Thanks to the uber fabulous Cynthia for inviting me to blog during this wickedly fun time of year! I love Halloween. Something about the cooler weather after such harsh temperatures and 100% humidity for several months.
I can still vividly recall walking down my street along with dozens of other kids as we went from house to house trick-or-treating. There were parents holding flashlights and making sure no one ran off, but not once did I think anything bad could – or would – happen. It was a night full of fun and scares, a night when things that go bump in the night are supposed to be out.
And every year my mother dressed me up in the same thing – a gypsy costume used with whatever we had around the house. I loved it at first, but by the third year I was so tired of it I refused to go out unless we could do something different. She gave in, but she wasn’t happy.
To her, costumes were meant to be something to put together from what was on hand, not store bought.
Fast forward to today…
Boy, how things have changed. I don’t like my kids going trick-or-treating to houses and people I don’t know. I’ve read the newspaper and seen the reports on TV. I know the freaks out there.
As much as I want my kids to have fun, I want them to be safe.
But I think it would be really neat if my kiddos could know what it was like for me during Halloween. Walking along the semi-darkened streets with my friends all dressed up, seeing if our neighbors could tell who was who beneath the costumes, and most of all seeing how much candy we could get.
What is your favorite Halloween memory?
I’ll be giving away a copy of the second book in my Dark Sword series, FORBIDDEN HIGHLANDER to a commenter.
To find out more about me, check www.DonnaGrant.com. To find out more about the Dark Sword series, see pics of the Warriors, take the quiz, search the characters, or see the book trailers, check www.donnagrant.com/darksword.
First up, thanks so much to Cynthia for inviting me to stop by!
When I was very young, I saw a book at the library called Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. The whole concept scared me so badly that not only didn’t I read the silly thing, I was completely freaked out for weeks. Eventually when I read it, years later, gathering my courage like a blanket around my shoulders, I was heartily disappointed. Whether or not it would’ve scared my younger self was no longer an issue. All I knew was that the build-up of fear hadn’t been worth it.
Years later I became somewhat of a daredevil when it came to scary things. Roller coasters, monster movies, bad boys on motorcycles… Yeah, that was me. I even up and moved to England for a year, all alone, and dragged home a husband. The immortality of youth made it easy.
But all that changed when I had my first daughter in late October of 2002. My fears morphed into very concrete, very pinpoint terrors that focused on her well-being. Suddenly movies like 21 Grams, in which Naomi Watts loses two young daughters to a car crash, became my A-No-1 horror scenario. Unlike deciding one day that Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark isn’t so scary after all, I don’t think this particular child-based fear is going anywhere. Add to it a second daughter the following year, and you have the key to breaking me into cold sweats.
The crazy reality of life is terrifying enough, which is probably why I don’t go for scary movies that are possible. Saw, Hostel, and other “kidnapped by random crazy dude” tales just leave me frozen. It could happen. No thanks. I have enough horror show possibilities in my head without heaping on newer, more grisly images.
Instead I much prefer the good old fashioned monster movies that used to scare me as a child. Give me Aliens or Pitch Black any day, where people blow up mindless creatures. Sure favorite characters might be lost, but that’s the glory of well-crafted, suspenseful storytelling. It makes me feel something real even in an outrageous scenario. That little safety cushion of knowing it could never happen to me and mine that keeps it from being too scary to endure.
And all of this leads me to a little discussion about the nature of personal fear. I’ve identified mine. All the rest? Like going for what I want with regard to my career, or putting myself out there professionally? How is that scary? It’s certainly not harm coming to my family. Maybe that realization–the difference between real and imagined fears–helped me finally make a concerted effort toward publication. I started seriously in 2006, about three years after my second daughter was born.
Because compared to any of that, what do I have to lose? Another rejection…poor sales…a professional setback… None of it phases me anymore. I guess in the end, any reservations I had about those terrors became as harmless as the book I couldn’t read as a child. I grew up, got some perspective, and conquered those fears.
What about you? Anything terrify you now that didn’t before? Or fears you used to harbor that have since moved on? I’d love to know what makes you hide your eyes! I’ll draw a random commenter to win a copy of my latest, SONG OF SEDUCTION, available as a digital download from Carina Press. It’s all about people who face their biggest fears…and no monsters or crazy killers in sight.
