Dark SideMonday, March 30, 2015
In my book, there are two kinds of fiction writers: one who writes love stories and one who writes about death. When I write a love story, I can't seem to give it a happy ending. Guess I fall under the latter category.
I want to write a murder story someday. But then I'll imagine--inhabit a body of someone, usually a girl. I'll read her mind during her last few minutes alive. Knowing, just being absolutely certain of death. Will life really flash before your eyes seconds before a bullet hit you or as you feel the knife break your skin then twist inside your flesh, tearing your organs apart? Or does it flash before you while you wait for your blood to run out?
I call them "dark stories". I've written few before. They come from the deepest and darkest part of myself. My mood changes. Everything's dark and grey and there is no tomorrow. No one is there. It's scary and easy to go to that dark side. It's hungry--it will feed on your sanity. It is needy. It will cling on you so hard so you won't escape it's embrace.
But I find the light and I never ever take my eyes away from it.