Glitterbomb Giveaway

Horror, Hollywood and Halloween is a match made in heaven…right? I’m celebrating all things scary with a GLITTERBOMB GIVEAWAY.

All you have to do is leave a comment here and follow me on twitter @hgirlla. A winner will be selected randomly on October 11th.

“Sharply written and drawn, with deft insight into the trappings of celebrity culture, Glitterbomb just might be the ultimate Hollywood horror story.”
– Karen Berger (Founder of DC’s Vertigo Imprint)

October 12th- GLITTERBOMB book 2 is released.

Did you miss your chance at getting book 1? Don’t worry- Image Comics has got you covered- and is releasing a second printing of book one on October 12th, also.

I can’t think of a better way to celebrate than doing a giveaway.

So here we go.

I’ll mail the winner these beauties: FullSizeRender.jpg

All you have to do is leave a comment here and follow me on twitter @hgirlla. A winner will be selected randomly on October 11th.



Glitterbomb #1 Rushed to 2nd Printing!



The first issue is fast-tracked to second printing

“Taut, human, creepy s**t. Finding a new angle on the Hollywood meat factory is hard as hell, but this is all kinds of neat.” — Kieron Gillen (THE WICKED + THE DIVINE)

Image Comics is pleased to announce GLITTERBOMB #1 by Jim Zub and Djibril Morissette-Phan is being rushed back to print in order to keep up with demand.

The explosive new series is the story of Farrah Durante, a middle-aged actress hunting for her next gig in an industry where youth trumps experience. But the shallow, celebrity-obsessed culture she’s drowning in isn’t the only problem—her frustrations are a powerful lure for something horrifying out beyond the water…something ready to strike.

GLITTERBOMB #1 remains available for purchase across all digital platforms, including the Image Comics website, the official Image Comics iOS app, Comixology, iOS, Android, and Google Play.

GLITTERBOMB #1, 2nd printing (Diamond Code JUL168779), GLITTERBOMB #2 Cover A by Morissette-Phan (Diamond Code AUG160629), and Cover B by Marguerite Sauvage (Diamond Code AUG160630) will be available on Wednesday, October 12th. The final order cutoff for retailers is Monday, September 19th.

Glitterbomb is


From Jim Zub:

Today sees the release of GLITTERBOMB, my new creator-owned comic published by Image. Every time a new project arrives I feel incredibly fortunate I get the chance to create these stories and work with so many incredible collaborators.

I’ve said it many times in interviews, but Djibril Morissette-Phan is a breakout talent, both in terms of skill and professionalism. I feel very fortunate to be a part of his career at this early juncture and I know he’s going to blow people away now and in years to come.

Working with colorist K. Michael Russell for the first time has been a blast. His palettes bring a ton of mood to the page and he knows exactly when to amp up the colors or pull back and let the line art do the talking.

Marshall Dillon is a constant when it comes to lettering my creator-owned projects and the simple reason why is because he’s a rock – Solid, dependable, load-bearing. Letterers never get the kudos they deserve and Marshall is one of the best around, so that holds doubly true.

Holly Raychelle Hughes took a chance when I reached out over social media and has written engaging and eye-opening material for our back matter. So happy to have her on board.

Our alt cover artists for the first four issues: Steven CummingsMarguerite SauvageVivian Ng, and Trevor Jameus have all delivered beautiful and haunting imagery that’s helped grab attention.

The mighty Image Comics crew – Briah Skelly, Corey Murphy, Kat Salazar, Addison Duke, Jonathan Chan, Jeff Boison, Meredith Wallace, Eric Stephenson, and many more. Just like on a film set, there are dozens of people working hard behind the scenes.

Mindy McGinnis Female of the Species

Mindy Mcginnis wrote an unflinching book about rape. I admire her. mindy-main-with-name.jpg9780062320896_p0_v1_s192x300.jpg

The Female of the Species – 09/20/16

Alex Craft knows how to kill someone. And she doesn’t feel bad about it. When her older sister, Anna, was murdered three years ago and the killer walked free, Alex uncaged the language she knows best. The language of violence.

While her crime goes unpunished, Alex knows she can’t be trusted among other people, even in her small hometown. She relegates herself to the shadows, a girl who goes unseen in plain sight, unremarkable in the high school hallways.

But Jack Fisher sees her. He’s the guy all other guys want to be: the star athlete gunning for valedictorian with the prom queen on his arm. Guilt over the role he played the night Anna’s body was discovered hasn’t let him forget Alex over the years, and now her green eyes amid a constellation of freckles have his attention. He doesn’t want to only see Alex Craft; he wants to know her.

So does Peekay, the preacher’s kid, a girl whose identity is entangled with her dad’s job, though that does not stop her from knowing the taste of beer or missing the touch of her ex-boyfriend. When Peekay and Alex start working together at the animal shelter, a friendship forms and Alex’s protective nature extends to more than just the dogs and cats they care for.

