K. Marvin Bruce

My friend Steve likes horror movies.   It’s something we share in common, and it’s one of the things that brought us together back in college.   He recently published a book that some horror fans will enjoy— Holy Horror . The idea here—Steve used to teach biblical studies—is that you can learn quite a bit about the Bible from watching horror movies.   It’s an interesting idea because a lot of conservative Christians believe horror is evil.   From the Devil, even. I find this kind of book interesting because it bring two unexpected fields together.   I write horror stories.   (I’ve got one ready to go, if I can only find the time to get it through Submittable.)   I watch horror movies.   Who would think of finding the Bible in such places? His larger point, I think, is that horror and religion are closely related.   That I can get!   Have you seen the how the evangelicals behave lately?   How they rally around ...

As a writer of horror (and the greatest horror is in trying to get published) I watch horror movies.   Part of the fun is that some poorly made movies can be quite good while some studio productions can be awful.   The difference is in the writing. I’m sure we’ve all seen horror films that are dashed together startle scenes and gory with no plot or storyline.   Good escapism they may be, but they leave you hungry.   The mind craves a story to follow, even in horror.   Especially in horror. I’ve recently entered the market for buying a house.   I’m a first time buyer.   Probably it wasn’t a good idea to binge watch the Amityville trilogy.   The first film is okay, being loosely based on the book.   The second film is more disturbing than scary and that’s because of an evil father.   The third is pure tripe. Amityville 3-D has plot lines raised and dropped like fire bombs over Dresden.   So spare in its writing that acto...

I’ve got a bandage on my thumb.  It’s because of my overweening love of books.  To write well one must read even better.  Then the book stacks begin to grow. I head to the basement.  I used to live in a four-bedroom house, but it was owned by the institution that intimated my services were no longer required.  After that I’ve moved to a succession of two-bedroom apartments and all that implies. In the basement lie my dormant power tools and scraps of wood.  Back when we lived in “the house” my basement buzzed with the making of cheap, pine furniture.  Mostly bookshelves.  Here in the apartment the basement is shared and space is at a premium.  Some people don’t like finding sawdust all over their stuff. The result has been stacks of books growing up beside the existing shelves.  I don’t mind that so much, since a background of books is always visually interesting.  But then I went to get a book from the bottom of ...