It’s pretty much a given that the seeds of Halloween originated with the Celts and their celebration of Samhain. The Celts believed that the veil between this world and the next was thinnest at this time of year. They believed that friends and relatives who had died would often return, with their souls inhabiting an animal – often a black cat. Black cats have remained a symbol of Halloween all the way until now.
Once of the Celtic customs involved going door to door asking for food to be donated to their deities. And young Celts would ask for wood to be burned on a hill top to celebrate Samhain and further honor their gods. These are two of the possible origins of Halloween’s Trick or Treating.
When I was a kid, I wanted to dress up as something different every Halloween. One year a black cat, the next a hula girl, one time a princess — I suppose I was like the children now who want to dress up as whatever movie or tv icon catches their imagination. My brother and I would race from door to door yelling Trick or Treat with our long-suffering mother trailing behind but keeping a careful eye on her own little gremlins. At the end of our neighborhood canvassing, we’d return home, examine our loot and proceed to stuff ourselves until Mom put a stop to it.
All too soon, I considered myself too old to run door to door begging for candy and dressed as something I most definitely was not. When my daughter was born, I considered dressing up while I escorted her but none of the other mothers in the ‘hood did and my sense of conformity kept me from doing it.
What a shame.
Halloween is one of the last childhood institutions that actively encourages imagination. And what better way to do it than running through crisp Fall leaves on a cool night yelling at neighbors to give those sweet candy bribes or risk getting windows soaped or trees decorated with TP?
That is…unless you’re a writer. Or someone who likes strange, possibly frightening tales.
HEARTSTONE EXCERPT
The ringing phone jarred Keriam out of a sound sleep.
She bolted upright, heart pounding and groped for the handset.
“Hello?”
No one answered.
Her heart continued to pound.
“Hello?” she repeated. For a second, she thought she heard
breathing and an uneasy tendril snaked down her spine. She’d had
a number of these no-answer calls in the last few days. Normally,
they didn’t bother her.
This one did. She hung up.
Too awake to fall back asleep, Keriam swung her legs out of the
bed, feet hitting the cold floor. She’d been locking the doors lately,
though she didn’t remember doing it. Probably another facet of her
episodes, another sign she was losing her mind. Still it wouldn’t hurt
to check them just to make sure.
And she could check on Wolfgang. Having a huge dog gave her
a sense of safety. Not that she expected to keep him, but she might
think about getting a dog of her own. She stared at the telephone
for a moment, then stood.
She rubbed her eyes, then, without turning on the lights, went
into the hallway. The quiet house had an empty feeling, as if she was
totally alone. That couldn’t be. Not with Wolfgang in the kitchen.
Still, she advanced slowly, using all her senses to detect anything
out of the ordinary. Moonlight shone through the living room
window and she paused, looking out into the front yard. Nothing
there. Turning, she tiptoed into the kitchen, the same eerie feeling of
emptiness hitting her again. This time, she flipped on the overhead
light. The dog wasn’t there. “Wolfgang?”
Quickly, she checked the living room although she already knew
it was empty. A growing urgency had her race through the rest of
the house checking under tables, behind furniture. She didn’t find
him. She ended on the back porch, shivering in the cool night air
and looking out over the fallow field between her house and her
neighbor’s. “Wolfgang!”
She couldn’t see much past the glow from her doorway and
stepped farther into the shadows to let her eyes adjust to the dark. Her
toes brushed against a leathery object and she picked up his collar.
Somehow, Wolfgang had gotten out. Or been let out.
She whirled, looking back into her kitchen.
No, Wolfgang would have barked if there’d been an intruder.
She was sure of that. And she would have seen anyone who’d come
inside. She pressed her teeth onto her bottom lip, confused. Worried.
The door had been closed. Locked.
How had he gotten out?
It didn’t matter. She had to find him. He was her responsibility.
She raced inside to get dressed.
Within minutes, she thundered down the stairs and headed to
the kitchen door. Wolfgang had probably gone into the woods out
back. A big dog like him, he’d enjoy chasing the small herd of deer
or the raccoons or possums. She hoped he didn’t find the skunks
though. She didn’t have enough tomato juice for that.