Circumstances bring Alex, Jack, and Peekay together as their senior year unfolds. While partying one night, Alex’s darker nature breaks out, setting the teens on a collision course that will change their lives forever.


I’m sharing my story again.  This is a poem I wrote about being raped.



15 years old.


On my parents bed.


While I lay still and thinking

“This is it? This is sex?”


Staring at the blue fern patterned wallpaper


Bleeding in the middle of the bed.



How do I keep this secret?


What did I do to cause this?


How old is he, 20?


My voice, white noise from a transistor

radio across the room, saying “stop”

saying “no”


My parents aren’t home.


My friend (?) Tina playing pool downstairs

in the living room with this guy’s friends.


15 years old and confused,

he’s done.


He gets up . He’s wearing a condom, where did it

come from? When did he put it on?


He walks away and down the stairs.

Raped and sitting in my blood.

Raped and standing next to my parents bed,

looking at the bright red blood in the middle of the bed.


In the afternoon.


and cleaning up the mess on my parent’s bed.


The dog jumps up and begins licking the bloody sheets.


and not understanding sex or why

he wanted to have sex with me.


15 years old

I stand at the top of the stairs leaning over the black banister

and call him back upstairs.

Everyone in the pool room cheers.


He complies.

He walks upstairs and I lead him to my bedroom.

Four purple walls covered in Duran Duran posters.

Stuffed animals bear witness to my platform bed.


I lay down again,

there’s another condom.

I try to learn what he is doing.


I try to pretend it’s my choice.


It’s over again.


He goes back downstairs,


I clean myself off.

I put all the sheets in the wash.


I bleed for one week from the wound.


He said he couldn’t believe it was my first time





PitchSlam Team Obi-Wan and the Wookies

Team Obiwan2.jpg

This morning I woke up and found I made the PitchSlam Kimberly Vanderhorst team Obi-Wan and the Wookies and I immediately began shaking and crying tears of happiness.

Thank you Pitch Slam Jedi masters for taking the time to create this contest, for reading and critiquing all the entries sharing your feedback and rocking the Force in general.

And congrats to everyone who entered because that’s a huge deal. You were brave and you put yourself out there. I hope your books all find an audience.

Happy to be included with these fine #OWW writers.


Kimberly VanderHorst
#TeamOww@WritingIzzy @jessikafleck@IrateJabberwock

@shaunaholyoak@hgirlla @N_Poindexter @anomisting

@DebraSpiegel @ABusico <3 #PitchSlam

DYK there are mean girls in elementary school?

I walked through my daughter’s elementary school yesterday morning and saw how children’s faces changed after they said goodbye to parents, the subtle shift of anxiety, how they pulled down an invisible mask to get through the day, and a clump of mean girls giggling and making every other girl feel uncomfortable.

I thought this wasn’t going to happen until middle school. Wish I could tell each child I saw they are perfect the way they are, they matter and don’t be what others think you should be, be yourself.

I wish I could be a fly on the wall in the mean girls’ houses to see what is creating the meanness and I wish I could slap it out of them. (I know it’s not PC it’s an expression.)

I wish my child didn’t have anxiety and worry about her friendships about how many she has and all of the ways her mind quantifies her popularity.

I hope my love sinks in and forms a protective layer. I hope she feels her parents’ unwavering love and support when she is not near us. I hope she develops the sense of self I’m working hard to instill. I hope her heart doesn’t shrink. I hope she stays exactly who she is and I will love her always.


Scarymommy posted something similar.

6 Things I Want My Perfectly Unpopular Middle School-Aged Daughter To Know by

Miscarriage, hysterectomy, and healing oh my!

I never pulled an embryonic sac out of my body before. It wasn’t on my to do list or my bucket list. But that’s what happened.

I had two miscarriages before. Neither was like this.

The first time I lost my baby, I was lying on the OBGYN’s exam table. I was nearly done with my first trimester. I was there for an ultra sound– the one where I get to keep the pretty picture of our future child. I imaged placing it next to the one we have of our daughter framed and on our dresser.

My doctor pointed out the embryonic sac told us how it looked good and we could see the tiny person inside, but we couldn’t hear the heartbeat. He maneuvered the device trying to find the heartbeat.

Then gently said, “I’m sorry.” He explained that my baby was dead inside me and I was a walking grave.

Of course that’s not how he spoke to me.

He was kind and gentle and explained I would be okay. This happens and it didn’t mean I couldn’t have another baby. He suggested I make an appointment for a DNC.

I couldn’t make the appointment. I couldn’t believe the baby inside was dead because my breasts ached, were sore and my stomach was twisted with nausea. I wasn’t ready to let go. I needed time to process the information and believed my body would take care of itself.

I waited two weeks for my body to do what was necessary. But it didn’t. It didn’t let go of my unborn child. It didn’t release me from grief. It didn’t believe it no longer held a living soul.

