Originally published at kelliowen.com. Please leave any comments there.

I am in the process of moving the website from kellidunlap.com — the individual pages are all moved and you may wander freely. The blog posts are still being moved, newest first, so if you’re looking for older posts, you may have to look over there until this message is gone. Then everything will be here =)

~The Management

Originally published at kelliowen.com. Please leave any comments there.

Six Days…

Originally published in a limited edition as part of Thunderstorm Books maiden voyage of the Maelstrom series, alongside Brian Keene’s “A Gathering of Crows” and “The Rising: Deliverance.”

Same novel, including the intro from James Moore, but of course, I can’t re-release it without adding “something” for giggles, right? Sneak peeks at other works, story notes and more are all tucked inside… like the good old days, when books were only on paper!

“Kelli Owen has pulled off a kind of dark magic with this book and done so with an assurance rarely seen in a first novel.  She’s made us care deeply about a flawed character completely alone in the dark, a scary one-character play peopled with everyone she’s close to…which is no mean feat for any magician.  And the ending packs a hell of a wallop.”
~Jack Ketchum, author

“This is one HELL of macabre, psychological mystery. Owen has a terrifying talent for pushing the reader’s buttons, one right after another, until you’re trapped in the same lightless, inescapable cloak of HORROR as the main character. One of the most suspenseful books I’ve read in long time, and a stellar debut.”
~ Edward Lee, author

“I’ve heard multiple people (some of whom should have known better) who genuinely believe that women can’t write horror or suspense or anything stronger than a romance or a good cook-book. I’ve never believed that. There’s far too much evidence to the contrary, but even if there weren’t evidence to disprove that asinine theory, the volume you hold right now would make a joke of the very notion.”
~ James Moore, author

“This is the best debut novel that I have read in years.  It truly is a brilliant work and I am proud that Thunderstorm gets to be a part of it.”
~ Paul Goblirsch, Thunderstorm Books (Original publisher)

“…serves to create a claustrophobic cocktail of unease and uncertainty.  In today’s world of omnipotent narrators and worn out horror clichés, it’s refreshing in a very Chianti and fava beans sort of way. Owen has set the bar very high with her debut novel, a bar I have no doubt she will be able to surpass.  Her blend of human observations, horror sensibilities, and gifted prose portend great things for her in the future.”
~The Word Zombie, Reviewer

Take advantage of the limited-time introductory price of $2.99, and see what the heck all these crazy people were talking about!

Available through Amazon – pick your poison: USA | UK | DE | FR | ES | IT

Originally published at kelliowen.com. Please leave any comments there.

In light of the recent controversy, and as promised in the Writers Beware blog (because I hate seeing newbies learn the hard way), I thought I’d throw out a little life preserver (read as beating stick) to tell new writers a few rules and help their learning curve…  Mandy DeGeit has been at my house for several days now (visit planned before the Calvacade of Bullshit happened) and after some lecturing and learning, she said it would be helpful to have something like this… So here it is. Or here is the start maybe. I was debating a semi-regular thing with this, and apparently I’m leaning that way, as I made a category just for these: 101.

Rules are something the nuns back in Catholic school had, to go with their rulers. This is not that. This is more like guidelines… since writers are much closer to pirates than they are nuns, and no writing career or experience is ever exactly like anybody else’s. I think maybe we’ll start with a basic list and expand. If I get long winded, I guess I’ll have to make it a serial blog and cover the others later (read as, “Hello?! Have you met me? Of course I’m going to be long winded… expect a serial.”)

1. RULE NUMBER ONE. This one is NOT a guideline. This is, without a doubt, and with Sister Hank’s ruler to back it up, a rule: Money flows to the writer. aka, Get Paid. aka, Real Money. I don’t care if you want to forgo guideline #3 and only get $5.00, get something. Anything. Seriously. Because if they have to pay you, they tend to give a crap about where their money is going. I have tried to beat this into the thick skulls of several newer writers who refuse to listen in the light of the vile word “exposure” and in the miasma of excitement that comes with the idea of being published. After the recent whirlwind, a couple are suddenly listening. Mandy took an “ouch” to learn and another received a very nasty phone call where Bob and I channeled everyone above us on the ladder who had yelled at us about the exact same thing once upon a time. Get Paid. Non-negotiable.

If you’re not willing to go to your dayjob and tell them at the end of the day, “no no, don’t pay me. knowing you appreciate me (read as “exposure”) is enough” don’t do it with your writing. It took time and effort, skill, thought, sweat and, if you did it right, blood to do… why the HELL would you just hand that away for nothing? WHY?! So don’t. And here’s your one warning… If I know you saw this blog entry and I ever, and I do mean ever, hear you bitching about a publication or even excited about one that didn’t pay you, I will come down on your head like the wrath of gods that have been dead for so long their pent up anger makes Coop look like the Dalai Lama. Kapeesh? Paid. Period. The End.

