I took a look back at some of the things I’ve written over the years. I’ve covered ogre industry and illegal salvaging to raven-marked cat burglars and agnostic demon hunters. So it should come to no surprise when I sometimes I wonder, “Where do I come up with this stuff?”
Some of it can be credited to current trends in publishing/television/movies. I also recall at a young age, my mom sneaking me out in the middle of the night to see movies like Twilight Zone: The Movie and Alien. Those alone could explain much of what I’m compelled to write today.
Then there’s personal experience.
At times in my life, I’ve seen or heard things that, to this day, still don’t have an easy explanation. I’ve decided that from time to time I will share these stories. I will say this, none of these instances have clear resolutions. They happened, and I don’t know why. I’m not sure that I need to know either.
The time line of events are a little hard to untangle in my earlier years. Seeing that there is no build up to some greater event, I don’t think this is an issue. So here goes…
When I was young and my brother and I used to share a room, my dad asked me to get my brother some socks. I remember walking into our room and stopping cold. Someone spoke in a low voice. I could feel it in my chest as well as hear it, the voice was so low. Now I’m not sure whether it spoke in a foreign language or if I was too petrified to grasp at what was being said. Either way I had no idea what he said (I assume it was male with a voice that low). Eventually I regained my senses enough to run back out of the room and to my dad. Yammering at a mile a minute, I told my dad what I heard, and like any true dad, he searched the room, in the closet and even the front lawn by the window.
Nothing.
His search turned up nothing but a disobedient son who didn’t get his brother’s socks.
So there you go. A run-of-the-mill disembodied voice. I thought it would be best to start with something easy. I’ll save the really weird stuff for later. I’ll leave you with two questions:
Where do you think your creative spark comes from?
and,
Do you have any ghostly experiences that have shaped your life?
Thanks for reading and please feel free to comment.


Have you ever stopped, took a good look around you, and asked, ”How’d I get here?”
Next is my daughter a week from Monday. We already gave her her gift, a shiny new Netbook. My burthday is the following Friday. Good Friday if you’re keeping track. I deem it Great Friday because I’m taking the day off and doing whatever the hell I want. A little over a week from that will be my wife’s birthday. I think she’s opting to loaf all day without anyone bothering her. That leaves me to head off any kid queries to help her retain a bubble of solitude. Those days are the big ones. I left out all the nieces, nephews, in-laws, and friends that also fall in between.
Shanalee and I are starting a wine journal as well to chronicle the different wines and foods we try. I even might use a blog post or two to relate my findings. To date we’ve tried a Petite Sirah (not sure from where), Barefoot Shiraz, Gnarly Head Merlot, and Robert Mondavi Pinot Noir. A friend brought over a bottle of wine during this that I liked, but I don’t remember what it was. So far I enjoyed the Merlot the best and the Shiraz the worst. In future posts of this nature any recommendations would be gladly welcomed. It’s been a couple of weeks since our last sampling. Tonight would be a good night to try the next. Suggestions? Right now we’re staying away from the pricey stuff. I’d hate to put down a lump of money for something I couldn’t stomach.
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I’m sure there’s an off-shoot somewhere that would contend it to be automatic writing, the process of someone or thing writing through you. I don’t buy into that theory, but I have gone back to read what I had just wrote and thought, “Where the hell did that come from?”
So how do I get around this inability to fall asleep because I’m worried about what’s lurking in the shadows? The easy answer would be to write early in the day. That way I’d have the rest of the day to get it out of my mind. If it were that easy. I don’t get time during the day to write. 95% of my writing happens at night and away from home.
I feel like I’ve walked into a room that hasn’t been used in years. Cobwebs stretch and pull apart as I open the laptop. My fingers leave trails in the dust on the track pad. So I’m being a little melodramatic. Sue me.
Then I read a
So for today, including this blog because, hey, it’s writing. Today I reach over 600 words. It’s no King, Carver, or Card, but then again, I’m going for Green.
During a rare moment of quiet this chaotic month, I managed to slip away to see one of my favorite authors on his most recent book tour. This month