Kindle Me Here:

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

REUNION, a review

You probably know Maria Olsen as the casting director from the fabulous Starry Eyes...or maybe as the Fury from Percy Jackson and the Olympians:  The Lightning Thief. If you don't know her, you will because her IMDB page is simply one of the busiest I have seen and her MOnsterWorks66 production company ,who teamed with ACH Reunion for this film, is cranking out product like a wood chipper cranks out blood and bone fragments:  in bulk.
So when she asked if I would review REUNION (lil' ol' me?) of course I was excited.
Thanks Maria for the screener and for the opportunity.


Friday, August 28, 2015

Ghostbusters III: An open letter to Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray, Ernie Hudson, Ivan Reitman and the late, great Harold Ramis

And Annie Potts, Sigourney Weaver,  Rick Moranis, Peter McNichol.....

I'm a writer, but I don't do fan fiction. At least I haven't since I was about twelve and I wrote a sequel to John Carpenter's Halloween. I   think Halloween 2 and 3 were out by then. It didn't matter, the story was shit and I didn't care. I was just writing.
In contrast, I have long wanted a third Ghostbusters...and even though I'm almost 43 now, I had to write this just for me. So if it sucks, I'll own it.
I'm not going to bemoan the sequel that is in the works. I'm not happy about it, but it isn't for me. That's my problem. It's not for the fans. It's for the money. I hope the new flick rocks and brings in a new generation of fans...but just in case there's a chance, here's what I'm thinking...call it a first draft...

Logo by Rutherford.
   


               GHOSTBUSTER III
               The version I want to see.
               Fan Fiction by Dan Dillard



               EXT. NATIONAL MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY, SMITHSONIAN -
               EVENING

               TITLE: Fourth of July, 2004

               The crowd is thick with interested visitors trying to see the
               entrance to the museum. Barricades and police keep them back.
               A REPORTER stands next to one of many white news vans, ready
               to deliver the story. A CAMERAMAN points his rig at her as a
               cigarette dangles from his mouth.

                                   REPORTER
                         Think you could put that out?

               The cameraman peeks around his viewfinder, hating the woman.

                                   CAMERAMAN
                         Nope.

Saturday, June 20, 2015

Jurassic'n me about dinosaurs?

I hate doing film reviews. I find things I like about movies and things I don't like about movies. The takeaway here is this:  making movies is hard. Anyone that pulls off a feature length film gets my respect, even for the worst of films. So this may sound review-ish, but it's more of one dude's opinion and shouldn't affect yours.
That said, a movie like Jurassic World was going to happen. I mean, if the entire crew (and it's a huge crew) had quit, the studios would've found another crew and pressed on. And most times when you toss the GNP of many small countries at a project, the end result will be something. At least it will be a professional looking piece when all is said and done. 
So, I applied some odd thoughts to Jurassic World. I went in thinking, okay, take away the budget. Take away the glam and the sexy outer coating. What's left?


Wednesday, May 13, 2015

'DIG' is here. Get your copy today.

I've written four collections, been included in a load of anthologies, web journals, blogs, horror mags, and now...I've finished my sixth novel. This is the one I'm most proud of. Maybe it's because it's about one of my hometowns. Maybe it's because this one is particularly wicked and has a high body count. Maybe it's because I just like the story.

Whatever it is, 'DIG' is here and what good is that if you aren't reading it? Go get a copy. E-books are available. Paperback coming in the next few weeks.

AMAZON
SMASHWORDS

Cover Art for 'DIG' by Dan Dillard

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Night-Night, Doc

Twenty-one years ago I had about a thousand dollars to my name and I wanted a motorcycle. How I ended up with a parrot is anybody's guess, but in hindsight it was probably a better idea. I'm clumsy and I don't always think through my decisions. Come to think of it, buying a parrot might not have been a wise choice for a twenty-one year old kid either, but I like animals better than I do people. Still, it's a long term commitment. Any pet is a commitment, but parrots live...like forever. At least that's what I thought.

I worked in a pet store back then. A single guy with no real aspirations except to get my next paycheck so I could make rent, my main job was taking care of marine fish and birds. When the motorcycle deal fell through, I decided I wanted a bird of my own. I already had a cockatiel and we were chums, so what trouble could one more be? Lots as it turned out. The second bird  turned out to be my oldest friend, and the longest relationship I've had in my life outside of immediate family.

Saturday, February 21, 2015

HEADLESS. A review.



Today, aside from shoveling a foot of snow off the driveway, I was treated to a pre-release screener of the upcoming horror flick, HEADLESS, from Gentleman Monster Productions and Forbidden Films


What’s HEADLESS, you ask? It’s one of those boy-raised-in-a-cage-like-a-dog-and-fed-blood-so-he-grows-up-and-kills-people-and-has-sex-with-their-heads-while-he-fantasizes-about-a-weird-sister-creature-thing stories. Yeah, that old trope. It’s heartwarming really.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

My Kid Has POTS.