Questions on that one? No? Good. Let’s move on…

2. Do your research. This is a multi-parter, so pay attention. (a) There are several good websites to find publishers and publications looking for submissions. I’ve always been partial to Duotrope. It’s got a happy little search engine you can fine tune. Check it out. (b) After you’ve found a place you think is home for your story/novella/whatever, check them out! Look at the website. Are there typos? Grammatical errors? Glaring red flags of bullshit that you wouldn’t buy in a book so why would you want your work associated with it? And check out the publisher, both the company on a whole and those running it. Ask friends. Ask other writers. Look at who else they publish. Watch how they behave online. Do they belittle writers? Start flamewars? Act in a way you want to claim association with? Because you will, whether you want to or not.

Little tidbit: when I was just starting out with short stories, I had a hitlist of authors I admired, who’d been around the block and knew what the hell they were doing. If THEY published somewhere then I would submit there. It wasn’t “really” stalking, so much as trusting without having to ask. P.S. if you haven’t read the Writers Beware blog, stop now and go read it. Then you’ll understand the importance of researching your market and the person you hand your baby over to.

3. Start at the top. You don’t apply at McDonald’s after you get your degree, you apply somewhere appropriate to your training, education, etc. Think the same way here. You don’t start with non-paying markets. Hell, if you read number one, you shouldn’t even be submitting to them… ever. You start with those paying pro-rates. Newsflash: “pro-rate” is not a contributor copy or flat rate, unless the flat rate works with the math. Pro-rate is five cents a word or better. Two things here. (a) Yes, that’s what Poe was getting paid. Everyone else in the world has gotten a raise except writers. Why? Because there are enough who will accept less so publishing never had to adjust. (b) There is such a thing as better than five cents. If you use Duotrope (or other avenues) you’ll find them, because I’m not going to tell you everything…

Now you can choose to ignore this in particular situations. Say you have a vampire vs ghost story and the two open markets are a pro-rate general market and a vampire vs ghost anthology at semi-pro. I can completely understand wanting to go with the antho. (adjust this example as you need, to further understand that “sometimes” the “guideline” of “start at the top” can be altered…but it should never be ignored for the bottom feeders. Ever.) And one last thought on this section… no, we’ll make it a different section. We’ll call it #4.

4. Accept the trunk. To be a writer you need a few qualities. Thick skin and reason are essential. Be able to take the rejections, but also be able to honestly look at criticism and take from it what you can. Not all rejections are form letters. Some include ideas for improvement or other suggestions. Read them. Absorb them. Decide and take action—or do nothing, your call—but have the ability to both handle it and recognize when it’s valid. On the heels of that, know when enough is enough. Accept the trunk.

So you had this story that was awesome. You edited it to death and everyone who read it loved it. You started at the top of the submissions list and worked your way through pro-rates, semi-pro and even dabbled in a few desperate token pay markets. You may have gotten some feedback and made changes, you may not have. But at this point, you need to stop before you do something stupid (like give it away for free—see rule number one). You need to “trunk” the story. You never know. You may see an antho it’s perfect for in six months. You may re-read it in a year and know exactly how to fix it and resubmit (starting at the top) and find it a home.

Fun tidbit: a story of mine went through all that. It came dangerously close to getting into a magazine I really want to get in to before I die. It got a little feedback but I didn’t want to change the size to chop stuff or add stuff. I really liked it as it was. I trunked it, and now it’s one of the most popular stories in my collection Black Bubbles. Just sayin’…

5. Never say die. I don’t care if you haven’t sold anything for a while. We all have dry spells. I sold a bunch of stuff, had a REALLY sucktacular dry spell that lasted almost enough to make me climb a tower with a rifle, and then suddenly my world exploded. I didn’t give up. I didn’t quit writing. I didn’t quit submitting. And I didn’t self-publish because mommy said it was good but no real publisher would touch it.

Yes, self-publishing rules have changed a bit since I first formed my opinion about them, but this portion of my opinion stays. If you’re self-publishing because you’ve been rejected by “everyone and their brother,” stop and think about that. If they ALL agreed to reject it, you probably need to look at it a little harder. Be a little more honest with yourself. Your answer should be to trunk it, come back later, move forward. Your response should not be “screw them” and self-publish. God forbid they were right and it sucks. Now it’s out there forever. Better to sit back, hone your craft, and do it the right way. (Of course, there are plenty of times when self-publishing is okay. So long as it’s not attached to a list of rejections.) One more time, for the people in the back… never quit. Keep writing. Keep reading. Keep trying.

