Tag: book

I was planning on doing a video today for the Daily Grind, but this new lap top and me are just not meshing well, so, videos will have to wait until I work it out. I guess it’s a throw back to when I was writing full time for Fear In Fear Magazine as it helped me keep all my ideas in check, and just made to whole creative process work so much easier.

Anyway, that’s not what I want to talk to you about today, it’s last night that’s on my mind right now. It was about 3, 3:30 when I woke up with the feeling someone was in my room, I of course quickly turned on the light, and found none was there, I put it down to being half asleep and rolled back over.

Now, that in itself is not really worth mentioning I know, because really, it was nothing, just on its own that is, it’s what happened a little while later that makes it so important.

After I eventually drifted back off to sleep, 20 or so minutes later, I woke with the same feeling, this time however I didn’t turn the light on straight away, I just laid there, and that’s when I saw it, a figure standing at the foot of my bed, I almost shat myself, but when I turned on the light there was no one there. I searched the house, checked all the doors and windows, nothing was out of place, nothing unlocked, it was just impossible. 

I don’t know what it was, I don’t know how to explain it, but if things keep happening, I’ll let you know more. Has anyone else had similar experiences?

Marty

Back when I was really hitting my stride while writing for Fear In Fear Magazine, I was introduced to an artist who had contacted the magazine due to being inspired by a few of my stories, his name was Gareth Wilkinson, we struck up a friendship instantly, and from that point on every story I wrote, he created visual interpretations that accompanied them, even taking cover credits for some of the issues, the last 5 where his best, they actually gave me cold shivers, still do to this day.

Now I’m guess you’re wondering why I’m telling you this, there must be a reason, right? and of course, you’re correct.

Earlier when I returned home from my expedition to purchase a new lap top, I didn’t notice at the time, but after losing my patience with this new computer, I mean seriously, Microsoft, the juggernaut that it is, should be able to make an operating system that does what it believes it can, right?

Anyway, I noticed the flashing light coming from my answering machine while I was in the middle of my fourth fucking mother-fuckers. I honestly can’t tell you the last time I was away from home received a call, with trepidation, I pressed play.

I was surprised by the voice I instantly recognized as Gareth’s, we hadn’t talked in almost seven years, he tried, but I was so self involved, I just cut him, like the rest of the world, out of my life. He didn’t have much to say, only that he was drawing , painting something, a large piece that spans several canvases, and that he needed to see me, he needed to show me.

I called him back almost immediately, the conversation was short, but we arranged to met when I was in Sydney, he assured me by the time we sit down, his paintings should be complete. I of course asked what it was, but he just said I need to see it for myself.

Anyway, it now looks like Saturday is going to be a lot busier than I anticipated, I will, as always, keep you in the loop.

Marty

My lack of human company has created a black void around my life, one that seems to suck many things into it, and, every once in a while, strange things occur around the house. I know, this sounds like the start of a story, but as this seems an outlet for my life at the moment, I thought I’d share it with you all.

Last night, or more like this morning, I awoke in the lounge room of my home, the lights were on, I was sitting in an upright position on the couch, the laptop on my lap, and, a burning cigarette in my hand. I haven’t smoked in eighteen years, haven’t brought a packet for just as long, but somehow, there it was, in my hand, the filter was wet, and I could taste the vile flavors dancing around in my mouth. I sat there staring at the bloody thing for way too long, trying to piece together what happened last night, I wrote, read, and then went to bed, all this before midnight, but now here I was at 4  in the morning, obviously delving into sins of the past.

My mind must have wandered far longer than I realized, as I felt a sharp pain, my fingers screamed at me, and I knew then and there the cigarette had burnt down to the filter, and now was licking my fingers with it hot tongue. I jumped up, my lap top launched off my lap, and crashed to the ground, bloody thing soaked, the screen flickered, rolled, fizzed and then turned to black, not before displaying something stranger than me waking up with a cigarette hand, it was a twisted, distorted face, he was talking, screaming, no sounds came from the laptop unfortunately, and then it was gone.

The computer is toast, hopefully the hard drive can be saved, the guy who sold me this over expensive typewriter at JB Hi-Fi asked me about whether I had a one drive account or something called an eye cloud, neither I’ve heard of, so I’m assuming not. He said if I was lucky maybe someone could help me out, but after he took my money he didn’t care.  I’ll let you know how I go, although I need to mention this new windows is totally ridiculous, I much prefer XP.

Marty

I remember the day we were told Fear In Fear Magazine was mo more, I was sitting in a Sydney coffee shop with good friend and fellow writer Sam Melton. We were both more than surprised, we were shattered. Three days later, after a phone conversation I still to this day can’t remember, Sam took his own life, I recall thinking that lucky bastard, how did he have the gall to do such a thing when I was unable to even place a blunt knife against my wrists without chickening out.

