Hey gang, I’m so thrilled to be part of my publisher’s All Entangled Eve Halloween Hop!! There are a shit-ton of great prizes along the way, so I encourage you to hop along with my publishing sisters and visit a bunch! I’m giving away 2 e-copies of my paranormal romantic suspense COME HELL OR HIGH DESIRE so be sure to enter at the Rafflecopter link at the end of the post! 🙂
So what am I talking about today…?
Like suspense writers everywhere, I explore the inner psyches of some very demented characters. And like all writers, I have a very active imagination. This is definitely a blessing.
Except when it’s not.
Because there are certain…consequences of having said effervescent imagination.
I’m not gonna lie. I’m a freakin’ pansy. I’m the girl who turns off the lights downstairs and then runs—RUNS—up the stairs because, damn, what if something with glowing red eyes creeps out of the laundry room? Who really cares about being dignified and grown up if you’re just gonna get eaten?
And then when I get upstairs and my hubs is already asleep in bed, I take a running leap onto the covers because I’m an ever-lovin’ child of the 80s and just because a posse of Gremlins hasn’t been under my bed for the last 30 years doesn’t mean they’re not going to show up one of these nights.
Jeezus. TMI? You know you do it, too.
What about all those strange noises you hear in the house when you’re all alone? I swear, I can tell myself every logical hypothesis for what I’m hearing, but instead my imagination kicks it into Mach 4. One day I came home and realized I’d forgotten to lock the front door after one of my kids’ friends had left earlier. Oh God. Who was waiting for me in a closet? Should I check behind the shower curtain (cue Psycho music)? Had they been watching my routine?
Even in what you’d consider serene natural surroundings I spaz and start to think…where would a murderer hide a body around here? In a decomposing, hollowed out tree trunk? Strung up in the tree canopy? Could it be that body disposal class I took has changed me forever? I wouldn’t let myself read the lessons too close to bedtime, or I’d have to pull an all-nighter reading Janet Evanovich just so I could LOL and think about something other than wild hogs tearing apart whatever was left of some poor dumped body.
Dude, word to the wise, I am never going into the Georgia backwoods. Some creepy shit up in there.
Finally, let’s talk scary movies and ghost stories around a campfire. As a suspense writer, I should dig all that, right? Oh, hell no. If I’m a captive audience, I scrunch my eyes and stick my fingers in my ears because sometimes the movie sounds are more disturbing than the visuals. I totally trace this back to second grade when my babysitter let me watch The Exorcist one night. Talk about traumatic. Scarred me for life. My parents were P-O’d.
So why do I gravitate to reading and writing suspense? Maybe it’s because I can control the images I bring to life in my head. That I’m the goddess of that universe, and I determine what happens. Maybe because my subconscious constantly reassures me that it’s fiction. I don’t really know, but it sounds like a disorder, no?
I feel like I need a 12-step program. Hi, I’m Misty, and I’m a chicken-shit suspense writer…
But hey, it somehow works for me. And hopefully, my readers will think it works for my stories.
Do you love to be scared, or are you spineless like me? Anyone have any tips for me to get over my gutlessness?
(It will take you to a safe Rafflecopter site.Thanks for playing!)
Are you read to hop to the next blog? If you don’t see the Linky-thingamabob, here’s the Entangled site where you can see all the participating authors. Have fun and good luck!