Paranormal October

Today I welcome writer K.M Hodge to the blog. She writes suspenseful stories and today shares her thoughts on the art of suspense. And don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter Giveaway at the end of the post.

What Happened to the Art of Suspense?

As a young girl with an overactive imagination I was always afraid.  The black soulless eyes of the characters my mother painted on my wall would follow me wherever I would go. The Mickey Mouse playing golf hook rug that hung on my wall still gives me chill to this day. What scared me more than anything was anything involving aliens. My parents owned a copy of Whitley Strieber’s Communion, with the creepy big eyed alien on the front cover. Whenever I would pass by the book I would flip it over so I wouldn’t have to acknowledge the alien on the page. Maybe because a part of me believed the claims on the front that it was based on a true story.

As I got older I sought out all things scary. Scary in the 70’s and 80’s was all about suspense. We knew it was a bad idea for the main character to walk into the dark and spooky room alone. We knew the killer was there, but when would he strike? Just when you thought maybe it wasn’t’ going to happen after all, the killer jumps out and attacks the unsuspecting main character. A great example of this is the movie "The Thing", based off the John W. Campbell, Jr.'s novella Who Goes There?  Back then it was also about what you didn’t see—the suspense of the unknown. When you see or read the big bad scary right away, something is taken away from the story.

When I was in high school I read every Steven King book that I could get my hands on. He understood and had perfected the art of suspense. While his stories and movies had their fair share of gore and sometimes violence, it was the suspense that kept me up late into the night reading by flashlight. Steven King’s Pet Cemetery and IT were terrifying. Who wouldn’t be freaked by something as simple and intrinsically creepy as a supernatural killer clown? Afraid of heights? Watch "Vertigo" and tell me if it doesn’t give you chills. Playing on every day fears is a simple yet effective way to scare the viewer or reader.

Now, films and books take things in a very different direction. Instead of using suspense and playing on simple every day fears we are exposed to a violent bloody disturbing story that are not so much frightening as troubling. We want to be scared to escape the challenges of everyday life, not be reminded of all the horrible things that could actually befall us. The odds of a psychotic clown stalking my children is pretty unlikely, but a child molester who kidnaps children from their front lawns can and does happen.

I miss the days of suspense. This time of year I find myself longing for a good scare. Toni Morrison once said, “If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.” So that’s what I do. I write the books I want to read and try to bring back the art of suspense each page turn at a time. I have two suspense series that will be coming out early next year. Check out my blog for more information on my Syndicate Suspense Series and my Book Cellar Mystery Series.

What do you think? Is the art of suspense a dying art? 

K.M. Hodge, Author

K.M. Hodge grew up in Detroit, where she spent most of her free time weaving wild tales to spook her friends and family. These days, she lives in Texas with her husband and two energetic boys and once again enjoys writing tales of suspense and intrigue that keep her readers up all night. Her stories, which focus on women's issues, friendship, addiction, regrets and second chances, will stay with you long after you finish them. When she isn't writing or being an agent of social change, she reads Independent graphic novels, watches old X-files episodes, streams Detroit Tigers games and binges on Netflix with her husband. She enjoys hearing from her readers, so don't be shy about dropping her a line. Learn more about her and her current projects on Facebook, Twitter and Google+.  You can sign up for new release emails at: The Land of Hodge. 

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Happy Halloween, Samhain and Day of the Dead!

~Magickal Graphics~
If you follow my blog, you know that Halloween is my favorite time of the year. And I made sure to have both of my first two books take place during this spookiest of seasons!

In Emily's House, Emily and crew traipse around an old, Irish graveyard at night during a full moon with ravens squawking. And Emily's timing is perfect. She attempts to open a portal to the Netherworld on October 31 when the veil between the worlds is thinnest.

Emily's House may have a chapter titled "Things Go Bump in the Night", but if you really want to get your scare on, check out  Emily's Trial. In Emily's Trial, Emily and friends once again lurk in a graveyard on Halloween. But when Emily tries to open a portal, things don't go as planned. Emily's Trial is set in a world of terrors where worst fears come to life.

Emily's Trial, Book 2 of the Akasha Chronicles
by Natalie Wright

In the upcoming third book, Emily's Heart, I didn't set the book during Halloween. Instead of focusing on one spooky day, the entire novel is set during an Apocalypse. Terror is Emily's 'new normal'.

Emily's Heart, Book 3 of the Akasha Chronicles
by Natalie Wright, Launches Feb 1, 2014

In celebration of Halloween, let's get some scare on. Please enjoy the trailer and just after it, an excerpt/teaser of Emily's Heart, launching February 1, 2014.

Happy Halloween, Samhain and Day of the Dead!

Here is an Excerpt from Emily's Heart, Coming February 1, 2014!

The Apocalyptic World

Isabella ran swiftly. Her long, sandy brown hair swung from side to side as she gained distance from it. She was surefooted, not a wobble in her step. She’d make it to her house and safety. A hundred more yards to go. The shadow that followed her was quick, but she had been quicker. Today, anyway.

Fifty yards from the door. Her mother waited on the other side of that door, ready to embrace her, smooth her hair and tell her, “It’ll be okay, baby.” Fifty yards to go.

Her choice to run had been pure instinct. A cold, clammy feeling overcame her. The shadow seen out of the corner of her eye. A small but powerful voice inside beckoned her to run.

But less than fifty yards from safety, Isabella’s curiosity made her turn her head. She had to see. Her mind had to understand. A casual look behind her to see what could create such a long, wide shadow.

In an instant as fleeting as one flap of a hummingbird’s wings, she saw it. The shadow, darker than any she’d ever seen. A shadow that was not just a product of the light from without but something that came from within. And the shadow was connected to a man.

The moment Isabella glanced behind her, her eyes met his. She had wanted to see, and she saw. The man’s eyes were completely black and devoid of light. His thin lips were pulled back in a terrible smile that revealed perfectly even, white teeth.

In that moment, Isabella knew. She knew that she had looked into the face of a devil. Maybe not the devil, but into a face as evil as any human has ever seen. Into the face of the demons that she had worried might lurk under her bed at night. Isabella looked into the face of the bogeyman and into the face of death.

She knew she would never reach the door. She knew that she’d never see her mother or father or her dog, Smarty, again. She knew that she’d never again kiss her baby brother’s soft, downy head.

Before Isabella could scream, cry or utter a single protest, the shadow was all around her. It enveloped her. She felt as if the air had been forced from her lungs, her screams unable to take flight in the airless void. She heard her backpack fall to the ground, but it was muffled, as if in a dream. She knew her eyes were open, but she saw nothing but darkness. She was smothered by a black so complete that she was suddenly unsure whether she was standing up, lying down, or floating in a dark cloud.

Her skin prickled as she felt the shadow caress her. She knew a person couldn’t feel a shadow. Her brain told her it was a dream. Shadows don’t kill people. But as she thought this, the squeezing of her lungs increased. The soft caress of the dark shadow gave way as it pinched and pulled and slapped at her.

Dread spread throughout her tiny body like a supersonic cancer. The fear cut through her like icy knives. As her terror grew, so the shadow’s grip tightened. It was in her ears, her nose, her eyes and her mouth. She swallowed the shadow like a pill, and it dug deep, deep, deep into her.

The shadow filled her. She was so cold, bereft of warmth.

The shadow will kill me, she thought. As the cold spread and took over every cell of her body, she prayed for death. She prayed to God to let her join her grandpa in heaven.

Her small body could take no more. The shadow had used her energy. Her prayers were answered. All was done. Her tiny, cold corpse littered the ground as the shadow swept down the sidewalk in search of another filled with light.