THE CRITIQUE

The verbal agreement has been made and the work has been sent. What now?

Take Good Notes While Reading

My advice is to take lots of notes, especially if you’re reading a whole manuscript. How you take those notes is up to you. I usually start out by typing them into my notes app and include page numbers as I like to include examples if I’m going to mention repetitious words, spelling errors or a particular scene or interaction that I feel should be looked at. If I find a problematic scene, my brain comes up with alternate ways to work out the issue as well, and I will jot that down so when I type everything up I can remember what I was thinking. Some manuscripts need a little more refining than others, we’re all in different places on our writing journey, so in those cases, I will type my commentary directly in the margins.

CONFESSION: I rarely share my notes with the writer as I tend to jot things down stream of consciousness, and, in all honesty, those thoughts can be abrasive. Welcome to my brain. I want to give the writer constructive criticism, not harsh commentary, so those notes are for me to remember what I was thinking at the time before I massage the words into something useable.

*The End*

Okay, so you’ve read what you agreed to read, and now it’s time to put your thoughts down for sharing. You loved it and have very little commentary. You hated it and can’t bear to tell them. You got through it but loved some parts and hated others.

All of these and more are very real possibilities when you beta read.

The trick to feedback is taking all the judgement out of your reply and instead focusing on the technical pieces. I am always honored that writer’s trust me with their work, and I start or end every critique by telling them so. Here is a blanket statement I include in almost every critique, and I mean EVERY word, EVERY time I type it.

“Thank you for trusting me with your words. I know how scary it can be to share your work, and I hope I made this process easier for you. Reading is very subjective, and what I love someone else may not. What doesn’t work for me may be someone else’s perfect escape. Take everything I say with a grain of salt and keep what suggestions make sense for you, and disregard the rest. In the end, this is your story and your vision, and I respect that.”

Every person I’ve ever read for can attest that I’ve told them something very similar, and, as I said, I mean EVERY word. I am humbled to be trusted by strangers, and thrilled to read stories that no one else has read yet. I’m even more honored to know that some random seed of thought I planted might actually help a writer turn the corner on working out plot issues or smoothing over a rough patch of words that the writer was initially too close to see.

How do I structure the critique?

I’ve written and re-written this section for clarity because, the truth is, every critique I write is different so the format and headings change based on what feedback I think is most important to give and how well I know the reader. I tend to touch on the following categories in every critique in one way or another:

*Characters

*World Building

*Slow Spots

*Voice

*Plot

*Technical Stuff (grammar, spelling, sensitivity issues, etc.)

*Overall Thoughts

After my initial acknowledgement of thanks and disclaimer of subjectivity, I jump into the details.

Start With the Positive. I Can’t Say This Enough.

THINGS I LOVED (no joke, that is usually exactly how I write the first critique heading in all caps and bold to set my thought categories apart. See also: THINGS THAT WORKED FOR ME)

It’s important to remark on the things that worked and personally, I think it’s good form to list them first.

Start with the positive to build the reader up for any “suggestions” to follow. No matter how “thick” our skin is, if we handed our book over to someone to read, we must feel a little okay with what we’ve written. My job is to offer my thoughts as one reader, not to make anyone feel bad. Creativity is so intensely personal and should be treasured. Writing is a gift and I support anyone chasing their dreams or having the courage to express themselves. Even the most prolific authors started with some draft somewhere that was a raging dumpster fire. (I’m guessing, of course, but don’t understand how it can’t be true)

It’s a fact that not all reads are going to tickle your fancy every time, and there may be times when you’re “stretching” for a list of things you loved, but I look at it like this, if someone took the time to write a 300 page book and asked me to read it, I can take the time to celebrate their talent and commitment with positive thoughts. If you’ve made your life easier and started with the 3 chapter premise I mentioned in Part 2 of this blog, that helps make this easier for all involved. Saves you from dragging yourself through 300 pages you can’t connect with.

Following are some items that could be used as celebratory comments:

-a particular character, or group of characters that were funny/ entertaining/ resonated with you/ were strong/ had great chemistry/ made you think, etc.

-note any scenes that stood out in your mind as stronger pieces of writing.

-strong/ quirky/ funny/ entertaining voice.

-any world building that caught your eye, worked for the story, was particularly creative.

-strong beginning or strong end.

-good dialogue skills (let’s face it, writing strong dialogue that sounds conversational and not stiff takes particular finesse, praise it when you see it)

-great attention to historical detail

-strong character chemistry

I could go on and on, but the point is, find things that went right and help the author celebrate all those things. Most of the time you won’t have to reach for ideas, but if you do, those are some areas to look at.

Now For the Criticism

I always label this part THINGS I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO SEE DIFFERENT or sometimes I simply label it SUGGESTIONS. That depends on my mood, how open the writer is to feedback and how well I know them. I have a wicked, dry sense of humor and some of my closest friends get to see that in my critiques. I think I’m funny, but not everybody appreciates comments like “bitch this dude has to go.”

Any time you read a book, you know what works for you in the story and what doesn’t. Translate that to the author, but keep it technically based. Some of you may not agree with me, but I always find a way to put a positive spin on a constructive comment. I’ll give some examples: (and these are not real examples but made up for the purposes of this blog)

You didn’t like the ending– “This story had me by the throat all the way through but I have to be honest, my heart was hoping Jake would end up with Terry.” or “I’m so glad Jake and Terry ended up together but I felt like I wanted the final scene to punch me in the feels a little more, what if he said XXX and she ran away…”

There were slow spots in the story– “I enjoyed your characters’ banter so much but when they kept flashing back to childhood memories in the middle of their secret meet-ups it took me out of the action. Those flashbacks are great but maybe they would work better after your characters kiss and go home for the night.” or “I couldn’t get enough of their chemistry and I found the childhood flashbacks a little distracting in the middle of their sexy banter. If you feel those memories are critical to the story line maybe pop them in a different spot. While they were really well written, I might suggest for word count that they don’t need to be there at all, but that’s your call.”

