A Serial Killer and the Voices in My Head

"You're just jealous because the voices talk to ME!"
-Unknown

Why is killing people so hard?

Usually it's relatively easy, but for some frakkin reason it isn't now.  Perhaps because I've always done it in onesies and twosies.  Never a sling of them.

How does one get into a serial killer mode?

Music usually helps.  Perhaps I shall peruse my collection of auditory inspiration and crank up some Disturbed or Linkin Park or some other helpful band.  Maybe that'll help.

I wipe it off on tile, the light is brighter this time
Everything is 3D blasphemy
My eyes are red and gold, the hair is standing straight up
This is not the way I pictured me
I can't control my shakes
How the hell did I get here?
Something about this, so very wrong...
I have to laugh out loud, I wish I didn't like this
Is it a dream or a memory? 
-from "Wait and Bleed" by Slipknot

Yeah, I think that's a good place to start.

In other news, the voices have started again.

I'm the kind of writer whose characters speak to her.  (I've always considered myself a healthy schizophrenic which I guess is helpful for a writer, but my characters - my children - are additional voices to add to the cacophony already running amok in my noggin.)

Now the kids are usually polite, clearing their throats in an "um, excuse me" kind of way.  If the kids are in a story I'm working on, that usually works in my favor.  I find them helpful.  But if I'm working on something else, and they try to get my attention, I have to pull the "not now, honey... mommy's busy" card.

And usually they understand.

Usually...

I suppose some explaining is needed here.

As a writer, I collect words, phrases, sayings, names, etc, that pique my interest or strike a chord in me that thinks I could use it in a story someday.  Some time ago (I'm talking years here), I created this lovely name for a character.  (For the sake of this post, I'll abbreviate the name as IC.)  I just loved the name.  Sure, perhaps being the writer, I'm a little biased but let's not pick nits, shall we?

So I had IC tucked away, just a name - no background or physical attributes (though I'd always imagined it to be a girl's name).  I didn't have a story for her yet, but I kept her with me in case one arose.

A couple years later I created another character name - this one we'll abbreviate to GA.  Same thing as IC - a girl name with no story, details, etc.  That was it.

So with the new goal of updating my story blogs to be current as of this year, I was on a roll with updating every single one of them, but this last one has been giving me grief.  (Yes, the serial killer one.)

Wait... I need a refresher...

I... I stand, not crawling, not falling down
I... I bleed the demons that drag me down
I... I stand, (for nothing), not crawling, (the center), not falling down (of calms within the eye)
I... I'll bleed, (for no one), The demons, (but myself), that pull me down (for me and no one else)

- from "Not Falling" by Mudvayne

Ahhh, that's the stuff.

Where was I?  Oh that's right.  My kids.

Every time I open the file on the minibook, the cursor often blinks at me as if to say, "Go on... I dare you."  More often than not, I lose the battle.

Damn you blinking cursor.  How I loathe thee.  *grumble*

Mid-last-month while I worked to "get my serial killer ON", these little voices started pecking at me.  As time went on, they grew more and more persistent (all the while remaining polite as punch).

IC & GA: *clears throats*
Me: (continues to write, swear, eat chocolate, writes again)
IC & GA: *clears throats louder*
Me: (continues to write, swear, whine about lack of chocolate, writes again)
IC & GA: *clears throats even louder*
Me: (giving up for a moment before minibook suffers my wrath) Yes?
IC: Hello.
Me: Yes?  Hello.
GA: Hi.
Me: Can I help you with something?
IC: We need to talk to you?
Me: I'm kinda busy at the moment.  Can it wait?
GA: I don't think so.
Me: I really need to get this done.
IC: But we need to talk to you about something.
Me: What about?
GA: Us.
Me: Both of you?
IC & GA: Yes.
Me: (stares at blinking cursor, wishing for a stiff drink) Okay.  I'm listening.

We started chatting.

As we talked, I had my planner out that my friend Maggie C. gave me at the beginning of the year.  It's a writer's planner with little goodies and such to assist the writer with... well... writing.  I had noticed when initially looking through it that it had a "starter line" on the first of every month.  I had gone back and flagged each starter line.  I had always wanted to do something with those lines and while I talked to the kids, I flipped to January 1st and read the first starter line.

