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Creep It Real: What Readers Want This Season
What’s the perfect read for the ‘Spooky Season’? For the true horror fans, every season is spooky season. Rain or shine, February or July, there’s always room for something chilling. Horror is our year-round comfort read. But something happens in October. The nights get longer, pumpkins appear on porches, and suddenly even readers who wouldn’t…
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The Nihilistic Void of Lovecraft’s Cosmicism:
Art, Indifference, and Ironic Immortality The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each…
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Take the Red Pill…
Good morning, friends and followers. Today I’m going to provide something different from my usual fare. I’m going to tell you about my other website, my “home away from home” if you like, writing.com. I’m not sure how to classify this post. It’s certainly a promotion of writing.com, but it’s also a promotion of my…
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Nursery Rhymes For Horrible People

How The Victorians Celebrated Death, and What I Learned From This Macabre Tradition Avery Vane, Avery Vane Wicked, twisted, and insane Killed his wife and ate her brain Then killed his son and did the same When I wrote this verse for my short story The Complications of Avery Vane (published in the Scribblers’ Den…
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Speakable Horror

Narrating Fear and Sharpening Instincts Living something—even if only in the mind’s eye—can leave a lasting imprint. That’s what I love about horror. It lingers. It teaches. It prepares. The horror genre has a remarkable way of keeping us alert. It activates our survival instincts, nudging us to imagine the worst and consider how we’d…
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Lying for a Living
“Literature was not born the day when a boy crying ‘wolf, wolf’ came running out of the Neanderthal valley with a big gray wolf at his heels. Literature was born on the day when a boy came crying ‘wolf, wolf,’ and there was no wolf behind him.”~ VLADIMIR NABOKOV Lies are funny things. The smaller…
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I’m Not Normal
There’s something wrong with me. There must be. I mean, other than writing horror stories – in both senses as I’m not much of a writer – I look and act, for the most part, relatively normal. Well, as normal as normal goes I guess. I’m quite boring. Ordinary. You’d find talking to a lump…
