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Fished Out, Ramblings Of Another Struggling Author

Ok, so I think I am all fished out. Literally! I have been fishing the lakes of and around Raleigh, Durham North Carolina for the past year when I’m not writing a manuscript for a book or blogging for companies. It’s amazing how many people come up on a daily basis and ask…”Catch anything?” Out here there are different types of people depending on where you go. For starters you can be in Durham and the people are more city oriented and about half African American and half white. If you travel maybe 10-15 miles west you run into a different type of people. Most are country folks who have their own opinion of the city folks and it isn’t all good. Seems like it’s two entirely different worlds.

For me being from San Diego and having been in the Marines here in NC in the 80’s I seem to get along more with the country people. Many are veterans and have their own political beliefs and if you aren’t offended by some pretty colorful language you can get along with them great. I love fishing and you will meet a lot of country fisherman out here. The stories I have heard and the friends I’ve met over the past couple of years has probably reached the 3 digit mark just from fishing Jordan Lake and Lake Michie here. Some of the more interesting people have entertained me and me them for hours on end as we patiently wait for that monster catfish or bass to hit. It really is alot of fun and my expertise in fishing has become more…well…expertise….haha. If your into chatting it up with some down home folks it can really make the day go well and fishing at the lakes is 3 bucks cheap. The lakes are huge and for a few more dollars you can rent a boat or a canoe. Not a bad deal for a guy from a town that cost 1500 bucks for a rat hole apartment.

Sure living here is much cheaper and the jobs are not the best but for someone like me living on a fixed income after my bout of meningitis, it suits me well. So, the books I wrote, the short horror stories like “Tina” were thought up from my living among the country folks and I guess I kinda of like the oldness and simplicity of that kind of life. But, as in the book “Tina” there are skeletons in every closet, even the darkest recesses of a country home closet with that single lightbulb illuminating it’s skeletons. I really like coming up with some pretty wackly stories and the latest, “Mother Dearest, Till Death Do We Part” kind of brought out the dark yet humorous side of me. To not get too deep into who I am, I figured my obsession with dark humor and horror came from my own upbringing, abuse and finally my own father’s suicide when I was 17. I think he had his own skeletons as we all do and they crashed down out of his closet or so he felt they had in his mind. Why else would someone off themselves? That is probably where I get the ideas and the drive to write short horror stories. Getting them read and rated, well that’s another story. I’m still a nobody in the writing world and we all know how hard it is to get noticed there! Last year I published a Novella called “Love Me Till Tomorrow” which is an apocalyptic romance book and it came out fairly decent. I think however, the more you write the better you get. Then, it comes second nature and is easier as you go along. Well, it’s the fourth of July 2014 and I’d like to wish everyone a happy fourth and play it safe, don’t booze cuz you will definitely lose and enjoy the weekend! Oh, and just in case you wanted to read a wacky short horror book, check out It’s on Kindle and really needs a push!

Writing A New Short Horror Story

Ok, I think I am getting old.  I mean some of the things I used to like to do just doesn’t make sense to me. I used to surf alot back in the day and used to be the first one at the job as an electrician.  All that changed when hospitalized with meningitis.  Now, I like to write a lot! I think I may be writing so much because of the damage caused from the illness. Meningitis in case you didn’t know causes the lining of the brain to sell or something like that. Eventually, if untreated your left with some serious problems with your cognitive skills.  It sucks and mine was left untreated for months until finally I collapsed, a couple days left till death.

  So, I survived but no without some problems.  For starters, my brain doesn’t process the way it should.  I am also sensitive to light now but I really like the outdoors.  So, it’s a double edged sword, damn if I do and damn if I don’t.  The writing has helped me and given me an outlet when life seemed so bleak. It was my escape from reality and now I have a few books written. I especially like writing short horror books but really have a rough time if a critique slams the crap out of my work.  It’s tough when you have an ailment. But, I continue to try and that’s all I can do.  My latest short is entitled ‘Evil In A Small Town’.  This is a short horror that I thought up emulating where I live now.  I’m in North Carolina which has those little small towns where everyone knows each other and their business. If you think you’re going to move in these towns anonomously, be for warned, it won’t last long.  In a larger town like San Diego where I am from, people could care less who you are or where you’re from.  Just do your thing and you’re good to go.  Here, you may get stopped walking to your car by your friendly neighbor who will embark on telling you their life story as well as their friends.  I’m not used to all that, everyone has their secrets and it should stay that way..\

