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Daniel I Russell - Writer of Horror Fiction

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Friday, October 09, 2009

Babies, writing and a bad joke about farts...

My parents went to Florida about ten years ago, and one of those big-ass hurricanes hit. While most people jumped in the car and headed inland, my fearless Limey parents, in true tourist fashion, decided to stick around and enjoy the pool...while it was empty. My parents brought back some eerie footage of the deserted beach, the deserted hotel and the slightest breeze...

It captured the feeling of something vast coming. That's how I feel right now.

Well, it's passed a bit. The day before yesterday, it was palpable. Back in the band days when I had a big gig in Manchester that night, I felt sick with butterflies all day. It felt like that all over again. When Sherie, who is very, very pregnant right now, started to feel a great deal of discomfort, I thought it was time.

But no. We're still going and fast approaching week 34. Week 34 is good and only two days away. Week 34 should mean a birth in Bunbury (1 1/2 hours away) as opposed to Perth (3 1/2 hours away). We have another ultrasound next week as the doctor is a tad concerned. Baby might not be getting as much nutrients as it should, and this means bub is tiny. Not a dwarf, but still tiny.

How can I deal with all this stress? By writing of course!


The Forgotten (previously The Attraction) has reached 55k this week, and is ready for the breakneck finale. It's going to be a roller coaster, literally. Thanks, as ever, to R. Scott McCoy who read the first 40k and then promptly bollocked me for keeping him hanging. He then bollocked me again when I considered putting the manuscript aside until after the baby is born. I think his words were NOOOOOOOOOO! I have a few short stories I need to crank out, so we'll see what happens.

Here's a taster thus far, looking over the shoulder of our comic-creating protag, Carl Campbell:

Carl added a little detail to the eyes and slid the tip of the pencil down her body. Tempted to plunge the lead through her black heart, he swallowed and continued down.

To the thing crawling out of her, he added elongated claws that dripped sludge, and teeth, twisted in the creature’s mouth like a ball of barbed wire. Gore dripped from its lips, the cursed baby eating an exit from its harlot mother.

Carl stared at his drawing, wishing for some kind of voodoo to infuse the lines and make them flesh.

I guess I have babies on the mind.


It was confirmed that my subtle (for me) ghost story, Living Haunts, is to be included in the AHWA magazine, Midnight Echo 3. Details to pre order are here http://www.australianhorror.com/index.php?view=115.

Some great news for someone as impatient as me is that my 14k short story, By the Banks of the Nabarra, has been moved. Instead of being in issue #47 of Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine, it will now appear in issue #43! This means that rather than wait until August 2010, the story will be on shelves across Australia by Christmas. Means some cheap and personal gifts from me this year...

The marvelous and BEST horror magazine, Necrotic Tissue, is now in its 8th issue, the proof of which is sitting on my shelf. The mag should be on its way to subscribers (you may have already got them). For details of how to buy individual issues or subscriptions (only $20 for a year) please visit www.necrotictissue.com.


There are currently 10 free downloads of Samhane going to the lucky winners of my Halloween draw, ending the 14th of October (gives you time to read it in the run up to the big day). Simply leave the message 'I want to visit Samhane' either here, in my Facebook inbox or my profile at www.goodreads.com to be in. Winners shall be drawn at random.

I do have more to yak about, but have lots of things to do today. It's been a quite joke free blog this week (I'm saving it for the short I'm about to write) and also, not quite immature enough. That needs rectifying. See you next week...

Joe was invited to dinner with his girlfriends parents.....a stern Yorkshire farmer and his wife.....

Half way through the meal, as they were discussing his intentions towards their daughter, Joe feels an enormous fart coming on. He was unable to control it and the rasp could be heard all over the house.

"Get out, Shep!" said the farmer to the sheepdog, who was lying under the table.

Thank God, thought Joe. He thought it was the dog.

About ten minutes later, Joe felt another build up of gas. Again, he could not muffle it, and an even louder fart ripped from his arse.

"Get out, Shep" shouted the farmer at the dog who had crept back under the table.

Again, after five more minutes Joe felt an even bigger build up and this time, he let go a real monster fart, which made the table shake. The farmer kicked the dog who was back under the table and shouted " For God's sake, Shep. Get out from under there before the bastard shits on you..."

Groan, eh?

Posted by Daniel I. Russell :: 8:50 am :: 3 comments

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