Category Archives: Guy Anthony De Marco

I’ve been facing an empty page, the character prompt flashing like a tiny rusted pin wielded by a sadistic acupuncture dropout, jabbing my impotent writing ego over and over.

There is nothing to write about. Well, nothing horror-related, which means the same thing to me. My haunted laptop taunts me, the keys pale and slick, letters worn to the point where they remind me of Celtic tombstones – still around to remind us of the glorious departed, but insufficient to read the names of the dead carved upon the monument.

I decide to take a break from the self-torture, tired from the creaking springs in my chair pushing against my spine. One of these days, I won’t be able to get out, and they’ll find me with the coils twisted around my ribs and through my vitals, flailing around like a spring-loaded clown doll.

My wife made a juicy, still-oozing steak, and left it by the crazy stove. I hate that stove; I’ve found it turned on in the middle of the night, belching flames and a curious brimstone odor. Our cat disappeared that night too, an odd coincidence.

The steak looks inviting, lying next to the garlic cloves and in a ring of mashed potatoes that acts as a dam to hold in the blood and juices. No fork for some reason, only a silver-handled knife embedded in the meat. I don’t mind. Even though I yell at my kids when they feast on flesh using their fingers, I personally like the feel of blood running down my arms as my teeth rip apart the muscle fibers.

After devouring the steak, I poke my head into the fridge, moving aside several random opaque containers my wife uses to store things. One of these days I need to look in them – no telling what she’s been up to. Behind the carton of thick nightcrawlers, some of which escaped into the strawberry pudding yesterday, there’s a jar of thick brownish liquid with a couple of round objects drifting around the bottom. I can’t make out what they are, but I get a flash of blue-green, perhaps hazel, when I swirl the container. Maybe it’s a leftover from some past dinner, who knows. Further digging reveals a container of cherry lemonade, which I chug right out of the pitcher. If my wife caught me, she’d embed a cleaver in my neck.

My hunger sated, thirst quenched, I head back to my little nest, surrounded by ancient whispering books and papers. The chair springs welcome my old bones, the laptop slides over like a glowing coffin lid, and I’m back to this damn torture of having my eyeballs assaulted by the stark, veil-colored blank page, the cursor blinking ghost-like, playing hide-and-seek with my consciousness. I wish I could think of something to write.

You know, if only my muse was undead, I’d have something to write about.

About the Author:

Guy Anthony De Marco is a speculative fiction author; a Graphic Novel Bram Stoker Award^®; winner of the HWA Silver Hammer Award; a prolific short story and flash fiction crafter; a novelist; an invisible man with superhero powers; a game writer (Sojourner Tales modules, Interface Zero 2.0 core team, D&D modules); and a coffee addict. One of these is false.

A writer since 1977, Guy is a member of the following organizations: SFWA, WWA, SFPA, IAMTW, ASCAP, RMFW, NCW, HWA. He hopes to collect the rest of the letters of the alphabet one day. Additional information can be found at Wikipedia and GuyAnthonyDeMarco.com.

Welcome to October!

October 1, 2015

Guy Anthony De Marco

Welcome to October, the scariest month of the year. That is, if you don’t count January, when all those Christmas bills start arriving.

Halloween is the equivalent of Christmas for horror and dark fiction fans, where spooky things prowl around in the dark and the calories from chocolate jump out at you from every bowl. To make sure we don’t get tricked, the Fictorians have a treat scheduled for you at the end of the month on Halloween.

The theme for October 2015 is Writing Dark Fiction, and we have lots of fascinating posts scheduled to entertain and illuminate your dark side. Guests this month include Nicole Cushing, Matthew Warner, Petra Klarbrunn, and Pamela K. Kinney. The usual collection of brilliant Fictorian authors round out a month that will help you discover the evil little entity lurking inside your mind. No, not the annoying inner critic that constantly makes you doubt yourself…the other evil little muse that can help you to write stories that will expand your writing skills and make your friends and family wonder how such a nice person could come up with something so icky and horrific.

Strap your six-shooter with the silver bullets to your hip, grab a handful of stakes in case you meet a wayward Transylvanian out for a meal, and get ready for a scary ride.

What’s that? Where’s your treat? Oh, yes…that would be on Halloween. After you’re back laden with tooth-decaying candy, gather around the flickering light of your laptop and enjoy 100-word stories of horror and dark fiction. Short enough to read quickly, but with plenty of bite.