So, my oldest child has POTS. It's not a joke about Colorado, nor is it something from an old Cheech and Chong movie.


NOPE.


Not these either.


I wish it was. It stands for Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome, which when you break it down seems simple:

Postural --depending on her posture.
Orthostatic --related to standing upright.
Tachycardia --relative rapid heart action whether physiological (post exercise) or pathological.
Syndrome -- A disease that encompasses a particular group of symptoms.

In other words, when she stands up, her heart rate might increase 40 bpm.


Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Coming Soon!--- DIG, a novel by Dan Dillard

Sometimes, you have to write a book about  your hometown...and in that book you have to destroy everything and let it rebuild itself. It's fun. Here's chapter one. The rest of the book will be along shortly. I have to finish the editing first.
Cover is concept only.

CHAPTER ONE
Loretta Gates

The sun was hot by 9:00 am and there was already a thick, soupy quality to the air. Loretta stretched to ease a hitch in her back. Dark patches of sweat grew in the armpits of her brown, PEACE t-shirt and on the waistband of her gray Capri pants. It had begun to run, dripping into places she didn’t like to mention. A woman who never married, who was never loved by anyone but her father, and who never grew close enough to a friend, lover or otherwise to have such discussions. She didn’t even speak of those things with her own doctor if it could be helped.
Loretta Gates worked for thirty years in a textile mill that sat on the west bank of the Cape Fear River and retired at age fifty-six. She had lived in the same hulking, pine-log house outside of the small port town of Smithville, NC since she was born. Her mother passed when she was still in grade school. Her father when she was thirty-five, back in 1977. Since then, she’d lived alone. She was accustomed to it and she liked it that way.

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

THE REST OF THE YEAR

Did you ever have a thought so sinister, you just couldn’t share it with people? Not me...

THE REST OF THE YEAR
By Dan Dillard

Rain pitter-pattered on the rooftops of all the houses in the small town of Bloomington, Indiana. The noise might have reminded a person of the light footsteps of a small dog—its toenails in need of a clip—tapping happily across a hardwood floor. The sun had gone down hours before. It was unseasonably warm there in the dark. The trusses groaned underneath the old man’s weight and he paused for a moment before continuing on.  

His reindeer stood stoic and quiet, well-trained over the centuries to do as they were instructed. They were grey with age, but thick with muscles, and covered in scars from many a close call ducking in under cover of night, and escaping the eyes of third shift workers and the naughty children who peek. Jagged antlers poked out from their heads, most of them broken. Not quite the show animals from books and movies.

The crimson sack clutched in his vice-like, black-gloved hand, he dropped down through the large chimney landing in the open fireplace with a thud. He paused, waiting for hushed gasps and whispers, a growling dog, the jingle of a collar or for a light to flicker on somewhere in the home, but none did. All was quiet. Not a creature stirred. A smirk peeled across his bearded chin. One more step, ducking out of the fireplace, and he looked around, his smirk widening into a rotten-toothed smile.

On the wall, there was a panel with glowing buttons. An alarm. Santa pulled off his glove and held his hand up to the box. He concentrated, closing his eyes. After a moment, the state changed from ARMED to SYSTEM IS READY TO ARM.


Nice furniture, expensive tastes. It was a good house he had chosen. He tipped his stocking cap back on his balding head, the little white ball of fluff dangling down between his shoulder blades. A much thinner man than the world envisioned stood in that living room and surveyed the lay of the land. The kitchen was to the left and that was always his first stop.

Friday, December 19, 2014

IBUPROFEN

It has been a while since I've done a flash fiction piece for the blog... So here goes. Keep ahead of the pain, folks. Don't let it control you.


It’s a toothache. Or perhaps the pain is coming from somewhere in my jaw, beneath or between the teeth. Either way it throbs and makes me see shades of orange and red. That whole side of my face feels like it is slowly being inflated, bone pushing against meat pushing against the outer skin, pulling taut until it might snap open and spill onto the floor.

“Daddy, can I have some candy?”

I hear her, but ignore it. I have to because I know if I answer, it will be a snap response, it will be harsh, it will bring tears. I need my medicine before I can speak to her rationally.

“Daddy, can I call my friends? Can Leah spend the night? It’s Friday. You remember on Tuesday when you said we’d talk about it on Friday?”


Throbbing. Aching. Where is the damned ibuprofen? It’s always in this cabinet. Second shelf, white bottle, store brand. Four extra strength pills kill my lower back pain every time. It’ll work on my jaw, won’t it?

Monday, November 24, 2014

Look who's reading my books!


Here are just a few unpaid (and possibly faked) endorsements for my work. Pass it on...I would love to add more pics to this list.




Friday, November 7, 2014

Standing Up For Horror!

Okay, I'm not going to present any revelations here. Or maybe for some folks, I am. I hear this day in and day out from writers...so much so that I've stopped bringing the topic up. I admit, I've actually baited some forums and Facebook page discussions asking the question: Where has all the horror gone?