Friday Ghost Story: The Ghost of Church Street

Barefoot Ghost roams Victorian home in Buckingham.

(From Susan in Quebec)  My true story happened in the fall of 2001 when I was living in a beautiful old Victorian home with my four year old daughter. The house is located on Church Street in Buckingham, Quebec, Canada where it still stands to this day.

One day I was alone in the house as my daughter was spending the day with her grandmother. Suddenly I heard the sound of the back door opening. Surprised and feeling a little irritated because the person didn’t knock before entering my house, I shouted out, “Just a minute! I’ll be right there.” I peeked into the kitchen from where I was standing in the washroom.

“What I saw next will forever remain etched in my memory.”

Standing at the back door, I saw a half-figure of a white man who was barefoot and wearing a red bathing suit. He was only visible from the waist down and he was soaking wet. As he walked across the room, I could hear the sound of his wet feet squeaking on the kitchen floor and the sound of water dripping off him.

“Oh my God! You’re a ghost!”

Stunned, I stared slack-jawed as my mind tried to grasp what I was actually seeing. He walked to the opposite end of the kitchen, stopped for a moment in front of my cupboards, then he turned to face me. I could see the bottom half of him clearly, but I could also see the cupboards through him. Shocked and rooted to the spot, I said out loud, “Oh my God! You’re a ghost!” He turned away from me and continued to walk down the hallway that led to my living room. Squeak, squeak, squeak, I just stood there in disbelief and watched him walk about half-way down the corridor before he disappeared into thin air, without leaving a trace. Or did he?

Completely freaked out, I ran through every room in the house looking for the half-figure I had just seen, but he was nowhere to be found. Questioning my own sanity at this point, I searched for water on my kitchen floor; surely it must be wet, before I checked the lock on the back door. The kitchen floor was bone-dry and the door was securely locked with a dead bolt. Needless to say, I packed up all our worldly belongings and moved out of that house a few days later.

It would be interesting to see if the current tenants have experienced anything paranormal in the beautiful old Victorian home. Thanks for reading my true story.

— Susan in Quebec

Yes, it would interesting to know if the barefoot ghost remains. I, too, once lived in a Victorian beauty where the butler’s ghost remained in service, his movement often seen from the corner of my eye when no one else was home, and small objects would be moved from room to room. Friends who visited said the butler’s ghost would stand behind me when I greeted them at the door. I never felt threatened, but was sometimes irritated by shoes and clothing gone missing.

Thanks for your story, Susan. — Kat

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December Chill – A Holiday Paranormal Book Party on Facebook

You’re invited to December Chill—A Holiday Paranormal Book Party on Facebook—Holiday fun with authors of paranormal, dark fantasy and horror. 

December Chill

Friday December 5 at 5pm to Saturday Dec 6 at 5pm EST. 

Join paranormal romance authors Debbie Christiana and Carole Ann Moleti for a two-day Facebook Party featuring lively conversations with several other authors who will be stopping by for an hour—and maybe staying longer.

Join me Saturday, December 6th at 10:00 am EST.

I’ll be joining the party at 10am on Saturday Dec 6th to discuss my lifelong interest in the supernatural, my paranormal website and blog at and the supernatural undercurrents in my books: Premonition of Terror, a psychic thriller, and Asylum, a dark suspense saga.

Please join me and the paranormal authors. I’ll be so happy to hear your thoughts and answer questions during December Chill.

An author schedule is posted on the event page at the following link:

I hope to hear from you then. — Kat

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Friday No Ghosts: Silly Dream or Remote Viewing?

What appeared to be a silly dream, proved to be a paranormal experience.

Thanksgiving week I awoke at 3:00am laughing from the craziest dream. Names are changed to protect the innocent. My sister and her husband were away and because my daughter and grandson were visiting from down south, I was unable to care for my sister’s dog, Riley, so they had to lodge him in a kennel, which they never do.

When it was time for my daughter and grandson to fly home, we started walking the railroad tracks to the airport, pulling their wheeled suitcases behind us. The tracks don’t lead to the airport and it’s forty miles away, but this was a crazy dream.

Champ the accused

The Accused

“Let’s rescue Riley from the kennel.”

I suddenly realized, because I had promised my sister, we should pick up Riley along the way. We found the kennel manager angry, frustrated, and demanding we remove the dog who was now banned from future boarding. I was stunned. Riley was the sweetest and well-mannered dog, and definitely house-trained, yet the manager said he never stopped pooping. Every room. Every cage. Every minute. Poop everywhere. The staff did nothing but follow the dog, cleaning his mess. Far too time-consuming, so they didn’t want him anymore.

