it is dark, it is brutal

In all honesty, I’m not big on reviews. I mean, obviously it’s nice when you get great ones – and I’ve been extremely lucky to get more than my fair share – but I’ve also gotten some not-so-nice ones. So, eh, it’s all a crapshoot, right? Best to not take it too seriously or let it define you or what you can do.

I just keep on writing.

But sometimes, only sometimes, does a review come in that makes me sit up and pay attention. That makes me break my standard “don’t read reviews” policy and actually sit down and – gulp – read the review. And sometimes, only sometimes, do I get an opinion of my work from someone who is becoming one of the preeminent voices when it comes to reviewing horror.

And that’s what happened recently. That it happened for Martuk…the Holy, the first book that started this whole writer journey for me way back in 2012 makes it just that much more special.

Intrigued? Here’s a snippet:

I love this world, I love this writer. It is dark, it is brutal … I found it all too easy to be whisked away by the sands of this world. Martuk is a must-read.

You can read the rest right over here.

And the book? Why, here you go! 




The Tall Priest – excerpt

A quick excerpt from the opening chapter of The Tall Priest:

Screen Shot 2018-01-22 at 11.38.17 AMThe Tall Priest 2.1-FINAL-COVER

“a beautifully rendered bloodletting”

Just learned, belatedly, that earlier this month The Tall Priest was chosen as a Favorite Read of the Year for 2017.

Simply stunned to be included in the same breath as some pretty incredible writers.

The Tall Priest 2.1-FINAL-COVER



super-short tales of terror: another one

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super-short tales of terror: encore

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Isn’t it cool how you can do so much with so few words?

I love it. 😁


super-short tales of terror: again

It started as a mark.

By lunch, it burned, snaking past her wrist to wind ‘round the elbow and onto the bicep.

At day’s end, it spanned shoulder to shoulder, a wide band of flaking grey weeping crimson and cream.

Come morning, she stood,

swallowed head to toe,

in the bark of a ravening tree.


If anyone ever asks me how I get past writer’s block or get myself ready for the day, I’m gonna lead them to these 55-word shorts.

I love ’em.


super-short tales of terror: the sequel


Dainty girls break too easy.

Which is why, after the effortless snapping of bones

and easy tearing of too-tender flesh,

he craved a Stout Girl.

One with meat on her legs, a heft to her stride.

Pudgy arms, thick wrists.

Yes, that’s the ticket,

he thought

as Stout Girl bashed his head with a brick.


Just another little something I wrote – a fairly complete, hopefully intriguing story with a 55 word limit – while loosening the ol’ writing muscles for the day’s work.

I do think I’ll compile these into a collection someday. 🙃