Crystal Raen's Blog

Shortly after releasing our collaborated short story. Richie Matthews released another titled Memento Mori.
 

Richie Matthews lives in Virginia with his wife, daughter, and two hellcats. He's written short stories and novels off and on since he was 15. Richie is a life long horror fanatic that likes to dabble in other genres on occasion. When he's not writing he gorges himself on horror movies that range from classic to brain rotting garbage.

So I recently worked with Richie Matthews on a rewrite of one of his short stories. We had a lot of fun collaborating together on this project and I see many more in our future.

So check out the Short Story, Not Like I Do.

That story that I mentioned in a previous post is now available on the kindle. It is called To the Light.


A mother's love knows no limits. Not even death can hold Rachael away from saving Katelyn. Especially when the guilt sets in that it is her fault that Katelyn is in danger.

Current status update:Working on two horror short stories/novellas. I’m not sure at this point what length they will wind up being. I’m actively working on one, the other is outlined with a few ideas and scenes jotted down waiting for me to come in and put it all together.
I’m also thinking very seriously about re-editing then re-releasing Child of Galina, if I decide to do this I will take the current version down. I was in a bad place with my career when I edited it and feel that I rushed it. I also am at a better place in life generally and feel that now I can handle the memories that reading though it will bring up from the time that it was written. And who knows, some of those memories may inspire my next (probably horror LOL) story.
Back to the horror writing; the one story that I’m just outlining at the moment very much comes from the advice of those that say to write about what scares you the most. So I’m delving deep and have already been brought to tears just in the outlining of this story. I’m not sure that once it is done that it could truly be classified as horror, it may be more psychological, but we will see. This story is going to take a long time to complete as it is very taxing upon me emotionally to write about my greatest fear in a way that makes it come to life in my mind and on the page.
Side note:
I was informed that the author of A Day in the Life was a little offended that I pointed out his age in my review, but seriously I didn’t mean it as an insult, I just know where I was at that age with my own writing and am kind of envious/jealous of where he is right now. Just to clarify on that point. 

I’m Fine.Those words are like poisonVitriol to me. A lie told to hide the shameThe shame of vulnerability.My life is perfectEnvious to many.
To be depressed                                Or stressed                                                                Or angryWould be spitting in the face of my blessings.
So I hold them in.
These worries                                These fears                                                                This anger.And I hold on to my life                                           My loves                                                                My dreams
With fingers so tightly That I’m afraid it will all shatterInto tiny pieces To the floor around meRevealing my biggest fearThat it was all an illusion
And I
I was undeserving
Undeserving of the loveOf a good man.Undeserving of my childSo beautiful and full of lifeThat it makes my heart ache From the love that I have for her.
Undeserving of anything.                                        Other than loss                                                                Than fear                                                                                Than worry
But that worry,No matter how bright my days Or how full my heart isThat worry sits thereNibbling away at my happinessFeeding my fearsAnd my anger grows.
Anger at myselfFor not enjoying each momentFor not reveling in the happiness that is my reality
Anger at not being good enough to deserve these blessings
Tears burn at the backs of my eyes
A friend stops me to say                                                “Hello”To ask                “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” My reply

“I’m fine.”

So another local author, albeit a much younger than me local author, has written and self-published a book. I've only met him very briefly, but we have mutual friends who recommended I read his book. I thought that I would review the book now that I have read it. I was really impressed considering where he grew up (same town I did LOL) and his age.
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In A Day in the Life by Lucas Whorley suicidal Adam is convinced to leave his apartment and socialize by his closest, but not that close anymore, friend Randy. Adam’s surly attitude leaves the atmosphere in each scene raw and dirty, but in a way so realistic that you feel you are witnessing the story unfold just a table over from where you are seated in Four Season’s Café.
You follow Adam reluctantly (but only because Adam’s own reluctance is painted so realistically) through his day with Randy and Randy’s two-timing on again, off again girlfriend Lindsey. Through this day you meet Lindsey’s jaded sister Kimmy and travel with the group to a park for some “fun” and then to the backwoods of Grayson County for a brawling shindig where secrets spill forth from drunken lips and people's actions are loosened by their affinity for the drink and other substances. The book ends rather suddenly and through the descriptions I wasn't at first sure what happened, this is one area where the story could be polished up a little, but once I figured things out I was a little shocked by the character's reactions, or lack thereof, to the event. But then I remembered who had inspired the characters in this story and realized that their reaction was true to life. 

While the book is incredibly short, more of a short story than a novella, it is well written. There are some rough edges to it that could be smoothed out and the formatting is lacking in several places in the paperback copy that I purchased. But for a self-published book it stands strong compared to many others that I have read in the past. 

