When I write, I try to imagine the environment, the time, and the place where my characters hang out. Music is important in creativity. At times I use it to psyche myself into the mood of my story, using the energy for the beats or action. Other times I need silence to focus, especially with editing. My Summer of 1973 series has a definitive playlist. Based on the true crimes of the Houston Mass Murders, I really wanted to focus on the neighborhood of the Heights and the musi

Once, if my memory serves me well— When I was young, I actively sought change. One of my favorite reprieves from my turbulent teenage years was a triangle of pines. It was in the neighborhood at Freeway Manor Park, behind a church. The field was dark, and I could sit between the pines and watch the stars. I would go there to think, hoping an alignment, a constellation, or a lunar eclipse would spark a transformation within me. Going to the pines at midnight and waiting was

The deciding factor of writing Summer 1973 was the funeral for the 29th victim of the Houston Mass Murders. On November 12th, 2009, the cold case had grown cold again, and the county was burying the last unidentified remains in a pauper’s field, a cemetery filled with the unknown.

Imprint is cyberpunk flash fiction about Axel and Max taking their relationship to the next level via a bio connection. This dark, disruptive, sci-fi micro-story is part of Anomaly: Year One from Shacklebound Books. The idea for the story came to me while I was writing Neon Edge , a cyberpunk novel, during the pandemic. Genre always draws me in, from watching Blade Runner many times to the dusty ethos of Mad Max and reading authors like Philip K. Dick, William Gibson, J.G.

In the winter of 1997, I was out with my friend at Pacific Street, a leather/Levi bar, when I discovered the disturbing story of Elmer Wayne Henley. It was a weeknight, and the bar was sort of dead, so we went outside to the back patio and ran into this older guy, a local painter, who was smoking a joint. Stoned, he ranted about an upcoming exhibit of serial killer art at his gallery. The backstory was wild. He talked about how another teen, David Brooks, lured Henley to meet

How the true crime genre influenced Summer 1973 by Dean Cade.

Costumes and makeup effects have always been a part of Halloween for me. In the 1970s, when I was a kid, my mom would get me one of the simple plastic outfits from TG&Y to go trick-or-treating. Generic masks lined the shelves, including skulls, vampires, ghosts, and even a knockoff of Frankenstein’s monster. With the popularity of Superfriends , there was also a brief period of running around in Superman Underoos with a red towel for a cape, to my mom’s chagrin. As I got olde

Lost Angels , a work of flash writing, is an important part of my writing journey. The title is a reference to an amazing 1989 film about a troubled youth portrayed by Adam Horovitz (Beastie Boys) and his psychiatrist, portrayed by Donald Sutherland. The film resonated with me. I identified with the protagonist, Tim Doolan. I had anger issues as a teen and was abducted by the police at school and committed to West Oaks Psychiatric Hospital in 1985 on the drug rehab unit. My p

Movies have always been a part of my life. I grew up as an only child and loved escaping through film. My passion was horror, but I enjoyed action, adventure, comedy, and drama if they spoke to me. Starting at roughly thirteen, I would ride my BMX bike to Almeda Mall to see a movie. Two theaters were on opposite sides of the parking lot, the Almeda East 4 and Almeda West 5. Other times, my mom or grandmother dropped me off to see midnight movies ( Rocky Horror , Terminator ,

By the end of the 1980s, the punk scene had died out, so I returned to the metal scene. I was old enough to get into clubs but not drink legally. The Axiom was a wretched dive that was perfect for thrash and death metal. In a strange coincidence, it was the final location of the Cabaret Voltaire, the punk club I had snuck into underage. I was eighteen and had survived some crazy times on the streets. My look was a bit of a greaser throwback. The underground 1950s subculture w

Life can change in only a few seconds. I was 19 when I had my second car wreck. The first was when I was 16. Chased by the police, I...

I grew up raised by my mother, an only child. I was a latchkey kid who rebelled into a wild teenager for many reasons. She did the best she could, considering all that went down. My mom, Sherry, died on May 28th, 2009; it’s difficult to believe so much time has passed. In memoriam, I’m writing about our first trip to Cancun, Mexico, in January 1989. During the late 1980s, I was spending more time at home after some tumultuous years. My mom figured it was better for me to part

I used to be a punk teenager with anger issues who loved destroying things, breaking them, or burning them. I had so much pent-up energy that I literally rocked in place, unable to sit still. When I was fifteen, I found an outlet in the frenetic energy of the mosh pit. My first experience was voyeuristic. I watched snippets of pits on late-night cable, Night Flight on the weekends, or rented punk videos if I was lucky enough to find a copy at a local video store. One film th

Who the fuck am I? I guess that is my existential question. I feel like I know myself pretty well, although time has definitely changed...