Let’s talk crab guts, coastal rot, and the sweet agony of rewriting an ending that just didn’t hit hard enough.
I’m neck-deep in the final draft of Feeding Ground, and like any good bloodbath, things are getting messy. Originally, I thought I was on the home stretch — you know, just sharpening a few claws, splashing on some extra gore, maybe adding a decapitation or two for flavor.
But then I hit the last act and thought: “This isn’t brutal enough.”
So now I’m rewriting the final chapters, punching up the climax, and making sure this book doesn’t just end — it detonates. Think:
- More desperation.
- Bigger sacrifices.
- Uglier deaths.
- And a final showdown that’ll leave you needing a tetanus shot.
It’s taking longer than planned, but trust me — this isn’t a delay. It’s a refinement in carnage. I’d rather bleed over the keyboard now than leave you with a limp finish when you deserve a blood-soaked finale worthy of a boathook-wielding landlady and a crab the size of a Volkswagen.
Progress Report
- Final draft: 75% complete
- Ending overhaul: in progress
- Amount of coffee consumed: illegal in some counties
- Mood: “Click, click, clickety-click!”
Want to Help?
If you haven’t already, pre-order Roadkill Girls — my June release and the first of five grindhouse horrors dropping monthly through October.
PRE-ORDER — support the sick stuff, tell your depraved friends, and let’s keep the horror flowing.
Thanks for riding with me. This summer’s gonna be wall-to-wall with mutated monsters, vengeful ghosts, killer invertebrates, and all the cinematic filth I can cram into a paperback.
Stay tuned, stay trashy, and remember —
they crawl faster when they smell blood.
— John
Crab-fighting, deadline-dodging, VHS-watching maniac