Y’ever notice how passionate creatives seem linked to one another, despite introversion? I’ll tell you how it happened to me. I had about six writer friends, but they had about six writer friends, who also had about six writer friends and now I have nine kajillion writer friends, because I can’t math. Oh I’ve got cooks and painters, designers and quilters, musicians and photographers, but mostly, I’ve collected writers. They span the genres fairly well, but I’d say most of them love what I call “Creepy Shit.” They’re people who love all the Halloween. They love bats and black cats and creepy castles and everything Gothic. They tell ghost stories and they ask things like, “Do you have anything in a skull pattern?”
Of course, I own nothing in a skull pattern, and I hate virtually everything about Halloween, so I just focus on how my writer friends understand my love of coffee and I say things to them like, “The twist at the end of your zombie story was extremely effective. I had to change my pants.”
I hate being scared. Good grief, I’m always scared. I don’t even watch the previews of horror movies. I watch scary things rarely, and always with a blanket up to my eyes. Truth? I haven’t read anything substantially long and scary since the early 90’s.
Do I ever write “Creepy Shit?” Uh… Once. It’s listed in my Public Writing tab. Why did I write this scary thing? Because peer pressure.
Honestly, I’d just completed some ad work, and I was delighted to do something fictional and challenging, even if it meant scaring myself.
I didn’t do it last year, because I was all, “I hafta paint my new dining room and wash my hair, y’all,” but 13 Stories ‘Til Halloween is back and I am participating this year. I could use a good challenge, and I’m always honored to be asked, but honestly, who would rather paint the back hallway instead of writing a story? If you delight in “Creepy Shit” you should go have a look-see at the last three years of stories and poems.