So, I managed to get about 2700 words done tonight. I haven’t had much time to write recently, too much other nonsense going on. Actually, I’ve been doing a ton of Digital Artwork for various concepts and assorted people. I feel like I’ve hammered out some pretty decent work in the last two weeks with regards to that particular area, but I missed working on my damn book. After getting a number of things done today, I made a pot of coffee, set my Pandora Radio playlist on, opened a pack of smokes… and just wrote.
I found myself giggling like a lunatic while writing a short interlude in the chapter. To break from a scene momentarily, I switched over for the reader to see what one of the villains had gotten himself into. Here, he had strapped someone down to a plugged autopsy table, brutalized them, and then proceeded to tell them that he was considering cooking them alive because he “did so miss the blend of sizzle and screams!” Fun. Oh, did I mention this character is supposed to be the semi-immortal son of one of history’s most horrific serial killers?
Also, I’m working on a short story dedicated to my neighbors. The wonderfully pleasant young wife next door made the mistake in mentioning to me how much she hates maggots. I, of course, being a right bastard, immediately set to work on a tale containing said hateful maggots. But, to lessen the blow in some mild way, I based the afflicted protagonist upon myself. And when I say “afflicted,” I mean that he vomits live maggots and eventually will succumb to terrible fate worse than death – like ya do.
Ah, the things that amuse a horror author…