You disliked a character that wasn’t meant to be disliked– “This character has such a great arc, but in all honesty I found myself not rooting for them because they are bit too abrasive to the other characters and I wanted so badly to love them. Maybe cut down the number of times they kick everyone in the shins and boost up the heartfelt moment when they cry about their dog so the reader really sees they deserve this good stuff you have coming their way.”

The voice wasn’t compelling– “I found that for such a strong character I really wanted to feel their power in their words. Maybe try using more descriptive words for the color of the wood or the smell of the sweetgrass when they describe their childhood home so the reader can actually picture that farmhouse and pull us deeper into the setting.” or “I wanted your main characters voice to be a little more concise. She’s built to be such a smart girl but her words rambled in parts that drew away from her smarts. See pages 155 and 251 where she says…”

Of course these are extremely general and made up examples, but you can see what I’m saying. Comments worded in a direct but more helpful way like that will be received better and show the writer where they lost you rather than “I hated that character.” “The voice is boring.” “I just couldn’t get into the ending” “I didn’t buy the whole premise.” “Your plot confused me”

As readers, our opinions are always entirely our own. I feel it’s not for us to say a book was good or bad, or a character sucked, or the story went nowhere. We may feel that, but to point out something that didn’t work, to tell the author what your reader brain wanted in that moment, and then to give samples of what you are saying is CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. Simply slamming something because you didn’t like it is judgement.

Whew! Why do I feel like I’m going to get some criticism on that. Someone out there is going to say I’m an ass kisser. I will politely disagree. I’m telling an author what didn’t work for me as ONE reader and offering suggestions on what might make it sing a little louder. (See how sweet and helpful that sounds?) I am not a paid editing professional but I have read enough to know (and paid editors for their advice on my own work enough) to get a feel for what works.

You can be brutally honest and give your thoughts without breaking someones spirit. It’s all in the way you word it.

Overall Thoughts

I end each critique with a wrap up of what I feel are the easiest, most beneficial thoughts for revision, throw in a few positives to remind them I enjoyed it, but again remind them to take the advice that fits and leave the rest.

That’s really the basics of what I feels makes a beta relationship easier.

Up Next in Part 4: Beta and Critique Partner Resources (Where to find one) and Talking About Paid Editors

So You’ve Found A Reader/ You’ve Agreed to Read

In my opinion, while much of the same etiquette applies to reading and being read for. Some things are different so I will break it down by writer and reader.

Writer & Reader Commonalities First

Agreeing to partner on a book for suggestions and thoughts is a serious thing. Writers are excited to share their labor of love and want honest and constructive feedback (most of the time :-)). Often they are waiting on your feedback for edits to query or publish soon, and feel every passing minute with angst like a race horse in the chute.

Readers want to bond with their community and enjoy new words in a safe space to give their options and learn other voices and styles themselves to better their craft. Reading a whole book can be a daunting task while writing and full-time adulting. If you do not have the time to devote to reading, or are not ready for constructive criticism (everyone isn’t going to like your book), then don’t enter into the partnership.

The beta reading process is a lot like like dating. You’re putting yourself out there on both fronts with no idea who you’re sharing personal thoughts with, and it can go bad quickly if either of you is not in the right place or your styles don’t mesh. Like dating, don’t let one or two bad experiences push you away from the process. Set your boundaries, steel your expectations, nail down your communication and keep going until you find one or more people who get you. The fact is, every reader is not for you, and every writer isn’t going to write the book of your heart. The craft, and the industry, is subjective, and that’s what makes it beautiful. There’s something and someone for everyone.

When you do agree to read, you commit to tactful honesty and support of your fellow writers. There’s no room for thoughts/feelings of superiority by either party in the beta read process. When you ask for a reader for your work, you agree to accept when someone doesn’t like a part or the whole of your book. As a reader you fundamentally understand that all writers are at different stages in their journey. I will detail these characteristics in the parts to follow. Remember:

-Personalities can be strong

-Defenses may be up

-Individual tastes differ

-Writers are still honing their craft

-Readers may not have mastered the fine art of CONSTRUCTIVE criticism

-Everyone has an opinion

My suggestion to combat this is simple, start with 3 chapters.

The 3 chapter method is the speed dating of the critique world. Whenever you start any new beta read, unless you’re sure you’re ready to commit the time, really enjoy the genre/story you’re being entrusted with, or really know the person you’re reading for, begin any new reading relationship with the first 3 chapters. This gives the reader a manageable chunk of writing to get through quickly and gives the writer a chance to see how their new reader critiques and if their “style” of critiquing matches what you’re looking for. Any mismatches can be handled at this stage without too much pain or committment. If time and personalities do match, you can ask for more if your schedule permit. Both parties should know up front a full manuscript from the get-go is not the expectation and adjust accordingly.

Yes, we all want our FULL book read and critiqued, but if your styles or personalities aren’t matching, the end result will be sheer agony. That can only fuel a writer’s usual level of self-doubt or feel, for the reader, like you’re back in school having to write a book report in English class on an outdated “classic” you have no interest in reading.

*The goal of any good beta read for both parties is to gain insightful, helpful thoughts that will better the story for later success.

