Stephen King says that writers have trap doors in their minds, and most ideas occur above them. Below the door is a basement full of sludge, hiding alligators; the secret of good horror and crime writing is to keep the gators fed, or they will break out and take over, and the world will become a real mess.
Imagine what went through my mind last night, then, when I arrived home to find these scenes in my little basement writing nook.
While Jack and I had a “yeah, we’re famous” three-day fun run through book festivals (Thank you, VA Festival of the Book, Clifton Forge, and Mountain Empire Community College!) the bookshop was left in the capable and devious hands of a few friends. Witness their creative touches. I may have to make that “Shining” salute my new FB profile pic.
And Bob enjoyed investigating the “blood.”
The Russell Crowe poster references his unfortunate soul-searching solo at the edge of the bridge as Javert in Les Mis, six minutes so painful that, sitting alongside these same friends in the theatre, I heard myself yell at the screen, “For the love of God, somebody push him!”
(The guy can’t sing, and he’s really not convincing as someone who could ever doubt himself, either.)