D. Fierst

Take a breath. Then another… and one more. In slow, out slow. Feeling any better yet? Me neither.

After the recent election results, I find myself grappling with frustration and disbelief. In my last post, I hinted at my hopes for the future, but here we are. So now I’m left with a choice: Should I use this platform to vent my feelings? Or should I shift the focus entirely to writing?

After a week of contemplation, and one long held deep breath, I’ve decided the best way forward is right up the middle. (And exhale before I pass out.)

Signing my publishing contract this last weekend was a bright spot amid the chaos. As I dive into rewrites on my zombie novel, I’m reflecting on how real-world fears can and should seep into fiction.

Writing horror, especially about zombies, isn’t just about blood and gore. It’s about exploring deeper fears: being outnumbered, feeling hopeless, struggling to adapt, and seeing a way through based on a hope for something better and not just survival. The overwhelming nature of zombies is what make them my favorite ‘monster.’ The fear they evoke is so easily transferable to real life.

Story time:

I worked in Japan for a while about ten years ago. I lived in a very small mountain town almost in the middle of the country. Being the only non-Japanese in the whole town led to the children pointing and staring at the tall white dude slinking down to the Starbucks/partial bookstore with the only small English section. It was an experience that opened my eyes and brought about a new level of awareness of being in the ‘minority.’ (Of course, this in no way compares to what other minority groups experience daily as it was more out of an air of curiosity than fear/hatred.)  

Now, as a “progressive” (aka lazy lib) feeling isolated post-election, I’m reminded of that time.

That fear and uncertainty I currently feel can be directly pumped into my writing to be examined, pulled apart and hopefully, understood to some degree. Of course, it can and should enhance the writing, making the fear within the novel more poignant and relatable.

However, here is the second part to that story (harking back to what I wrote in my last post):

One night I found myself having dinner with customers and co-workers. The group consisted of individuals from Germany, Japan, Russia, Poland, Belgium and myself as the lone American. What happened? Not much besides sharing great food and hours of beer and sake. As the night wore on and everyone got a bit rosy in the cheeks the conversations swirled around your usual topics of work, crooked politicians, kids, house projects, greedy corporations, favorite movies, and a plethora of totally boring daily life. The night ended in cheers, waves and everyone walking crooked lines back home having found a connection through life’s mundane moments.

And that’s the hope I want my hero to find amid the zombie apocalypse: even when the world feels bleak and overwhelming, small human connections matter. They might matter the most. If I can weave that essence into my novel, it could turn into something truly meaningful.