we were the cult of deep sea divers

Has life ever hit you with a series of moments that make you question everything? Like, you’ve had this journey, right? This ride that’s bumpy and wild and full of unexpected turns - and then you get knocked on your ass and you’re just left sitting there, digesting. Processing. Trying to make sense of the wreckage.

Yeah. I’m kinda there right now.

But we’re not going to talk about that. We’re going to talk about Terrifier 3.

Did I enjoy it? Sure. Art the Clown still manages to give me that primal, spine-tingling horror that I’ve only experienced a handful of times. But the magic… that ethereal spark of the second film? It was missing, man. It’s like when you take a bite of what you think is going to be a perfect dessert, but the flavor just doesn’t hit the same way. You keep chewing, trying to convince yourself it’s still good, it’s still sugar, but there’s a disappointment settling in, heavy and unavoidable. As Prue would ask - is it worth the calories?

The thing about Terrifier 2 - and yes, yes, I know, I told everyone that would listen that the gore made me squirm, but let’s focus on the artistry for a second - was Sienna. Her scene making her costume was a ritual, a ceremony of transformation. Something about it - the framing, the music, the actress… Sienna drew me in, pulled me into her world like I was witnessing something sacred. Could you dream of better artist than The Midnight for the soundtrack of that scene? Could you?? Those unguarded moments of creation that all artists experience, where it feels like it’s all just clicking - their music has always evoked that in me and to see such a beautiful track used perfectly...

Terrifer 3, for all its relentless madness, never replicated that scene. Never got anywhere close.

I’m still planning to marathon the whole trilogy once it’s released digitally, because love is complicated, and I’m a horror junkie.

Speaking of complicated love, The Great British Bake Off handed me heartbreak. Nelly! My Nelly! Can we just- No. Let me breathe for a second. I’m mourning, okay?

And in between the curveballs of life and mourning Bake Off contestants, there’s this internal war - traditional publishing versus self-publishing. I’ve been trudging through the wilds of self-publishing, fighting battles with marketing strategies and late-night revisions. That’s what I wanted. It’s what I’ve always wanted. It’s this immersive, exhausting journey where you’re the captain, the crew, and the ship itself. There’s a raw power in being fully in control, in knowing that every word out there is yours and yours alone. I like that.

But sometimes I wonder. I really do. Would traditional publishing be a better route? I don’t know. I’m weighing it. (Do I ever stop weighing anything?)

Regardless, it’s time to lotion up these new tattoos and keep moving forward.