I decided today that I was overdue for a reading to camera. The longer I don’t do one, the easier it is not to do one. I’ve read a handful of poems from the current work-in-progress this morning, and, as rough as it always is, with me, I did enjoy it. I find that the […]Working title – ‘A Magpie Sings’ – a reading from the #WIP — Frank Prem Poetry
Hello and welcome to Peregrine Arc, a Horror Author’s Scratchwork. I published my first novel, Memory Bound, in October 2018. I’m currently working on my second horror novel, GOTD.* Both books feature female protagonists struggling to survive in worlds where uninvited guests come just a bit too close for comfort…
I’m also starting an Author YouTube Channel. Here you’ll find me talking about my writing, literature, and dabbling in some arts & crafts. This page is in development, but I’ll be sure to post updates here when I get the steamworks up and running. Won’t you join us?
All opinions, mistakes and spiderwebs are my own here. Pass the ink blotter, would you? And do watch your step over the landing. Last chap didn’t quite make it out, poor thing…
*I only give my novels’ names in acronyms, until they’re published. Memory Bound, for example, was MB.
Ever since I saw the movie Crimson Peak, I’ve been enraptured by Gothic Romance and the director’s (Guillermo del Toro) creative process. I dove into researching del Toro’s inspirations for Crimson and came across several books that inspired him while writing the movie’s script over seven years.
One book that del Toro mentioned was Rebecca, by Daphne du Marier. I finished reading the novel recently and came away feeling very pensive and wondering about human behavior, much as I did after watching Crimson Peak. Both works are disturbing to say the least, but I’ve come to like this in art–with the caveat that there’s a higher purpose and reason for including the disturbing elements. Good art makes us think, it makes us reflect and really struggle with what we believe and why. Good art advises us to not just blindly accept society’s agendas it passes out to us, like ready made “soup of the day” menus.
Rather, good art is like a six course dinner of philosophy: you’re full of questions and wonder after you’re done, but you keep coming on back for more. Why? Because it’s your sustenance.
Keep on writing. ✏️
“Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.”
“Welcome to Day 18 of Blogmas 2018. This is Reginald Swinebottom presents and we’re reposting this blog as the author accidentally deleted it. Go team!
“We’re spicing things up today with a Blogmas Book Challenge! Describe a favorite book in exactly ten words–no more, no less. Do this on your blog, link this entry and comment below with your pick. If you do, we’ll take a lookylou! Together, we can find some hidden gems out there. Isn’t that fab? Our ten words and book are below.
While you’re here, join the Arcian family and hit that subscribe button. One more ding brings us one more closer to our 100 goal by New Year’s Eve.
Welcome to Day 17 of Blogmas 2018. Today’s blog is created by you! Leave a question in the comments below and we’ll answer! It can be about our book, Memory Bound, the writing process, literature, a previous blog, or anything Christmas related. Please keep the questions appropriate and not too personal. After all, boundaries are our friends.
And while you’re here, click that subscribe button! We’re trying to get to 100 Arcians and we can only do it with you! Ker-kaw!
“Welcome to Day 16 of Blogmas 2018. Mr. Swinebottom is taking a day off today. So grab your chestnut roasting pan and let’s begin!”
A friend recommended reading Henry Jame’s novella, The Turn of the Screw. It’s a psychological horror, set in Victorian times in England in Essex, specifically. Throw in an old country estate named Bly–isolated and with a large pond–a couple of potential ghosts, a country church and I’m sold. Get me a cup of tea, some caramel popcorn and away we go. Nothing better than a cozy horror snuggled up in blankets.
Expecting something like Jane Eyre, I sat and read the novella (approximately 43,000 words) over a weekend, some in the car, some in restaurants and the rest at home. It’s a quick read–I particularly loved the short, but thick chapters, that gave just enough momentum to keep the reader going. The imagery, particularly the ghost sightings I adored. James has a way with describing just enough and letting your mind fill in the rest, particularly with domestic scenes so close to our experiences.
I got to the end, eager for answers, several theories at my side I developed. I met Mr. James there, holding his white handkerchief in a tease surrender, standing next to his character’s corpse. My theories fell to the wayside. I argued, I harangued, I politely condoled. But I would get no answers, it seemed. It was up to me and all the other readers since the 1800’s.