Before You Exchange Information and Read, Set The Expectation

WRITERS

Tell the reader up front what you are hoping to gain from their time, and be ready for feedback when it comes. If you only want to hear “it’s amazing and perfect, don’t make any changes just tell me you love it”, you might not be ready for a beta read. If you do choose to give it a whirl, here are a few suggestions:

-Are there any plot holes or things that didn’t make sense?

-Was the voice compelling?

-What characters did you like, which ones did you not care for (and why)?

-Are there any spots where the action lags and/or you started skimming to get to the next part?

-Did the story pull you through?

-Is the world building strong?

-Was there anything you wanted to see happen differently?

-Are there a lot of grammar or spelling issues that may require another line edit pass through?

-Was there anything offensive or that you think might offend others?

-Overall thoughts on the piece.

Readers

You want to ask the following up front:

-What’s the time frame you’re hoping to have me finish?

-How strong of criticism are you looking for on a scale of “gentle suggestions to my skin is thicker than a rhino’s back”.

Some people are ready for the hard truth, some just aren’t, but they still deserve feedback. Some will say they are, but really aren’t which is why I’ll detail later how to give constructive feedback without generally pissing people off. Writers need to be honest about this part. If you’re new to this and only want technical feedback not personal critique, say so. It’s okay, and saves everyone from hurt feelings.

When expectations are set, and you’ve had honest communication about you’re looking for and what you can provide, privately exchange emails and send your work.

UP NEXT: Okay, I’m reading. There’s good and bad. What now?

We’ve all heard the horror stories or had a bad experience with beta reading ourselves. It is simultaneously the most nerve wracking, yet most important tool a writer has. It’s also a tremendous responsibility that gives you front row access to some of the most amazing stories yet to be seen by the public, but requires a respectful hand. I will share my experiences with both sides of beta reading in hopes to make the process more rewarding and less daunting for all your work and reads in the future.

The Basics Explained

I’m not an industry professional (but I play one on TV), and I’m never paid to read, but as a serial beta reader who has voluntarily read and given my thoughts on over a hundred or more unpublished books for agented and self-published authors alike, I’ve learned a few things along the way, and found some tips and tricks that make the relationship a little less scary and a lot more productive. As a writer, I’ve also asked many friends and strangers alike to read for me. There are two very different sides to this process and I think we should talk about them both.

These suggestion are derived from my own personal experience and are in no way a “one size fits all” method of working together. Like I always tell the people I read for, use what advice makes sense and leave the rest behind. (I literally always say that) Enjoying what you read is entirely subjective, but once you commit to read, your feedback is essential for the author and should be done respectfully and thoughtfully.

What is Beta Reading?

Is this book any good?

That’s a question most writers ask themselves as they’re pouring their heart and soul into a piece of work. While most writers will always have self-doubt, if we want to put our work out there, there comes a time after writing “The End” that we need to know if it’s where it needs to be for public scrutiny.

Enter the Beta reader.

Before an author sends their book to be published, sends it to their agent, or sends out submission materials in query form while on the hunt for an agent, it’s always a best practice to have the book read by at least a few non-biased third parties for feedback. (My mom reads for me every single time, but she definitely isn’t unbiased so I can never take her “I love it” at face value. Sorry, Mom.) While many professionals have some hard and fast numbers on how many people should read a book first, the number of beta readers you choose is entirely up to you. Personally, I almost always use at least 6-8 opinions to start.

These third parties can help us identify plot holes, mistakes, find spelling errors and give general overall feedback on whether the characters are flushed out, the world building is solid and if material has been fine tuned enough for it to be reviewed by agents, readers and editors. For the best chance at success (and I’m guessing most of us want our work to be successful or respected) it is critical to put the best, most honed version of your work out there in final format, and the more eyes on it the better.

For clarification, reviews of first drafts are usual called “Alpha Reads”. When a few more editing passes are done, it’s usually called “Beta Reads”. A is before B, follow the alphabet on this one. 🙂

How Is a Critique Partner Different?

Whereas an alpha or beta reader is enlisted to read someone’s work, a critique partner or a CP, is someone you agree to swap work with either on a one time or an ongoing basis. You read for each other, hence the “partner”. Usually it’s someone you have vetted ahead of time that is in the same stage of their writing career as you, writes in the same genre, or you have developed a mutual respect for. This is usually more of a critique “partnership” than a transaction read, but many of the suggestions I have apply to finding a CP and getting/giving feedback as well.

What is a Sensitivity Reader?

Sensitivity readers are a critical part of editing and are separate from beta reading. They are typically used for subject material or characters that may not be in your personal wheelhouse like gender identity, sexual orientation, race, and religion among many other topics. If your material has the potential to offend one or more people, portray someone or a group of someones in a bad light, or give inaccurate information (even if that isn’t your intention), a sensitivity reader is a critical piece of the puzzle. It is a responsible practice to seek this advice. Sensitivity readers are most often paid for their services. They can be found by publicly asking for that specific help, or there are several resources in the writing community where you can find one that specializes in the subject matter of your book. I will try to post a list of resources at the end of these tips.

How Can I Find a Beta Reader?

For the sake of this blog, I’m going to call all readers “beta” readers, whether they are the first or the eight person to read your draft, and regardless of how many of your books they’ve read. We’ll refer to everyone as a beta reader because it makes more sense in my head, it’s easier, it’s my blog, and the critique police don’t know I exist. (not yet anyway)

As a fellow writer, I cannot stress enough the importance of finding a writing community. Not only are we a lot of fun at parties and introverted social gatherings where we all assemble in private at home (yes, that’s a joke, not really), but it’s also the best way to learn about the craft, commiserate with others on how hard it is to write a synopsis, and gain valuable information on the industry and its processes and players. Simply put, you can learn so much from your peers.

