Tag Archives: supernatural

Writing: It’s hard to be a good man when you have the devil on your back

It’s Wednesday evening and I realized I haven’t shared a post in a while. There’s a reason for that. I’ve been writing non-stop and finished the final draft of my book. It’s part one of a series. The book sort of just wrote itself once I got into the mythology and folklore.

A combination of Christian beliefs (demons and rituals) mixed in with Romani magic and light or earth magic.

This past week has been a strange one. My sleep has corrected itself to the point that if I went to bed at midnight, I would wake up like clockwork around 5 or 6 am. Today was the latest I’ve slept in and stayed in bed until 8. I use those early morning hours for writing and get down some of my best ideas. Once you have an idea of what a scene will look like, the rest comes easily.

I’ve been writing non-stop, sometimes forgetting to shower and eat. I’m getting better with that. This book has me obsessed to finish it. The scenes play out in my head as I write. Sometimes when I lay down or even sleep. I hear the character’s conversations in my head. And then I have to sit at the computer and get working on it. The ideas for scenes just flow to me easily now. I don’t know where this comes from.

It’s like the ideas are coming to me from an unseen force. And it leaves me with more questions than answers.

If I am channeling this from somewhere, it’d be swell to know so I can thank the source! It’s been wild.


The main theme: choosing between your darkest desires, and doing what’s right

It’s hard to be a good man when you have the devil on your back. Our main character Ned Mitchell is as complex man with dark desires. He hates himself and the ideas he has. He is at constant war with himself. He’s left at the end of the first book to choose between doing the right thing, or going for the one thing he wants.


Background mythology

Azazel convinces this young man to complete a ritual with his chosen brothers. They become connected through this ritual on a supernatural level and the demon plagues their minds, filling their heads with dark images and ideas. Forcing them to explore their deepest desires.

Then comes along Madison, an almost eighteen year old girl with natural abilities. She changes life for all of them. And she discovers something about herself along the way and gives into her sexual desires and fetishes.

It’s a very adult themed book based on some of my own personal experiences. There’s a lot of me in this book and it’s brought up a lot of feelings about my younger years – this is vague posting I know. But it’s opened up something inside of me that I pushed down for too long. A hunger. A primal hunger that I yearn for again.

If only I was younger, and in the shape I was back then. That’s my goal for the next year. So that I can get back into things I used to enjoy. Things that gave me passion.

The premise of the book:

Family is everything. Family doesn’t have to be blood.

The book was largely inspired by my own personal experiences in my youth. Mixed in with the mythology I have come to know and love over the years of demonology and earth magic.

My favorite quote from the book so far inspired by

Crossroad Blues, Robert Johnson.


It’s hard to be a good man when you have the devil on your back.


Perhaps one day, I’ll meet my version of Ned Mitchell….anyone else fall in love with their characters or is it just me?

Writing fictional character, falling in love with them, and killing them off

It’s Monday morning and I’m sipping my first cup of the coffee of the day. My knee went out again last night while in the kitchen, so it’s going to be an easy day today. This getting old thing is well, to be honest with you, getting old.

My life has become a sort of dial-hum with repetitive tasks and routines. I get up in the morning, usually between 7:00 – 9:00 am and seem to get about four or five hours of sleep. I think that’s the best I can do these days .

I start my day off with coffee and breakfast. I check my emails. Respond to messages if necessary. Then I watch the news for a little while and catch up on current events. I only go out once a week now, unless I have medical appointments. Winter is still in full swing and we had inches of snow on the weekend.

Then I get to writing and hours go by without even realizing it. I spent the entire weekend working on a new supernatural book, only stopping for pee breaks, to eat, and to stretch my body every now and then. I still can’t exercise because of my knee. I’m immobile.

Falling in love with characters and killing them off

The more time I devote to this story, that I’m falling in love with, the more ideas that come to my head. Conversations between the characters take place in my brain. Entire scenes will flash before my eyes and I can see them play out like a movie. I’ve created four books in the last month, made up entire towns and dozens of interesting characters that come to me at night.

The dialogue takes over my brain and I make my way to the computer because I have to write them down, or I’ll lose them. My brain has become a non-stop thought bubble. Replaying the conversations in my mind, wondering how I can improve on the scene.