My car instantly appeared so I found a towel to protect the back seat from a suspected dirty dog butt. While I was spreading, tucking and fitting the towel to the seat, I glanced at my grandson chasing the small black dog around the parking lot and nearby grassy area, giving training instructions and encouraging him to poop before entering the car. I laughed—then I woke up and emailed the story to my sister and daughter.

Just a crazy dream—until my daughter called from Georgia.

The Perpetrator

The Perpetrator

She was laughing when I answered the phone, had read my email and had to call. A few days earlier, she had volunteered to board a puppy for a local family while they were away for the holiday. She’ll have him till next week. From the day he arrived in her new, spotless home, he was pooping everywhere. Every room. Every hallway. Every minute. Poop everywhere. She did nothing but follow the dog, cleaning his mess.

My grandson called from his man-suite on the second floor where he was chasing and trying to train to pup, “You said this dog was house-broken. We’ve got poop everywhere.”

Remote viewing through a psychic connection from a thousand miles away.

My interpretation that the small black dog was my sister’s Riley, though incorrect, was logical because no other small black dog would be on my mind. What began as a silly nonsensical dream proved to be clairvoyant—a psychic link to true and ongoing events unfolding a thousand miles away in an accurate example of Remote Viewing.

— Kat in New England

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Friday Ghost Story: Sighting Shadow People.

Becca in North Carolina writes about repeated sightings of shadow people (edited for length). Thanks Becca. — Kat

Psychic family attached to the spirit world.

I’ll give you a little family history. My grandfather was psychic, which was passed on to my mother. I’m not sure about his other seven kids, but I think it runs further into my family’s history. My brother is the same, and so am I. I have three older siblings, but we are the only ones affected by it (my brother and I). He is much more attached to the spiritual world than I am. He sees and experiences a lot more. I’ve always had “bad feelings” about things, dreams that often came true, things like that; but recently I’ve been feeling a deeper connection with one particular “spirit.” I’m not sure what shadow people are, or what their intentions may be, but I hope to find out soon.

“Someone or something was watching me.”

My first encounter was a few years ago. Me and my sister used to share a room, my bed was pushed up against the wall near our door. It was about a foot off the ground. My sister’s bed was located directly across from mine against the opposite wall. We had a small room, so a twin bed and a queen sized bed took up a good amount. Anyways, I was laying in my bed about to fall asleep. It was around 9-10 o’clock at night. It was fairly dark in our room, barely lit, but you could still see the outline of objects. Just as I was about to pass out, I had this strange feeling as if someone or something was watching me. I was laying on my side, facing the wall. I tried to ignore it but I just could not for the life of me fall asleep. I turned over and noticed this black shadow on the wall near our television sitting on a end table, which was located at the end of my sister’s bed. We had one window in our room which was on the wall beside her bed.

The shadow moved up the wall to the top of the window, across the top and down the other side to her bed. As it reached her bed, it moved across it and sat up on the edge. By the time it sat up, it was no longer just a blob, it morphed into the outline of a human. It didn’t have a face, eyes, anything. It was just a black shadow. All of this happened within the matter of 20 seconds. I had never experienced anything like this so I was pretty weirded out. I turned on my lamp and looked back at where the shadow once sat. Of course, it was gone. I slept with my TV on that night. I didn’t have anymore encounters after then until recently.

One night I was laying in bed and had the feeling something was watching me. The only light in my room came from my power strip at the end of my bed. (Tiny red light when it’s on.) My bed lays on the floor, so it’s fairly close to the ground. I look around my room and spot yet again, a “shadow person.” It paced my room, but not for long because I turned my lamp on. I shook it off and went back to sleep.

Well a few days later, it happened again. Most people say they see them in the corner of their eye, then it’s gone. Not this one, it makes itself very known to me. I can feel its presence when it’s around, light on or off.

My boyfriend is also connected with spirits. He cannot see them, but last night he was here and said he could feel a presence. … All the lights were off, but I don’t think the shadow wanted to make itself known at this time.

Shortly after we were in my room, I started to feel very anxious and nervous. It’s usually how I feel before I encounter the shadow. I stood up and observed my room. Above my daughter’s crib was a smaller shadow, but there were tiny orbs mixed in with it. They didn’t stay long, then they disappeared. I told my boyfriend to look, but he said he had a weird feeling and wanted to leave my room.