Collectives Collecting Collectible Creatives

August 4, 2015

Guy Anthony De Marco

Guy Anthony De Marco Interacting With Professionals Networking 1 Comment

Imagine what life was like for sixteenth-century monks. Toiling away, day after day, illuminating manuscripts and hand-copying texts as directed by their superiors. Hunching over a rickety wooden table, the hapless monk would carefully do his best to either produce miraculous work or, more likely, not screw up so bad that he would be sent, head bowed down in shame, to stand in front of the head monk.

Now, think about a modern-day author. Not much has changed, except perhaps for the persistent presence of Facebook trying to seduce you away from working.

Artists, authors, editors, and designers don’t have to live a solitary life unless it suits them (or they happen to be chained to a wall in a dank dungeon. ~~SEND HELP!~~) They can band together into a collective and help each other progress. Of course, most creative types hear the same mantra over and over — “Don’t give away your time or work!”
The cool thing about a collective is that everyone has something they can trade. Everyone gets something they need in exchange for something they can provide. You’re not giving away your creative time, effort, and energy for nothing.

Artists

Artists have a tough time. Everyone wants their best work, but most don’t want to pay for it. Their work gets plagiarized or stolen from their website or Deviant Art page on an almost daily basis. Non-artists don’t understand that creating art, let alone crafting a high resolution book cover, takes a huge investment in mental and physical work. I’ve even heard authors low-balling artists at conventions, trying to snag some amazing artwork.

Probably the one statement that makes every artist on the planet cringe is:

“I can’t pay you for your work, but you’ll get a lot of exposure if you give me the copyright so I use it on my E-Book cover.”

Reminder: People often die of exposure, especially when it’s cold out.
Reminder, redux: Never ever EVER give away a copyright on your work UNLESS you’re well-paid up front. Think Disney animators. For everyone else, artists can consider licensing their work.

Everyone needs the artist’s work, from author to publisher to web designer to advertising executive, so there’s a good-sized audience waiting to buy their best work. The question then becomes, “What can you do for me?” Here are some possibilities:

Provide cold hard cash.
Remember that quip about exposure? Artists can still become popsicles if they can’t pay their heating bills.
Website Coding.
Trade some artwork to a website developer or coder. You can get a nice showcase for your art, or if you already have a basic site, you can have additional functionality added (such as a store to sell prints).
App Coding.
Same idea as web coding, except applied to a mobile device.
Writing.
Need some text on your website to go along with those pretty pictures? Are you trying to break into the world of comic books or graphic novels? Pair up and have an author produce a script while you provide the panels.
Design an artbook.

If you have a large collection of high-quality artwork, and you have enough of a following to sell enough books to get filthy rich, trade your services with a professional or experienced book designer.

Authors

Yeah, I know. Everyone and their grandmother can write. The difference is you know how to write well. Some authors can produce amazing prose, while others are virtual wizards when it comes to cranking out advertising copy.

As far as working in a collective, the author is the universal receiver. They need something from everyone else in the group. The good news is you can provide positive, effective text in exchange for the services of others. Need someone to properly edit your new novel? Trade some ad copy or blog posts towards your bill. Want to produce a graphic novel? Collaborate with an artist and knock out something to send to Dark Horse, Vertigo, Zenescope, or BOOM! Studios.

Editors

Professional-quality editors can be the odd woman out. Authors and web designers need their skills, but editors don’t necessarily require artwork, writing, or even code work. Of course, should she require those services, she has a trusted team to choose from. Cash for editing can be the standard, but seriously consider offering a discount to the collective members.

Semi-pro and advanced authors can arrange better deals within the collective. They can read each other’s work and point out ways to improve the text. It is important that everyone does as thourough a job as they can. Giving a manuscript a quick scan and announcing it’s just fine and dandy is reserved for the parents of authors. Edit and give constant feedback. Point out errors, don’t comment that you think the author is a bumbling idiot that should be kept away from sharp objects and things that can produce text. The object is to improve, for you as an editor and for them as an author. It’s also important to note that nothing really replaces getting properly edited, especially when self-publishing. A few runs through the collective gauntlet should produce a manuscript that requires less revision when it comes back from the pro editor.

Book Designers, E-Book Coders, Website Wizards, and App Developers

These are specialized skills, and are more technical in nature. I’ve found that many of the folks who can perform these services are also authors, artists, or rich Gatsby-like socialites. Website developers can always use new graphics or blog posts. E-Book coders can always use the services of editors to look for problems with the work they’re producing, especially if someone has a Nook Color or Kobo Aura and the coder only has a Kindle Paperwhite. App developers just scare me with their skills…it’s the equivalent of a magic user in fantasy.