Creative channeling

Sometimes I wonder where these thoughts and ideas come from. It’s like I’m channeling or tapping into an unseen source. Creativity comes and goes in waves. It’s the same for music. I go into this meditative state and play the piano, and a song will come out.

I often wonder what authors like Rowlings or King experience when they write. Do they get as obsessed as I do with the characters? Do they fall in love with them like I do? Do they hear dialogue in their head?

They must. With the amount of books they’ve written, in the genres they do, they must have the most brilliant minds that I’d love to tap into it. Just to get a glimpse.

I often wonder if I’m bordering on insanity. When you hear voices in your head that are not your own, it can make you feel like you are slowly losing your mind. But I know that it’s not the case. It’s not a demon or supernatural creature feeding me these lines.

It’s me. It’s my brain. At least, I think it is.

These books are consuming me, and I all I want to do is write. I will publish them when finished, but under a new username. I know it’s a good book, but I could never use my real name. Not for this type of story. It’s too personal to me. I’ve used bits and pieces of my own life and relationship history.

Writing as cathartic release

I actually cried as I wrote some of the more heartbreaking scenes. And then I realized that one of the main characters, would have to die. That’s how it is as a writer.

The words you put on paper, can change the direction of your story, even ones that you had plotted out in excruciating detail. One minor detail. One major event. Adding a new scene. These are all things that can determine the fate of beloved characters.

One night while lying in bed, a name came to mind. And I could blame it on shows like Supernatural and Lucifer, or the movie Fallen with Denzel Washington. A demonic name that I had heard in Sunday school as a child. One that stuck with me all these years. One that I felt compelled to throw into my story.

Azazel.

His name floats around my brain and I wonder… all these thought bubbles going on. What if? And then I push the idea out of my mind. What if writing is just channeling thoughts from someone else? From something else?

The idea is fascinating to me. And also a tiny bit terrifying.


I wonder, dear friends – do any other authors become this absorbed when writing? Do you write for hours and not even realize that an entire day has passed and you haven’t spoken to anyone?

It’s given me a new passion. A new awareness of the creativity process. It’s opening me up to new ideas, thought patterns and even dreams.

And so, that’s where we are on this dark and chilly Monday. And wondering if perhaps, the demons in my book could ever be real or if there really are supernatural creatures that go bump in the night.

What does YOUR creative process look like?

Dreamspeak: why do nightmares feel so real?

I woke up this morning mid dream and cannot shake the feeling of what I experienced in the dream. It was sheer terror. It was like I was being held hostage and forced to a life of servitude in more ways than one to a group of elite cultists.

I think that means I need to lay off the conspiracy section of youtube. Or something.

I’ve had lots of nightmares and night terrors throughout my life – stemming from a young age. Recurring dreams happen often too. Or at least recurring themes. But this one came out of no where and it felt so real.

You ever have dreams like that? Where they feel so real that you wake up convinced what happened in the dream must have happened in reality too?

I don’t know what could have brought on the dream. Maybe I’m watching too many episodes of Xfiles but I only have two more seasons to go and then I’m finished the show. A first re-watch in over five years. I just love it so much.

Sometimes I think these dreams would make really good short stories but I’m never in them long enough to see how they end. Some dreams just fade as soon as I wake up. While others, I can still feel everything I felt in the dream – upon waking. The feelings linger throughout the day. And sometimes for days after.

All I know is the terror I felt in the opening of this dream – felt so real that I can still feel a hand around my neck.

One time, I even woke up with bruises on my shoulder. They looked like bruises left by a hand print. I tried to recreate the marks with my own hands but it was physically impossibly. It was like someone had grabbed me from behind and squeezed my shoulder tight enough to bruise it.

In my last condo, I remember waking up and finding scratches on my legs. There’s no way I could have gotten those scratches when I was sleeping. They were deep and lasted for at least two or three months.

There is an old saying that if you die in your sleep you die in real life. And sometimes I wonder if what happens in your dream can follow you into real life – like scratches, bruises and other marks.

