Too Spoopy

Too Spoopy


  • Tag Archives Miskatonic Musings
  • Too Late: Notes on Stranded in the Storm

    There’s this one road that leads from Sudbury (where I grew up) into Lincoln, and much like the road in the story, it is serpentine, and hazardous. One time I got a flat around there, and had to change the tire off to the side of the road. It’s right across the street from a few trails leading up a hill, so it’s quite woodsy. This was the genesis of the idea, I’d driven on this road and skidded out a bit, and it had scared the shit out of me. So, just add a supernatural creature, a snow storm, and there you go.

    I was inspired by the film Ginger Snaps, as I enjoy writing about menstruation as it relates to the werewolf mythology.


    A lot of the language, of predator chasing prey, was recently inspired by the works of Laird Barron, but in honesty, I wrote the story back around 2010 or 2011, before I’d read any of Barron’s work. So, most likely, I can trace it to Stephen King, and stories like “One For the Road.”

    I’m sure this story would drive Stephen Graham Jones nuts, because he expressed on this episode of Miskatonic Musings how much he hates supernatural werewolves.

    Bigfoot’s Love Slave

    I like them, though. I like the idea that maybe it’s like they turn into a hell beast or something, some sort of possession that makes very little biological sense.

    I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that one story from John Langan in “The Wide Carnivorous Sky,” “The Revel.” I think it’s one of the best werewolf stories ever written. But, yet again, I read the story after I had written “Stranded in the Storm.”

    The funny thing about ruminating on where your ideas come from, is they come from so many places sometimes, and you write one of these, and then you’re driving and you go “oh, damn, I was inspired by (insert story name) too! i should have added that!”

    One of the fun things about most of the stories in “Too Late” is I can see myself expanding any one of them into a longer work, jumping off from where the story ends. And this story especially, and a certain character at the end, might get her own novel someday. Who knows?

  • The ADD Horror Fan: Rambling on a Saturday Night

    Watching a Canadian antho horror show called Darknet. It’s pretty fun. Watching one about a woman who gets a boob job, and then goes to New York.


    So, where am I at? Well, last week was busy. Last Tuesday I recorded a new episode of Spooky Podcastery
    Ew, this ladies implant just moved.
    Anyway, recorded two of my stories with Charles Meyer of Miskatonic Musings. Charles is a real gem to help me perform these stories. It means a lot to me to have friends who are down to help me with creative endeavors with really no gain in return. It’s the mark of a true friend when they’ll help you without much in the way of kickback.

    I guess the kickback would be I help him with our podcast, Miskatonic Musings. And speaking of, we recorded a new episode last Thursday, (for posterity it was April 25th of 2015 we recorded it) covering Roal Dahl’s The Landlady, and George R.R. Martin’s The Pear-Shaped Man.

    You know, the inadvertently beneficial aspect of recording readings of stories for Podcastery is in a very real way, they help me to get a new perspective on them. I’ve recorded 4 or 5 right now. When I listened to The Crunch of Dead Leaves, I realized that the story becomes too much of a list of names and dates, without much in the way of emotional resonance attached. It’s the same thing I realized after going through my first novel, however many years ago. You can butcher 60 people in a book one by one, but if you never have a real emotional connection to them, than it’s not as effective as the death of one character that you care about. This was why in my first book the first kill (the narrator’s girlfriend) and the last kill (a woman whose house the narrator broke into, who he tortures for days on end a la Martyrs)were the heaviest. Because these characters were somewhat fleshed out, and were less cardboard cut out people who the narrator saw as objects.

    Noticed some things about the two stories Charles and I performed, The Chaos of a Real Estate Agent in an Alternate Dimension Populated Exclusively by Opium Overdoses, and The Rocket Takes Off. For one thing, both stories needed to set the scene a little better. I barely describe any of the surroundings in either story. They definitely needed a read through, and a few passes. As I grow as a writer, I discover just how unprepared my stories are. For a while, I assumed if you wrote a story, and it sucked on the first draft, that was that. So, I barely reread, and barely edited. Now I know the more time I spend going over a story, the better it usually is. And in a very real, and strange way, releasing them on my podcast so lacking is nothing if not beneficial for the stories. It’s great motivation to go back to them later, and fix them up.