Then I opened a new Word doc... and starting typing up some stuff up off the top of my head.  That made the kids happy, and they went off to play for a while.

Admittedly I didn't write much, but it was something.  And it made the kids happy so it was a sort of "win-win".

I put it away and headed back to serial killer stuff.

Excuse me for a second.

Relax while you're closing your eyes to me
So warm as I'm setting you free
With your arms by your side there's no struggling
Pleasure's all mine this time

-from "Scream" by Avenged Sevenfold

I'm back.  Thanks for waiting.

While out at my mother's for Turkey Day, I actually wrote stuff which is hella odd since my time is limited and the vibes there are usually just wrong for creativity.  But thanks to insomnia, I had some time on my hands.  Granted I should have been sleeping, but insomnia said, "Oh no no no.  If I have to be awake, so do you.  What shall we do to pass the time?  Play some rummy?  Brush our teeth for the hundredth time?  Pick random body parts and test their limits?"

I opted to be productive and try to write... something?  Anything?

I ended up working on the serial killer story, polishing up the segments I had already written and making them into one somewhat cohesive story leading up to the investigative serial killer part.

I must say, I felt rather accomplished.  *takes a moment to high-five self*

That productivity only lasted one night sadly, and it wasn't until I got home that the kids decided to pay me another visit.

IC & GA: *clears throats*
Me: (staring at story, coming up with nothing, and welcoming the distraction) Yes?
IC: You okay?
Me: Just a little frustrated, but what else is new?  How're you guys?
GA: We've been all right.
Me: I'm glad.
IC: But...
Me: But what?

We chatted some more, catching up on this and that.  Then they went off to play with the other kids leaving me alone with the blinking cursor.

So I did what any Writer Mother would do: I opened IC & GA's story and made that blinking cursor my bitch!

Awww yeah!  Take that!  Put your mockery in your pipe and smoke it, wench!

Eventually my steam left my body.  I saved my work, shut the minibook off, shut the lights, and curled up in a ball letting the darkness and sleep take me.

Their story at present is pretty rough.  I have vague ideas about things, like when to reveal more details about the kids (GA is a dude now.  Who knew, right?) and all that, but as far as an actual story?  Yeah.  I couldn't tell you.

For some reason, when I need an opinion on something, I immediately reach out to Maggie C.  I tried sending her what I had written via Facebook, but apparently I'm too much for Facebook, so I ended up emailing it to her.  (I'm still waiting to hear back from her.)

I hung out with Jim G. & Leah G., and when I told them about the kids, Jim G. said, "You could have sent it to me.  I'm a writer.  Hello?"  I honestly hadn't thought of him since his work schedule has been crazy as of late, and when he's home, he's usually watching shows and writing reviews for them for TVLine, catching up on well-deserved sleep, spending time with his wife (Leah G.), or playing SWTOR.  But now his schedule's back to what it once was, and he's back to riding the train, so he's got time.  (I sent it to him tonight when I got home from their house.)

The kids seem happy for the moment.  I can hear them playing, but they haven't needed to talk to me again.

Meanwhile, I'm making headway on the serial killer thing.

Wait a minute.  I need one more hit.

All I've learned, IT'S LIKE POISON
All I've done, INSIDE MY VEINS
All I've seen, ITS LIKE VENOM
All I know, IT'S ALL THAT REMAINS 

-from "Bulletproof" from Five Finger Death Punch

Yumscious evil!  So tasty.

So yeah.  I would say I'm about halfway, maybe more than halfway actually, done with the killing thing.  I'm currently setting it up for something.  Hopefully I can do it.  I don't think I've written something like this before (meaning this scenario), so it's a bit of a challenge for me.  Hopefully I can pull it off, and people will like it.  (Due date is by the end of this year or sooner if I can manage it.)

All righty then.  I think I've blathered on enough.  It's almost 5am (frak you insomnia), and I have stuff I need to do when I wake that requires some sleep.

Tra la la.  Teedle da.  Hibbledy hobbledy.  Shim sham sha-boing.

And you can quote me on that!  *grin*

Later my lovelies.

Have Goodness!
Rae