# # #

Now then, there are the basic guidelines. There are plenty more—including “contracts” and “submission guidelines” but those are bigger and deserve their own blogs… damn it, this is going to be a serial thing—but these are the basics. This is enough to steer you down the right path. And as a reward for sitting there and reading this whole thing, now I’m going to pull out my ruler and wave it around like a pissed off nun. Why? Because you’re still sitting here. Go. Write. No, really… go. Get the hell out of here! I have a novel to finish.

Because it’s a fun twist…

Here’s the cover. Details to come, I promise. In the meantime, let’s pretend I’m not off by a day and say it’s Thursday. And let’s just accept that I’m obviously sitting in the garage. And therefore, let’s make it Garage Talk!

So how about YOU tell ME what the story is about… given that title and that cover, what would you put in the pages? What do you think may be hiding in the pages? (and those of you that know, shhh!) How’s that for a twist? Now come on… be creative, think like me for a few seconds, and tell me what YOU would do with THAT cover.

Happy Thursday Friday!

Originally published at kellidunlap.com. Please leave any comments there.

York Emporium
343 West Market Street
York, PA 17401
(Directions)

Weekend plans? Come see this year’s author-centric Horrible Saturday at the York Emporium—a day filled with fun people and panels, located in one of the greatest used bookstores to ever exist. Wander the shelves, listen to the presentations, catch a quick flick, meet the authors & get your items signed…and end the day with some bone-chilling screams.

Schedule

10:30  Book Launch: Murder and Mayhem in York County with author Joe Cress

11:30  Weird Pennsylvania author Matt Lake.  Q&A, followed by book signing.

1:00  Panel discussion with authors Brian Keene, J.F. Gonzalez, Kelli Owen, Bob Ford and Mary SanGiovanni.  Q&A followed by signings.

2:30  Improvisational Horror: Brian Keene, JF Gonzalez, Kelli Owen, Bob Ford and Mary SanGiovanni, create a horror story on-the-spot from a set of props provided.

4:00 Screaming Contest, with braggin’ rights to the title “Best Screamer in York County.” (Note: my daughter won last year and is determined to keep her title, so bring your best screams)

I will be dragging along several goodies, including Dark Faith (and the Last Rites chapbook), Waiting Out Winter, Fresh Blood, several of both Shroud #6 and Shroud’s 2010 Halloween Issue. As well as copies of Bob’s dual-chap Free Ride Angie/Bluebottle Summer. Come see us… and learn all kinds of chewy gossip about what’s coming up, and enjoy a day full of fun!

For more information see the Facebook Event Page. Let us know you’re coming and catch up on the latest discussions!

Originally published at kellidunlap.com. Please leave any comments there.

They always say “start with a joke.” So here’s a funny little zombie apocalypse poster for you to check out, giggle at, nod in agreement, and hey, maybe order. Enjoy.

Now that that’s done. The Walking Dead on AMC was a beautiful television adaptation of the comics. Horror not only found a happy little slot on Sunday night, but it was extremely popular with fans and non-fans, of all ages. It’s been green-lighted for a second season and the pre-season buzz has begun anew with behind the scenes and other such specials popping up. And it’s the reason for this post.

You see, there was a scene near the end. A scene that followed me out to the porch for a smoke break and became quite the discussion (sans green couch). A discussion that has been revisited several times since then. Let’s do a little role playing first, to set the mood.

It’s the zombie apocalypse, following your basic zombie guidelines:

1. If you die, you return as a zombie.
2. If you are bitten by or sprayed with the blood of the infected, you become a zombie.
3. The only way to stop a zombie permanently is to destroy the brain.

It’s that last one that will come into play later.

So, for those that didn’t watch the show, let’s put you in the situation. You have survived so far. For argument sake, we’ll pretend you have a spouse and one child. You have stumbled upon a group of survivors. The group is mostly strangers, there are couples and quartets that were together, but the bulk of the group didn’t know each other before the apocalypse.

One day, while you’re enjoying a moment of not crying, running or screaming, all hell breaks loose and there’s a zombie raid on your happy little camp. You family member gets bitten. (If which family member makes a difference down farther, please state that.)

They are dead.

End of story.

You can’t stop it, but you can watch it. You can hold their hand and wait for them to die and come back and then kill them. Or you can kill them now and skip watching them die twice. Your call really. But the scene that got me. The question for this week (oh, hey, that’s right… it’s Garage Talk time!) is this:

If you chose to let them die and come back… if your loved one was a zombie… would you kill them yourself, stubbornly stating that you wanted to take care of it? Or would you gladly hand the ax over to a stranger and let them do it?

