I run a hand through my greasy hair and scratch my chin beneath the week-long growth of beard.

I look down at the notebook filled with lines scratched through all my different suggestions.

Go for the car, go for the gun, go for help.

Dozens of different ideas, and all of them failures.

My handwriting has become practically illegible in the frantic scrawl as I jotted down

my last ideas, all of them failures as well.

I opened another energy drink.

I haven't worked on my blog in days, haven't answered my phone, haven't even gotten up for

my chair, except to put the VHS back into the VCR. I don't have time for anything else.

I have to save her. I run a blog called the Slasher Files, not the most original name,

but then my beloved movies aren't exactly original either.

There's nothing I love more than movies with masked killers. The gorier, the better.

My parents weren't great at monitoring what I watched, and my obsession started after my older

brother and I accidentally watched child's play at the tender ages of

six and four. My brother was traumatized for life and locked all his toys in his closet.

Me? I was hooked. Think of any slasher film, and I guarantee you that I've seen it.

From the staple series like Friday the 13th

and Texas Chainsaw Massacre to the obscure indies like Beware Children at Play and the Bowling Alley

Butcher. I went to college and studied film and even worked behind the scenes on a few low-budget

slasher's. Eventually, I realized I had more

fun analyzing and watching them than actually making them. It's not too surprising, consider how

many people prefer reading books over writing them. Still, I couldn't keep my love of the genre to

...