A sudden banging on her front door had her nearly leap out of
her skin. Then she realized it had to be Mr. Mountley. The old man
knocked like he was driving nails with his fist. He’d probably caught
Wolfgang nosing around the emu pens. She hoped Wolfgang hadn’t
gotten injured by the big, mean-tempered birds. She whipped the
door open preparing to thank Mr. Mountley and scold the big dog.
“Marc?” Surprise made her step back.
Marc jerked, sweat sheening his face. His hair curled in damp
tendrils on his forehead and his eyes looked fever bright. He made
a moaning sort of noise and leaned unsteadily on the doorframe.
“Are you all right?” Keriam pushed the screen door open
without thinking. Then took another look at him. Something in his
expression sent an uneasy shiver up her spine. Something’s wrong
here, she thought. Something’s off. She hesitated, then years of
country-manners kicked in. “Come in, Marc. It’s freezing outside.
Is something wrong? Is that why you came by?”
He moved like a marionette, stiff and loose at the same time. As
he walked past her, the rank odor from his body was overpowering.
She drew back, startled. Marc had always been fastidious.
He was obviously ill. Maybe drunk. But she didn’t smell alcohol.
Marc’s gaze whipped around the living room but he didn’t move. He
simply stood there as if trying to figure out what to do next. She felt
heat pouring off his body. Not drunk, sick. The thought didn’t ease
her slowly tightening nerves.
Marc took a ragged step forward, followed by another. He approached
the family portraits hanging above the stone hearth. Keriam
watched, puzzled, as he stared at Meredith’s picture. Her mother’s
red-gold hair gleamed in the autumn sunshine. Keriam moved behind
him. “What is it, Marc?”
He stilled at the sound of her voice. His hand trembled as he
rested it on the mantle just below Meredith’s photograph.
“Meredith I’sadhe.”
A chill traced over her skin at the quiet menace in his voice.
“Ezahdhee? What does that mean?”
Marc turned, ignoring her question. The ravening hunger in
his eyes seared her. She backed away as he grinned, a feral baring of
teeth. Ruthlessly, she shoved her uneasiness aside—this was Marc,
her ex-fiancé—and crossed her arms over her chest. But still… “Marc,
I think you should go.”
He took a step toward her. She retreated again.
“You’re not well, are you?” Her voice quavered and she hated it.
Eric d’Ebrur is out of time. He must find the legendary Heartstone and
fulfill the ancient Gar’Ja bond he shares with the Stonebearer. But
when he finds her, he discovers that love can be more dangerous than
the Gawan threat. Eric can defeat the mind-controlling Gawan but will
it cost him the woman he loves?
After terrifying episodes of hypersensitivity, Keriam Norton thinks
she’s losing her mind. When handsome shapeshifter Eric d’Ebrur saves
her from the monstrous Gawan, she’s sure of it. But insane or not,
she’ll find the Heartstone and, if she’s lucky, a love to last a
lifetime.
Heartstone is also available on Amazon.com
GIVEAWAY: If you join or are a member of my newsletter group, send me an email with Don’t Open The Door in the subject line, and your snail mail address in the body, I’ll enter you in a drawing for a ‘Heartstone’ necklace of your very own.
Email me at Lynda@LyndaKScott.com
Deadline: Friday, Oct 29
My alien kitten, Wookie, will assist me in picking a winner (she likes bribes but I insist the drawing must stay honest, so no bribes please, lol). I’ll announce the winner on my newsletter group.
It’s such a thrill to get to be part of Cynthia’s Halloween Blog Party today! Thanks so much for letting me join in ;). Because I’m a guest, I wanted to bring along a treat for the party’s host (*waving to Cynthia*) and all her friends…so I brought the drinks! Let me explain why I chose these…
In my new October book, Friday Mornings at Nine, three friends get together weekly for coffee and conversation. They discuss their marriages, their jobs, their lives — just like a lot of suburban moms do. But, one fall morning, after one of the women admits to getting emails from her college ex-boyfriend, they also begin to wonder if they married the right man…which leads to much drama, some humor and a lot of relationship complications.
One of the story’s major turning points takes place at an adults-only Halloween party. (Because, hey, what better backdrop is there for games of romantic pretense, right?) There are costumes, of course. Spooky music. And snacks. Because there’s a fairy-tale theme running throughout the story, too, I had a lot of fun getting to name the foods served at the party: Three Bloody Pigs in a Blanket, Jack and the Bean-Dip, Golden Goose Deviled Eggs and, of course, Poisoned Appletinis!