There are many places to find writing communities, and I recommend you partake in all of them and see where you find the most kinship and feel the most at home. For me, that’s Twitter, now X, which (like the beta reader phrase) I will always call Twitter because I want to.

Just making a screen name and choosing a cool photo doesn’t automatically gain you insight and support, you do have to participate. If it feels safer to stalk the feeds for a while, go for it, but it is my recommendation that you will get so much more out of a writing community when you actively participate in it. If you’re nervous, start out liking things, ask questions, comment on posts and work your way up to expressing your own thoughts, posting memes and recounting what you had for dinner or how many martini’s you just drank. Okay, maybe that’s just me.

Once you find a place where you feel safe and can relate to the topics being discussed, it’s easier to find your readers. In the course of making writing friends, sometimes the offer is made “hey if you ever need a reader message me”. If you don’t have these sorts of closer contacts, don’t fear, there are ways to find total strangers who can help you move your work to the next steps. I’ve used strangers with good and bad results, and I’ll tackle all those topics in subsequent posts.

-Just like there are pitch events on social media sites like Twitter designed to pitch your book to attract agent or editor attention, there are also critique partner events. The premise goes, you pitch the book you’re looking to have critiqued with word count, genre and basic plot, and people that are interested in your story will reply. You are then free to respond to them and forge ahead with the arrangement.

-You can also post on social media that you’re looking for a reader with basic details about the story.

-If you’ve been stalking the social media feeds, chances are you’ve already identified some writers whose posts you enjoy reading and feel are similar in style, humor or temperament. DO NOT direct message anyone and ask them to read unless you’ve already established a relationship. Other people may disagree with me, but I am extremely wary of anyone sliding into my DMs asking favors or other personal things unless I’ve already offered in the past or we have that kind of “friendship”.

Boundaries kids, we have to set our boundaries while respecting others, and unsolicited DMs are boundaries for a lot of people (myself included).

If you’ve gotten this far, congratulations. Hopefully I’m making sense and helping a little along the way. Don’t hesitate to ask questions or share fears. This is an elaborate topic and I’m going to write this in chunks for the sake of ease in reading, and the fact that it’s 1 a.m.. Keep watch, and thanks for tuning in.

Next up on my blog: I’ve found someone to read/ I’ve agreed to read, what now?

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In honor of Halloween, please enjoy some EVP’s from a recent paranormal investigation done on my house. This was the first investigation ever done, and I’m intrigued to do more. Let me know which is your favorite, and what you think they are saying.

These EVP’s were recorded by the team in empty rooms, and in my opinion, many of the voices captured seem to indicate that the ghosts knew the investigation team was there.

In fact, I would go so far as to say the ghosts in the house were not only hiding, but warning each other of the investigators presence.

There are, of course, some random chilling moans and screams which are a little unnerving, because I like to believe the ghosts in my house are happy, on the whole. They might just be echos in time, sounds stuck in the web of the universe.

These recordings were done by professionals and are 100% untouched however a few had noise reduction done but no other sound altering. Be sure to turn your volume up. Enjoy!

EVP#1 was taken from my foyer. It seems to me like the ghost is warning the others “they’re coming.”

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EVP #2 and #3 are just random moans/shouts

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EVP #4 is one of my favorites. This was taken in the room where I told you the “brothers” stay. It sounds to me like one says “Wow” then proceeds to talk very quietly. The other brother must not like the noise level because he very clearly says “Ssshhhhhh” at the end. Decide for yourself.

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EVP #5 is very short. It is a noise reduced clip of what sounds like a child asking a question.

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EVP#6 occurred in response to a question. The historian discovered that the land my house was built on was a poor farm back in the 1800’s where lots of people lived and worked. The investigator asked out loud what happened to the owners of the farm. This was the response. Sounds to me like “they let it go.” Though I’m not sure what it means, it was a direct answer to a question which would lead you to believe this ghost was intelligent and interactive, and not just a loop or echo.

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EVP #7 was a voice in a room I didn’t know had “guests”. It sounds to me like “Help, …we’re here” or something similar. You decide.

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EVP #8 seems to be one ghost alerting the others of the investigators presence. It sounds to me like he’s saying “they’re coming closer.”

These are the best of what was captured, and while I wish I had a picture or video of Joe hanging out on the upper level in his blue flannel shirt and jeans, if it were that easy to get proof of life beyond, everyone would have it, right?

Believe it or don’t, but enjoy a goosebump or two. Happy Halloween!

This story is perhaps the most memorable, freakiest, most hair raising story to date so far. This incident terrified me to the point I literally felt my blood run cold and my heart pound in my ears because it was so deliberate, the timing so uncanny.

Let’s jump right in. It’s the middle of the night, and I’m sleeping. Only partly unconscious, of course, because there isn’t anything in this world or the next that was gonna sneak up on me.

I startled awake, as I often did, thinking I heard a noise, then rolled over to look at the clock to check the time. If the red numbers on my clock said 1:10 a.m., I knew I was in for something unusual.

The spirits in the house always (and I mean 90%) of the time, woke me up at exactly 1:10 a.m.. Did I just trick my body into waking at that time? An internal alarm o’clock I didn’t mean to set? Perhaps, but after ten years of waking up at 1:10 a.m. to shadows, voices, footsteps and heaven only knows what else, you accept what seems unacceptable and stop fighting it.

So I roll over, chest tight, and look at the clock.