    I’ve always struggled with setting the scene in a story. A lot of the time, I’m so preoccupied with just getting the words out of my head, that I rush through details I should add. And, of course, this is a series of articles about, ehem, The ADD Horror Fan. So, this is all part of it. The impatience. The reticence to go back over my work. Missing things. I really do need a good editor. I just can’t afford one right now. Or probably ever.

    The Good Stuff

    In the interest of my self esteem and sanity, it’s probably good I start emphasizing what I think I did well recently. So, let me see…


    -I’m about halfway through Livia Llewelyn’s short story collection Engines of Desire. Really like it so far, and I’m proud of myself anytime I get any reading done. Believe it or not, reading is usually fairly hard for me. Hard to sustain my attention for long enough to finish a book. Hence, my love of audiobooks. You see, sound always distracts me. So, if what I’m focusing on is the sound of someone’s voice, reading a story, I can’t help but listen.

    -I’m also halfway through the re-listen of the audiobook of Nic Pizzalatto’s novel Galveston. I’ve made an effort to stray from horror when I can, and this novel is assuredly crime fiction/ a character study. Going out of horror makes me realize a good story is a good story, and genre is useless if the story isn’t good within the confines and classifications. So, reading out of genre, I’m proud of myself for that.

    -Been podcasting as steady as always with Charles Meyer on Miskatonic Musings. Covering a lot of great horror films, and stories.

    -Attempting to write, and sell stories again, after a brief hiatus. Had some rejections, but I’m putting myself out there. So no matter what, I feel good about putting in the work again, to try and make this writing thing I love so much work for me. In the last few months I wrote a story entitled Unlock the Door about alternate dimensional travel, and a horror western entitled Rot Gut. Submitted both to various presses. I wrote a poem entitled Imagination is a Muscle I sent in. I wrote one issue of a comic script Pants Shitter, and edited up another comic script. So, just working hard, and putting myself out there. And I’m damn proud to be doing it.

  • Two Gross Stories by Sean M. Thompson

    Enjoy me and Charles Meyer of Miskatonic Musings performing two gross stories of mine, The Chaos of a Real Estate Agent in an Alternate Dimension Populated Exclusively by Opium Overdoses, and The Rocket Takes Off.

    And here’s where The Chaos etc. first appeared. Surreal Grotesque, the Lovecraft issue. Page fifty-five, bitches.

    Lurvecraft issue

  • Where I’m at with The Writing

    Many years have gone by since I first got the idea in my head to be a published writer, in the public sphere. And with those years, undeniable and ever-present problems have haunted the house of my mind. Simply put, I have a lot of trouble not worrying while writing.

    These fears run the gambit, from coming off like an uninformed idiot, to my very style itself. I’m not dense, and am aware that I read like a coked-out, distracted narcissist a lot of the time. I’m all too aware of my abuse of the first person pronouns, and of my lack of vocabulary. My word repetition is staggering, and sometimes it’s on purpose, but a lot of the time it isn’t. Don’t get me started on my fluctuation from incomplete, to long run-on sentences.

    Over the years, my idea of what this site and these articles should be has changed. When I started, the plan was to have it be a blog chronicling my attempts to make it as a published horror novelist. Of all the trials and tribulations of finding an agent, and shopping a first novel around.

    And then I finished my first book. And I don’t know, many factors kept, and still keep me from publishing it. Many people told me to self publish it, and I just don’t want to do that. But, I’d be lying if I said last summer, I didn’t go through a couple editors. I’d be a liar, if I didn’t tell you I got a friend to make me a cover for the book, so I could in fact self-publish it.

    But things just didn’t feel right. I tried to change the style of the book, to add dialogue after an editor’s request, to what was on its first draft always supposed to simply be a letter. A serial killer’s letter, and who on Earth writes a letter, and adds in dialogue complete with “this type of shit,” he said. In its first form, it was supposed to read like something you’d find hidden in a guy’s sock drawer. A really long letter, that was a confession, of sorts. Other factors came into play. Not feeling like the character described the 18 states he visited enough, and a lack of faith in my own editing, and the ability of others to edit my first novel, means that yet again, it will stay a thing I send to friends every once and a while. I’ve moved on.

    Yet, I still had this site. I’d paid for a domain that intentionally had my name in the title.As I was writing the first book, it was always my plan to have reviews on this site. To showcase my interests, and influences. To tell people about the real stinkeroos, and the gems. But, after the first book was trunked, suddenly all the site seemed to be about was reviews. Oh, sure, every once in a blue moon I’d throw a link to a short story I got published. But, I lost the fire I once had. And, so, for about a year or more, this site has been left by the wayside.

