We writers tend to live inside our heads a lot. It’s a simple and undeniable fact. For those of us who ply our trade in the horror market, well, that can be a scary place. We dig deep, into the shadows. It’s often uncomfortable. We dredge up bad memories and nightmares and drag them into the light. Truth is, we’re a sick and twisted lot. We like the blood on the page, the nerves raw.

I won’t speak for everyone, but the question has to be asked — How the hell do we do it?

For me, it’s my family. I’m one lucky bastard, let me tell you. I have an amazingly supportive wife and a son that’s cursed with the storyteller’s gift. They are my life-preserver. Without them, I would be absolutely nothing.

We all need some form of support, something that grounds us and pulls us out of our heads for awhile.

For there to be darkness, there has to be light. They walk hand in hand.

My family is my light.

I love them and cherish them and they make me a better person… a better writer.

My son has just started a course in creative writing. He’s ten. When I see his wheels turning, I smile, because I know. And just like I’ve had him and his mother there keeping me straight, she and I will be there for him.

It’s the circle of life… one dark word after another, one keystroke at a time.


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