Here’s how writing works for me.

I know I’m in a better mental state during and after writing. Only, the short fictions I wrote at the start of this site were an outlier, an attempt to get my head write during a tumultuous time. They worked. They sprouted the About my Dad book that I posted the entirety of on here.

Sometimes when I finish a rough draft — and they’re all rough rough — the many drafts and edits and beta readers it takes to get it to anywhere I feel comfortable sharing with others beyond a close circle will come easy. The work mostly did for About My Dad. Maybe it was the subject matter. Maybe it was the reordering and cuts and development to plot and character were noted during the process and easier to pick up.

Maybe it’s there are still edits to go — there are, many of which have come to me since — and I was okay with that.

Then there’s the Wyatt Tarot book. It’s about a male model turned zombie hired to kill other zombies, loosely. The bones are strong. The muscles need exercise. The ligaments need stretching. You don’t get in shape overnight. Neither does a rough draft like that one — the definition of a shitty first draft — turn into a clean copy for sharing overnight.

Thus. I took a break. I let it marinate.

And I waited to feel the itch.

That happened mid-July. Three years ago, I stayed in the basement of an Airbnb in Louisville. I was on my way back from Michigan where I was visiting for Christmas. I’d recently finished reading Grady Hendrix’s Horrorstor, a novel about a haunted IKEA. It’s excellent. You should read it.

I wrote the first two chapters of a story centered on a haunted Christmas store. It was quick thievery of concept, but I had to get it out. The World’s Largest Christmas Store — Bronner’s Christmas Store — is located in Frankenmuth, Michigan. I’ve never been there, but know many who have. I’ve seen their print ads. I’ve seen their billboards. It’s a big deal.

So I sloppily wrote about a journalist who covers haunted houses. And the ghost who patrols the haunted Christmas store.

Then I left it. I revisited it a handful of times to see what happened when I reread it. Nothing. Until a month ago. I was reading “Altamont: The Rolling Stones, the Hells Angels, and the Inside Story of Rock’s Darkest Day,” by Joel Selvin. It’s a fun read about an event I knew cursory information about from my dad. It’s also journalistic compared to the novels I was reading.

And like that I pulled up my “Christmas Store” folder in Google and began outlining the story of a haunted house journalist who is called back to investigate the Christmas Store where her brother was killed when they were children. The first new chapter was a news article, which is what I thought I was going to do after graduating high school. The itch to write magazine features never left, evidently. Neither did exploring this haunted Christmas Store, now called Solomon’s.

Just like that, I’m back to writing 1000 words every morning, churning them out until the first draft kicks, probably around mid-October, just in time for horror season.

As I go, I’ll share snippets.