Author Archives: shannon

Voices From Beyond

I wrote this article for ParABnormal Magazine, and it appeared in the March 2012 edition. I have included some new graphics, a few hyperlinks, and the Chris Moon video.

From offerings in ancient Egyptian necropolises to seances in Victorian parlors, people have searched for ways to communicate with the dead. Now, as we begin the 21st century, television reality shows, non-television-ready paranormal groups, and curious individuals are using electronic devices to help understand the afterlife.

On investigations with two ghost hunting groups, I have collected and analyzed recordings which I believe are communication from the other side. This article will show how to use electronics found in your own home to record spirit voices, and explore some of the more complicated methods being used for spirit communication.
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I am alive, and so is my book.

Hi everybody.

I’ve meant to write something her for almost a week now. Whenever I try, I get sidetracked. I took a couple weeks off at the end of Camp Nanowrimo, and after my staycation, I’ve returned to work and discovered just how stressful my job can be.

The new novel, FANGS FOR NOTHING, is all ready to go. Things have been hung up at the cover design stage. It has an ISBN, and you can even order it on Barnes and Noble. Hopefully, I’ll see something soon.

On a personal note, I’m taking a brief break from writing. I’ve been working my tail off for years now, and using my vacation time to get more writing in. Don’t worry, I will be coming back with a vengeance, or with aplomb if you prefer. I’m just charging up my batteries.

Space and Death

Today, a man died. He was a war veteran and a test pilot who through skill, bravery, intelligence,  hard work, and probably a little luck became the first human to set foot on a heavenly body. This made him a symbol of what man can achieve.

On the other side of that, some of the the reasons used to sell a mission to the moon were framed in more earthly terms. We had to get to the moon first and beat the Russians. So much for the family of man.

Only this morning, before I heard the news, I was walking around my neighborhood and looking at all the flags and monuments my neighbors had put up to their sports teams, mostly Iowa Hawkeyes and Green Bay Packers, because Iowa doesn’t have it’s own sports team and everybody loves the underdog. Later this morning, I saw my new nephew, and my sister-in-law had dressed him in an Iowa Hawkeye onesie.

Am I alone in finding it odd that we don’t have monuments to NASA on our lawn, or we don’t go around wearing shirts with ARMSTRONG written across the back?

Okay, I know people like their sports teams, but if we put what we spend on sport merchandising into space flight, I’d be writing this from a martian cafe with Arnold Swarchenegger in a dress. I’m not sure who would wear the dress, me or Arnold, but there would be a dress for some reason–that’s a Total Recall reference by the way, since it’s a little out of date.

I’m a firm believer that staying on this planet, not spreading out into the solar system, the galaxy, the Universe, is a death sentence for the whole race. Eventually, the shoe will drop, along with a huge asteroid. Or maybe something will get screwed up, and we’ll turn into morlocks or something. This planet can take a lot of damage, our currently hospitable environment cannot.

On the other hand, should we be spreading ourselves into the universe? We have an awful lot of stuff down here that needs fixing, places like Haiti and Florida. Maybe everything has its time, and when ours is up, we should fade away gracefully. One thing seems quite clear to me though. If we do make it beyond this little ball of mud, it will be because we stopped worrying about our team winning and started realizing we’re all on the same team.

Never use was never ever ever

A Was-P

One of the pieces of advice I always see is “Don’t use the be verb.” This is good advice, but not an absolute truth.

There are many reasons this advice is given. Often using a be verb means that something has been shown instead of told.

Tell: A car was on the road, oblivious to their hiding place

Show: A car drove by, oblivious to their hiding place.

Just changing the verb not only makes the sentence stronger, but it gives us more information. Instead of a car merely existing, a car is now moving. This satisfies another criteria for good writing: Always use the strongest verb possible.

However, can the strongest verb possible be the be verb? Can telling be better than showing? As with everything with writing, the answer is: once in a while.

Everyone in our little village had a religion, and Bob’s faith was the most unshakable. Bob was a pessimist.

