Well, I had one of those last night… Without going into the heart-wrenching details I’ll give a synopsis….somehow my ex heard that I was separated from my current husband and love of my life and decided to make the most of the opportunity. The worst part was my sister was in that dream and for some very, very strange reason my ex was making the moves on her as well.

Okay, you might say that maybe something was going on back then that I didn’t notice but trust me on this my sister is much older and not anywhere near his type…besides she was and is devotedly married and the two of them were not even in the same vicinity for more than a day or two at the most in the five years we were together….so? What does that dream mean?? Beats the heck out of me but my point is that sometimes dreams are just dreams and what you do with them are up to you.

I woke up from that awful dream exceedingly happy to find my current husband and very much my love still beside me…and now I have possible fodder for another story….

Think about it…what if I created a story based on my dream where the unsuspecting and very happily married woman (like me) woke up from her dream and instead of finding the love of her life she found the drip she dumped twenty years before? Is that a nightmare or what? Talk about horror!

Or say she woke up still with her hubby but the former lover had shared her dream and became obsessed to find her, thinking the dream was really her deepest desire…there are so many ways you can twist and turn this dream into a great short story or even novel if you launch this idea into something much bigger.

Now the other thing that comes to mind if your mind is as warped as mine often is…combine this absurd dream idea with something closer to reality. While picking up a prescription at the drug store the other day we came upon the neatest skeleton for Halloween; we both had to have it.

What if I took the “skeletons in my closet” idea to the extreme and launched a story where this plastic creation was actually real and it caused my subconscious flashback (aka dream, aka nightmare) to occur and what if as long as I had this little bone man around the skeletons (aka memories best forgotten) continued to haunt me not only while sleeping but during my waking hours…now isn’t that the basis for a good story?! 

There are so many things you can do with your own experiences, things that happen in your everyday life can give rise to fantastical inventions. For instance JK Rowling got the Harry Potter idea while riding in a train. How brilliant is that? …and we all know where that wayward thought got her.

Aside from writing my love of reading continues with an exploration of dark fantasy: Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake series, Patricia Briggs Mercy Thompson series, Kelley Armstrong’s Darkest Powers series, Christine Feehan’s Dark Series and a slew of others.

I have also continued my horror studies reading novels by such greats as Stephen King and  John Saul as well as Brian Keene’s “Urban Gothic” and Scott Nicholson’s “The Home.”

And so now with a promise to devote more time to this blog I return to my daily progress on my novels…

Alone, surrounded by the whisperings of characters

Whose presence they refuse to abandon

I am never truly alone nor

Have I been since I opened that first book

This world of my imagination released much

As the first hinges creaked on Pandora’s illustrious box.

And so I sit here, keyboard at my fingers my attention

Focused not on what I hear but rather

What is playing upon my mind’s stage whether

It be dramatic or comedic or horrific I give myself fully

To its rendition for I am but the recorder, the playwright, the writer

Blessed or cursed to give these willful personas life upon the pages

Of my mind.

I recently started reading a book by a new-to-me author and as usual, left a note on Facebook reporting my interest. Almost immediately a good friend, fellow writer and bibliophile gave me her opinion of the novel. In her words, “the ending was a let down.”

As a reader, I may at this early stage quit the book as I hate a disappointing ending. However if I do continue and the author has done their job well, I will no doubt become smitten with the characters and intrigued by the plot. I will find myself caught in the wonderful world contained within its pages and hope that the ending is better than reported.

If the ending is disappointing, I will think twice about buying all future books by that author and when a friend reports their interest in the novel, I will express my thoughts. As a bibliophile I have many friends who are avid readers and much of what I read is based on their suggestions. Likewise, what I remember most about every novel is the ending. Those final words make or break a good story for me.

With this in mind as an author, I must pay close attention to how I end my own stories. I must remember that the ending will decide how my readers remember my work and ultimately me as a writer. In truth, the ending is the most important part of the book, everything else from the first page to the last leads up to that incredible climax. And it must be an incredible climax rather than a short piddle into obscurity.

My world shattered when I was nine

You left me one last time

I stood on the sofa and watched the lights

Swirl bright and red and I knew you were gone

I cried and cried, I yelled and yelled,

You were my rock and then you were gone

We went to the viewing, my family and me

So many people all strangers

And then there it was, a large metal box.

Inside was a body, all pasty and pale

Dressed in your finest dress, a flowered blue

The eyes were closed with a look of peace

And I told everyone it was not you

If it had been you, you’d hold out your arms to me

Encircling me in your love’s security

When my parent’s fought, your bed was my haven

You were my shield, my advocate and then you were gone.

Days later as I wept, missing you, you came to me.

You held me once more in peace and serenity

You wiped my tears and gave me joy

Just like before and I knew you would be with me

Forevermore.

© 2010 I. L. Foster. All Rights Reserved.

Where is my nirvana? A world where

People of opposing viewpoints are free

To share without discrimination or fear

Of angry mob-festered retribution.

Where is my nirvana? A place where

The innocent may walk the streets

Unencumbered by hostile, mean-spirited

Souls seeking vengeful expression.

Why must I, seeker of knowledge, defender

Of peaceful verbal discourse walk softly

My opinions kept to myself while my neighbors

On cardboard cutups broadcast their ignorance?

Why must we fear the masses with their racism and hatred?

Why can’t we all accept each other regardless of our differences?

You preach faith, peace and love

Yet your words spout of war, vengeance and retaliation.

Where is my Nirvana you ask,

With saddened heart I say, not here.