Along with the feeling I get, something always happens to my vision. The other night, I had my eyes closed but I could see orange shadow-like blobs. I rubbed my eyes and opened them but it only made it worse. It took up most of my vision. I looked at my phone and they were gone. I turned it back off and let my eyes adjust to the darkness and there it was, at the end of my bed.

The next night, even though my eyes were closed, I could still see everything. As if they were open. I would open them, then close them but nothing changed. Without even looking for him, I turned on my lamp knowing he was with me. I can handle his presence, but last night before I laid down for bed I had this thought; “If you can hear this, then make yourself known in my dreams. I just want to know why you’re here and I want to know what your intentions are.” About ten minutes later I went to sleep. I had a random, unimportant dream, but I woke up from it and was still dreaming. In this new dream, I was laying in my bed and it was dark. I seen the shadow figure and realized I didn’t have light in my room like I normally do. I was petrified, so I reached up to turn my lamp on. It wouldn’t turn on. So I grabbed my phone and turned it on, it was very dim and I could barely see anything on the screen.

“I have ruled out everything except the shadow person.”

Shortly after that I woke up for real. Everything seemed so realistic in my dream though. My daughter was beside me (she just turned 4 months old) she kept moving as if she wasn’t comfortable. Which is normal for her, but I turned over realizing she was finally asleep. I then felt something pat me on my upper leg. I ignore it, thinking it was possibly my daughter just kicking me, but then I realized … She couldn’t reach my leg if she was even awake to do so. I turn back over and she’s knocked out. I have no explanation on what it could have been.

After I woke up, I felt very cold. It wasn’t until after I left my room, I was warm again. About twenty minutes later when I came back, it wasn’t cold anymore. It was only that short amount of time where it was freezing. I have ruled out everything possible, except the “shadow person.” I’ve never heard stories of these things being able to physically touch us. It’s odd how this happened right after the dream I had about him. I now sleep with a light on. Just to feel safe I guess. If I didn’t, then I would be able to see him every night.

“It only happens in my room…”

I’m still pretty freaked out about it, but I try to stay calm. It only happens in my room, which is the same room I was in when it first happened a few years ago. Everywhere else in the house is usually lit up when I’m there. That might be why. But at the beginning of me typing this story, I heard footsteps coming from my living room. I thought to myself, It’s probably just my other brother, but it was only a couple steps. About two minutes later I heard it again. Our living room/kitchen is completely dark. I turn on the flash light that’s on my phone. My brother is asleep on the couch just as he has been for the last hour. Same position and everything. We have dogs, but they both were asleep on our other couch.

I’m trying to piece all of this together. My boyfriend seems to think that whatever it is, it’s attached to me. I just want to make sure I’m not completely insane, lol.

— Becca in North Carolina

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Friday Ghost Story: Hauntings at Gladstone Villa

Thanks to Andrew in South Wales, UK for this in-depth account of the haunting of Gladstone Villa (edited for length). — Kat

Strange things began happening …

My family and I lived at a property called Gladstone villa in the former mining town of Bargoed in the South Wales valleys during the 1970’s. They were my maternal grandparents, Mr and Mrs Higgs and their only daughter Caroline, who is of course my mother. My mother met my father when she worked regular day shift at the local bake house in Baldwin street. They stayed at my grandparents at Gladstone villa. My mother said that strange things began happening soon after I was born in August 1969. My mother told me it started off quietly in the attic then it gradually increased.

One day they heard a noise that sounded like someone jumping onto the landing, thinking that someone had broken in they went to check it out. They found nobody there, but the hatch to the attic was open!

It eventually occupied itself in the main bedroom which was my grandparents’ room. Noises would be heard that simply defied rational explanation, like regular footsteps in the bedroom, mostly in the evening. The sound of objects like furniture could be heard and there was the occasional loud bang!

“The place was haunted.”

My grandmother told a family friend, Mrs France, the place was haunted, but she didn’t believe my grandmother at first, she said it was the vibration from the traffic outside causing it. Her opinion was soon to change when she experienced it for herself. Mrs France said she knew of a local medium, John Mathews and she contacted him.

When John came to Gladstone villa he asked the family a few questions, then he challenged the spirit to perform by knocking on the ceiling, sure enough it knocked back at him! John then went into a trance to try and make contact with it, but he failed to get a name, though he later confirmed that there was indeed a presence there and it was an earthbound spirit. He went upstairs to sprinkle powder on the floor and sealed up the bedroom door. When he returned the next day, he found footprints on the bedroom floor!

