My first confession

Pssst. Yeah, you. I figure since I called this blog the Confessions of an Unapologetic Thirty-something, I should actually make a confession.

Let me begin by saying that I write scary stories. Some of them have a supernatural bent, others have just really bad people making other people's lives hell, but I'm generally out for thrills--not warm fuzzies. The bigger the boo, the better, in my opinion. I was terrified when some people who were very close to me read my novel for the first time because it's fairly dark. I am generally seen as an Earth Mother type, and I could tell that (while they loved it) most people who read the book were pretty shocked that sweet lil' ol' DJ had such spooky things rolling around in her head.

But I can explain! Before anyone has me fitted for one of those lovely canvas jackets with the sleeves in the back, I can explain it very simply. For one thing, I love to read scary books. I enjoy other stories as well, obviously, I read everything I can get my hands on. My first love though, is the type of ghost story that keeps you up late at night and makes you all jumpy. And for another, I've had some dark experiences myself (not supernatural...think really bad people) and I write to make sense of my world. Of course some of my own experiences are going to then find their way to the page.

And now for the confession: I am...(gasp. shudder.) afraid of the dark. How's that for irony?

That's it. End of confession. You were expecting something...juicier?

(okay, but just this once. I am about to do naughty, naughty things to...a slice of cheesecake.)