I haven't posted in a while because I was working on a new book. It's called A Rustle in the Attic and it's available now on Amazon.
This book isn't like the first. It's a horror story compilation. No poetry. Just nine stories that, I hope, will scare you.
I decided to write a full post about it because I was asked the same question several times since the book was released last week. "Ryan, how exactly does someone go from writing a poetry collection to horror stories? What is the mindset behind such a strange jump?"
I was also asked "Why not a book of love stories?" That question, in particular, got under my skin.
So, I thought about it for a couple of days. And this morning I solidified my response.
I write whatever comes to me. I have written plays, horror stories, poetry, and--yes--even a "love" story here and there. I have a lot of problems letting go of what I think may be a great story idea. But, I had to write a horror collection. when people ask me "what" I write, I say "poetry and horror." Then I get a weird look. Then... a muttered "why?"
If you have love in your life (and it is my hope that you do. Well, actually... it's my hope that you have nothing but love in your life) then you are ready for a little bit of horror. I like to think of horror stories like night swimming. Standing there, by the dark water, maybe the moon and stars above, poking their way through the black sky like pin holes. You test the water. Dip a toe into it. Feel the initial chill, then--once you find your brave sense of self--take the plunge.
You will emerge eventually. You will towel off. You will go home and shower. You will get comfy and drift off as slumber beckons. But that small experience will still be there. It happened. And you may or may not dream of it later.
I have all the love I need. But I never turn down the opportunity to swim after dark. And, I am always dreaming.
Fondly, and with love (of course)
~Torres
