I grew up reading Stephen King and watching the old British, Hammer house of horrors. Not a lot scares me in a story unless it’s based on real life. That’s when I appreciate my life, and I am thankful for what I have, and that my family has their health.
Can you describe your collection Double Trouble: Not all trouble comes in two’s in one or two sentences for our readers?
It’s a collection of short stories that could very easily be true. There is evil in the world, sometimes, it’s us, when our deepest dark side surfaces, sometimes we don’t want to admit what we are capable of doing.
Is there a theme or message in your stories that you want your readers to grasp or are they all quite different?
They are all different, but the theme is basically the same, people can be very scary.
Are there other horror/suspense writers that inspire your own work?
I like Stephen King, James Herbert, Beverly Connor and Dean Koontz. I think they all probably influence my writing.
Do you write and or read in other genres as well?
Both, and read in most genres, except historical fiction. I have a Gothic horror novel, and I’m working on a Chick-lit, that I hope will be ready for September / October this year.
When did you start writing and how long did it take you to publish your first work?
I’m still new to the writing game, I only started three years ago. My first novel took about 8 months to write.
What is the best thing about your writer’s life?
The best thing is when readers interact with me (especially if they like my work) LOL. I also love the Indie writing community, most of them are really helpful and supportive with each other.
Double Trouble: Not all trouble comes in two’s
Excerpt from the story BAD MEMORIES
He pulled the shower curtain to one side, reached out for the soft, white towel and wrapped it around his trim waist. As he stepped on the terracotta floor his foot slid, jarring his back, sending a jolt of pain up his spine. He bent forward and gasped, placing his hands on the cream glossy wall tiles as he caught his breath. Son of a …
Straightening up, he walked over to the sink and wiped his hand across the steamed up mirror, revealing a face he didn’t recognize. With his index finger he slowly traced the three-inch scar above his right eye. There was no pain, no tenderness and no memory. He caught sight of a black tattoo of a young girl on his upper left arm. The name Laurie, was written beneath it.
Who is she, is she mine?
He looked back at his reflection. The emotionless face staring back at him almost seemed to mock him, ice cold blue eyes boring into his soul. Suddenly the heat in the small room began to smother him, making him feel sick with pain and confusion.
He tapped his forehead hard repeatedly with his knuckles. Why can’t I remember anything?
“Who are you?!?” he screamed, punching the mirror. The glass cracked beneath his blow, pain shooting up his arm. He looked down at his fist. At least he could feel something.
“Danny? Danny, are you okay?”
He looked back at the door and frowned. Who’s Danny? Am I Danny?
The door opened, and he glared at the person standing in front of him. What was going on? “Who are you?” he asked.
“It’s me. It’s Dave,” the man said. He glanced past him at the smashed mirror. “You’ve forgotten again, haven’t you?”
His jaw clenched. “Where am I?”