Since this fiction and poetry blog was conceived on March 30th, 2013, I have gone through a few phases. Some I’ve trudged through, heavy-footed with the weight of a broken spirit, and some I have glided past, a-wing on the joy of the moment. This blog has evolved, as have I, through changes in influence, in perspectives, and in life. My fiction is dictated greatly by my emotional state, and yet, despite the fact that I sometimes write horror, I rarely feel murderous. Where that particular genre comes from–what primal force guides it–is anybody’s guess.
The first thing I can remember writing was a short story which began, “It was a dark and stormy night!” I was in grade four at the time and my father helped me write it. The story was of a haunted house, visited by a girl (myself) on Hallowe’en night.
I wonder if it was from dear ol’ dad that I inherited the shadow which much of the time permeates my stories. He loved a good twist. Whether or not my father is responsible, I suppose I’ll never really know. He died shortly after I reached the tender age of fourteen years.
And so I leave you with the best and the worst of what it means to be human. My characters come from deep inside, and from the psychology I observe in others. And I am always observing.
To my father, Leonard Charles Hill, may you rest in peace.