Headstones a Go-Go

All right. I admit it, I'm a bit spooky. While this may not come as much of a surprise to some, to others I'm the Girl Scout mom with five daughters that gets funny at parties and occasionally writes about "things." Little do they know...

I've been a ghost story writer for most of my career, in fact, my first online publications were via The Shadowlands though I never thought of those tidbits as building a portfolio - otherwise I would have spent a little more time on them, yeesh.  ;) And while zombies occupy my time now, ghosts are never that far from my writing schedule. As such, I love to take my girls to local graveyards for inspiration. Not only for the history they provide and the connection to the community but also for the amazing art found on the stones. My early days as an archaeologist and historian focused on burial customs and the folklore surrounding death plus the symbols left behind to comfort the living so it also takes me back to my roots.

Earlier this week, I took two daughters to Mount Hebron Cemetery for a mini art history lesson. The cemetery fascinates me as it's on the spot of the 3rd Battle of Winchester fought during the Civil War (though you can't throw a headstone without finding a battlefield in northern Virginia). At the eastern end of the cemetery there is a large Confederate section holding the bodies of 3000 soldiers. Generals are buried there but most of the others were planted where they fell in battle, leaving untidy rows. Union soldiers are found separately and only accessible if you leave the cemetery completely, head down the street and enter through another gate into the walled off section. Having dealt with zombies lately, I have no doubt the South would rise again if possible and climb the walls.

My current short story WIP deals with ghosts, pirates and betrayal. After this week, don't be surprised if a soldier pops in as well.  ;)

Tripping the Lights Fantastic

Piper hated this part. Her hand shaking as she focused on her face, she raised the bubblegum pink lipstick to her lips and swiped the sticky formula over what passed for a smile, her lips eaten long ago by an overzealous herd of maggots.

"There. I'm freakin' perfect." Turning her head so Maggie could check the results of her makeup job, Piper closed her eyes against the gasp she'd come to expect. Determined to not have the lack of a pulse diminish her night out, she pulled Maggie to the door. "Come on. I bet we even meet a guy who can still form full sentences."

Stepping into the night, Piper felt the pull of the music from the bar. Her feet shuffled not from dislocation but from disco and she loved it.

“Maggie. Hurry up. By the time we get there, all the good men will be gone.  I hate being stuck with the moldy ones.”

An object struck her head from behind. Her neck cracked as she turned to see what was on the dirty sidewalk. A finger. Maggie’s middle one.  “Very funny.”

What Maggie lacked in vocal chords she made up for in questionable moral support. Piper couldn’t imagine going through Zombification without her best friend; she hoped Maggie would forgive her for that one tiny incident that dragged her down Hell’s Highway. She couldn’t help herself – one minute Maggie was yammering away about her fiancé and the next, she was lying in a pool of gore at Piper’s feet.

Piper tried to make it up to her. Maggie’s asshole of a fiancé took off with another woman before her body was cold. The permanent sneer on her face left by rotting gums a subtle reminder that love sucks. Piper fell behind her truculent friend and pushed her toward the smoky doorway of the bar.

“Dude! Cervesas” Piper’s voice barely made a dent in the boom boom of the music as she staggered to the bar. Maggie fell back against the doorway, the chipped wood framing a delicate woman abused by fate and wounds that went deeper than the zombie virus. Raising her hand to shield her gaping mouth, it shook as she locked eyes with her ex-fiancé.

Smiling, Paulie said, “Maggie! I thought your friend over there had finished the job. Stupid bitch can’t even do that right.” Tossing his head toward Piper, his hand followed spilling beer over the closet table and onto the patrons. “Say, you still look like you have all the right parts. I need you, Baby.”

His eyes grazing her body, Maggie felt revulsion and something new – control. Taking his hand, Maggie led him outside into the muggy night, proceeding to rip his heart out as he had done to hers then returned inside.

“Maggie? Girl, did you get lucky?” Piper carried two large pints toward her friend. In the dull light of the bar, Maggie looked almost happy. Licking her fingers, she made her way to the dance floor.

Jane Austen's Fight Club

How much do I love this? Many thanks to Mary Robinette Kowal for the link.

The Hanged Man - #zombie flash fiction

The Hanged Man


“Cecilia, really, it can’t be this bad.” Attempting to pace the room, Ian’s face creased into a scowl as he pulled one leg in front of the other. Why did he come back to this place? Dramatic sweeps of dark fabric hung over the windows, the illusion of mystery lost when the school bus let out the noisy gaggle of children in front of the ranch-style house. Cecilia rolled her eyes and shuffled the cards. Spreading them into a complex pattern on the TV tray, her fingers flipped the waxy cards into a semblance of his future.

“Ian, I’ve already told you.” Her voice raspy from the lack of Diet Pepsi and allergies to her small white dog, Cecilia coughed into the back of her hand, leaving a trail of spittle. “That taco stand was always iffy and you couldn’t resist, could you? That’s not indigestion, my friend, that’s the smell of the Undead. I thought it was me for a moment but…” Her voice trailed off as she saw his gaze travel to her dog.

“Look at the cards. They don’t lie.” Her hands waved above the tray, reliving the game show hostess of her younger years with fingers splayed though now tipped with yellow from too many cigarettes and bile green polish.

“The Fool, yeah, okay. New beginnings and all that crap. The Hanged Man? What’s he about?” Poking his finger at the card showing a man hanging upside down and legs crossed, Ian drooled a little bit as the dog came closer.

