaye Lawrence (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} wordswoman) wrote,@ 2007-04-09 20:59:00 |
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| Entry tags: | writing |
Wanna be a wannabe?
Courtesy of jimvanpelt, a cartoon that makes me laugh and wince simultaneously. It really ought to be turned into a Writers' Workshop Bingo card:
http://jimvanpelt.livejournal.com/42399.h
Meanwhile, I'm writing a cheery little monster story that's getting downright gothic, full of unseen perils and nameless dread. Such fun! Makes me want to run out and buy Call of Cthulhu. I don't have an ending for it yet, but that's OK; it's an interesting experiment in building tension for as long as possible without revealing the Very Bad Thing behind the curtain. Eventually I'll have to show it, of course, and I suspect that nothing I can describe will be as scary as the anticipation.
(My gripe with 99% of all horror movies is that their makers don't believe you can scare people without splattering gallons of blood across the screen. To them I suggest a very special literary selection: Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House. The woman was pure genius at making the fine hairs stand up on the back of your neck--with no more potent ammunition than nervous conversation and uneven doorframes.)
The dead naked grandma story is also coming along, and I have at least an inkling of an ending for that one. Enough to set a rough course by, anyway. It's going to be sad, much to my surprise, although you wouldn't know it from this bit:
As near anyone could figure, Heaven filled up at 3:07 p.m. on October 14th. Every soul since then had just come on home.
The first confirmed sighting in America was Gertrude “Trudy” Neuberger of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, who appeared at her Marietta Avenue home a week after her death, surprising her three grown children in the middle of a vicious argument over the antique furniture. Her historic first words were, “Shut your greedy traps, you bone-picking vultures!”
Soon, though, I'll have to set aside my ghoulies and ghosties and nameless things going bump-slither in the night, because it's Tamarack time again.