So a few months back I took a free writing course on Coursera's website. ( Side note: I seriously love that site, you guys should check it out.) In that course I wrote the following short short story. One of the rules was it had to be under 500 words. I've held this story and experience close to my heart for over 28 years and thought now was as good a time as any to share it. So dear reader please enjoy and feel free to comment with your thoughts, recommendations, etc.
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Young Death by Crystal Raen

There was rain hitting the glass panes of the picture window in the living room. The smell of wood heat came up from the basement and a wooden box full of broken crayons sat on the floor between Chris and me.
Quiet conversation takes place among the grownups while we color. We stop only to fight when he tries to fix my drawing. I have a typical three year old melt down. Our parents make plans for us to have a play date later in the week. We say goodbye.
Friday arrives, but I am sick. Mom is scared; I’ve thrown up too much. My fever is too high. She calls my aunt. “Kay, I’ve got to take Crystal to the Doctor. I’m afraid she has the stomach flu.”
It's late now, I’m asleep, tired from the doctor visit. Nothing left to throw up. I’m too tired to go see why mama is crying. The next few days are a blur. Everyone around me is sad. I want to see Chris. I’m told I can’t. The grownups give me some toys, tell me to go play. I do, but I’m confused. Then we all dress up. Everyone is wearing somber colors; I have to sit quietly in a pew. Everyone is crying, I try to give them gum and tissues.
They smile sadly and tell me to be still.
“Is Chris coming?” No one answers, they just sob harder. I feel sad too.
It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen my cousin. He’s my best friend and I want to play. I tell mama and my grandfather constantly. My grandfather says we will take a trip. In the car he tells me that Chris can’t play with me anymore. That God called him home. We park in the grass. We walk along and stop in front of two headstones. One for Chris and one for his father.
“Pawpaw, why can’t Chris come play with me?” I touch the cold gray stone that my grandfather says marks the grave of my cousin.
“He’s sleeping with the angels.”
“Can he come back when he wakes up?” I look up at my grandfather, he seems so tall, so strong, his tears scare me.
“He won’t wake up sweet girl, not in this world. He’s home with God now.”
“Can I go where he is?” I sit down now, still not understanding what happened, only understanding that my best friend was not there. I wouldn’t see him again. I didn’t truly understand what that meant, I only knew that I didn’t like it and it made me sad.
“Not for a long time. We cannot follow where he goes.”
My grandfather picks me up, my tiny body wracked with sobs. We get back into his car and drive home. I quit asking about Chris. I understand now that it upsets the grownups when I do.

My hiatus from writing has gone on for entirely too long. In an effort to jump start my writing, I decided to create a list of 101 writing prompts. Once I finished these prompts I decided that it might be worthwhile to share them with the world at large in the form of a workbook. So, if you too are suffering from writer’s block, you may want to give this workbook a try.

It is called 101 Fantasy and Sci-fi Writing Prompts and can be found on Amazon with my other works.

Found a neat writing prompt and I thought I'd give it a try. The rules are you use the alphabet to make a list of advice. So without further ado, my 26 tidbits of life advice:

World's worst edited book. If you have ever wanted to read the world's worst edited book, look no further than a book that was edited by its own author. You will have to resist screaming at misplaced commas, dangling participles, run ons, fragments, misspellings, and much worse. It is a horror story without even having an ounce of blood within its pages.

My novel, Child of Galina, is one of these lucky books that can be called the worst, merely because I was too poor and too stubborn at the time of self-publishing to have someone else do the editing work for me. I decided that I could do it. Surely, I, the self same young woman who passed all her English, grammar, and editing classes with As and would have had better grades had the grading scale invented a new letter to signify those with above par skills and shining red pens ready to mar the words of her fellow peers' hard work and writings.

But alas, when you are editing your own, you only see the things that are meant to be there, you don't notice the misplaced comma that was added when you were up at 3:00 a.m. stale coffee breath steaming up the laptop screen when that one scene just had to be finished before your brain would let you rest, get some sleep, oh sleep, how the bed called you, but your brain would.not.shut.UP! 3:00 a.m. writings result in a lot,  and I mean A LOT of grammar mistakes. And you wont' see them because this book is your beautiful baby that you have carried with you for x amount of years while you grew it and cultured it, and even allowed it a little room to play without restrictions upon the laws of the world that it was set in. Some of those moments were left unrecorded and that is for the better, as the public, who is already rejecting the fact that your book is the worst edited in the world, would truly reject those playful moments when your story turned upon itself and you reached in straightened things out and hoped no one else would know for the better.

So if you enjoy mocking misplaced commas and the occasional your instead of you're, then you should check out my book, Child of Galina, the story comes from my heart, the editing, well not so much.