“An alternate reality. Get it? You’re one of Hell’s Handmaidens now, Sparky. You can’t go around pondering the meaning of life since you don’t have one anymore. Stop coming here and bothering my dog.” Exasperation tinged her voice. Cecilia had seen worse in her years in Hollywood. Everyone eventually came by her place for a tarot reading; it was like a right of passage for the fresh meat that hopped off the bus from Paducah-ville. Her fingers pulling frayed fringe on the lounger, Cecilia hoped she was right about this one. After his reawakening, he came straight to her for answers, she could only interpret the cards and hope the Zom-B-Gone kicked in after an hour. Any longer than that and they became cranky.

“I can’t believe I’m gone. I had so much to live for.” Melodramatic and whiny, that taco was the best thing that ever happened to him. He could focus on moving from bit roles on cable television to major motion pictures that featured sparkly bloodsuckers with similar acting skills.

“I know, I know.” Rising from the deeply cushioned chair, Cecilia led him to the door and away from where her dog nibbled kibble in the kitchen. Ian was becoming a handful, she thought, she needed to up the automatic spray of repellent to every thirty minutes. Patting his arm, she recoiled slightly as the maggots wiggled under the skin. “Cheer up, Sugar. Your afternoon snack just got off the bus.”

Warning labels - part duh.

Mama's had a little too much Diet Coke today, I ax'd the previous Warning Labels post with the slip of a finger so I apologize for the double dipping today. BUT I have a fabulous link to share: Save the Words.Won't you please help save a word like my new best friend, murklins (in the dark)? If not for me, think of the children!

Adopt little "rhedarious" or "rogitate." They ask so little. Only to be loved and waved about in conversation once in a while. Can you find it in your hearts to adopt a little-used word... today? *weep*

What I learned while posing for author headshots

1. Truman Capote was a supermodel compared to my attempts at looking wise and professional at the same time.

2. I really can see my eyeballs reflected in some sunglasses.

3. While low-cut shirts can be suggestive in real life, in photos it looks like I'm smuggling midgets.

4. MORE LIPSTICK -- which can also be smeared on my cheeks and there may have been some nose dottage thanks to my daughter.

5. I have absolutely no knowledge of modern music. Ke$ha can kiss my old hiney.

6. Balancing glasses on my nose while titling my chin to bounce the light off of it creates an alternative universe full of Old Spice Bodywash models. I'm trying that one again tonight...

7. Mini-motorcycles look awesome in an all yellow room. Me on a mini-motorcycle - not so much.

8. After two hours of flashes a foot from my face, I can see the moon.

9. Silver highlights only "enhance" my natural beauty. Right? RIGGGGGGGGGHT?

10. Photoshop is god.



Thank you to LaMishia Allen Photography for the great session!

Choosing the next Erma

An Army of Ermas is morphing. But unlike turning into Pink Power Rangers - which would be cool - I'm changing the format into something more structured. Yep. I'm putting on my big girl editor pants and turning Ermas into the lean mean humor machine I knew eventually she'd be.

This week we're changing even more. We're running a little contest to see who will be invited into the fold to write for Ermas and the response has been very good. The writing is solid, the essays work well with what we're trying to do at Ermas and I'm tickled that writers are willing to work for free peanuts and jello recipes. As An Army of Ermas moves into a bigger arena, my role will be less of a writer and more of a pimp to get my authors' names out there with the recognition they deserve and onto bigger things. Now I just need to figure out how to do it...  ;)

Stop by and check out the entries and vote! Right now it's too close to call a winner and voting ends tonight by midnight EST. Help a sistah out, will ya?

Essential oils and writing

Years ago, my second child went through a series of surgeries to correct a birth defect in her abdomen. As the number of surgeries went up - I stopped counting after twenty - I started looking for ways to help with the subsequent scarring. Since she was an infant at the time, I was limited as to what I could safely use thus sparking my interest in essential oils. The years passed and she's rockin' the minuscule scars now, I've kept up with oils and their many uses. I've  incorporated them into my writing rituals to help with difficult scenes or just get me in the mood for teh funneh.

Some of the oils I use regularly are:

• Rosemary - For enhancing mental clarity, creativity and clearing out the cobwebs after a day of chasing kids
• Basil - Helps to perk up brain function and concentration
• Jasmine - Awesome for writing intense scenes, Jasmine is a sexy oil that keeps me in the moment
• German Chamomile - I love this oil for it's pure yummy honey scent, I often mix it with Lavender for a comfort oil
• Juniper - Helps keep the mind sharp and on task when deadlines are due
• Lemon - Brisk, refreshing and ready to jumpstart your day. I use this when I need a boost to pull out another thousand words
• Lavender - Everyone should have a bottle in their kit. Its uses are widely known but for writing, I like to mix it with others so it doesn't overpower the room
• Peppermint - A fabulous EO to have on hand, it's definitely perky enough to get your characters moving again

How to use:

• Inhalation - Take a nice whiff straight from the bottle before starting your writing session. Repeat as necessary
• Massage - Dilute 10-12 drops of essential oil with a teaspoon of oil (veggie, sweet almond) then rub into the soles of your feet for a nice massage
• Spray mist - 10-20 drops of EO into a spray bottle filled with water (shake before use)
• Diffuser - There are many diffusers on the market, both electric and candle-based, to use with a water solution

Note: Please take care using essential oils around children and pets


Image credit: http://bestgreenhometips.com

Oh what fun it is to ride in an Undead horse and sleigh

Yes. I know it's July but freelancers are frequently asked to write about snow in the summer and flip flops when muck lucks are more appropriate so I'm feeling in the groove already. I'm submitting a short zombie Christmas piece to a charity anthology - THE UNDEAD THAT SAVED CHRISTMAS - to benefit Hugs Foster Family Agency via Undead in the Head. For all you zombie authors who pop into the blog, here's a great way to share the undead love that beats in your cold hearts with a shortie of your own.

My submission is shaping up nicely, I'd love to see yours included in the anthology as well!

For more information, please visit Buy Zombie for the skinny.