1:10 a.m.

Great. I look into the doorway of my bedroom and don’t see any shadow people or other ghostly folk that don’t belong lingering in the hallway. I don’t immediately hear anything out of the unusual. I try to roll over and close my eyes, covers all the way over my head, but my arms get prickly. Whatever is waking me isn’t taking no for an answer.

I have a need to roam the first floor to check the locks, reassure myself we’re locked in tight and all is well.

Why did I get out of bed? I have four kids in this house, and while most of them are in my bed snoring softly, all of them aren’t, and my Mom instincts kick in harder than my ghost instincts. So roam the first floor I go, ready to handle whatever is waiting for me.

Front door- locked. A quick peek out the windows show a quiet neighborhood nestled under a dark, starless sky. I walk through the dining room, into the living room, going out of my way to avoid the basement stairs as I make my way into the kitchen. Nothing but the sounds of my feet on the wood floor and the hiss of the heater.

Back door is locked, no people—dead or alive—standing on my patio. The soft spill of pillar lights bathes the kitchen in a warm glow. Ideallic quiet night it is not, however. Goose flesh prickles my neck. Something doesn’t feel right. Bad? No, just different. That’s the motto in my house.

Something is rooting me in place, not making me run. Perhaps it’s the feeling that I’m not alone, and I don’t know which way to move. I walk directly to the back door to give myself a good close look at the yard for danger because my Spidey senses tell me something is up.

As I stare out into the night, the baby’s playpen is immediately behind me in the kitchen against the halfway of the staircase. The pressure on the back of my neck grows to the point I can’t deny it. I turn around now, facing the playpen and a mix of toys sitting lifeless in a row propped up against the wall.

Yep, wait for it!

My chest gets heavy, and though I don’t see anyone, I know I’m not alone. I fully expect to see someone, hear voices, have something skid across the counter. The energy in the kitchen is that electric.

My choices for fleeing are to the left where I have to run past the open basement stairs, or to the right where I have to run past the stairs leading up that offer me a blind corner.

I look left, then right, my gaze finally falling on the talking light up toddler toy dog sitting in the middle of the toys in the playpen. As I turn to stare at the toy (why I don’t know) it lights up at that exact moment and says:

“Peek a Boo, I see you”

It then proceeds to giggle in the pre-recorded, computer generated child’s voice that will haunt my dreams until I die.

Go back and re-read it. I swear on everything I hold dear, I am telling you the truth.

In the silence of the night, the second I turned to it, the toy self activated and said Peek-A-Boo, I see you.

Okay, so the rational part of my brain kicks in, grabbing fear by the throat, and tells my feet to hold their ground. I know, right, how can one person be so stupid? Certainly this can’t be happening. This doll did not light up and talk on it’s own, choosing the most terrifying and appropriate phrase from it’s inventory of factory pre-recorded statements that include I love you and the A,B, Cs.

I have two choices, but my brain picks one. Walk forward and pick up the doll. If the switch is turned on, I can convince myself it’s a random malfunction, a firing of the switch. Some manufacturer glitch. If it’s off, we’re burning the damn house down.

The switch, in fact, is on, so I set the doll nicely and carefully back into the playpen, heart in my throat, and walk to the right (no chance am I risking the basement stairs right now) and head straight into my room and begin the series of prayers I know by heart on repeat in my head.

P.S. St. Michael has been my best friend since birth. If you know, you know.

No other dolls or toys talked that night. In fact, Im pretty sure I sat straight up in my bed in terrified stunned silence until the sun came up. Did the light up dog ever talk again you ask? Sorry folks, it never got the chance. It was “donated” the next morning.

And yes, I really mean donated. I treat the toy animals and dolls nice, and they don’t come back and kill me in the middle of the night like in the movies. It’s a deal we make. My girls got a life size Barbie doll once from a sadistic friend, don’t get me started on that. That doll was better taken care of than we were. She never had any reason to go Chucky on us.

That, my friends, was a true terror story from my real life haunted house, and one of the most specific experiences I had there.

So I’ve talked about the spirits I saw when I lived there. Let me tell you about a story that comes from someone else, someone who didn’t know the house was haunted, not when they moved in anyway.

After we moved out, I couldn’t bear to sell the house. I still can’t. To this day I have an unnatural connection to it as if it’s my job to watch over them now. Weird, I know, add it to the list. But move out of the house for our peace of mind we did (that sounds a little Yoda-ish, sorry) and we decided rather than leave the house empty, we’d rent it out.

Our first renter was a friend of the family. Great couple with four kids. My husband was adamant that if we wanted to rent it out, we could NOT tell anyone it was haunted.

So we didn’t.

Until about two weeks into the rental when our friends stopped by and said “by the way, when were you going to tell us the house is haunted.” 👀

Aside from the in house music system turning on twice at 2 a.m. blaring the radio and scaring everyone, they had a very unique incident.

The husband and wife were in the master bedroom watching television when they heard extremely loud bumping and stomping from above them. Assuming their two teenage boys were rough housing or fighting, the father left the first floor master bedroom and went upstairs to the kids’ bedroom directly above them.

He stopped in the hall in front of the bedroom door and the two boys stopped wrestling and were each sitting on their twin beds staring at him. He proceeded to colorfully and loudly explain to them that it was bedtime and this horseplay was unacceptable for this time of night.

He insisted they turn out the lights and immediately go to bed.

Right about this point, the father heard his kids call his name from the first floor. He looked over Joe’s walkway railing (see earlier post for Joe reference) down into the family room to find his two sons sitting on the couch beneath blankets watching television.