So, I’m here to raise my glass to all of you Halloween revelers today and share my version (and a couple of variations) of the recipe with you, just in case you’d like to make it for your grown-up friends in the real world while the costumed kidlets are chomping on their candy!
Poisoned Appletini (Marilyn’s pink version):
2 parts vodka
1 part apple schnapps
1 part Cointreau
1 part apple cider
Directions: rim a chilled martini glass with apple-flavored sugar rimmer; mix all the other ingredients with ice; shake and strain into the glass; garnish with a slice of apple.
You can also make it GREEN by substituting the 1 part Cointreau above for 1 part Midori melon liqueur and the 1 part apple cider above with a good squeeze of lime juice.
OR you can go a completely different way with it and make Caramel Appletinis using only 2 parts Bacardi Big Apple Rum and 2 parts butterscotch schnapps and an apple slice garnish.
Sound good? I hope so. What are some of your favorite Halloween snacks? Are you a candy person? (I’ll confess to an Almond Joy addiction.) Popcorn balls? Hot stews or warm cinnamon ciders? Anything with pumpkin? I’d love to hear your faves and will give away one copy of Friday Mornings at Nine (after midnight EST tonight!) to a commenter on today’s post.
Thanks, again, for having me visit, Cynthia, and wishing you all a fabulously frightening Halloweeeeeen!!
~Marilyn
Firstly, I’d love to thank Cynthia for allowing me to be a guest on her blog today.
I remember when I set out to write my first erotic romance. I really wanted to write the dark compelling tale of a woman who finds out that she is actually a faerie princess. I had a plan. I had a plot. Darn it, I had good story. My muse, although, must have misheard me. Instead of dark she heard “snark” and that’s when I realized that I’d never be able to write a dark fantasy or paranormal.
Then again, I should have known. Horror movies always scared me. Whether it’s Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, or even Ghostface, the result is always the same. I get scared as HECK. Don’t even get me started on The Exorcist and the 360 Linda Blair puts her head through. To a kid the tender age of ten, it can be frightening. I really don’t see the enjoyment of covering or closing your eyes through an entire movie. And even to this day I have problems watching scary movies.
Scary Movie on the other hand? Well I can watch that over and over. I love comedy. I love to laugh. Parodies have helped me discover that I have a real knack for humor. My recent trip to the theater brought me to see Vampires Suck. Okay, as far as parodies go, it wasn’t the greatest, but it did give me enough chuckles to satisfy my love of humor.
So, I’m quite happy with my hard of hearing muse and whatever corniness she decides to send my way. And thanks to her, I’ve found the perfect mix—A dash of snark with a splash of dark.
Here’s the blurb for that “Snark Fantasy” erotic romance:
A fairytale, but not the kind your mother used to read you!
Rhiannon Kinsley’s life goes from boring to downright crazy when a freak lightning bolt strikes her laptop. To make matters even more bizarre, strange words and symbols flash across the computer screen and she hears a mysterious voice. Time to call the men in white coats! Then Cerne Silverwing, an intriguingly sexy man, appears. He insists she’s a faerie princess whose fate will determine his own. What a crock! Now she knows who really needs those white coats.
With the Dark Faerie forces threatening his kingdom, Cerne kidnaps Rhiannon and brings her to Fey, a land where magic knows no bounds. He’s performing a duty to save his kingdom and nothing more—a duty that will bring him his wings and the strengthened magic that comes with them. If he doesn’t unite with the princess as her consort, those wings will never grow. But this princess grew up in the land of laptops and instant messages, and she’s convinced they’re both crazy. Despite their differences, the two are thrust together to defeat the whip-wielding Dark Faerie Queen before she takes over the kingdom. Passion and peril aside, will Rhiannon and Cerne discover their true destiny?
See what I mean? I definitely can’t write dark. And that’s the way I like it.
You can purchase Wings of Desire, my first published novel at Eternal Press or at Amazon (in Kindle or print formats). And in 2011, a ton more snark will be available in Spring, 2011 when Beauty School Demon (Written under my other penname, Sidney Ayers) will be available from Sourcebooks. You can read more about it here.
As much as I want my kids to have fun, I want them to be safe.