This started quite the conversation and I’m interested to see if it’s a gender thing.

I love the hell out of my family, and zombie or not, I just don’t think I could let my last memory be ME smashing their brains out of their skull. I’d gladly let a stranger, or a friend if they volunteered, do it. The boys on the porch though… they all seemed quite adamant that no one else would do it. It would be their responsibility and they would handle it as such. Me? Yeah, if someone else volunteers, they can have it. I loved this person pre-zombie. If I don’t have to do it, I won’t. The boys? They insist they’d do it to make sure it was done right.

So? What would you do? Could you cut the head off your girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse? Your sibling? You child? Zombie or not, you’re going to have to look at their face while aiming. You’re going to see their eyes… *shudder* Me? No way. How about you?

Now don’t give me a gut reaction answer. Really think about this. Stop. Turn away from the screen. Look at or think of your loved ones. Think of the good things and happy times and sparkle in their eye… Now then, would you want to kill them yourself? Or would you willingly let someone else do the deed?

Originally published at kellidunlap.com. Please leave any comments there.

A child is a curly dimpled lunatic.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Next week, maudlin. Today, whimsy.

Since the inception of the friendship that came years before the lecture, the Hippie and I have texted each other bizarre things from time to time. Lyrics. Crazy headlines. Insane observations. Pictures of things in the world that are just wrong or stupid or silly.

We have only gotten weirder with time.

While cleaning up some files this weekend, I found this and remembered it fondly. And because all the kids loved it, and the adults giggled, I figured I’d lighten your Monday with a smile, while reaffirming why I should never write children’s stories.

These are texts I sent to Hippie’s phone one day in the middle of tax season. It was either this or lose my mind and beat up clients. This was the better option… (line break = new text)

once upon a time there was a little dragonfly…

he flew around and around and around all day long, making loops and popping fairy bubbles. he was very lonely…

then one day, a charming princess came in looking for a frog to kiss.

the dragonfly acted as her tour guide, telling her where all the princes lived and sharing his life story with her in the process…

after she kissed the last frog and got nothing but a bad taste in her mouth, wart on her lip and a broken heart, the princess sat down on a toadstool and began to cry…

the dragonfly felt so bad for her that he landed on her cheek while he whispered to her to be happy.

his wings absorbed all her tears… and that is why dragonfly wings shimmer…

they are full of princess tears and broken hearts…

and then the frog ate him!!!

*burp* And there’s your random silly moment for the day. Now try and enjoy Monday and all the foibles it brings as it drags you into the work week…

Originally published at kellidunlap.com. Please leave any comments there.

Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil.
~ Aristotle

It’s Thursday. I have coffee. There are now three green couches in the garage. You know where this is going…

I have read some amazing books in the last few years—horror, thriller, non-genre and even non-fiction. But today, the important one on that list is horror.

I remember the last time I needed to stop and make The Tomo Face™. I remember the last time I requested brain bleach. I remember the last time I had to take a shower to cleanse my soul of the eww-factor—mid-novel and afterward. I remember the last time I cringed. I remember the last time I looked up and said “ewww” aloud. I even remember the last time I paused to call/write the author and type out “ewww!”

But I don’t remember the last time I wanted to leave the lights on.

I don’t remember the last time the words jumped off the page and into my brain, making me check back seats and sit facing windows and hide under the covers.

Now don’t you dare tell me I’m jaded. I’m sooooooo not. I still shake and cry in haunted house attractions—yes, I just admitted that. So why can’t I remember the last good scare?

A hectic life and writing schedule caused me to become a major slacker on the blog. Life is calmer (surprise party done, holidays done, graduation done) but the writing is going to stay insane for the rest of this year (and hopefully life), and I will try not to use it as an excuse. Now, back to that first paragraph. It’s Thursday. There’s a garage. And to celebrate the rebirth of garage talk, I’m not going to offer a thought provoking question. I’m just going to make a simple request…

Suggest a book that will scare me. And I mean scare. I want to sleep with the lights on. I want to check the backseat. I want to sit facing the windows out of fear. New, old, it doesn’t matter… hell, I’ll even reread something if you think it’ll scare me. Now grab your coffee and try to remember the last time you slept with the lights on… what were you reading?

Originally published at kellidunlap.com. Please leave any comments there.

A book is like a garden carried in the pocket.
~Chinese Proverb

The short version: Looking for serious reviewers for upcoming releases of novella, novel and collection – backlist available upon request.