They asked him why he was yelling. What was the problem? Most especially, what was he doing upstairs? He was too stunned to reply. He stepped to his left to peer back into his sons’ room, and the boys were gone.

The room was empty.

When we lived in the house, we encountered “the boys” under similar but different circumstances. For a year or two when my daughter was a young toddler, she would often put her hands over her ears in that room. If you asked her why she was doing that, she’d tell you the boys were fighting again and they say bad words.

At night the floor above my bed was always active with jumping and footsteps and pounding.

My gut tells me it isn’t actual fighting to harm, but more two teen boys working out an eternity of angst and boredom with each other. I think about them often, wondering if they prefer to be there or are stuck.

I had a women who said she was a medium walk through the house in the earlier years, and she felt the presence of two Native American boys. Could those be the boys in the room above my bedroom?

You decide.

So far we’ve talked about all the things I heard at my old house. Now it’s time to talk about the things we saw. Let me start by saying that seeing things was not a regular event. In fact, I will go on record as saying I personally only saw what I would call a spirit on five or six occasions, and it was always the same two spirits.

The first was a young girl who would hide in the corner outside my bedroom. She was in her mid to late teens and wore period dress clothes. She had a long pale blue and white gingham dress with a white apron and two long blonde braids.

She never said a word, never went anywhere else. I would catch her out of the corner of my eye at night outside my bedroom door or when I was coming down the hall to go in to my room. I don’t know what she wanted, or why she was there, but I never felt any danger or fear.

Joe was the other spirit I saw. I saw Joe for the first time a few years after living in the house. Why do I call him Joe? I have absolutely no idea. It was as good a name as any, and it stuck.

I was in my great room, a two story living room with two story windows. A large chandelier with ornate carved arms hung from the ceiling. I stood from the couch and looked out the window at headlights passing by when I caught sight of him in the reflection.

For a moment I assumed his image was just my eyes catching the reflection of the chandelier wrong, but my brain told me I was seeing something else. He was standing on the upper level walkway behind me both arms on the railing, casually leaning forward looking down at me.

Screaming would seem a natural response, calling a priest, circling the foundation in salt. I wasn’t afraid though, not of Joe. For all the things in that house that freaked me out, Joe was a calming spot, a friend. He was a tall man, slight of build, maybe in his fifties with dark hair. He was wearing worn blue jeans and a blue plaid shirt. He said nothing, but instead looked at home on my walkway.

I stood frozen that first night, my eyes separating the image of him from the chandelier to prove to myself that I really was seeing the man in the reflection behind. The whole encounter felt like minutes, but it was likely seconds instead. I turned around, expecting to see him standing there, but there was no one.

The walkway was empty.

When I turned back around to scan the reflection in the window, only the chandelier remained. I told some friends about Joe at a gathering not long after, and I was ridiculed so hard I never brought it up again.

I saw Joe once more in the reflection from the kitchen on the other side of the house. He was standing in the loft this time looking down at me again. This time there was no chandelier to confuse him with. No other object to trick my eyes.

There was just a man in a blue plaid shirt and jeans keeping watch on me and my house. And I liked to think of him that way, watching over us, not creepily watching us.

The thought of Joe as a protector, the ghostly caretaker, comforted me so much, that when we would leave on vacation I would always ask Joe to keep an eye on the house for us or watch my animals.

Have I finally lost my mind? Maybe.

Here’s the thing though, one day my mom was watching my kids, she pulled me aside after I got home. She knew of my experiences in the house, of the footsteps and electric issues, but I never told her about Joe, not after being made fun of.

With a pale face and fear in her voice, she told me she thinks she saw a ghost. I swallowed my water and waited for the description, fully expecting her to tell me someone new was manifesting from the ether.

Instead, she perfectly described Joe.

“Oh that’s just Joe, he watches over things for me,” I said with a sigh of relief.

She didn’t know quite how to respond.

I still say hi to my friend Joe the caretaker when I go over to the house, even now. With so many other spirits active there, some harmless, some who enjoyed making you afraid, I firmly believe Joe did what he could to keep trouble to a minimum.

I can’t tell you if any of that scenario is actually true. I certainly couldn’t prove it. The way I think about the spirits in the house is kind of like a knowing. I don’t have to think too hard about it, the thoughts are just there.

“You write crazy stories about way-out-there things, that’s probably just your imagination,” some would say.

Maybe. Maybe it is just the colorful tales of a creative mind. Then again, maybe after living there so long, their stories seeped into my brain. That I can never know for sure.

What I do know for sure, is Joe is my friend, and after being made fun of the last time I told his story, it’s quite a leap of faith for me to tell it again.

Come back soon for more stories, the scariest is yet to come.

The Pop-A-Shot: a staple at carnivals, great for oversized indoor recreation rooms, hours of fun at CostCo while you wait for your parents or significant other to finish shopping.

In my house it was something different. For the sake of the story, I’m going to stick to one specific event because it’s still so vivid in my mind, I could retell it for years to come.

In the interest of getting the full shock value, let me refresh your memory on how this particular game works. Two balls, two hoops. You can play alone or in pairs. The game is electronic (yes, I said electronic, so let your mind wander) and it operates on a plug.

When plugged in and turned on, the machine is silent, no lights showing until the first ball slips through the hoop. As soon as the first ball slips through the hoop, the buzzer sounds long and loud, signaling the game has begun, and the clock starts ticking as you shoot. For every basket, the scoreboard registers your score. When time is up, an ending buzzer sounds, and the one with the most points wins.