The book is kind of like that, a small town, a couple traveling, a motel and things that start to go bump in the night.  I get the ideas from this place in North Carolina where you are bound to see street names like Cross Creek, Old Mills Road, Tobacco Lane…you get my drift.  I think you may be getting the picture. My last short was entitled “Tina” which again was about a couple who begin to take care of a farm after Tina’s mother passes. What transpires is a strange macabre trip into the mind of madness. While the books probably could use a good editor, I have to wait until I win the lottery on that seeing that even after spending 4 years in the US Marines, two in the Navy Reserves and 12 years as a commercial electrician I am finally on the disabled list dependent on ol’ Uncle Sam which doesn’t pay enough to afford a nice porta john.  Either way, I am a survivor, I survived homelessness, my father’s suicide, childhood abuse, a few failed romances and finally a near death trip that cost me dearly. So, if you do read some of my stuff please don’t be too harsh. It does make me sad to see that most people would rather watch Utube videos than read a book but that could be because I come from a different era, a tail end baby boomer.  Either way, if you write or read good on you.  We seem to be a dying breed.


My Latest beginning of Evil In A Small Town.


Evil In A Small Town

By Dave Donahue

For the better part of a century if not decades more, Boonestown has been a place where it’s residents for the most part kept to themselves. They were polite and cordial to each other but seldom did more than display niceties to those who they came across in town. For, as calm and serene of a place Boonestown seemed, there were some dirty little secrets. Secrets no one of this place talked about. Secrets of the past which were never to be revealed to anyone, especially outsiders.

Not surprisingly, this town never got the publicity it would have if it’s secrets were revealed. Not until now anyway. Sure, Boonestown had it’s bars, it’s grocery stores and even a little place the retired could go and play weekly Bingo. However, there was an aire about the place. For a person who was not familiar or kin to family in the town, one might get the impression that resident’s were somewhat stuck up. Such was not the case, an outsider was an outsider and Boonestown resident’s could see one a mile away.

On a cold brisk morning a car drove into the town. Loaded up with supplies that would appear to be ready for an apocalypse, the passengers in the vehicle were on a cross coutry trek. Unbeknown to them, they had just for all intents and purposes, crossed over into the twightlight zone. The main street which they drove onto fittingly named Boones Street seemed welcoming enough. Albeit, the older couple who stood staring at the car as they slowly moved down the street. The two watched with suspicious eyes, nudging each other as the car passed in front of them. The driver, Carl, was a tech support representative out of New York city who in all honesty, had never been in a town such as Boonestown. Looking back at the couple he smiled, then to his wife Sharon.

“Well, that was interesting.”

She grinned and looked up at the sign which bore the name ‘Boonestown’.

“Hmmm, no welcome sign?”

Carl smirked as he pulled into a dirt parking space in front of the local motel/hotel.

“Guess not, looks like we just entered into the town of the lost.”

The woman stepped out of the car, a larger style SUV and stretched as she looked around.

“Well, this looks like such a nice little motel! I love the way it’s so….hmmm…simple, don’t you dear?”

Carl scratched his head as he looked up at the three story Victorian style motel which realistically was just an old house transformed into a temporary dwelling for passer throughs.

“It’s uh…definitely got some character.” He opened the trunk of the SUV.

“Oh, c’mon Carl, where’s your sense of adventure?” She grabbed her handbag off the seat of the vehicle.

“It’s just so old.” He said and began pulling out luggage.

“Wait…we should go in and see there is any available rooms, don’t you think?”

Cal nodded and begun a slow walk to the front door of motel. Nothing much excited him anymore, the old adage of ‘Been there, done that” was fitting for the man. At 50 years old, he had come to the sobering reality that life was what it was and at his age, what he had was about all he would ever have. Having joined the armed services at an early age he embarked on a life that had been mostly an uphill battle. Now, he was tired both physically and mentally, the zest for life drained by the constant demand from work and home life. He was ready for a break. This was it, or so he thought.

The door to the motel creaked open, the hinge in obviously need of some lubricant. It should have been a sign of things to come but to Sharon it looked to her as a taste of rennasance. She should have known better. The front desk was equally in need of assistance and repair and as Carl walked to the counter, the floorboards creaked under him. The man behind the desk, an older man obviously pushing his late 70’s squinted at the two, temporarilly blinded by the sunlight streaming in from the outside.

“Ahh, so how you two? He asked still squinting yet asking in such a way as the three had been friends for decades.

Sharon took the reigns and answered cheerfully.

“Just fine sir, I’m Sharon and this is my husband Jack. We are looking for a room for a few days and just couldn’t resist stopping here. It’s such a wonderful motel, so cute from the outside.”

