Deborah Woehr » Ghosts

Book Review: Isis, by Doulas Clegg

deborah.woehr — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 02:26:40 +0000

Isis, by Douglas Clegg

Douglas Clegg became one of my favorite authors after I read his first e-serial novel, Naomi, in 1999. Since then, I have read several of his books that centered on a haunted mansion called Harrow. Isis is a prequel to his earlier novels, told in the first person POV of Iris Villiers, a girl who grew up in an isolated mansion in Cornwall.

The first half of the book centered on the girl’s life, as she grew up with a cruel governess, an absent father, an emotionally distant mother, and a crazy grandfather. She takes solace in the company of her older brother, Harvey, who brightens her world with his lightheartedness. Clegg builds on his backstory of the occult by telling the legend of Isis and Osiris, a story of a sister so grief-stricken by the death of her brother that she summons him back from the dead.

I was starting to wonder if this story was going to go anywhere, when Iris catches Harvey’s twin brother with the governess and flies into a rage. The events that unfolded happened so fast that I barely had time to imagine the scene in my mind. One moment, Harvey is holding onto Iris’ legs while she is dangling from a window. The next moment, both are lying on the flagstone. Harvey is dead, and Iris barely survives the fall.

The rest of the story involves Iris’ grief and the chilling way in which she handles it. Clegg has a writing style that has always drawn me into his stories. Isis was no different. Highly recommended.

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Writing Progress: Shades of Evil

deborah.woehr — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 05:30:39 +0000

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted any news about my WIP. My progress is still slugging along, but it’s still going. I’m up to Chapter 20 right now, and feel that I may have reached the halfway point. I do know that I have a lot of editing to do once I get this first draft written. I feel that I’ve taken too long to get to the meat of the novel. We’ll see if I’m right after I type the last word.

One thing I do know is that I need to flesh out the characters and maybe eliminate some of the minor ones. I made this same mistake with Prosperity, and it confused my readers. I’ll have to keep an eye on that when I go back for the first edit. In the meantime, I’m trying to navigate my characters through a plot that may be getting a bit complicated. Lots of rewrites in store for me.

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Virtual Blog Tour – Day 3: How to Develop Ghostly Characters

deborah.woehr — Sun, 03 Feb 2008 16:55:12 +0000

Today’s stop is at horror writer and editor, M.E. Ellis’ Nutter’s Gang.

If you grew up reading horror novels and watching horror movies, you may think that writing a spooky scene with a ghost is easy. Just stick your hero and/or heroine inside a haunted house, maybe add a few friends to add a little more excitement and drama, and have the ghost write “boo” on the bathroom mirror while one of your characters is brushing her teeth. Sounds simple enough, doesn’t it? Hollywood makes you think so.

The best ghost stories I’ve read and watched involved ghosts that came alive as though they were living and breathing characters. They had personality. Even more important, they had their own story to tell.

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Flash: Chasing the Dead

deborah.woehr — Wed, 31 May 2006 17:05:09 +0000

This is my first piece of flash fiction. I wouldn’t call this horror, but this is what came out of me this morning.

His brown eyes locked onto me when he walked through the front door, so dark with despair. The harsh glow of the entryway light bleached his olive-toned skin. He was a wasted version of his former self.

My family was seated in a circle, dressed to the hilt as they opened Christmas gifts, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Didn’t they hear him come in?

He continued to hold my gaze, his mouth drawn down at the corners, like he wanted to cry but couldn’t. I wanted to jump up from that circle and run up to him, but I couldn’t. I wanted hug him and tell him that I loved him and ask him why he left us the way he did.

But all I could do was sit in that circle and stare at him with my unspoken and unanswered questions. He finally broke the eye contact and walked down the dark hallway that led to our childhood bedrooms.

Don’t leave! Please don’t leave!

I tried to get up and succeeded in maneuvering myself into a crouched position. That was as far as I got. Something held me in place, and invisible force that I wasn’t quite tangible.

He was gone. The dark hallway taunted me, so final and unforgiving. It had swallowed my little brother whole.

I looked at the faces of my grandmother, parents and surviving siblings. Then I looked at my own family. That invisible force still held me in place as they continued opening gifts and chattering at each other.

They knew and had chosen not to see, as always. My soul felt blistered and raw. There was no escape, not for me.

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