Sounds delightful, right? The kids love the game. The adults played it often. Only downfall, it was so big we had to keep it in the basement. To the outside world, our basement was an oasis. It was fully finished and furnished with a small movie room, wine room and in-law arrangement complete with microwave, fridge and sink. Storage, workout/office space and a pool table, what more could you want?

If you could get past the feeling of always being watched, chills that ran up your back and made your neck tight, hands touching your shoulder only to turn around and no one was there, and doors slamming on their own, you were good.

I earned an Academy Award in smiling while trying not to scream for ten years in a row pretending the basement didn’t bother me at all. I didn’t want my children to be afraid. It was the perfect space for the kids to play, watch TV, or adults to unwind at the bar with a drink. Hell, we even had a party or two down there.

My husband took many naps in the downstairs bedroom as it was very quiet and much cooler than it was in the rest of the house. He also would never readily admit the house was haunted, not to me anyway. Why? I don’t know, because he had experiences in that house since day one. None the less, we all had our roles to play, and our blinders positioned just so. The basement was his personal getaway space, until the fateful day.

Picture the scene: 11 p.m.-ish, my young teen son is up in his room with the door shut, and my three girls are sleeping in my bed because they always said their rooms were haunted.

“Ha,” I told them, “there’s no one here but us, but you can sleep in here with me for tonight if you like.” I pretty much said that every day for ten years. If if they didn’t know for a fact the energy in the house was different, they sure sensed it.

I’m in bed watching television, the toddler is asleep in her princess bed next to mine, and the two girls are out cold in the middle, arms and legs wrapped around each other.

My husband was finishing watching some crime show in the basement and dozing off. He must have been getting sufficiently sleepy, because around 11:15 or so I heard the television in the basement go off. I followed suit and my television went off too.

The house was silent save my four dogs at the bottom of the bed snoring gently. Okay, I had two bulldogs, so not so gently. (We’ll talk about the crowd in my bed some other time.)

Silence, my favorite time of the day when I could take a deep breath and be alone with my thoughts, nothing expected of me. A good book or a good movie, the choice was mine and I didn’t have to share it with anyone.

I was particularly tired this night, so I took a sip of my water, and snuggled under the covers shoving the dead weight of my children to the other side of the bed so I didn’t sweat to death during the night.

The pillow was cool against my skin, the chenille blanket soft on my cheeks. Peace.

Until…

The starting buzzer of the Pop-A-Shot echoes through the house causing me to sit straight up in my bed, eyes as wide as hard boiled eggs. TIC-TIC-TIC. The timer starts running down. I slip out of bed and peek my head into the hallway to find the faint red glow of the scoreboard staining the white walls of the hallway leading downstairs an eerie crimson.

A pounding on the floor makes my stomach pinch, but I soon learn the thunder isn’t otherworldly, it’s my six-foot four husband taking the basement stairs two at a time to get out of the basement.

“What are you doing?” I ask, still standing in my bedroom doorway a good distance away from the basement stairs.

“Nothing,” he says panting, doing his best to act casual.

“Were you playing basketball?” I ask.

He looks at me, his eyes opening a little wider, and he knows what I’m really asking.

“I was asleep,” he says laughing, the look on his pale face closer to hysteria than humor.

“And it just started playing by itself?” I ask

He pauses, not really sure of his answer, searching his brain for some logical explanation as to why, no how, the game turned on by itself.

The ticking stops, pause, and the final buzzer rings long and loud in the quiet of the house. My husband and I look at each other searching for words. The red on the walls goes dark.

“I wonder who won,” I say. We both laugh, but it’s the jittery nervous kind when you can feel your pulse on the back of your tongue.

My daughter hears the commotion and steps out into the hallway to ask what’s going on. We assure her it’s nothing, and she shuffles back into my bed. My husband stands taller, and suggests I go downstairs and unplug the game. My response is colorful, and I’m grateful my daughter walked away before I replied.

We unplug the machine together without incident, the scoreboard reading 2-0 before all the lights go dark.

The game sat dormant for a long time before anyone played it again. But sure as can be, from that moment forward, the bedtime question of “honey, did you lock up the house?” was always, and I mean always, followed by, “is the pop-a-shot unplugged?”

Stay tuned for more next time about seeing and hearing things I can’t explain.

If you didn’t shout that line like the lyric of The Electric Slide song, did you even live in the 80’s? I guess most of you haven’t. I won’t hold it against you.

It’s not just a fun dance—yes, I know that’s debatable too—electric was the main/easiest thing for the spirits in my house to manipulate. In my last post you heard about the land line telephone, and how it rang endlessly at all hours of the night with no one on the other line.

Well that wasn’t the only system to go haywire at will.

My beautiful new house had all the bells and whistles, complete with a whole house intercom and radio system. You could listen to Top 40 while you vacuumed the kids’ rooms, or fill the air with the joyous sound of Christmas Carols during the holidays.

If you were locked outside you could press a button and the intercom would allow you to speak to members inside of the home to let you in. (How anyone thought this was a good idea in the first place, I don’t know.) Our friends would press the button just to harass us as a joke when they came over. The sound is still unsettling when live people do it.

But hey, it was a highlighted feature of the home. If you were lazy, you could press a button in your room and ask someone in the kitchen to bring you a bottle of water, so there’s that.

Yes, I know we have texting now. We had it then too, but this whole house communication unit was meant to be a luxury. You can guess where this is going.

One use of the intercom the spirits found particularly hilarious in the beginning, was to turn on the radio full blast, highest volume, throughout the whole house at 2 or 3 in the morning.

Good time, good times.