And being that this treatise is running a bit short, let me add what I think is some of the best be-verb writing ever done. The opening lyrics to Jesus Built My Hotrod by Ministry.

Soon I discovered that this rock thing was true
Jerry Lee Lewis was the Devil
Jesus was an architect previous to his career as a prophet
All of a sudden,I found myself in love with the world
So there was only one thing that I could do
Was ding a ding dang my dang a long ling long

A Letter Home from Camp Nanowrimo – Week 1

After my first week of Camp Nanowrimo, Things are going much better than expected.

So many times when I sit down to write, I feel the demon of personal expectations poking me in the kidney with his little fork. This is why I sat down this time with the expectation of nothing at all.

‘ve had Nanowrimo projects that have come together and those that have not worked out so well. After getting to the 9,000 word mark, I think I may be on to something this time around. I’ve built up a nice cast of characters. I’ve put in some nice little twists, and most importantly, I’ve regained some of the excitement I feel when I’m writing for me.

My goal for today is to get to 11,000 words. Wish me luck.

I shall play you the song of my people

Yesterday, someone I respect and trust told me “Indy” publishing is no different than vanity press, and I am ruining my future hopes of a career by publishing before I am good enough for the big houses.

Because I trust her opinion and consider her both a close friend and a sage voice of reason, I’ve agonized over her words for the last day, and I have to say that, despite all the ways I have turned the problem around, there is still only one answer that comes to me.

On this point, sweet lady, I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not upset. I don’t see her suggestions as an attack. She said these things to me because she believes in me, because she thinks I can go further, because I can grab the brass ring of an agent and a book deal with a big company.

However, in turning this problem over and over in my head, I realized maybe her brass ring and my brass ring are completely different rings.

Maybe this means I am only a hobbyist (I hate that word.) Maybe I am selling myself short by not playing by the rules. But here’s the deal:

I hate following rules.

 If I’m going to make it, I’ll make it on my own terms, doing what I want to do the way I want to do it. And if I can’t find a publisher who will put up with me, I’ll self-publish. I’ll give away ebooks for free. I’ll travel the world, leaving flash-drives in men’s rooms… Okay, maybe not that last part.

Is that setting myself up to fail? Does the wise money say that I’m stupid? Well, okay, I’ll give you that, but to quote Slartibartfast, “I’d rather be happy than right any day.”

If you don’t know how that quote ends, go ahead and look it up. I’ll wait…

Paranormal Surprise

Last night, we had a preliminary investigation in a neighborhood more known for custom rims than paranormal activity.

The family contacted us in seeming desperation. A week earlier, they had moved out of the house when scratches appeared on their son’s arm. They were now staying with relatives.

The house was two stories with a basement and attic, bought for much less than a new car, the family was doing their best to return it to a livable state. The small house and the condition of disrepair meant simple things like going up the stairs could be treacherous. The basement was especially cluttered and moldy. It was not the most pleasant environment I’ve done an investigation in.

We had plenty of people to do interviews, so I acted as a backup to the psychics. We have a rule that, for safety reasons, we never go into a space alone, and yet, strong psychics sometimes like to have some space, so they know they aren’t reading  someone else’s impressions. I floated back and forth, keeping my digital recorder handy through the investigation.

Compared to our last two investigations, where we dealt with strong negative forces, this house didn’t seem too bad. There seemed to be some energy upstairs which was more confused than negative. The rest of the house seemed pretty neutral. While we haven’t evaluated all the evidence, looked for EVPs, etc. We seemed to be getting the feel that the house was relatively harmless.

Personally, I did have a curious incident. Because the family was freaking out, we decided to do a general house blessing before we left. I followed behind Cat, who was going around using a Sage essence spray–a little easier on the nose than a smudge stick. I followed her for two reasons, the buddy system and so I could add a little Reiki energy.

Because of how neutral the house had been, I’d let my shielding slip. And as I was standing in the upstairs hallway, outside the bathroom, where we had experienced the most odd energy, I felt a stabbing pain in my back, and I felt the energy drain out of me. I figured that either my appendix had burst or something had tapped into me for energy.

