I am.......Faintly Macabre
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Macabre Musings...

Fledgling Fiction Writers

Killing with Kindness.

10/15/2022

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First of all, there's a great difference between being critical and giving good critique. 

Some people can do this without tearing someone to ribbons. On the other hand, one has to develop a way to deal with critique in a healthy way without taking it 
so personally that any/all critique is seen as being mean.

If someone needs beta reader/editor - I do that. I try very hard to offer reviews and assistance without ripping someone apart but I am honest and candid. I also work with a new writer to barter services or charge on a sliding scale because I know novice writers don't have huge budgets to use to get their work into shape for a professional publisher, or even to a self-publishing house.

I do tell people if their work is something that I believe I can be positive about and helpful, if not, I will tell them that too in the nicest way possible, or try to do so. We've all been there, as writers, and we all should remember what it felt like to receive a good word, some positive encouragement when we did do the work and were trying to come up with a good creative piece.

Writing isn't a "Hey, I should get credit for just running it through a spell-checker" type of process. In my opinion, there has to be creativity, inspiration, imagination, depth, and construction; a formula of thinking that shows this writer had developed a story from start to finish. After that, they took the time and energy to  transfer it to paper or digital format and did the hard work of making sure their work was clearly translated to their audiences' language in a concise way so that it's understood.

Doing all of this in a highly-competitive market that is over-saturated by other people trying to do the same thing, in the shortest amount of time, because time is of the essence, and getting paid ONLY (generally) after the work is completed, is frustrating and can make a person quite anxious. Welcome to the rest of the world, right?

Competing with the very people that one may or may not have reached out to ask for help or guidance in the early stages of the work. That can cause sour grapes for some writers who've been asked to help others and get "burned" by not receiving credit or accolades, even an acknowledgement from those they've helped. New writers should take note of those who've helped them not just with research but editing, reviewing and acting as readers for their first books.

These are the names one should include in giving the author notes, where the writer gives credits where they are due, often in the fronts-piece of their work, followed by the dedication page. Those are great feelings to share and other writers will take notice if credit is given and be more willing to help out again in future should they be asked.

There are so many things that then must happen - marketing, selling, gaining an audience. These are the pesky things that if, like myself, one is more interested in writing, researching, and editing, becomes a struggle. That's where I bog down and need to reach out to others who've mastered the sales processes and techniques in the same manner. 

I ask politely and with respect to those who've blazed marketing trails ahead of me and made it work for them. Would it be wonderful if my friends just picked up my manuscript from the dust bin and sent it to a publisher who then called me with a $250k royalty payment and  a publishing agreement for my next three books? Sure, who wouldn't love to have that "Stephen King" moment? I would.  It could happen. 

 So yes, we should all try to remember our innocence and dreams, whether it's to be a writer, a painter, a chef, a dancer, a singer, a hiker, a actor, whatever we may dream of being - and no matter at what age. Dreams and goals are important to keep having and remember to be kind - reviewers, helpers, editors, beta readers, etc., but writers - beware and remember when you become the experienced ones to reach back and help those coming up behind you as you look ahead, for there be dragons out there, don't venture out unprepared.
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The Zombie Apocalypse is real

10/6/2022

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As much as I found rumors of it to be funny at first, ridiculous as it occurred, and horrifying when I realized the truth of it, the zombie apocalypse has happened.

The infection began in whispers. Gen X talked about it casually, the movies were brought out of the closets of Baby Boomers. All the Day, Night, Dawn, Day After..the Living Dead started in the late 60s and poor George Romero never even thought to copyright the term “Zombie” that he practically reinvented from the antediluvian lore of the island cultures.

There it was feared and utilized as a reality among Haitian slaves from West Africa. Used as a tool to keep slaves “in line.”

‘Many people who follow the voodoo religion today believe zombies are myths, but some believe zombies are people revived by a voodoo practitioner known as a bokor. Bokors have a tradition of using herbs, shells, fish, animal parts, bones and other objects to create concoctions including “zombie powders,” which contain tetrodotoxin, a deadly neurotoxin found in puffer-fish and some other marine species.

Used carefully at sub-lethal doses, the tetrodotoxin combination may cause zombie-like symptoms such as difficulty walking, mental confusion and respiratory problems. High doses of tetrodotoxin can lead to paralysis and coma. This could cause someone to appear dead and be buried alive – then later revived.” (https://www.history.com/topics/folklore/history-of-zombies)

The true zombie would become humanized if allowed to eat meat or salt. With the transformation of the lore to a classic monster on screen they became more of a “ghoul” than an actual zombie.

“...A Ghoul is a mythical creature originating in pre-Islamic Arabia, often described as hideous human-like monster that dwelt in the desert or other secluded locations in order to lure travelers astray. It was not until Antoine Galland translated the Arabian Nights into French that the western idea of Ghoul was introduced. Galland depicted the Ghoul as a monstrous creature that dwelt in cemeteries, feasting upon corpses. This definition of the Ghoul has persisted until modern times, with Ghouls appearing in literature, television and film, as well video games...” (Al-Rawi, Ahmed K. (11 November 2009). "The Arabic Ghoul and its Western Transformation". Folklore. 120 (3): 291–306.)

The zombies are here.

They are among us.

No one is truly safe from their impact anymore.

Granted, they aren’t the ghoulish, rotting dead depicted in movies and television, but the nightmare is real and they thirst for brains. I see them everywhere now. Shuffling, mumbling, staring down at their technology; sightless to the world around them, feeding on the terabytes of the virtual world in which they believe they exist.

They seemed their usual selves for a time, the slow, shuffling gait began first. They grew more quiet, short clipped speech, fewer human interactions. They began to change their looks, their faces altered by digital remapping of their actual features. Then as decades progressed, there were jokes about common sense having become a thing of the past, it seemed like a joke anyway, then it became a reality.

The extension of their arms were phones, used less to communicate via speech but through visual cues. A third eye to view their world, fractals were more trusted than retinas. Cell phone cameras became better eye witnesses than their human counterparts. Body cameras and drones began to appear. Watches began to disappear, along with answering machines, compact discs, a whole world of technology was replaced with newer technologies, such is its bane, and there were eyes everywhere.

Eyes that were ever watchful but eyes could be fooled, human and closed circuit. Ghosts began to reappear in more and more media as we sought to explain what our eyes saw but our brain couldn’t explain because we didn’t understand the flaws within our own technology. It didn’t matter because the brains were getting numb and dumb. Common sense began to dwindle even further. Virtual life began as entertainment, a lark, a frivolity or luxury for gaming.

Still, there were whispers, whispers that grew louder, the apocalypse was coming. Where the source of the rumor began, I didn’t know. Then the pandemic hit. I was skeptical that it was going to be as serious as it was, and I was wrong. It was the 100 year plague that our ancestors had warned us about in 1918. It was happening again. (My theory that it has to do with global warning was heard by a few but that’s another blog post.)

The Covid-19 pandemic killed over 6 million people worldwide. The reality was at war with the conspiracy theorists and deniers. Still, people died. The zombie apocalypse took hold entirely then. No, it was not the dead revived, I make no jokes nor mean disrespect to anyone who suffered loss or illness to this horrific disease. Instead, I mean those of us who had to shelter in place and for two to three years became cave-dwellers within our homes and faced a reality we’d never before imagined.

We faced a presidency, government, health, and cultural crisis in this nation that we’d never before imagined either. Nor one we’d care to repeat, in my honest opinion. We weren’t sure what happened to everyone else in the privacy of their homes, we could only guess. When we emerged, we could only blink our sun-blinded eyes and look around at what had happened in our absence.

The earth had started to try and right itself for a momentary breath of relief. (again, another blog, another time.) When we began our slow resumption of our former schedules and tried to return to our previous lives, we found huge changes had occurred and discovered zombies among us.

They aren’t deteriorating on the outside, they're decomposing on the inside.

They don’t know how to drive; they simply see an opening and take it – whether it’s legal, allowed, fair play, defensive driving, or not. They don’t know how to have polite interactions with others. They’re rude, entitled, believe that their needs are above all others, and seek only to emerge from their dwellings to grab, obtain, and retreat, at the expense of any and everything else. They will cut in front of others in queues, they seem to be blind to anyone else’s existence but their own. They can’t count change, or tell time, balance a bank statement, address an envelope, operate much of anything without a computer to do it for them.


​They couldn’t survive an actual, ghoul-shuffling apocalypse because they can’t drive stick-shifts, they don’t know basic survival skills, they can’t cook, bake, garden, harvest, or know most domestic skills. Most cannot read handwriting, or spell, but they can decipher emojis and app icons with ease. They don’t believe grammar or writing rules apply anymore.

They can order things using their phones, they can have things delivered. They cook by pictures or from boxes. They can’t seem to think outside of the box, they don’t even know there is a box unless something is left on their doorstep in it. Some of them even believe the earth is flat.

Their women are lovingly called Karen, by others. These are some of the older, original zombies that are possibly the carriers, but that’s still unknown. The hypothesis is that the lack of brains plus the sense of entitlement may have spawned the next generations that began the shuffling, mumbling, unthinking, unfeeling, zombies.

Either way, I hope I survive long enough to see that the generations evolve out of being virtual, bloodthirsty, non-thinking, savage ghouls and become thinking, feeling, communicating, sensitive beings again. I believe it can happen!

Until next time - Write on.
TTFN
​Faintly~

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    Author

    Faintly Macabre also writes under the pen name of S. R. Reynolds. 

    Currently resides in Oklahoma with her dog, Hanna Valentine and writing partner, JB. 

    Hanna has a dog blog too!

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