© 2010 I. L. Foster. All Rights Reserved.

My favorite genre is horror. Not because I am a fear-craving adrenaline junkie who only enjoys the dramatic twists and turns that lead to a satisfying climax. Rather I fall in-love with the characters for their realism, their humanity. They are not perfect but in their heightened emotional state I feel them. I relate to their vulnerability, their panic as they realize things aren’t always as they seem and I admire their bravery as they fight against their deepest, darkest fears.

I recently finished a romantic dark fantasy by an author I had not read before. I was deeply impressed by her portrayal of her main character. It was a great read and I was driven to consume every word until the novel was complete. That is until I was 80% into the story; then things started to unravel.

Rather than allow the story to continue to unfold naturally, the main character began to explain parts of the story that were not present. It was as if the author had gotten lost in her own story and bored, decided to rush things along. Until that point I was able to follow each nuance, each developing step. The more the main character explained, the more confused I became. I kept reading because from the beginning she (main character) captivated me and by that time I was committed to finishing her tale. The ending though satisfying was not all it could have been if the author had not rushed.

Today I was continuing my study of On Writing Horror by reading an essay on literary fiction by Nick Mamatas. What occurred to me as I studied the difference between literary fiction and most mass-market genre fiction is the author’s love of words. In literary fiction the author takes their time to choose her words carefully, enjoying the rhythm of her prose. In mass-market horror the emphasis is in getting the story told with as much pounding roller-coaster fear and gore thrown in as possible. It’s interesting that Mr. Mamatas points out that some of the most fearful stories he has ever read were literary. They are also the ones, according to him, that get the mainstream attention.

This I can believe as they are also my preference. Give me a beautiful read that still keeps my blood flowing over a slash-and-scare novel that leaves me bored as I tread through body parts any day. Or in the case above, a novel that was rushed when it could have been so much more.

Being the scatter brain that I am, as usual I am reading four books at once, How to Write Tales of Horror, Fantasy & Science Fiction featuring essays by Ray Bradbury, J.N. Williamson, Dean Koontz and Robert Bloch; On Writing by Stephen King; of course continuing my On Writing Horror and finally, I am enjoying The Home by Scott Nicholson.

This morning while reading an essay by Jeanne Cavelos in On Writing Horror titled Innovation in Horror, I was once more moved to write in this blog.

I recently read in On Writing by Stephen King that he prefers not to plot. Thanks to his wise words I gave up the tedious and stifling task of attempting to plot my current work and just started doing what I love, writing through the unencumbered guidance of my characters.

While reading Jeanne Cavelos essay I felt inclined to share another insight, “be innovative as opposed to imitative.”

So, here I am writing a novel that is my own without being imitative this is true yet I feel compelled to take it another step. Why should it follow the same old humdrum plot lines of evil escapes, guilt consumed man enters picture, evil runs amok, man encounters and overcomes evil, evil vanquished with potential return?

As I returned to writing I felt a sudden freedom to think outside the box. No I will not alter the beginning of my current novel, it’s not necessary. Yet I am sure Ms. Cavelos’s words will influence my characters as they continue to lead me down their story’s path.

Isn’t that the beauty of creating? To feel inspiration’s wind in your hair as you explore unknown territory with nothing to hold you back. You are free to follow your own will and do your own thing whether it’s new or an innovative take on something old.

In the book you get to know Chris MacNeil, the adoring single mother/actress. My heart went out to Chris as she helplessly watched her loving, intelligent daughter become a sullen, angry monster spending all her time in the confines of the basement lashing out verbally when provoked. (Sounds like your typical teenager?)

Chris knew there was something seriously wrong with her daughter but the medical community provided more questions than answers.

You also meet Regan (Rags), Chris’ pre-pubescent twelve year old full of love and innocence whose curiosity gets the better of her. Then there is Father Damien Karras. A troubled Catholic Priest crippled by self-doubt and overwhelmed with guilt upon the death of his mother. There are other characters like the Columboesque Police Detective Kinderman, Chris MacNeil’s free-spirited assistant, Sharon, and the staunch Swiss house staff of Willie and Karl Engstrom.

At first memories of the movie overshadowed my enjoyment of the book. Quite frankly the scratching over Regan’s ceiling made me hesitate and question how badly I wanted to complete this On Writing Horror assignment. Then as I discovered characters not fully revealed in the movie my fearful soul calmed down and I began to understand the whys and hows of the story behind The Exorcist. A story of self-doubt and unexplained circumstances that most of us can relate to if we allow ourselves.

Some of you would relate but others not to the constant hills and valleys of searching for the quintessential new-to-us home. Some experts say this is the perfect time to buy a house. I say only if you are either a first-time home buyer or an investor with an eye for a bargain. The sad part is so many of the houses in our current spending bracket, less than $150,000 are bank repossessions. If you’ve never looked over a repossessions you haven’t missed much. They are usually gutted. The prior owner in their understandable anger at the mortgage holder and most likely themselves had taken out all their frustrations on the home they once so loved. In their haste to leave they took with them appliances, door fittings and at times, doors, decorative tiles, window trim and everything else they could remove as a token of their home ownership. The house is left not only gutted but full of debris, soiled carpet, broken tiles and numerous holes from angry fists going through walls.

We found our dream home yesterday. Yes, it’s a little out of our price range but since we are the only ones to visit the home on market for more than a couple months, we are optimistic. Now the busy work of coming up with financial documentation begins. Will I ever have time to write again?