As I was taking some deep breaths, trying to recover, Cat said, “There’s something here, it wants to cross over,” and she crossed it over with seeming ease, as I leaned on the door frame.

This is only speculation, but I believe an earthbound took power from me so it had enough juice to talk to Cat loud and clear.

Thoughts on Dialogue

People tell me I write dialogue reasonably well. So, I decided to put down my thoughts about it.

Now there are a lot of rules that people will tell you about when to use “said*,” sentence length and voice, but in my experience, you can ignore those as long as you follow two simple guidelines.

  1. Dialogue sounds like conversation.
  2. Dialogue is not conversation.

At first glance, there seems to be a bit of contradiction in these two statements. And there is a little, but I believe that good dialogue resides in that ambiguity.

For example, here’s what I think speech sounds like.

   “How’s your mother?” he said as he unfolded his napkin.

“She’s fine,” she said guardedly.

“So, you know, um, how your mother has that horse?” he asked.

“What about it?” she answered.

“Well, I, uh, saw a picture of it the other day. Or maybe its perfect twin. I mean, I can’t be absolutely certain…”

“Yes?”

He looked down at his hands. “The picture was old, like really old.”

She narrowed her eyes. “How old?”

He looked up, momentarily meeting her gaze. “Um, well, it was taken in 1873.”

She sighed. “Desmond, for the last time, our horse cannot travel in time.”

This first example is consistant with the way people hold a conversation. However, let me tighten it up for dialogue:

   “So, you know how your mother has that horse?” he asked as he unfolded his napkin.

“What about it?” she answered, her eyes narrowing in anticipation of his next statement.

He looked down at his hands. “I saw a picture of it the other day.” He paused for effect, and then raised his gaze to meet hers. “A picture taken in 1873.”

She sighed. “Desmond, for the last time, our horse cannot travel in time.”

My first example contains a lot of unnecessary words, the back-and-forth of niceties required by the inaccuracy of the spoken word.  I supposed you could argue that it also contains more nuance, but honestly, all that junk just seems to get in the way of the story.

Just because I like to show that there is an exception to everything in writing, the woman in our example may be the kind of person who expects you to inquire after the fortune of her mother. In this case, the question of “How’s your mother?” becomes important, either by its presence or by its absence.

And given that there are always exceptions, while “said” is tried and true, don’t be afraid to mix it up once in a while. Even the most egregious sins can be forgiven once a chapter. Just don’t make a habit of it.

* Lately, I’ve been reading a bit of P. G. Wodehouse, and I love the way he pokes fun at dialogue tagging.

In introducing this uncle by marriage, I showed him to be a man who, in moments of keen emotion, had a tendency to say ‘What?’ and keep on saying it. He did so now. ‘What? What? What? What? What?’ he ejaculated, making five in all. ‘What?’ he added, bringing it up to the round half dozen.
–Joy in the Morning, 1946

Fangs Just Got One Step Closer

My next novel, Fangs for Nothing, has been sent for typesetting. At this point, it is out of my hands, which makes me more than a little anxious.

The back cover art for Fangs. My artist rocks.

I know that, hidden in the 65,000 words, there are probably a dozen or more errors, that will be set in ink with my name on them. I will just have to let them go.

Also, part of me is worried that people who loved Minion won’t like Fangs. I have few enough fans as it is.

I guess I could have titled this post Second Book Jitters.

I know you’re not supposed to get too attached to your books. I know you’re supposed to let them go and start writing the next one, but Fangs is my baby.

I originally wrote Fangs as a Nanowrimo book. The title was This Sucks. It weighed in at a meager 52,500 words, but I finished Nanowrimo and realized that writing books was my calling. Since then, it has been re-written around 5 times (some parts more like 20) as I have been learning the craft as well as I can so that I might do it justice.

Fangs is rude. Fangs is crass. Fangs contains scenes which are just plain wrong. It has nasty gore, inappropriate sexual situations, and bad puns. It makes Benny Hill look politically correct and Seinfeld seem plot-driven.

It is, quite simply, my finest work.