I was taught by author Jerry B. Jenkins to be a ferocious self-editor.  He ingrains that discipline, making you responsible for every word—for clarity, rhythm, pacing, and so on. And I'd like to think some of that instinct imprinted early, back when I first tried reading Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls at the age of eleven or twelve. Being somewhat of a perfectionist, I’ve taken things to extremes I’d never wish on another writer. I obsess on a microscopic level ove

Writ & Ruin by J.W. Arthur (ba-BUM ba-BUM ba-BUM ba-BUM ba-BUM) I gave them breath, my essence sealed in ink, then loosed each in a dark 'n hellish place. I sowed the seeds of horror, made them think, and saw life bloom near death with fragile grace. The tales were traps, not triumphs—wounds, not wins, I cheered 'n watched as fate would test them all. Each fought their sins and madness spawned within, some lived—most died, 'n many missed their call. I prayed they'd break beyo

The attention to detail in my work has been demanding. Given the legacy of my cinematic and literary influences, the standard I hold myself to is understandably high. Even so, as I edit and revise, I'm increasingly satisfied with what I'm accomplishing. The manuscript is one of survival horror, and I refuse to hold back when depicting how the characters navigate their apocalyptic setting. For terror to resonate, it must feel authentic. While there are flashes of gruesom