Hiring an editor

To say that I wasn't happy with Zombie Bite is an understatement. I was emotional when I finished writing it, and it was far from the best as a result. Hair of The Wolf is what I have been working on for over a year. The story is 'my baby', and as a result I am having trouble finding the flaws in it. I have decided to look into getting an editor. I want someone that I can use in the future as well (I am already kind of working on something else). I know that I will have many projects and I really need to start taking this more seriously. I love to write, but I have no passion for editing.

Internet trolls and Zombie Bite conclusion

My last post was about an internet troll who attacked my novel: Zombie Bite. I will admit that Zombie Bite was not my best work. I wrote it when I was dealing with a lot of different things, and I think it suffered as a result. I decided to write a short conclusion to the story (which I will be posting here, divided into two parts). So here's the first part, in all its unedited glory:

I forced my heavy eyelids open, taking in harsh lab lights. I tried to sit up, but something was across my chest, restraining me. Pain suddenly flooded my body, causing a single tear to escape my eye. Where the hell was I, and what had happened to me? I looked down to find that my arms and legs where covered in mud, and I remembered that I had been shot and left to die in the mud.

I heard a door open and close and suddenly the room was filled with sound. I couldn’t escape it. A chair slid across the room, a woman was gossiping about another doctor, and someone was chewing gum loudly. Every sound felt as if someone were playing the drums inside of my ears.

“Who are you people?” I asked.

Everything seemed to stop. It was like they hadn’t expected me to speak. I heard the loud clicking of heels as someone walked over to me, but my vision was too blurry to make out who it was. “I’m sorry for your loss,” said a female voice.

“My loss….” My voice trailed off as I realized she meant Eli. Eli had been everything to me and now he was gone. I wanted to feel something, but I just felt numb and exhausted. Maybe it was because I knew what Eli and I had was over long before he’d been infected. Did I even love him anymore? I thought I did, but I had left him when he needed me.

Suddenly, the table I was lying on moved forward. “Where are we going?” I asked as shapes and forms moved past me in such a hurry that I couldn’t make out what any of them where.

“We weren’t sure you were going to wake up so we had you in the morgue, but now I think it’s more appropriate for you to be in a guest room,” she said, her words echoing in my ears.

“I’m not your guest. I want to leave,” I said, as if it would do me any good. I knew I was at her mercy, but what did she want from me? Was she working for Dr. Haines, the woman who claimed to have a cure for ‘zombie’ infections or was she working of her own accord?

There was a loud buzzing sound and then everything became clear. I could see the pretty brunette woman who was pushing my bed into a large elevator. “What is this place?” I asked her as she pressed one of the buttons.

“It was an old women’s hospital. We’ve turned it into a medical center to help those taken by the late Dr. Haines,” she said the last few words with a smug smile.

“If you wanted to help me you wouldn’t have tied me to this table,” I said, nodding towards the thick ropes that bond me to the table.

“The ropes are for your own protection. We weren’t sure how you would react to being here,” she said.

The elevator doors opened with a low humming sound that seemed to crawl inside my ears. Everything was loud again, it was as if voices and sounds were magnified. I heard everything, from the whispers of a nurse, to a chair scraping the floor in the cafeteria. I barely had time to wonder what was wrong with me as people rushed past us in lab coats and scrubs, it was as if I were in a real hospital. Was there such a thing as a real hospital anymore? I thought the world had ended three years ago when the dead stopped being dead and started eating the living.

A young man wearing a lab coat joined us. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. May I ask your name?” He said as he flipped through some papers on a clipboard.

“Zoey.”

I felt the ropes that bound me go limp and I realized that he had cut them away. I sat up, but the room seemed to spin. I was dizzy and I felt nausea overtake me. I struggled to regain my composer as I was wheeled into a quiet room. The young man closed the door behind us, just as my surroundings settled. I wanted to stand, but I knew that I wasn’t well enough. “What the hell is wrong with me?” I asked.

“I’ve never seen anything like it, but you’re healing,” he said, pointing to my arm.

There was a bandage on my arm, right over where my bite mark had been. I slowly pulled the cloth from my arm, surprised to find undamaged skin beneath it. What did that mean? Was the wound killing me, or was it actually healing me?

Internet Trolls and Book Reviews

Today I got my first internet troll book review. How do I know Ms. Calinda Rosson is a troll? Because she her purchase isn't verified, she hasn't said a single thing about the book itself (which many reviews often do), she has just been negative. There was no value in anything she said. She also doesn't have any other book reviews up. I do have another book review up that's not verified, but that's because I gave away a handful of books. When I was first looking into the online publishing business I did look into negative reviews (to see the kind of feedback other authors were getting). It was clear that those reviews came from people who actually read the book, this one did not. It's easy to compare every zombie novel/tv show to the walking dead (which is what the poster did). I would have loved real, honest feedback. Even negative feedback. Anyway, not sure what the troll has against me, just thought that I should address it. Also, I did want to say that I know Zombie Bite isn't my best work. I wrote it while going through a very hard time. This is part of the reason it's taking me so long to get Hair of The Wolf out there. I want to make sure it's perfect. I want to make sure the grammar and spelling are decent and the story is amazing. Hair of The Wolf isn't even in the same genre as Zombie Bite. To be honest, I probably won't write any other horror stories. It's not the genre I set out to write and the only reason it's still in the Kindle store is because I think there will be some value in seeing how far I've come one day.

My thoughts on 13 reasons why

As a writer I find myself drawn to stories. It doesn't matter if they are my own or other people's stories. If I can find something to relate to in the story I end up getting hooked until the end. A few years ago I was lucky enough to have a job where I could read during my long and boring shifts. It was so dead that I averaged about a book and a half per day. I picked up 13 reasons why during that time. I remember it being a book that made me think back to my high school days. I couldn't help wondering if one or two things had gone differently.... That's the thing about 13 reasons why. The book makes you think. It's the type of thing that could happen to anyone and is already happening in this digital world that we live in. I remember how excited I was when I heard about the netflix series and I ended up watching a few episodes everyday after work. I was drawn in. The characters seemed real to me, each one flawed. Needless to say, I enjoyed the show. A few days later I saw an article saying something about schools warning kids about the show. The show supposedly glories suicide, but I don't agree with that. The after effects of her suicide are showcased, from her parent's grieving to the jerks at school who only seem to be worried about making sure they don't get in trouble. Each person reacts differently, and if maybe if someone had reached to help her she would still be alive. Now I'm not saying that the other people were responsible for her mental state, but I know first hand that other people's actions can hurt. Hannah should have sought help much sooner than she did, and maybe this tv show can urge someone in the same situation to reach out when they need help.