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Photo by David Dibert on Unsplash

I’m not a big fan of horror movies. Never have been, probably never will be. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good psychological thriller or ghost story. I enjoy being scared or surprised. But what often gets labeled as Horror, isn’t really my thing.

Movies like Friday the 13th, Halloween, and Nightmare on Elm Street were huge when I was a kid — cultural touchstones of a sort. But I’ve never seen most of them at all, and I think Halloween (the original) is the only one I made it all the way through.

I’ve tried to watch them all at some point, but they’re just not my thing. To me, they were predictable to the point of boring — almost to the point of being laughable. …

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Photo by Nick Morrison on Unsplash

I saw a tweet the other day that said: Ask 10 writers how to write, and you’ll get 13 different answers.

As much as that did produce a chuckle from me, it’s also the truth. In fact, that might be an understatement.

The amount of writing produced about writing is almost insane.

Write every day, inspiration is for amateurs. Have a set word-count goal. Treat it like a 9–5 job. Churn out content like a machine. You can’t edit a blank page. Plot every syllable.

Go with the flow, follow your muse. Pantsing is just as valid as plotting. It’s OK to write one great novel and then retire. Take 15 years to write a pamphlet, slow and steady wins the race. …

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Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash

Yesterday I saw a tweet mentioning The Usual Suspects and for a split second that little pang went off — you know the one I mean — the one you feel when you randomly remember something sweet an ex once did or said … and then vividly remember why they’re your ex.

I tweeted back that it’s one of my all-time favorite movies, but that I haven’t watched it in a while for obvious reasons.

I also added that maybe the next time I stumble upon it I’ll be ready to compartmentalize people’s real lives and the art they create.

But can I, will I, should I? …

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Photo by Alex Litvin on Unsplash

When I was in junior high school back in Southern California in the late 80s, we had to take home permission slips twice to be shown films in class. One was for sex ed, one was a film of accident scene images from drunk driving crashes.

My mother signed both.

I am currently in my mid 40s and I can still shut my eyes and see a few of the images from the accident film. Apparently, you never forget seeing your first decapitated body, or a person that melded into their seat when the car caught on fire.

But, in their wisdom, my mother and the school board decided it was OK to scar me for life in order to educate me. I do not disagree. …


Kayt Ludi

Author of short stories, poetry, a novella, & a novel. Pro proofreader who often misses own typos. Tea addict. Dog mom. @kaytludi

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