* * *

Working together in a collective can help to further every member’s career. Make sure to value each other’s work, and be willing to discuss trading services such that everyone is satisfied with the deal. If you don’t understand why an artist doesn’t want to trade a magnificent digitally painted book cover for two or three blog posts, ask them to walk you through their process so you understand the time and creativity investment. You might learn something in the process.

About the Author:

For Christmas, I Made My Mother Cry

July 23, 2015

Guy Anthony De Marco

Author's Perspective Guy Anthony De Marco 1 Comment

When I was eight years old, my brother and I were trying to figure out what we were going to get for our mother for Christmas. I had already made a crude bookmark out of yarn in my second-grade art class, but it wasn’t good enough in my opinion. Gilbert and I thought about it for days, although most of the time we drifted off-topic and started wondering what Santa was going to bring us. Christmas was fast approaching, and we couldn’t find that “perfect” gift for her.

I came up with the notion that we could buy her something. My brother had a whopping five dollars, which was only five dollars more than I had. I had to find a way to earn some money, but people were not hiring little kids in Far Rockaway, New York back then. While walking home from school, I struck upon the idea of collecting Coca Cola bottles and returning them for a nickel each. I hit up every neighbor for their bottles, and when I told them what I was doing it for, they gave me all they had. One nice elderly woman paid me a whole dollar to “help her out by taking those nasty old bottles off of her back porch”.

I made a little over seven dollars this way. This was more money than I had ever had at one time.

On December 23rd, my brother and I walked from our second-floor apartment on Beach 19^th Street to Central Avenue, our pockets filled with coins and a couple of dollar bills. We strolled up and down several blocks window shopping, occasionally getting in some additional ideas for ourselves at the toy shops. After over two hours of wandering, we came upon a jewelry store. Not just any jewelry store, mind you, but one of the most expensive ones in the area. I was convinced Mom would love some jewelry!

We went in and started looking at the diamonds. The saleswoman eyed us for a bit, and went in the back to get the owner. He was a kindly old gent, and he treated us like important customers.

“What can I get you two fine gentlemen this afternoon?” he asked with a smile.

“We’re looking to buy our Mommy some jewelry for Christmas,” I replied. Shopping was fun!

“Hmmm,” he mumbled. “What price range are you looking at?”

I pulled the dollar bill and a few handfuls of nickels out of my pocket. My brother pulled out his cash, and we placed all of it on the counter.

“Wow, that is a lot of money,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. The saleswoman and the two older ladies she was helping had stopped their transaction to watch us. The owner poked through my nickels. “I may have just the thing for you two gentlemen. Please wait here while I go to the vault.”

My brother and I started grinning. We were going to buy our Mom some expensive jewelry! We felt so grown up.

The owner came back with two items. One was a large pin with a bunch of red stones, and the other item was a green and gold bracelet. I picked up the “ruby-encrusted” treasure in awe. I was sure Mom would love it. My brother gravitated more towards the bracelet.

“How much, Sir?” I asked. The owner poked through the nickels again, and took exactly three dollars. He charged my brother three as well. The saleswoman and her customers came over and began to ooh and ahh, saying we got a good deal and that they were sure our mother would be pleased. The owner wrapped our gifts in shiny metallic paper with bows and ribbons. We thanked them all for helping us pick out the perfect present.

When Christmas came, we first tore through most of our presents under the tree. We then decided to give Mom her gifts. She was very pleased with my bookmark (“What a wonderful job you did!”). When she opened my ruby pin, however, she began to cry.

I was very confused. “I can take it back if you don’t like it,” I said.

She choked back her tears, and told me that it was the first time we had actually gone out and bought her a gift. When we told her of our shopping adventure, she cried even more.

“I’m crying because this is the sweetest thing you two have ever done,” she finally blurted. She gave us both a big hug.

So that Christmas, I gave her a ruby treasure, and a treasure from my heart she always remembered.

When my mother passed away twenty years later, I found the pin in her jewelry box. She had kept it all those years.

I originally started writing this story as an entry for one of Glimmer Train’s contests. It was one of the toughest ones to finish. My mother never had the chance to read any of my published work, although she used to play Dungeons & Dragons with us when we were still in our teens, so she did get to experience some of the modules I wrote.

When it comes to your work, make sure your loved ones have the opportunity to read it. Don’t force it on them, and don’t ask for feedback unless you’re just looking for the obligatory, “Oh, it’s wonderful, honey.” Should you be lucky enough to have a family member who will give you constructive criticism, consider yourself blessed.

About the Author: