Sharon L. Clark, Author

Tag: authors

A Family Mystery Uncovered

This is the second story prompt from the book I got for Christmas and it took me several versions to get something I didn’t hate. The title was given to me and the words that had to be included are underlined throughout the text. I haven’t edited this story, either, so I apologize for anything repetitive, misspelled, or just plain idiotic. 

Enjoy!

Title: A Family Mystery Uncovered

Words: Sunday, secret, wallpaper, swap, sister, curiosity, island, notebook, marathon, demand


I laid in my bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, and held very still. Even breathing seemed too loud and made my heart race at the thought that I’d be heard and the ghost would come for me.

Every night for as long as I could remember, there had been unexplainable sounds that woke me up and kept me paralyzed in fear until exhaustion simply won out. I was only fifteen but I didn’t know a time when I wasn’t living in terror. When I complained to my mother about the moans, taps, and scratching I heard throughout the night she shushed me, declaring it all a bad dream. She even took me to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with ‘night terrors’ which was absurd. Did you have to sleep to have those?

My sister, who had the attic bedroom, never heard a thing – or so she claimed. She was two years older and so close to graduating and leaving home that we rarely even saw her. But every now and then she’d invite me to her room to hang out or for what she called a sleepover. We’d roll sleeping bags onto the floor and lie awake, gossiping and making up scary stories until we couldn’t keep our eyes open. Those were nights that I cherished and would miss when she was gone.

“Do you think mom will let me swap rooms with you when you leave for college?” We were sprawled on the couches one Sunday in the throes of a massive rom-com marathon. “I can’t sleep in that room at all and I’m worried that whatever is in there is going to finally come for me. It seems like your room doesn’t have the noises and stuff.”

Angie glanced at me quickly and popped a chip in her mouth. “Seems that way, huh? Did it ever occur to you that you just don’t notice it when we’re both in there?”

I paused the movie and sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that I hear the same shit you do, it’s just not as loud all the way up there.”

Gaping, I tried to wrap my mind around what she was telling me. “Wait – so you’ve been hearing the same stuff all this time? I was forced to doctors and psychiatrists who tried to convince me it was all in my head and you’ve heard it too?”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes and started picking at her fingernails. “Come on, Mel, what do you think would have happened if I’d said anything? The folks would demand that I get my head shrunk, too. You were already going: if it was determined that you were insane it could be surmised that I was, too, right?”

Just then, our mom walked into the kitchen, tossing her keys on the island and pulling bobby pins out of her hair, letting it hang loose around her shoulders. “You were what, Ang? What are you two lazy bones talking about?” She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

Angie and I exchanged a quick wide-eyed glance before answering.

“Oh, you know, Mel’s worried about getting accepted to college. I was just telling her that I was worried, too, but she doesn’t have to worry about it.” She tugged at my hair playfully. “She’s smarter than I am, anyway.”

Mom cocked her head and smiled at us with soft eyes. “Oh, you girls! It makes me all warm inside to see how close you are!” She dashed across the room and wormed her way to a seat right between us and reached for the bag of chips. “So what are we watching tonight? Are we on a romance or horror kick right now?”

*****

The noises were particularly upsetting and my hands were trembling as I clutched at my comforter. I couldn’t keep my eyes still; too afraid to move at all and possibly draw attention to myself, my gaze was constantly flitting from one shadowy corner of the room to the next, certain there was something crouching in the darkness.

Whatever was keeping me awake had moved on from taps and moans to bangs, thuds, and outright muffled screams. How was my mom not racing through the house right now, making sure we were safe? It sounded like someone was being murdered.

There was a creak outside my bedroom and my heart tried to jump out of my chest when the doorknob turned. I pulled the covers over my head and chanted in my head, Go away, just go away!

“Melissa?” my sister whispered from the doorway and I was so relieved I almost burst into tears.

“Angie!” I hissed back, lifting the edge of the covers so she could jump in and we could huddle together for at least the illusion of safety. “Do you hear it, too? It’s so much worse!”

“We have to do something, Mel,” she said. Her hand flashed out from under the blanket and clicked on the lamp next to my bed.

“What are you doing?” I tried to climb over her to douse the light but she held me back.

“Whatever is going on isn’t going on inside your room. Don’t you think if movement or light drew it to us that I would’ve been caught on my way down here?” She pulled a notebook out from under the sheets and placed her palm on the cover. “I’ve been writing down every event over the past year, documenting what I heard, what time, what day, and I think there’s a pattern.”

I couldn’t focus on what she was saying, my nerves were shot and adrenaline was at an all-time high. “A pattern? What does that mean?” I pulled my knees up to my chest and tried to slow my breathing and my racing brain. With my eyes I traced the floral pattern on my wallpaper as the vines and leaves wound around the room, over and under, through and across.

“I mean, there are thumps and bangs nearly every night but things get really crazy every three weeks or so.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “What is going on every three weeks to ramp activity up so much?”

Before I could formulate a hypothesis, something caught my eye. The wall above my desk was moving, almost breathing. I watched a spot bow out and back flat, out and back until I wasn’t sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me.

Angie was still thumbing through her notebook, trying to figure out what the pattern could mean so she didn’t notice when I climbed off the bed. My curiosity overwhelmed my fear and I advanced on the wall, walking on tiptoes until I could reach out and touch it. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

A hand settled on my shoulder and it immediately had a calming effect. I loved that my sister was right there, offering her support and letting me know I wasn’t in this alone. I straightened my spine and lifted my hand once more.

“I don’t know that you want to do that.” My mother’s voice sounded in my ear and I spun around to find her right behind me, a serene smile on her face.

Her blood-spattered face.

“Wha-what happened? Are you okay? Where’s Angie?”

I leaned around mom to see Angie lying across the bed, unmoving, her notebook flung to the floor. Mother waved a hand and said, “Oh, don’t you worry about her. Your sister will be just fine. I only gave her a small dose. She’ll wake up with a doozy of a headache, but nothing a little aspirin can’t sure.”

Pressing my back against the wall, I was horrified at the calm vision before me. My mom’s hair was pulled neatly back into a ponytail that swung against the shoulders of a red track suit. After closer inspection, it wasn’t meant to be red. Her hands and her clothes were drenched in red, carrying with them that distinct metallic smell of blood.

“What have you done?” I barely choked the words out, fear gripping my chest as I stared at this monster who looked like someone I loved.

She clucked her tongue and stroked my cheek, saying, “Oh darling, I hadn’t intended on revealing our little secret quite yet; it’s far sooner than I had hoped. I didn’t think you’d be ready for another couple of years, to be honest.”

My mouth hung open even as I tried to escape her gentle touch. “I don’t want to know your secret!”

“Oh, it’s not my secret,” she chuckled. “This is a tradition that has been handed down through the generations of our family, from mother to daughter, for centuries. Once you see it in motion, actually get to perform the rituals with your own hands, you’ll wonder how you ever lived without it.”

She reached for me as though to gather me in her arms but before I could slap her hands away, the wall behind me exploded outward, showering us all with plaster and dust.

“Save me!” a voice rasped out as a bony claw clamped onto my shoulder. I screamed and my mom’s eyes lit with a blood lust I never could have imagined in my worst nightmares. She calmly stepped forward and peeled the fingers off me, bending them back until they cracked and the voice in the wall emitted an inhuman screech of pain, before the hand and the voice disappeared in a series of muffled thuds.

I dashed to my sister’s side as she began to wake up, groaning, and I could think of nothing but trying to protect her. Mother smoothed her stained hands down the front of her suit and took a deep breath.

“You two stay put and I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back.” She leaned in to peck a kiss to my cheek and winked. “But right now I’ve got a man to catch.”

END

Join the ‘Christmas Book Flood’ with Indie Authors

In Iceland, there is a holiday tradition called Jolabokaflod (Christmas Book Flood) in which books are given as gifts on Christmas Eve and the family spends the evening reading and drinking hot chocolate or a non-alcoholic Christmas ale.

I love this idea!

Not only does it expand the reader’s horizons and support authors, but it also gives everyone a moment to just relax. The holiday season is so fast and wild, filled with shopping and parties and traveling that you need to allow your family – and yourself – time to just slow down and enjoy the moment.

In encouraging all of you to try this tradition on for size, I’d also like to make a few suggestions on books to gift. Through the local and online writing community, I have met some talented authors from all over the world: Australia, Central Iowa, Chicago, England, California, Florida, Pennsylvania. Their genres span everything from saucy romance to horror to dystopian sci-fi to women’s fiction to inspiration and more. And I’d love to share them with you.

