1) Why did I choose to write horror?
I honestly didn't plan to write horror. I kind of fell into it. I have always avoided anything that had horror in it until the day I stood in the doorway and watched half an hour of the Walking Dead. I had been expecting blood and guts, but instead I found a story. It was a story that pulled me in so quickly that I went back and started at the beginning. Since then I have jumped into the world of zombies which are label under horror.
2) What is your fav thing about the genre?
My favorite thing about the genre is that you can write the story in such a way that it seems intense without giving all the gory details just to make the story work.
3) Tell us about your latest book
The latest book that I've release is Infected Poppy Fields: A World War One Disaster. It's a story about how the horrors of war weren't what most people remember or imagine they were because zombies were the the main killer of the war. It was a challenge to keep things true to the historical details while adding the twist of zombies to give readers an alternative history.
4) If you had one piece of advice about writing horror, what would it be?
What advice would I give my others trying to write horror? Stay true to where your story leads you. Don't discount the details, but don't add gore just for the sake of calling it a horror story.
5) Who are your fav women in horror?
I'm still new to the horror genre, but I have to say that Laurel K. Hamilton is one female author that really understands how to make readers fall in love with the horror genre.
Dr. Pepper is the fuel by which Alathia Morgan's zombie stories are brought to life. While she hopes that she won't have to face her worst fear of being in a real life zombie apocalypse, not having her favorite drink or having electricity to get through it would be horrible.
She enjoys watching her favorite t.v. shows, reading books and quilting while contemplating how to get her characters out of their next life or death set of problems.
She also writes thrillers under the name Paris Morgan and spicy, steamy romances under the name Pepper Paris.
Excerpt from Infected Poppy Fields: A World War One Disaster
“Well, ladies, I guess this is our stop.” I picked up my bag, having left my suitcase and extras back at the mansion where we’d been staying. If we had to leave in a hurry, it would be better if we didn’t have a lot of luggage to carry around with us.”
The tent flap opened, and a young man came out. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to move along. The men inside are doing a very difficult job, and it’s hard to hear with you twits prattling about.”
“Hmm, I believe we’re their relief. We’re part of the Signal Corps, and you’ve been assigned to carry the remote telephones out to the battle areas.” I ducked inside the tent and placed my bag by the flap.
“W–Wait, you can’t do that,” he sputtered as the other girls followed suit.
I held out a paper signed by General Pershing that gave me or any of the other women in our unit permission to take charge on threat of a court martial if they didn’t do as we asked.
He gulped at the official signature and dropped the tent flap to salute.
Returning it, I turned to the men at the board.
“Hello, gentlemen. We’re here to relieve you. Get some food, and then head out with the portables toward the places you’ll find marked on this map,” I informed them, handing it to the highest-ranking officer.
“Yes, ma’am.” With a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he gave a salute. “You heard the orders. Let’s get these out there where they’re needed the most.”
We had our hands full with keeping the phone lines open and transferring the most important information between the troops and headquarters.
Arriving at noon, we hadn’t even considered eating until the officer we’d relieved showed up with food for us all.
“Thank you.” I offered my hand to him. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Not a problem, ma’am. I’ve instructed Private Emerson to make sure you ladies have plenty of coffee and food. He’s also been instructed that he’s not to let anyone into this tent without checking to make sure they are supposed to be here.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, but we can take care of ourselves,” I hurried to reassure him, although I wasn’t as certain as I sounded.
“Our pleasure, ma’am. The general gave specific orders for us to follow, and we’re going to protect you with our lives, just as he would if he were here.” The officer twirled his hat nervously. “It’s not safe for a woman to even go to the outhouse by herself.”
I blushed. “Very well,” I answered more briskly than I’d intended.
“I’ll be checking in and making sure the person taking his place understands as well. In the daylight, it’s not as bad, but the things men think they can do in the darkness without anyone knowing is…well, almost as evil as the Germans.”
He gave a quick salute and disappeared without another word.
“Private? What is his name?” I inquired, holding the flap open to let in the bright midday sun.
“Lieutenant Roman, ma’am. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” He turned his back to the opening, ready to do his job.
The girls had already managed to divide the food that we’d been given, and were eating between calls. While this was what we had been doing the past few weeks, it was much faster and more intense here close to the battle.
Explosions echoed in the distance and through the lines as we helped coordinate our troops so we could keep the Germans from advancing.
About the Author:
S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland.
“Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.”