    I hopped from site to site, writing freelance. And I’m still welcome to contribute at a couple, I’m pretty sure. One not so much, but I ain’t got time to dwell on that bullshit.

    I have changed the name of this blog, (at least the header), many times. From Spooky Sean’s Sinful Bloggery, it was shortened to Spooky Sean’s Bloggery, and then to simply, Spooky Bloggery. I changed the theme and overall design of the site, and it was a bitch and a half. I got rid of my links, because the new theme didn’t look great with them, but I’m thinking about adding a few back to the side of the page.

    Which brings me back to why I’m writing this. I guess in a way I do want this to become about Sean M. Thompson the fiction writer again. I started writing for a site called Adventures in Poor Taste, so I have a great venue to showcase my nonfiction reviews, and articles. I don’t want to stop writing reviews and write-ups for this site entirely. But, I’d prefer to steer more towards analysis of multiple works on here. Because let’s face facts, my traffic is in the gutter, and I don’t give a fuck anymore. Why not make this a place I vent? Why not make this an actual blog?

    I still worry while I write. I worry I’m not writing the right thing. I worry I sound stupid. I worry that my style sucks. I worry that maybe I should just give up on this site, and just write for Adventures in Poor Taste, and maybe I should give up the fiction entirely.

    I stretch myself very thin. I’m currently doing a review of every single episode of Community, I do at least 1 comic review a week. I contribute to my own podcast, which in a fun and unexpected way stopped being merely a plot to get traffic up for this site, and started being about interviewing people I am intrigued by. I started as a co-host on a podcast known as Miskatonic Musings. I’m still attempting to help the crew at AIPT get their podcast off the ground. And, starting soon, I’ll be one of 2 hosts on a Stephen King podcast.

    But, when does that leave me time for the fiction? This question plagues me. The logical part of me knows it’s obvious; Sean, you write for the sites people read, and you contribute to the things that people take in. And, going with that, I would only contribute to AIPT, and Miskatonic Musings.

    But nonfiction is not why I started this journey. I realized last night that I need the fiction. I remembered last night why I started my first book in the first place. I am a man with a lot of problems. I’ve suffered from depression for my whole life. I’ve suffered with social anxiety disorder. I have Attention Deficit Disorder. And with all this comes a lot of pain, a lot of sharp memories, which bleed me internally every time they rear their ugly heads. I have a lot of anger, and I have nowhere to direct it. So, for better or worse, writing a book as a serial killer helped me to channel some of that anger. The most fucked up individual you can think of, namely the character from my first book, was a great way to express all the hatred, and sorrow in my heart, without having to come out and say “I am Sean M. Thompson, and I am fucked.”

    Because I am not “fucked,” as glamorous as that would be, and as easy as it would feel to just accept that. I have my problems, sure, but I am a caring and compassionate human being. I am a good friend to many, a good boyfriend (I’ve been told), and above all I am a person that wants to help people. You, reading this, I want to entertain you. I want to make you go through emotions. I want you to have a place you can go to help you when you don’t know how to deal with your own life. I want to make you think, laugh, cry, what the fuck ever. As long as I’m entertaining you. As long as I’m giving you what I so desperately needed all my life; a safe outlet, and a place to escape to forget about all the bullshit inside.

    Bottom line is I don’t give a fuck anymore what I write for this website. I just want to write. And if you’ll indulge me, I’m going to tell you about what I have going on from time to time. Because this is a place where I can truly be me. Where I can interview artists I respect, and where I can tell you about my attempt to create my own art, even if sometimes it drives me nuts.

    I started what I think will be another book a few months back. And the other day, I decided that even if I have to scale back contributing to some of the sites and podcasts where people actually read me, or listen to me, I want to give it another go.

    I want to prove to myself that I can write another book. Ideally it won’t take another two fucking years, lol.

    I’m not going anywhere. So even if this will just be a place where I practice writing, and my main audience is me, I don’t give a shit. Because creation is better than nothing. And because writing this made me feel a lot better, made me feel like I shouldn’t give up.

    To all the people who have been here since the start, thank you. And to all you new people to come, I’d like to welcome you. Because I’m here for you. If you’re going through some shit, I want to hear it. I’m linking the Facebook page for this blog below. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.

    You should never give up on your dreams. I’m not giving up on mine.

    Spooky Sean’s Facebook Pagery