Here is a list of some of my favorite indie authors:

Taylor Hohulin: “Your Best Apocalypse Now”

Sarah Latchaw: “Hydraulic Level 5”

Laura A. Barnes: “Rescued By The Captain”

Michael Stoneburner: “He Was A Boy Who Smiled, Book One: Phoenix Rising”

Jeanine Lunsford: “Remembering First Love”

Kelly Fumiko Weiss: “The Cube”

Rev. Rebecca Holland: “Through My Good Eye”

Jethro Weyman: “Two Halves of the Candle: Volume One”

Ben Monroe: “Dying of the Light: A Short Story of Survival Horror”

Adam Wing: “Matriarch”

Some of these authors have series, some write poetry and novels, some write more than one genre, so be sure to check out each author to see their other work. Keep in mind that by purchasing one or more of these books, you’re giving two gifts: one to the recipient and one to the independent author through supporting their dream.

What is a favorite book you received or gave as a gift? Leave a comment below or send me an email!

writing motivation

Strength in Numbers

You would think that writing is a fairly solitary endeavor. One person, sitting at a computer – or typewriter, or notebook – creating a new world and new characters. Authors don’t need people around to distract them – do they?

On a whim, I participated in National Novel Writing Month back in 2017, just to see if I could reach that 50,000 word goal in thirty days. It was fun and challenging and I loved every minute of it. By the end of November I had surpassed the word count goal and “won” NaNoWriMo – but that wasn’t the best thing I gained from the experience.

During that time, I attended a number of write-ins where NaNoWriMo participants in the area gathered at a specified location. The municipal liaison, Mary, set timers and challenged each writer to put down as many words as possible. She was encouraging and funny, teasing those she knew and cheering every single writer who showed up.

I needed that.

It was immediately obvious that there was something motivating about being in a room with other creatives. Is there an aura about writers that wafts into the air and encircles everyone nearby, merging with and energizing the other writers in the room? I don’t have any idea, but I sure dig that visual.

What I do know, however, is that this camaraderie between authors is an essential component to my own creativity. I was heartbroken when November ended and I no longer had a reason to meet up with these people – or to write. I hadn’t finished my story but I couldn’t make myself sit down and get to the end.

That is, until I found out about Camp NaNoWriMo.

I gathered my own group, organizing meet-ups throughout the month of April and again in July. We shared our story ideas, asked each other for advice or how to get out of a sticky scene. Over the spring and summer, I not only finished my story but added more than another 90,000 words! Unfortunately, now I am faced with editing that story down to a manageable length.

It’s harder than it sounds…

Now I meet with a group to write every week and I consider these people my good friends, even outside of writing. I continue to plan and organize writing groups for Camps and I find great joy in encouraging others to believe in themselves and in their writing – to an obnoxious extent. When I go more than a week without a writing group, my creativity and my mood suffer. Writing with other creatives helps to keep me motivated and boosts my creativity.

There is definitely strength in numbers.

What creative boost have you discovered that surprised you? Do you prefer to write alone or with other people? Comment below and let me know what keeps you on your creative path!

romance, romantic, Valentine's Day

Sappy Stuff for Valentine’s Day

I have had a love-hate relationship with Valentine’s Day for most of my life. It never seemed to live up to the earth-shattering romantic reputation I was sold as a young girl.

Instead, I lived vicariously through the books and movies I cherished so much –  until I found my very own true love.

To this day, I don’t put much emphasis on the holiday. But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate romance. In honor of Valentine’s Day, here are some movies, books, and television moments that really mean Love to me.

  • Somewhere In Time

    This movie was released in 1980 – I was nine – and I was immediately swept away by it. The music, the clothing, the charm and beauty of the whole thing still makes my heart swell. I particularly adore the scene where Richard and Elise share their first kiss, full of anticipation and longing and…well, you can watch it for yourselves here.

  • Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

    This is, most definitely, NOT what love should be. Heathcliff is wicked and cruel, Catherine is haughty and vain. Together, they are the epitome of a toxic relationship and everyone around them suffers for it. When I saw the 1939 movie, it drew me in and has kept this tragic story in my heart. The romance of this book might be summed up in this quote: “…so he shall never know how I love him; and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

  • Love Actually

    Anyone who knows me at all knows this is one of my most cherished movies. It is rife with romantic gestures. While I see many people citing the “To me, you are perfect” scene as the most romantic, I think it’s a bit creepy. Instead, my favorite is the Portuguese restaurant scene in which Jamie butchers the language he has struggled to learn just to profess his love for Aurelia. It is an awkward scene – but also incredibly heartfelt. “…but it’s Christmas so I just wanted to…check.”

  • Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

    I enjoy the television portrayal of this story, but I LOVE the book. Why does a historical novel that is more than 600 pages rank so high on my list of romance? James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser. Diana Gabaldon has written, in my opinion, the best fictional male character ever. And it’s not just Jamie that speaks to the nature of true love, but the relationship between him and Claire. Their love slowly builds from necessity, through mutual respect, into implicit trust. They support and challenge each other throughout the story and they are, to me, the embodiment of real love.