Another time, my mother told me that she found that the pillow in my cot was torn right in half! My father worked night shift at the bake house, and one afternoon she told me that she got him up to get ready for work only to find that his slippers were thrown out on to the landing, and the ironing board was placed over his body, it was amazing he slept through that.

A priest is called to bless Gladstone villa. 

A priest by the name of Graham Jones was also called to Gladstone villa, he said some prayers and blessed the place, before he left he told the family, ”Watch the baby.” The baby of course was me. When the priest was gone it was quiet for a few short months, but it did return!

As I got older I began to experience it for myself. I also heard the footsteps in the main bedroom when we would all be downstairs watching TV and I still remember my grandfather trying to point out exactly where it was by saying, ”He’s by here” and, ”He’s by there now.” One of us would turn the TV down to hear the footsteps more clearly.

There was also some sightings, though this was very rare indeed.

One night my mother, grandfather and I was watching TV, my grandmother was reading a book on the sofa, my mother just happened to look towards my grandmother and she saw the apparition of a monk near the doorway, … in perfect detail, brown habit and hood.

There was also poltergeist activity … electrical cables pulled, lights going off and on.

One night I was in the main bedroom, with the light on, lying on the bed facing the window over looking Cardiff road, it was quiet, then all of a sudden I felt something jump on the bed, it was only the once! It felt like an animal! I didn’t look straight away, but when I did, I didn’t see anything. I went back down stairs to tell my family, we all went back up and we saw claw marks on the bed!

Another family friend Fred, my grandfather’s work mate from the mines, would visit every day. It was during the day time that we had yet another incident. Fred sat by the open fire, I was playing by the sideboard, and all of a sudden an unexpected loud bang was heard, it was so loud that Fred ducked his head, thinking that what dropped on the floor was going to come through! It frightened me so much that I ran to my mother. When it was quiet again we all went upstairs, my grandfather was always the first to go up, and I was the last, when we got to the bedroom, we could find nothing that could be accounted for that noise. One time my grandfather claimed that he was lying on the bed and he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even shout for help.

The haunting got so bad, we slept on sofas downstairs with the lights on!

We had the ghost for so long, my grandmother gave him a pet name, Johnny. On occasion my grandfather would try to mock the ghost by shouting ”Johnny oh” to try to get a reaction, but nothing happened! One night, my grandfather said he couldn’t get into the bathroom, we were all in the kitchen, to this day I can still remember hearing what I can only describe as a Gregorian chant!

We finally left Gladstone villa in June 1978, I was almost nine years old, but before we moved we had a good sort out.

One of the last incidents we experienced was when we had all our belongs packed in the hallway, we were getting ready to sleep on the sofas, when all of a sudden we heard noises in the hall, our bags were being moved about and the old fashioned door knob was being tried, as if he was trying to get in.

Gladstone villa converted into a hotel.

Two Italian businessmen bought the property and Gladstone villa was eventually converted into a hotel during the 1980’s. I had my 40th birthday there for old times sake in August 2009, and the female staff told me of their own experiences, and there have been sightings in Room 5, Johnny the ghost is still there!

Cardiff Road history.

I have done some research and discovered  the whole area of Cardiff Road has quite a history! Directly opposite the hotel is one of the oldest buildings in Bargoed, it dates back to the 17th century. There are rumours that there is a tunnel that goes from Cardiff Road to the village of Gelligaer and a Roman fort. …

What I have said here is the truth, I would have nothing to gain by lying. … Anyone who says we’re crazy are not even qualified to make such a judgment, and I would challenge any skeptic who doesn’t believe me to spend a night or two at Redz Parc Hotel, Cardiff Road, Bargoed, South Wales, UK. Just ask for Room 5, they will most certainly question their belief system.

— Andrew in South Wales, UK

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Friday Ghost Story: Hippy-chick dressed in black.

Thanks to Robert in Pennsylvania for writing this heartfelt encounter with the spirit of a lost love. — Kat

“A beautiful hippy-chick named Bobbi.”

First some background — In the mid-seventies, in Maryland when I was 19, I met a beautiful hippy-chick named Bobbi. She was 33. We fell deeply in love. We were together for two years and then drifted apart. She moved to Florida and I to California. She was my first true love. She was also one of the best people I have ever known.

“The magic was still there. However, it wasn’t the same.”

Later in the mid-nineties, we were both recently divorced and back in Maryland, and hadn’t seen each other for years. Her friend, Debra arranged for us to meet at a restaurant in our home town. I was 35 and she was 49, and she was as beautiful as she was 20 years before. We couldn’t take our eyes off of one another. The magic was still there. However, it wasn’t the same. The magic seem to evaporate. Something was different. She was the same, the same beautiful hippy-chick. It was me that was different. I had grown up. Sadly, we drifted apart and went our separate ways, again.

