One week off work and four horror B movies. Well, in defense to B movies everywhere, I retract my sentence, they were C movies with C actors and definitely C special effects.
Roughly around the time of the 5th empty popcorn bowel and most likely my 7th bathroom visit. It dawned on me, these movies were horrible. Not horrible like monsters eating puppies, or nuns eating puppies. But horrible as in writing, plot, characters and dialogue. At the time I had been slaving away at a period romance novel. The submission process was brutal, agents were ghosts and every once in a while an email would surface and ruin my day.
Perhaps thought I, my luck with zombie horror would be more favorable. I had always cradled the thought of writing a zombie story. Action, oh, yes it would have action and a hero with huge muscles. This baby of mine emerged that day. Between said food and potty break, a feeling of vast refreshment and determination of ‘yes, now is the time for me to write some zombie stories!’ And most importantly, write them better than the crap I had been watching all week! Brilliant!
Zombie begat zombie which begat scarecrows. What can I say, I’m a horror kinda girl.
