No, the unhappy blobfish you see above isn't named Charlie. However, he (or she) does strongly favor the creature in my short story "Charlie," which you can find in my anthology Twelve (Stories About Love and Death). A link to the book resides above should you decide to spend some money on it. No pressure, of course. I wouldn't want anyone to think this post just a shameless plug for my work.
Years ago, I wrote a coming-of-age horror novella called Found, which was later magically transformed into a well-received, award-winning independent motion picture. People really seemed to enjoy it. The flick also produced an ultraviolent spinoff that has little to do with the experience that came before it. Headless definitely has its fans, and I won't knock them or the insanely talented individuals who made it. However, let's just say the movie is not indicative of my novel and leave it at that.
After Found's success on the festival circuit, there was some talk of adapting Twelve into a feature-length anthology (long before anthologies enjoyed a sudden and unexpected resurgence). And, for a while, it looked like it might happen. But then something happened - I froze. Completely overcome with fear and anxiety, a result of Found's growing popularity, my brain simply refused to function. Any writing project I started ultimately crashed and burned. The kind folks at Forbidden Films had infinite patience with me as I tried in vain to pen something they could produce. Everything I attempted failed, and my downward spiral into writer's block and depression took over. Eventually, I became reclusive and ultimately severed ties with them altogether, a decision I still regret to this day.
As my writing career continued to go absolutely nowhere, I picked up work penning articles for a popular news website, attempted to write a story about a guy's trip down the Amazon, and found myself attached to a Christmas horror project. Try as I might, none of my creative endeavors came to fruition. In other words, it was a pretty sad state of affairs. Then, thankfully, I broke through the block and wrote M'rth, a novella that essentially packages all of those raw emotions into one bizarre tale that combines drug use, body horror, and Lovecraftian horror. I'm proud of it, and if everything goes according to plan, it could eventually become a movie. However, I've learned to not get my hopes up about such things.
While digging through some old emails, I stumbled across the script I wrote for "Charlie," which was part of the Twelve anthology that never happened. Surprisingly, I'm pretty happy with the script overall, as it fixes some of the major problems I had with the short story itself. While wondering what to do with it, I thought to myself, "Hey! Why not write a long-winded woe-is-me blog post about it and just share it with my six fans?" So, my half-dozen supporters, here you go. Happy reading!