  Horror/Scary
This week: Edited by: W.D.Wilcox  
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"OH, THE HORROR" |
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GETTING STARTED
There's a worm of unease gnawing at me in the silkened texture of the fading night. I have made a resolution to begin my novel--my first attempt--and the thought frightens me like the moment in one of those Apache movies, when the drums suddenly fall silent. I have a doubt, my mouth is dry, my tongue feels as if it is made of beef jerky. The thought grows painfully inside of me like a loose tooth in a swollen socket. Will my attempt at fulfilling my dream turn into nothing more than rotting high weeds, fallow fields, and the smell of ripe and moldy cheese?
What shall I write about? How will it start?
The answer to these questions is, "I don't know."
But does it matter? I just have to write, to begin, and then see what will happen next.
I can feel my body's clock ticking, and I know I don't have much time left. I now realize that years pass, time has weight, and death is but a whisper away: a murmur coming down a long corridor or from the throat of a deep cave like a lonely sound that has lost everything but its leathery voice.
The fear of running out of time is what drives me now. It screams like the horrid-ridden shrieks of a man being gutted an inch at a time with a dull knife, or better still, the feeble struggling of an insect as it is being wrapped in the silk of a giant spider.
It is evident I can no longer go through each day feeling Novocain-numb, or walk around with a look you might give a well-loved dog that has bitten you for no apparent reason. I must just start, and have faith that the story will take care of itself after that.
I sit solemnly before the keyboard, close my jittering eyes, and see the monitor screen bloom red on the inside of my eyelids. Outside, I hear the crows calling their rusty hellos, and smell the rain as it gives up its sweet scent of memories. Taking a long deep breath, I set my fingers to the keyboard and begin. I have made my choice, I am writing my book. I will write it because it is what I love to do--because there is a story inside of me that needs to be told. I will write 2,000 words everyday and to hell with Time--to hell with creeping Death. I will write.
The thought takes root in me and grows, until it begins to feel like an approaching orgasm. Ideas and words flow around me as if I were a rock in the middle of a never-ending stream: The page fills. A world is created. Characters are born. The story takes form.
I have conquered my fear. I am writing.
Until next time,
billwilcox |
YOU GOTTA READ THIS!
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TALK TO ME!
Robert Waltz  jokes:
Thanks for all the information about owls, Bill (or is that Beak?) - knowledge of folklore is great for instilling superstitious dread in readers!
It was no joke, man. This owl is real and stalking me. It flew in front of my windshield as I drove home in the dead of night. And just minutes ago, as I stood in my backyard to take a smoke, it flew directly over my head, startling me, and then landed within the dark and shrouded wetlands just twenty yards away. What does it want?
writeone  adds:
One night, my family and I were in the car on our narrow, curvy country road in Kentucky where this huge owl swooped down out of nowhere. It's white underwings flashed against the glare of our headlights and we all screamed. Yeah, nature is pretty scarey. Thanks for bringing the natural to mind with the horror of it all. Hey, have you submited to Kudzu yet? Better get cracking if not, the deadline's in February I think. Keep hanging in there. Holidays are tough after a loss. Make sure you give yourself time and space.
See what I mean, I'm not the only one. It's a conspiracy!
schipperke explains:
I love owls, Bill. I used to listen to a courting couple of Great Horned Owls in my back yard on Cape Cod. Sometimes they will hunt in the daytime especially if they are teaching young ones how to hunt.
Now, the Turkey Vultures who land on my house are really scary! They stink, too. And Hiss like a snake...
Yeah, we had Turkey Vulture for Thanksgiving dinner.
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Horror/Scary: January 10, 2007 Issue [#1478]
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