After Clare, my wife, had left with the girls, I was alone, looking back, I don’t blame her for leaving, Fear In Fear Magazine had some sort of hold on me, and all the spare time I had was devoted to writing new exciting stories for each issue. During that time Sam became the closet thing I had to family, so when he decided things were bad enough that he wanted out, he bailed, which, to be honest was Sam through and through. After Sam’s funeral I tried to reestablish some sort of communication between myself and Clare, but she never returned any of my calls, and try as I might, I could never track her, or the girls down.

To be honest here with you today, I never really tried, I wanted to, really I did, but I was so beat up, so down, so depressed, I couldn’t face life, I wouldn’t face another disappointment. So I hid in darkness, and that’s where I stayed until I received a call from an old colleague who worked on Fear In Fear Magazine with me, and encouraged me too look up this blog you now read, fuck, up until that day I didn’t even know what a blog fucking meant, now of course I do.

Why am I telling you all this, I don’t know, maybe because this morning, I picked up the phone and arranged to fly back to Sydney, as an old friend who is long gone supplied me with an address, and tomorrow, I will face my past. You see, some people concentrate on tomorrow, others on today, I’ve been concentrating on things that mean nothing, when I need to fix yesterday, I need to make amend for the lives I’ve lost being part of, for our future is always lost somewhere in our past.

Marty

Yesterday I talked about dreams, and how they inspire the stories that slip out of ones mind and onto the paper in front of you.

Today, I want to touch a little on how another’s work can inspire. I know I mentioned fan fiction the other day, but this is deeper than mer fan fiction, this has to do with one of the surprising things I’ve found since going over the different ways Matthew presented my work to you, is that of the 50 word stories, and how they insipired some people to expand upon the stories themselves.

It’s humbling to think words I wrote somehow inspired others to build a world separate from where the original story dwelled in, and, in some instances, the stories were far superior than the original the words were taken from.

That being said, I’d love to see others try their hands at reshaping each of the 50 word stories, so if over the course of the next few weeks, as I write new original stories that utilize the original 50 word stories, you find a story that inspires you to write, please write, write your bloody arse off, then, let me know, because I’d love to showcase your story on the blog.

Marty

Do your dreams have a way of weaving  their way into your stories?

It’s a silly question I know, as an author I know a lot of my dreams turn up in some form in my stories, In fact some even push through so powerfully that the dreams force the story to be created.

Where am I going with this one, everywhere really. To be even more precise, I have a question, can a simple idea, a simple dream, spawn more than just a story, can it spawn a whole world into existence?

I know many of you are shaking your head with disagreement, but how many times has your mind run wild when reading a story, created the world inside your head, inspired you to, as some do, write fan fiction?

For name, I know in the early days being heavily influenced by comics, the world they created, living, breathing worlds that spanned well across this small universe.

Did something inspire you to pick up the pen, was it a dream, or was it someone else’s words written on a page that inspired you?

I’d love to know what makes you, you.

Marty

Hello dear readers, Marty here, it’s been almost 24 hours since I took control of the blog, and as you can see, I have changed the name, but kept the posts running as they were when Matthew had control.

I know you’re asking why, I myself asked that same question, but the reason is a simple one. I want to prove not only to myself, but to you all that everything he stole, everything he posted on here, was mine.

The easiest way for me to do that, is to continue his sordid stories in the same pathetic structure he has already in place. Over time, I’ll change it to suit my needs, things like Wrapped In Words would work better for me as Whispers, but for now it’ll stay as it is, with a new coat of pain of course.

I’ll revert back to the days, as I dislike the blah blah until the end title and feel the day number give each post strength, and it’ll help new readers realize how long the blog has been going for.

The serials will return with more updated stories, the last Bad Day story that was posted here, I actually wrote 7 years ago and have improved since then. So you can look froward to more stories of Maxwell Sevenson, although the way he posted them leads some thought into what he was thinking. I say this because the first few he posted were written 3 years ago, so as you can see there was no structure in place for what he was doing, but I’ll fix that.

Dark Stars, as convoluted as it became when I wrote it 12 years ago, I never returned to finish the story, maybe now that will change.

The YouChallenge is a joke, he partnered with another blogger and they deceived you, picking themes from some of my already written stories and making it look like they had been written for the supposed challenges. I’ll show them and you how challenges should be handled by meeting all previous challenges with a NEW, ORIGINAL STORY!

That brings me to the 50 word stories, these things are another slight of hand joke, pieces pulled from my stories, made to look like they were written first and then written into an expanded story. What trash, he lied again, so to show you all how better I am than he was, I’ll also take each of the former 50 word stories, and expand them into NEW, ORIGINAL STORIES!

There is more I plan to do, but the last thing I want to mention for today, is my prized work. The one that I’ve held most dear to my heart, my Roundhead. I can’t believe what he did to it, massacred so much of it, cutting pieces here and there to make it fit, then to have the gall to replace the writer with ME? I take it as some deluded, idiotic way of trying to wipe me from existence, to make me seem like the crazy one, but who is the crazy one now?

Who has all the power and who has none?

Marty