A couple years later I met my second true love and we eventually married and are still happily married. In the meantime I would ask friends who knew Bobbi about how she was doing. In 2004 I was told that she was suffering from diabetes. In 2005 my wife and I moved to PA to be closer to her aging parents, living with them for a few months before we found a house to buy.

“Now here’s where it gets weird—”  

It was sometime in 2007 and I was riding my motorcycle home from work passing through a little historic town. On the sidewalk I saw a beautiful woman walking towards my direction, smiling, even laughing. She was wearing a black negligee and was barefoot. I looked right at her and smiled, and as I passed by her I realized, that was Bobbi! I turned quickly to look again and she was gone.

The next week, my father-in-law said that he had received a phone call from some woman named Debra Xxxx looking for me, and she left her number and said that it was important that I call her back. The name was familiar and after a bit, I realized that it was Bobbi’s old friend. I called Debra. She told me that Bobbi had passed away due to complications of diabetes the week before, and she thought that I should know. I thanked her and hung up.

I was deeply saddened and still am. I think about Bobbi often and I feel blessed to have been loved by her.

— Robert in Pennsylvania

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“Someone—or something—is in the house with us.”

Thanks to Angela in Minnesota for writing a chilling story of her paranormal experiences. I hope this post is the first of many Friday Ghost Stories. — Kat

Voices and Noises and… “An icy cold hand on my shoulder…”

Roughly four years ago, I moved into a tiny apartment house on the family farm with my stepdad and mother. It had been around for a long before my stepdad was a child, a good 50 years at least. And during my on and off stays there between college semesters, my mother and I have had multiple strange incidents occur, none of which we’ve really been able to explain.

“Weird things started to happen.”

The guest room (once a piano room back in the day) became my room upon my move in—and within 6 months, weird things started to happen.

Many nights I couldn’t sleep because I felt like I was being watched, or was woken up because I thought someone came into the room. It escalated to an eerily lucid nightmare where I could feel someone (what I believed to be an adult male’s presence at the time) behind me, breathing warm air on my neck, and placed an icy cold hand on my shoulder—but when I turned to see who it was, I woke up feeling pure fear and shivering violently, my own skin as cold as in the dream. I struggled to breathe, my chest tense from a true panic attack, something I hadn’t experienced since childhood. The fear was so genuine I was literally too terrified to sleep for three days and nights. The sensation of a presence continued on and off after that, but gradually backed off after just shy of a year.

Since then, when I began to go off to college only to return in the summer, that sensation stopped happening altogether, and the room finally felt like home to me. However, other odd occurrences started to happen instead. My mother would tell me about hearing odd noises on occasion while I was away, always coming from downstairs (feet scuffling, people talking, etc.) like they were coming and going through the house despite no one else being in the house with her.

“I went to the stairwell to greet them at the door, no one was there.”

At one point, I had my own occurrence. At roughly 1 A.M. one summer night, waiting for my parents to come home, I heard what I thought was the garage door opening, and the door to the garage into the house open and shut, a familiar noise I knew. But when I went to the stairwell to greet them at the door, no one was there. No lights, no car inside the garage, no parents. I chalked it up to the TV I was watching, so I shut it off and went off to do other things. Then, I heard it all again, except there were two open-and-shut sequences, like someone coming in then out again. And again, I checked from the stairwell. Nothing. I even went downstairs softly asking if someone was there. Nothing. But after checking the doors and garage and found that they were undisturbed, I had a creeping sense that there WAS someone downstairs around the corner—and it wasn’t my parents. It actually frightened me enough to arm myself with a weapon, fearful that it might be a burglar, until they came home an hour later.

“I thought I heard someone ask…”

The last of our weird incidents so far was when my mother renovated the back storage room into an office for my stepdad to use. It once held a lot of old mementos from my stepdad’s family history, but the room was desperately needed, so my mom began moving things around and re-storing them elsewhere in the house. I was upstairs as she was working on some wood paneling and lighting downstairs that day.

At some point in the afternoon, she came upstairs for a break and asked me if I had been down to see her in the new office. I slowly shook my head, knowing I had been on my computer in silence doing work all day upstairs. She then told me, “Well, I thought I heard someone ask me, ‘What’s that?’ and ‘What are you doing?’ while I was working. I thought it was you.” It definitely hadn’t been me. We were the only two home that day. Later reflecting on it, she would describe the voice as something like a curious child.

