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The Worst Horror Story…

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 The worst horror story for a writer is a broken muse.

I’m not talking about writer’s block. I don’t believe in writer’s block, to tell you the truth. I know it happens to others, but I like to think of myself as the kind of pro horror writer who can knock out some work anywhere-anytime. Standing in line at the grocery story? Perfect time to write. Stuck in traffic? Write. Insomnia? That’s a gift from above. Get up and write!

This kind of writing life is kind of like keeping the creativity-pump primed at all times. It means I never have to conjure the muse because it’s always close at hand. Most times, it works for me.

 But I do find that from time-to-time this obsessive-method of writing all-day-every-day leaves the muse a little worn out and cranky. When this happens, the quality of writing goes down the toilet. Don’t get me wrong, my muse is a little workhorse. She doesn’t take sick days or vacations. She simply shows displeasure through bad wordplay. This leaves me wondering:

What’s the best way to take care of ones muse? How does a writer, musician or other creative type recharge the creative batteries? I’d really value your thoughts and wisdom in the comment section below.

And more on this subject later. Also coming soon is the next Chapter of our Sinister Story. Hope to see you then.

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Sometimes Wild

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(Thanks, Kevin, you made me remember what it was like to be a young writer. This is something from my (troubled) youth – and I’m eager to hear your thoughts on it. And remember, there’s more to the story than where it is today.)

Sometimes Wild

By night the old wounds ache and tear you from sleep outside a man howls and the nights starts to weep stare past your window the sky’s lonely outside and I think I know when you think you’re alone what it is that you cry in the dead of the night…

Somebody save me I feel barely alive Somebody save me I’m lost in this boredom and carved up by the sadness and begging you, baby, to save me from me

By night the old wounds ache and tear you from sleep outside a man cries as a boy starts to weep look past your window the moon looks back and sighs you’re much too young for that death-look in your eyes and

Somebody save me I feel barely alive Somebody save me I’m lost in this boredom tripped up by the the madness I’m begging you, baby, to save me from me

So those old wounds ache guess they made you stronger outside a man smiles and he’s lonely no longer inside a love waits and there’s more to the story than he ever knew…

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Garren’s Horror Story

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All stories – and horror stories – in particular hinge upon one basic idea:

Something in someone’s life goes terribly amiss… And the battle begins.

All short stories are about a conflict: Someone versus Something. In short horror stories, the conflict is obviously: Something versus Something Evil. The scary story I’m writing, Sinister, is no exception. It stands true to accepted principles of storytelling and I’ve thrown a nice kid into a fight with the devil.

Garren, the boy about to get his ass kicked, is unarmed, vulnerable and pretty much defenseless. And I’m thinking about him a lot. Actually, I’m worrying about him a lot. I know this puts my sanity in question. He’s not a real boy, after all. He’s no more flesh and bone than Chris Chambers (a character from one of my favorite stories – comment below if you know who it is) or any other memorable protagonist from the greats. But that knowledge doesn’t stop me from obsessing about him and hoping he catches a break.

Garren reminds me of friends I used to have; kids who played guitar, kept their hair a tangled mess and reeked of cigarette smoke. As I recall, there was something dangerously appealing about those kids. Something about their lives fascinated me. (Note to self – research those old friends online, see what they’re doing now.) Looking back on it, I think it was the potential for dramatic conflict that I saw. Something about them radiated bleak futures and never ending struggle.

Garren’s not based on any of them, but I suppose he’s a compilation of them all as well as others who have passed through my life. He is – like all hard luck people– a very good person in horrible circumstances. And I can’t help but wonder what would be different had somebody loved him? Had that been the case, I wouldn’t have a story to tell. But maybe that’d be better?

All for tonight, but more on this later. Some short horror stories are at the link below. Hope you like them. Peace, LL

SHORT HORROR STORIES:

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Horror Novel, Sinister – Chapter 5

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Welcome back!

I’m psyched to have you here. And a special hello to the 286 new followers from Twitter. I’m not sure where you’re coming from, but thanks for taking a chance on @LakeLopez and my horror stories. I’m going to make every visit here worth your time. I swear.

Tonight Sinister – Chapter 5 is up and ready for your reading time. I almost pushed this chapter back a week. It was an emotional drag to write. My parents never locked me in the basement (although I’m sure they were tempted). But like all childhoods that churn out a writer, mine had its share of darkness. Sentences like, “…His lips were a frown as tight as a bent razor blade,” come from somewhere, after all, and usually it’s a place best left alone.

But that’s the thing with being a writer. You find stories in conflicts and conflicts never come out of good times. It’s the times that left you beaten that give you the best ideas. And if your character needs to experience the same kind of  trial, you have to visit that scary place again.

You must go back to those dark rooms, put your back against the wall and feel the darkness vibrating all around you…

In addition to that, I really like this character. Garren is a goofy teen, desperate to find his place in the world. He reminds me of so many friends. I just didn’t want to put him through the pain he goes through in this chapter. But what choice did I have? He’s a character and the story must go on. Anyway…

If this is your first time here, please start with Sinister – Chapter One before diving into Sinister – Chapter Five. I’m eager to hear your thoughts, wise words and comments. Thanks again for coming by. Peace, LL

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Scary La Llorona

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I love both sides of the scary story, reading them and writing them. It started in childhood when tales of La Llorona kept me inside after dark. For those who haven’t heard the scary story of La Llorona, aka the Weeping Woman, let me summarize it:

Hot girl likes to party – hot girl winds up with two really neat kids, but hates staying home with them – hot girl drowns kids in a river to solve her problem.

Obviously, the powers that be frowned upon her actions. So when she died, God sentenced her to an eternity of walking the river at night and mourning for her children. It was payback for not regretting her actions in life. It seems like a reasonable punishment to me, night after night of roaming the riverside wailing in grief…

But this is where the story gets interesting.

The punishment totally backfired, because when La Llorona ran across a kid by the river she drowned him. (Seriously, it just goes to show you that some people never change. Not even God’s wrath can make them change their ways. But that’s another blog.) From what I hear, she’s still doing it. And to make matters worse, there’s a La Llorona in damn near every town with a river.

Anyway, the story fascinated me and it was one of the first things I tried to figure out so I could fictionalize it. I knew I needed some hands on research, but I wasn’t brave enough to go La Llorona hunting by myself. Thank God for older cousins because now I can look back and remember the feel of night air on my cheeks, the moon in a black sky and the sound of a narrow river winding its way behind my hometown – and the hard thud-thud-thud of my own heart.

We never found her, but I’m sure we heard her cry…

And I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life searching for scary things and writing them down. Now my goal is to connect with readers, like you, and scare the hell out of them. So check out some of the horror stories at the link below. If you like what you read leave a comment. I’ll respond. Stay Safe, LL

SHORT HORROR STORIES

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