I've been absent, Ive been negligent. It's the truth; I cannot, as the great Abe Lincoln so famously (and apocraphylly?) said, tell a lie. Personal issues have waylaid the best of this author's plans, as it has on more than one occassion. But here I am again, back in the saddle, as it were, and if you're new to the site, I'm happy to make your aquaintance. If you're a regular...let's let the past stay in the past, okay?
So, it's the silly season. Christmas (or Crimmus, if you're in my irrelevant circle of friends). Time to reflect on the best of human nature, to devote oneself anew to the spirit of giving, of light, of love of family and friends and of those less fortunate than ourselves. The time for horror has passed, right?
While I do loves me some Crimmus (believe it or not, I am a generally-upbeat person, just with a dark, sometimes bitter core), I, for one, am able to find inspiration for horror, even now. Consider the myth of Krampus, a half-goat, half-demonic entity of Austro-Bavarian folklore, who is the yang to St. Nicholas's yin. Where Santa rewards good children, Krampus spends his time punishing those on the naughty list. Like vultures, hyenas, and bacteria, Krampus has a purpose.
This is a reminder that even the bad guy thinks he's doing the right thing. That's something the budding writer should remember, if you want to have something more than a two-dimensional caricature of a cliché.
Even as I am listening to Christmas carols on Pandora, and while the lights on my Christmas tree and in other areas of my house provide a festive atmosphere, I am constantly looking for ways to make my writing better, to make my characters live and breathe, and, ultimately, to make my stories something you, the reader, will want to read until the bitter end.
But, you know...be merry. Peace on Earth, and all that.
Just watch yourself. Santa has been known to throw pepper into the eyes of kids who peek.