Posts By Lindsey Loucks
Anna Dressed in Blood
I started writing this book review in my head before I finished reading. It’s receiving 5/5 stars, and I knew that about a third of the way through the book. That rarely happens with me because I automatically hate everything. Just kidding.
Summary: Cas kills ghosts. You know those nasty ones who won’t leave? Yep, he kills them and sends them… somewhere. He’s off to hunt down the ghost called Anna Dressed In Blood. She has a bad habit of delimbing everyone who comes inside her house. After Cas’s head gets smashed by a jock with a two by four, he wakes up inside a house. Inside Anna’s house. Oh. Crap.
Here’s what I liked: 1. Cas. Ms. Blake did an amazing job characterizing him. He had faults and insecurities, had a beautiful relationship with his mother, and was a likable boy. 2. Anna. Her introduction into the story was epic. I won’t say anything else for spoiler-type reasons. 3. Ms. Blake – I blazed through this story, but I had to stop every once in a while to reflect on the writing. I had to read many sentences again and again because Ms. Blake puts descriptions and reactions in ways I’ve not seen before. The writing was crisp and refreshing and so like a Diet Coke at 1:30 in the afternoon.
Here’s what I didn’t like: (cue the crickets chirping because I got nothing)
My rating: 5/5
Will I read the sequel: Yes! When does it come out?!
Do I recommend it? If you can handle YA horror, gore, and some naughty words, then yes!
Together Forever
My women’s fiction/horror short story was released today by The Red Asylum! Check it out here and click on current issue at the top. It’s a pdf, so it may take a bit to load. I hope you like it!
Writing With Strut Music
Raise your hands if you listen to music while you write. What kind of music? Do any of you draw inspiration from music that you later put into your writing?
I can’t listen to music while I write. If Jesse is snoring, it distracts me. Mostly because it’s so cute, but also because it’s noise. I do draw inspiration from music, though. Scenes form in my head that are completely unrelated to the song’s lyrics, and before I know it, another story idea is brewing.
Speaking of music, do any of you wish you had your own theme song that plays whenever you walk into a room? Or is that just me? Because here’s what I want mine to be: (Warning: talk of dead people and bad words, then the music starts):
Now that’s a song you can strut to! Or draw inspiration from for select characters/scenes. I’m going to go strut around my house while I listen to this song…
I Have More Tabs!
Check it out! I have three tabs now. Now if someone could just tell me how to make my name bigger… 🙂 Ooo, with pretty lights around it, too!
My Main Character’s Dad
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Recently, I caught up with Mr. Baxton, my MC’s dad. I cornered him outside his accounting office when he was leaving for home. Leigh, my MC, knows nothing about this interview. I beg you not to tell her or she’ll never tell me her stories again.
Here’s a transcript of our actual conversation:
Me: Mr. Baxton, I, uh… work with your daughter at school. Do you have a minute?
Him: (frowns) Is something wrong?
Me: No, I just want you to know that I adore Leigh.
Him: (smiles) That makes two of us. We always talked about… (the smile slips off his face)
Me: About what?
Him: (clears throat) My wife and I, we… always talked about how we should have named her Moxie.
Me: (nods) How are things going at home?
Him: We’re not actually at home. We’re in a hotel because our yard turned into a black nightmare.
Me: I know.
Him: Our yard is just like the Hendersons’, only none of us are back from the dead. How does something like that happen? Sarah coming back. Our yards. All of it. It’s like something out of a book, not real life.
Me: Have you seen Sarah?
Him: No, but I’ve heard enough about her around town since no one can stop talking about it. I have seen her parents, and they’re… confused and grateful and… I can’t even think what this must be like for them.
Me: (pauses) Do you believe in magic, Mr. Baxton?
Him: I don’t know. I was raised to believe in the practical and the predictable. I’m an accountant, after all. But my grandfather, he believed in magic, which is why I hardly ever saw him when I was younger. My parents didn’t want him around me, I guess.
Me: But a part of you still believes in magic?
Him: My grandfather left me some of his things when he died. Some of it seems to work, but the rest of it…
Me: Please don’t use that book, Mr. Baxton, or anything related to dark magic.
Him: (looks at me sharply) How do you know about that? Did Leigh tell you?
Me: (takes a step back) She’s told me some things. I need to go.
Him: What did any of this conversation have to do with Leigh? What did you say your name was again?
Me: I need to go.
My comment about the book completely slipped out. Leigh said it was called Resurrection: Dark Magic to Bring Back the Ones You Love. I remember her horror when she discovered that book, and I honestly hope her dad never decides to use it…
P.S. The picture is of Aaron Eckhart, the guy who plays Two Face in The Dark Knight. He’s about how I imagined Ken Baxton to look.