  • New Girl: “Pilot”

    Yes, the very first episode. This show is one of my favorites and, having been perusing clips for this post, I will now binge the whole series from the beginning. Again. This scene sets the tone for the entire show and is probably one of the sweetest things ever on television. It is bumbling and embarrassing and hilarious. And I hope everyone, everywhere, gets to feel this special at least once in their lives.

  • Notting Hill

    I don’t know that this movie would have worked as well without this particular cast. The chemistry is phenomenal. There are many adorable, tender moments: the “surreal but nice” scene; the “stay forever” scene; and this one where Anna bears her heart and soul. I will watch this anytime, anywhere.

There are, undoubtedly, many other romantic songs, books, movies, and television moments that should have made this list, but these are near and dear to me. Remember that you don’t need a holiday to fall in love or to tell people how you feel. If you tell them – and show them – every day, then every day will feel like Valentine’s Day.

What are some of your go-to romantic moments? Do you agree with my choices or think there are better examples? Comment below!

Behind The Scenes: Editing Week 1

Every author I have spoken with decries editing as the worst part of writing a novel. They pour their blood, sweat, and tears into writing for weeks (NaNoers) or months (normal people), creating stunning images and weaving fantastical tales with their words. Then they are asked to take this beautiful thing they love and ruthlessly slash and burn until it’s barely recognizable.

Yep. That’s where I am right now.

This is my first time editing a novel. I wrote one years ago, I got feedback on it, then promptly put it on a literal shelf and haven’t looked at it again. The daunting task at hand is to pare down my monstrous 163,000-word giant baby into an entertaining and coherent story. I started editing earlier this week and I have to admit it’s slow going.

I’ve edited 10% so far and am 0% confident that I’ve made it better.

In an attempt to be impartial during editing, I haven’t looked at this project since July or August. This story has been simmering out of sight since then. I wrote another novel in the intervening months (Okay, practically wrote another novel…) but I think I’m still too close to this one and am struggling to edit it objectively.

These are my words and I love them all dearly.

And boy howdy, do I LOVE my words! I pack words into a sentence like I’m padding a fragile item for shipment on a jackhammer. Apparently I find it necessary to describe every single movement from action to action – saying, turning, walking, looking – and I blame my third grade teacher, Mr. Holman, and his “peanut butter and jelly sandwich instructions” exercise. *More information available on request.

And those pesky adverbs, so reviled by Stephen King and many other writers, seem to have multiplied while I wasn’t looking! That makes it marginally easier to make cuts. I’ve had to re-write some clumsy scenes and I’ve deleted others entirely, so maybe I’m not fully in love with ALL the words. Thus far I haven’t chucked my computer out of the window, burst into tears, or curled up into a ball in the corner. Maybe that ambitious end-of-January deadline could happen!

Now, if I could only find my focus…

What editing techniques do you find most helpful? How many rounds of edits do you go through before handing your work off to beta readers? Drop your advice, suggestions, and discussion points below!

 

Join Me On A Short Story Writing Adventure!

Recently I was introduced to a writers’ sharing website called Channillo. Here, you can post poetry, essays, nonfiction articles, short stories, and a variety of other written platforms. Readers pay a small monthly fee for unlimited access to content and can subscribe to a writer’s channel or follow one or more of their posted series.

This is a beautiful thing, especially for a fairly green author like me.

Most authors have a particular genre. I, on the other hand, am kind of all over the place these days. My current work in progress is a fantasy story. The previous one was a romantic thriller. I recently had a suspenseful short ghost story, “Return To Me,” published in a Halloween anthology. My particular writing niche hasn’t revealed itself quite yet – but I hope this little endeavor will change that!

Through the short story structure of Channillo, I will have an opportunity to try my hand at all the genres that appeal to me. I can produce bite-sized morsels of whatever strikes my fancy each week and serve it up to people who love to read. No matter if I’m feeling like a Disney princess or like a patient who flew over the cuckoo’s nest, I don’t have to commit myself to an entire novel in one style and end up hating my creation in the end. Yay!

Throughout this adventure, I will be posting snippets of whatever I’m working on, whether it’s a short story or part of a NaNo project or something entirely new. If you’re curious about “Return To Me” it can be found in the Halloween anthology, Chills Down Your Spine, or on my new Channillo channel.

I invite you to follow along, make suggestions, and hopefully enjoy some interesting and entertaining writing in the process!

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