Art Imitates Life


More often than not, my life ends up in my words.

It’s not that I’m deliberately writing Mary-Sue. It just happens that things or people from my life end up in my work. I’m sure it happens to most writers, if not all at some point.

For me, I kill people in messy, sticky, very bloody ways. That shouldn’t be a surprise, as I am for the most part, a horror writer. Even in my romance writing, though, there is a dark ending, someone has died a slow and lingering death. I’m not sure any of the folks these characters are based on would a) actually read my work and b) recognize themselves. That’s probably a good thing; some of them might take my words the wrong way.

I’d much rather write them dead, and leave them there, than have continued interaction that will only hurt both sides in the long run. I’d rather write them out of a fictional existence, than curse or bind them. My freezer is nearing capacity with jars that have slips of paper or pictures of people with a binding written in Dragon’s Blood Ink over all, tied up with black silk thread and frozen suspended in water. They’re frozen out of my life, before I write them out. The connection is broken and they are gone.

My ex has been in the freezer, as have/are my brothers’ exes. Former friends and co-workers and even some family members have had or have cozy little spots on the shelf. Some may die more than once, sometimes once is enough.

I do that to cover myself and them with protection. I was told once, a decade ago now, that words are intent; every bit as much as a curse or binding is spoken, if it is written with an image of someone in mind, it’s just as harmful. Considering the things my fictional killers get up to when unobserved by fictional heroes, I’d rather be safe than sorry. Sometimes they are done with, and I take them from the freezer, release the binding on them and set them free.

Some are going to be in there for the remainder of their days.

Writers are natural observers, and I like to think most of us are naturally emotional as well. Hardened from years of rejection on the outside, but soft and occasionally vulnerable on the inside. Big hurts can tempt us to find the darkness within ourselves and give in to it. Writing it out is second nature to us, and frankly, any bit of protection we can put in place is good for us in the long run. Superstitious one, aren’t I? 😉

I’m not sure if I’ll get back today in time to do a second posting today, but I may. If not, feel free to stop by my regular blog and check out guest blogger, Michele Lee (author of Rot, recently released from Skullvines Press). I’m also running a poll, and there’s a link to the guidelines for my new anthology project, Dead Bells.