The long version: Looking for serious reviewers. Review must be static rather than revolving, so that it can be referenced later or linked to without going dead in a month. Review copies will be in electronic format (pdf, epub, mobi, etc.). Quotes may be pulled from review for use on this website or my affiliate social networking sites, as well as online sellers offering that or other works of mine. Backlist items are available upon request, as many/most of them will be re-released and reviews will be viable at that point.

For further information or to volunteer your soul to the task, simply respond in the comments section. Make sure to include a valid email (so I may contact you), a valid website showing where the review will be posted (so I may stalk you), and your shoe size… cuz I always expect to hear that when people request information—you know, dob, height, weight, habits, employment…shoe size!

Originally published at kellidunlap.com. Please leave any comments there.

We cannot destroy kindred:
our chains stretch a little sometimes,
but they never break.
~Marquise de Sévigné

Hi, I’m Kelli. A touch of background for those new to the show. I was born Kellie Anne a couple hundred moons ago. At twelve I was allowed to legally change my name due to adoption by mom’s new husband—the man I would come to call Dad and mean it. New name: Kellianne Elizabeth. But you can just call me Kelli.

The man that was there when I was born walked away. Oh he tried for a few years. And he tried again a few years after that. He called on my birthday some times, but too late for me to be awake let alone on the phone. He attempted some communication once I graduated high school, if by attempt you mean once a year. He met my oldest and knew my youngest was on the way. And then he walked away again, forever.

During all of that time, I fell in love with my Dad and learned an important distinction along the way: Father is only blood, Dad is earned. My dad earned every ounce of my respect and love, and honestly, shock, as we put him through hell in the beginning. But he survived and became Dad. And if something ever happened to him, I’d be devastated.

That other guy? We referred to him as the sperm donor if he ever came up. Which was rare. My sister and I have actually forgotten we’re adopted on occasion and given the wrong biological information to doctors, teachers, whomever. Ooops. Though we did stay in touch with his sister and her family. And I thrive on the gypsy blood he gave me…

Which brings us to this weekend.

I was doing a bit of research online, searching beyond what I already had. I did find some really fun things—distant cousins that were doing the same, old pictures, new names to add to the tree, etc.

And an obituary.

From a year and a half ago, for a man I didn’t know, barely remembered, and hadn’t called “dad” since I was seven.

I stared at it a while. There was no denying what was in front of me. I had met his new wife and kids—I knew their names—and there they all were. My aunt was listed as a survivor. My grandparents names were right there as preceding him in death. His date and place of birth… Oh, it was him. With no mention of me or my sister. And none of us had been notified—me, mom, his sister, no one.

When Bob asked what was wrong—as I can only imagine the stunned look on my face—he followed up my answer by asking if I was okay. And how did I feel about it.

I didn’t know.

I called my mom and she started to question, “but you’re you and do that thing, shouldn’t you have known?” but answered her own question with “I suppose, there was no connection so why would you?” I called my sister, left voicemail and emailed her the obit. We’ve contacted my aunt to let her know. My children know—one reacting like me, the other asking “Who?” And along the entire way, I kept hearing “How do you feel about that?”

I don’t know.

At first I thought I should be sad and was upset that I wasn’t. Then I thought I was upset that he hadn’t tried harder to even keep in touch, to meet or know or even have pictures of his grandchildren. And just as I rolled around to the edge of “it is what it is”, I realized something.

He died long ago.

His importance to me had been reduced to a name on the family tree and medical knowledge that could become important later. His impact in my life had been reduced to the fact that I know my bad knees come from “that side of the family”, which sadly, isn’t even specifically him but rather the family as a bloodline, as a whole.

I can’t say he’ll be missed. He was missed for years, while I gave him chance after chance. I stopped missing him sometime before puberty. I can’t really say anything about him, because I didn’t know him as a person, only a character in stories I’ve been told over the years. But I have stories of family much farther back with characters that are more fully fleshed out. He was a stranger to me. A stranger that gave me bad knees and gypsy blood. I guess for at least part of that I owe him a thank you… not that he’ll hear it.

How do I feel about it? Empty. I got nothing. Which is weird and bizarre and a little unsettling. But the thing I do know, the thing that strikes me the most about this, doesn’t even have to do with me. It’s all those other fathers (or mothers) out there that have walked away or shut out their family. It’s all the other little girls (and boys) left behind to forget, forgive, heal and move on.

It’s a shame it happens. It’s a shame it will continue to happen. And it breaks my heart, not for me but for others, that will someday be faced with the truth that one of their birth parents is really no more than dry ink on a branch of the family tree.

Originally published at kellidunlap.com. Please leave any comments there.