The man, still squinting eyed the two behind a pair of small spectacles intended to read the fine print.

“Well maam, you stopped at the right place and yes we have a room suitable for just the two of you. I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.” he smiled a toothless grin that while devoid of any teeth still had a charming appeal.

Carl spoke. “So, we just need a room for a few days, three to be exact. What’s the damage going to cost me for that?”

Carl was never the sort to display any emotion especially to strangers and more so when it comes to the bottom line. He had a difficult time trusting people and those he didn’t know were to him, more of an obstacle in getting where he needed to be. He was the way he was and Sharon balanced out the two were her more outgoing and sympathetic side.

“Well sir,” the man could obviously sense Carl’s impatience and spoke as matter of fact as he could through a toothless grin. He calculated the cost on an old push type register which rings when opened. “It’s going to run you approximately 120.00 total with a daily rate of 38.50. Tax included of course.” He looked up at Carl looking for some type of aknowledgement and acceptance of the terms.

“That’s fine.” Carl replied opening a thick wallet full of credit cards, gas cards and prepaid who know what. He handed over the man his credit card who then swiped in on an older style credit card machine. The man separated the receipt from the carbon and handed Carl his part of the contract.

Carl began walking back towards the front door of the motel.

“Wait!” The desk clerk called after him as Sharon herself turned to follow her husband. Carl swirled to face the man holding a brochure and a room key out in front of him. “Welcome to Boonestown, I certainly hope you find your stay exciting and full of surprises.” Again the toothless grin appeared which to Carl, seemed to take the form of something more sinister, almost evil. He hesitated, then took the brochure.

Love Me Till Tomorrow, A Romance Apocolypse Saga


1980’s Ocean Beach Pier, San Diego Calif.

So, I know I just started this whole new author blog thingamigigy but I’ll try and keep it as informative funny and interesting as possible.  I know nobody really wants to hear some yahoo come on here and promote their book.  Iv;e seen so many people  write blogs talking about how great their new book is and why don;t you check it out on Amazon, after all it’s only 99 cents.  I’m sorry but I feel that’s a sell out.  Obviously if you write a book you should see it as being worth more than a cup of cheap decaf coffee.  Im not talking Starbucks either.  I mean cheap Nescafe rotgut coffee that you buy at the dollar store  Like the real shit stuff. I think the months of writing a book are worth more than that.  I just do.  Im not into mass production baby.  I wanted to write something that interested me, not just possible readers.  So, the book Love Me Till Tomorrow is a book I wrote about a young couple who fall in love after a plague concocted by the government to curb overpopulation goes wrong.  Initially I thought it would be a real short book, like a short story but as I kept writing it seemed to grow and grow and finally I was up to 5,000 words, then 10,000, then 20,000 and yadayada.  I found myself actually being able to visualize the characters I created, feel their struggles and get to know them.  I guess that was my intention.  To create characters that were interesting and that I could sympathize with.  My writing venture is not unlike alot of others Im sure.  I started after contracting Meningitis and almost kickin the bucket in 05.  For two years I contemplated suicide, I went to doctors and asked why is this happeneing to me, why can;t I focus?  Why are things so difficult.  When I got out of the hospital I was pretty messed up, the meningitis had really fried my brain. Like being on acid for months and then your brain says aww fuggit. So writing for me turned into a private therapy lesson.  It helped me regain some cognitive skills and give me purpose.  It wasnt always that way though.  Nope.  Ive been a US Marine and a Navy reservist.  Ive also spent four years as a electrical apprentice learning the ropes of electrical install.  Then ten more years of field work.  So, why didnt I just off myself when it got tough and I saw no future?  Not sure but could be because as a kid growing up in a biker town in San Diego California I saw my own dad suffer from an injury.  Eventually after two years of suffering he said to himself enoughs enough.  He jumped off a 200 and something foot bridge at 43 and killed himself.  So, maybe that’s why.  I don;t know.  I do know if I had done that, well then my book Love Me Till TOmorrow would of never been written.  So, its the little things that so many people dont do for others anymore.  everyone is trying to get a piece of the pie.  I dont want that anymore.  Ive had it.  Nice house, good job, money..all of it.  So, when I see these people they may look at me like yea whatever.  But the stories I have the things Ive seen in life, make me know that I know something they don;t.  That all the shit in the world wont buy you happiness and you can never in a million years take it with you when you die.  My book, well that will be around long after I go.  And, that my friend is priceless…