Don’t ever ask me why I don’t sleep well at night again. Being awoken to these things for the better part of ten years changes a person. Changes, yeah I guess that’s as good a word as any.

Another fun misuse of the system would happen at any time of day, but we mostly noticed it when the house was quiet, like as you’re watching television or doing laundry. You could occasionally hear the static hiss of the intercom button being pressed from outside (no it didn’t matter which unit) but no one ever said anything, and of course, no one was ever there.

Guess what I did? Yep, you got it right. Shut that mother off. Every individual intercom was switched off at the main unit and on the wall in each room. The same went for the volume.

OFF, OFF AND OFF.

You’re saying “wait a minute, that could be a short circuit, loose wire, surge, something easily explainable.” Well, not accordingly to any of the three electricians I had out to the house over the years. I asked them all, had the intercoms and phone line tested. All clear. You decide for yourself what you think. I did.

Wake up once or twice to hard rock screaming in your ears at 1:30 a.m. after you just put the baby to sleep, and I think you’ll understand the spirits have a dry sense of humor.

Is that it? Music and ghostly fingers pressing buttons outside the house to get in.

Oh, no. Wait, there’s more. This is where I give you my best game show hostess wave of my hand.

I spoke of the house alarm last post. As I’m sure you guessed, my alarm liked to go off for no reason too, albeit much less often than the other stuff. Apparently the ghosts are sympathetic to my false alarm charges. But when it did go off for no reason, it was ONLY in the middle of the night, and it was always the exact same window registering broken every time.

Eventually I had the alarm company come out and check the sensor. Looked fine. One or two more mis fires, and I called them out again a few months later, and had them replace the sensor altogether. Exact same alarm, still went off here and there.

Just so you understand the feel of this false alarm, it’s more than just a startle awake, choking on your heartbeat feeling. The window that would register broken is in the basement… in the farthest corner of the house…and I had to pass through the ultimate level 10 creepy part of the house in the pitch black by myself, in the middle of the night, to get to it.

For all the harmless stuff, there was a dark spot in the house, and cliche as it is, it was in the basement.

When I tell you I eventually felt like I was purposely being lured down there, I’m not lying.

So what did I do? Can’t turn the alarm off like everything else. You’re going to think I’m nuts, but I did it anyway.

I started making deals with the spirits in the house. Yes, you read that right. I—a grown ass woman— started to talk out loud to the otherworldly guests squatting in my house. You see the way I “saw” it (and I’ll explain my “feelings” and thoughts later) I had me a true war going on. The regulars that lived upstairs, and those that popped in downstairs to cause trouble.

Did I actually put that much thought into it? Upstairs, downstairs? Regulars and others? Walk down into the pitch black basement at 2 a.m. while your husband is out of town to verify the window isn’t really broken. You think of your children alone up in their beds above you, and creep slowly across the expanse of the cold, wood floor while the hair on the back of your neck and arms stands so tall your goose bumps hurt.

Damn right I put that much thought into it.

Is that really what was happening, a turf war? I have absolutely no idea, but that’s where my head was. Forgive me, I digress.

So I asked the regulars, the “good guys” to please try to control the riff-raff. I put my foot down and told them this was my house, I was the boss. I reminded them that they shouldn’t be there at all, and I could find people to make them all leave.

This tough chick stance actually became my platform when things got crazy, to remind them who was in charge. Did it work? The alarm still went off but not as much. Was that from my pep talk? Who knows, they had lots of other things to play with in the house.

The alarm was only a small drop of water in my haunted ocean, and the truth is, the spirits kept us hopping in a million other ways they probably give me a break on this one.

I still have so many stories to share, including apparitions, voices, footsteps, and my top 5 freakiest moments better than the movies that I haven’t even touched on yet.

Yes, I did see actual spirits in that house, and no, I’m not the only one.

Hit follow so you won’t miss any of the stories as I post them, and tune in next time for the Number 2 funniest/scariest thing that happened.

Hi everyone and welcome to my words! I’m glad you’re here.

I’ve revamped my page and started fresh, because…why not, so don’t be surprised if the old posts have disappeared. If you’re looking for something in particular that was on here, just message me and I’ll dig through the archives.

There has been so much interest surrounding my real life haunted house lately, that I decided what better way to kick off the new format than telling some of my favorite stories about the house and the ten years I lived there.

Even this first post below has started a lot of great, private conversations regarding other folks’ experiences with ghosts and spirits. I hope to generate a discussion on paranormal topics in general, and I hope to touch on all subjects in some way.

This house isn’t my first experience with the unexplained. Ever since I was very, very young, my brain was just more “open” to this sort of thing. I think that’s why I’ve had the experiences that I did. Dreams, feelings, sensing, and more. As an adult I have a healthy fascination/fear with the paranormal.

A bad Ouija experience in college taught me not to open doors you don’t know how to close. I’m still scarred by that to this day, and that game isn’t EVER allowed in my house again. That’s a whole different series of posts entirely, I guess.

I plan to post about once a week, but in the beginning I might post more often because I’m really excited to share some of what I went through. Hit the follow button so you won’t miss a post. Things might be a little irregular with the new content for a while since I’m distance learning kids, working a full time job and managing my home and hobbies.

I never imagined anyone would really be interested in the stories. To be honest, I was embarrassed to talk about them, so I’ve kept them to myself. People can be cruel, and cynics can be strong. We’ll call it a personal growth exploration that I’m sharing my thoughts like this.

So you know, I’m also an author—no I don’t have books published yet, but I’m working on it—so don’t be surprised if you see bookish/authorish posts in between the paranormal.

Enjoy, and I look forward to starting some cool discussions.