I know that some people think receiving scratches is a sign of demonic activity. But I honestly do not believe in demons. I believe in spirits and spiritual energy – I believe that some energy can be positive and some can be negative. Some energy can linger on for years. But demonic entities? With horns and rotten skin? Nah. That’s too Stephen King even for me.

Even though Lucifer is one of my favorite shows in recent years. Because, that role was made for Tom Ellis who is so dreamy.

Maybe one day we’ll have technology to record our dreams and record how we felt during them – kind of like a virtual dream journal.

I’ve been meaning to write down some of my dreams here in this blog but have just hit a writing funk. I think I’m just bored in general and need to get out more and back into a regular schedule.

So, that’s where we are this cloudy Tuesday morning. My condo is nearly 30 degrees. I have both fans going. The windows open. And there’s another rainstorm heading our way.

Happy Tuesday.

Grief: if ye love me

In my line of volunteer work with the church, I’ve play music for a lot of funerals. And because I’ve been at the church as long as I have, I’ve come to know many of the church members and they have become an extended family.

I’ve never been a highly religious person. I’m obsessed with subjects that would be looked down upon in any church – magic, supernatural, divination, alternative healing methods. I was raised Catholic but never paid much attention to it.

The church for me, is about family, food, and learning about my heritage. It’s about making new friends. And it’s pretty much my social activity for the week other than seeing my dad. It’s something that is familiar and has been my home of nearly fifteen years.

Plus, I get to play music once a week. So, that’s a bonus.

A good friend of mine at the church lost her daughter last year and a grandson. We have bonded for years over Sunday morning coffee and chat about all things in life. There are six of us – regulars who are there almost every Sunday no matter what. Even mid winter snowstorms wouldn’t keep these folks away.

But as my friends reach the ages of 80 and even 92, like my beautiful red headed friend, I’m reminded of how precious life is and how short life can be.

After she lost her daughter she said one day on Facebook, and this sentence has really stuck with me since.

“Grief, is love. It really just has no place to go.”

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Everyone says that grief eventually fades over time. But I find the older I get, that’s a lie. The more time that goes on, I seem to miss my mother more than ever. There are definitely days that are harder than others. There are days when it feels like she is right next to me watching me while I work on some project or in the kitchen – which was her favorite place to be.

Sometimes, I hear her voice in my head and go to pick up the phone and call her. Then I remember she’s gone and so I call my dad instead.

It’s been five years almost – and I don’t think gets easier. I think it gets harder as time goes on.

Younger people must have a harder time with loss. Especially children. Over time, you forget what people look or sound like. Thank goodness there are pictures and now videos to remind us of our loved ones. But what about the people we lost before technology came along?

We had a video camera in the 90s which my mum used a lot. But she used it to take videos of family. The grandkids. My sister. She rarely appeared on camera.

And that got me thinking about me. That’s me. I’m usually the one behind the camera taking pictures and I’m fine with that. But then I realized one day – hey. I don’t have kids. I don’t have a family of my very own. I don’t have something to leave behind.

I don’t have an imprint to leave on this world like my mother did with her 5 children and 9 grandchildren, and 1 great grandchild. That’s a pretty impressive resume, don’t you think? For one person? Creating a legacy that big?

And so, that’s where the inspiration behind “In Her Eyes” came from. My latest album release. It’s a 7 track album with original piano music.

On days where it seems I’m drowning in sorrow or grief, I turn to music for comfort. I sit in quiet contemplation until I hear a song that is so upbeat it gets my toes tapping and I can’t help but smile.

But for moments like this in the morning. When the world is mostly quiet and I’m sitting down with my coffee, wondering what to write about. It’s those moments that I think of my mother. It’s those moments I turn to music to quiet the ever busy mind.

It’s those moments that I get lost in the sounds of violins, cellos, classical guitar, piano and elegant choir voices that sound like angels. It’s these moments that I realize that grief will eventually pass and lead to something — more.

Music is magical. Music has healing powers. Music speaks to the soul. Music – like this. Sacred music shakes you to the core and makes you think about everything you’ve ever done in your life.

This music doesn’t just speak to your soul. It comes from the inner soul. It comes from the heart. It’s the music of angels.


Sacred Music on Spotify