It's the spooky season and I love it. But then I read and write spooky, love creepy music, watch blood curdling movies and like haunted hay rides, stories about banshees and all things witchy. On the way to work this morning I passed a field with rows of newly planted, short evergreens. Mist had crept in and tangled itself in the branches of the trees like hair threaded among brush bristles. It looked so cool.
Spooky stories don't scare me nearly as much as reality does with the real creeps out there filming themselves abusing children. There's where the real deamons live. But a nice story about witches, ghosts, goblins, and a vampire or two can be fun. I've discovered Sookie Stackhouse by Charlaine Harris and love those books and soon I have to find the "Undead and Unwed" group of books because I here they're good also. So many books, so little time.
Plus, "Fairy Dust" is done and coming soon. I have to get the plotting done on "Bloody Murder" so I can get as much written in November as possible, before the Christmas season tries to bury me.
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