P.P.S. Thanks, Joe! That was fun!
The BF Says Writing is Work – Let’s Ponder This
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dictionary.com (yes, I’m too lazy to open a real dictionary) defines work as “exertion or effort directed to produce or accomplish something; labor; toil.” That sounds about right. But just yesterday, my BF said, “All you do is work, work, work on the weekends.”
I was about to come back with a snarky retort, but took a pause instead. I’d just told him I’d finished a short story, a snippet of another, and sent off more query letters, and he was calling that work? The query letter part? Yes. Definitely. But the writing part?
Huh?
That’s not work, at least to me. Sure, it’s hard. Sometimes you want all your characters to become zombies just so you can shoot them in the head because they’re not listening to you. Sometimes the plot makes absolutely no sense (chime in here, first draft TGW critters). Sometimes you wonder if you’re wasting your time, when you could be, oh, I don’t know, cleaning the pigsty you now live in.
Yep, it’s hard. And yep, you’re exerting yourself and you’re eventually going to accomplish that final draft. But, at least in my mind, work is something you have to do. Writing is something I want to do. It’s my escape. Writing has become such a huge part of my life, I honestly think I would completely lose it if I stopped. I get quite antsy if I haven’t written anything in a while. Antsy, as in grumpy, as in don’t come near me, BF. 😉
Did I explain all this to the BF? No. He wouldn’t understand. He’s not a writer. Instead, I distracted him with talk of BLT sandwiches. AND GUESS WHAT WE HAD FOR DINNER?!
So, what do you think? Is writing work? Please help me ponder this.
P.S. I went to the Lynyrd Skynyrd and ZZ Top concert this weekend. It was pretty cool. Foo Fighters epic, it was not. It was still a lot of fun.
P.P.S (or is it P.S.S.?) The picture has little to do with this post, but gosh it’s cute.
One Times One Is One
My flash fiction story is out today at www.weirdyear.com. Warning – it’s weird, but it’s only around 420 words!
Rats Saw the Foo Fighters
Denver, Colorado. October 9, 2011. I sit in a not-too-crappy seat, my eyes glued to the stage. Mariachi el Bronx plays first. They’re not bad. It’s a mix of punk and mariachi. Strange combination, but they’re talented, and it works. They even play an accordian!
After their set, my feet can’t stop tapping. Not to the beat of Mariachi el Bronx’s songs as they run through my head. They tap just because.
The next band, Cage the Elephant, takes the stage. The lead singer staggers out, probably drunk. He pretends he’s a fish and dances like that while he wails. I want to slap him with a dead fish because that dance is not cool. The guitar relies too much on distortion. They remind me of Nirvana, and not in a good way. During the last song, the lead singer tries to jump on the guitarist’s head. Guitar Dude throws down his guitar in disgust and stomps off the stage. I don’t know if it’s all for real or for fake.
I have to pee. I run to the bathroom and back again before the roadies have cleared the stage. Then my feet double their tapping rhythm. Streams of people rush to their seats. Thousands and thousands of them. Their excited chatter swells to cheers when the lights dim.
But nothing happens.
The chatter starts back up again. I grip the arms of my seat and shake them, like I’m trying to propel the seat, the concert, everything forward.
The lights dim again. The crowd erupts. I pound my fist on my BF’s leg. He winces.
A guttural riff of a guitar fills the arena. Red and white strobe lights flash across the stage.
Then this happens:
I can’t move. I’m more than a little star-struck. Everyone must feel the same way because they’re all pulsing and cheering. That kind of excitement in the air can only be compared to Harry Potter book release parties, at least for me. But I can’t cheer along with the throng of people, because I still can’t move. Except my feet. They’re tapping away, in time with all my favorite songs.
Best. Concert. Ever. Even if I couldn’t move. Much.
So now I’m deeply in love with everything Foo Fighters, especially Mr. Dave Grohl. That guy is so talented, and I’ve always had a thing for boys in bands. In fact, my BF is a wicked drummer. When I met him, he was in a punk band. And now you know why he’s my BF. He’s okay with my Foo Fighters/Dave Grohl obsession. He’s the one who bought a Foo Fighters CD today. 🙂
Here’s the Foo Fighters’ opening song. If you could see me in this video, I would be the one not moving.
P.S. – The title of this post refers to the book called Rats Saw God by Rob Thomas. Rats, as in there were tons of us there, and the Foo Fighters, the gods of rock. Don’t you feel uber-enlightened now? 😉
3.5 Points for Divergent!
Animal Scene Contest Finalist
The lovely and talented Mysti Parker hosted an animal scene contest a while back, and I’m a finalist! Go here to read the entries and vote for your favorite. Don’t forget to leave a comment for the chance to win one of five books!