I often get asked about what influences my work as a writer. Inspired by the amazing website Kindertrauma–which is right up my alley–I’m compiling all of my childhood (and some adult) terrors.
I experienced many of my childhood terrors at my Grandmother’s house. We went down there every Sunday after church (and I do mean EVERY. SUNDAY!) for a large Italian meal and visits with the aunts and uncles, who would, after the meal, play cards or talked adult subjects.
I had two options: play with some ancient, seen-better-days toys (although I was good at bringing my own things to do), sneak into my cousin’s room to read off-limit Stephen King books, or watch anything I wanted on the kitchen television set.
When I say anything I wanted, I mean it. First of all, it was the 1970s. If your parents were busy, they didn’t give a crap what you were doing Read the rest of this entry