My mother and I both have belief in the supernatural, but I’m confused about the mannerisms of these noises. My mother seems to experience what I would consider fairly friendly voices and noises, but a lot of mine have felt hostile or intimidating. Either way, we both believe someone—or something—is in the house with us.

— Angela in Minnesota

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My Writing Process Blog Tour

Kathryn Orzech, author of Asylum and Premonition of TerrorKathryn Orzech, Author/Suspense & Thriller, joins My Writing Process blog tour

Welcome to the Dreamwatch Paranormal Blog. This post diverts from its usual spooky entries as I hop on the #MyWritingProcess blog tour. Many thanks to my writing buddy Roberta Dolan for inviting me. She posted last week on her blog Write to Survive. Her book, Say it Out Loud: Revealing and Healing the Scars of Sexual Abuse, will be released in October 2014.

Each week of the tour, authors-bloggers-writers answer the same four questions about their work, motivations and their writing process. Here are my thoughts about #MyWritingProcess:

1. What am I working on?  A sequel to my psychic thriller Premonition of Terror wasn’t my first idea. When I introduced Premonition’s characters, I had no idea their lives would become so complex. In the sequel, my protagonist, reluctant psychic Kate Kasabian, heads south to help a friend in crisis. The plot is rolling in my head. It might be titled Premonition of Danger, of Murder, or of some other menacing word.

Asylum, a dark suspense saga, was released in April 2014 and the e-book is in the works, July I hope, so I’m working on promotion. There will be no sequel. And I’m always updating this blog and my paranormal website,

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?  I write suspense and thrillers with a little romance—and a hint of the unreal. Though many writers explore supernatural themes and plot twists, has been online over 15 years with true paranormal experiences of ordinary people in 36 countries and 44 U.S. states. So whether it’s a ghost sighting or psychic dreams and premonitions (my favorite and lifelong interest), some type of spooky phenomena is sure to manifest in my stories. In Asylum, ghosts make a brief appearance, and shared dreams play a big role.

Back in 2007 while screening Dreamwatch® submissions, I wondered—What if people submitted similar predictions about the same catastrophe. What would I do? What would you do? The plot idea for Premonition of Terror was born. With my protagonist managing, the website becomes a key character when premonitions from around the world predict the same deadly attack. Kate tries to stop it, but no one believes her.

Premonition of Terror, about a terrorist attack in the northeast USA, launched in April 2013 within a week of the Boston Marathon bombing. My work differs from others because a real website exists and the plot really could happen. Some think the basic plot really did happen. I’m one of them.

3. Why do I write what I do?  I don’t know why my subject matter is so dark. Like so many writers, I’m fascinated by ordinary people stumbling into extraordinary situations. Always and forever I am curious and will research background to extremes, which eventually provides resolution to the big question—What if…?

4. How does my writing process work?  The plot for Premonition of Terror was outlined in detail. From its conception, I knew where the story was going and how it would get there. When the end wasn’t quite as fulfilling as I had hoped, I kept at it until even my mouth gaped.

Asylum is told in two time periods through alternating points-of-view between a granddaughter struggling to learn the dark secrets of her prestigious family’s mysterious past, and a grandmother as a young girl living the drama and danger as it happens. Colored index cards pinned on a cork board helped align the sequence of events—one color for 1899, another for 1974. Early on, there was a lot of card shifting.

I sometimes jot notes on paper in longhand, then expand those notes into an outline or detailed synopsis on my laptop. When I’m in the thick of writing, I’m at it from six in the morning till dinnertime or later, which weighs my life out of balance, often resulting in an empty refrigerator, a dirty house and friends who forgot who I am. I literally see scenes as if they were in film and burn a CD soundtrack. If I get stuck, the music helps recapture the emotion from when I first envisioned that particular scene.

If I didn’t write, I don’t know what I would do.

Thanks for joining me this week. This was fun. Stay in touch and follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and

Next Week’s Authors:  I’m happy to introduce Leesa Freeman who will post the week of June 16 on the #MyWritingProcess blog tour.

Leesa Freeman, AuthorLeesa Freeman, Author/Mainstream Literature
A native Texan, Leesa Freeman enjoys escaping the chill of New England, if only in her imagination, often setting her novels in the places she loved growing up. She lives in Connecticut where she is also an artist, a self-proclaimed music snob, and recovering Dr. Pepper addict. Visit her website and follow her on Facebook.

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