I hated my body for betraying me, for pretending to be pregnant when it wasn’t. I called the doctor and had my DNC.

A few months later I was pregnant, again. I was scared and happy. The doctor kept a watchful eye over me. I came in weekly for blood test to make sure my hormonal levels were doing what they were supposed to.

I found myself on the table once again, with the ultrasound machine’s wand inside me. My loving and nervous husband stood next tome. I was probably crying. The doctor pointed out the sac and my tiny fluttering grain of rice. Did you know that embryo’s look like a grain of rice with a heartbeat the first time you see them?

We had proof. I was pregnant. Relief didn’t rush through me. The doctor told me to come back next week.

We came back. The doctor examined me again. My embryonic sac was growing. It looked good but no matter how he searched he couldn’t find an embryo or heartbeat.

My doctor explained how my body reabsorbed the pregnancy. I had the DNC the following day. I wanted it out.

I wanted death out of my body. I wasn’t going to cradle it. I wasn’t going to hold death inside my womb. I wasn’t going to let it get any more comfortable with me.

It took me five years to get over my inability to keep a pregnancy.

It was a pain I couldn’t explain to my husband, the feeling of loving someone who didn’t love you back. I had guilt about losing those pregnancies. I thought perhaps the unborn child knew how much I loved my daughter and didn’t think I could love him or her enough. I had a million emotional pains and one by one I coped with them all. I healed.

Then seven years after the last miscarriage I began to bleed. After a week long menstrual cycle the blood began rushing out of me. The toilet filled with blood. I grabbed a towel and ran into the shower leaving a trail of blood behind. There was blood on my feet. It was bright red.

I got into the shower hoping to wash it away. The shower floor was stained red. I stayed in the shower hoping it would all wash away. I was scared. I didn’t know what was happening. When it didn’t stop after ten minutes I got out. I used a super tampon and a pad and when I stood up blood rushed out of me soaking through the tampon and pad.

I was shaking. I locked the bathroom door. I didn’t want my daughter to see all the blood. I didn’t want to scare her. I wasn’t sure what I should to.

I reached for the trash bag and removed the tampon from my body. On it was a bloody jellyfish. I stared at it and the world around me vanished. My hand shook. My legs were unsteady. I ran to the toilet. My body purged more blood and blood clots.

I didn’t know what was going on. I called my husband. I called my neighbor to come get my daughter. I was crying.

“I’m so scared. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Three years ago I was told I would never have any more children. It was impossible because I had the hormones of an eighty-year-old woman. But seeing the bright blood and the mass convinced me I was in the middle of a miscarriage.

My neighbor got my girl and sat with me calming me down until my husband got home. I went to the doctor and he told me I was presenting as pregnant.

I sat on his table and looked at him. How is that possible?

He didn’t have an answer.

I was in shock. I couldn’t wrap my head around what he said. I took a pregnancy test at the doctor’s office. Negative. He asked if I was ever told if I have fibroids. I said yes.

They put me on hormones. The hormones kept me bleeding for two more weeks.

I went back. The ultrasound tech was kind. She made sure I was comfortable being examining my body.

I didn’t need to be a tech to know something was very wrong.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. I had a 9 cm fibroid taking up my entire uterus. “You’ll lose ten pounds when that comes out,” she said. I got dressed and ushered into another office. My doctor was on vacation so another came in. He rubbed his bearded face in his hands. This gesture did not instill confidence. He looked sympathetically at me. I hate sympathy.

“Say it.”

He took a deep breath. Emoted more sympathy.

“I need to hear you say it,” I said.

“You need a hysterectomy.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I do anything else?”

“Leave.” I was crying before his back was out the door.

I walked to the front desk to schedule another appointment with my doctor when he returned from vacation the following week in order to schedule the hysterectomy. I really tried to keep it together but all the years of trying to have a baby and losing babies and bleeding non-stop for a month got to me. My very brokenness eviscerated me.

I miscarried, again. My body expelled the embryonic sac. I held it. And it grew a fibroid instead.

I shook from trying to keep my tears inside. “I have to…” I began ugly crying. My lips quivered and my nostrils flared- I needed a tissue. I felt a warm soft hand on my back. It held me up and comforted me.

“Last year I was the woman crying at reception. You’ll be okay.” I saw her full round belly, but not her face. I saw all the bellies in the waiting room like eyes judging me for my inability to conceive. I felt as if I lost my woman card.

A week later my doctor went over the finer details and all the options. The best option for me was a full hysterectomy including removal of my cervix and fallopian tubes. I got to keep my ovaries. The bad news was I had to wait another six weeks for an available operating room.

Six weeks of bleeding. Six weeks of pain. Six weeks of mourning for myself. Six weeks of coming to grips with my new reality. Six weeks of emotional ups and down. Then five days before the beginning of the school year it all came out.

At first it felt as if someone took a cheese grater to my insides then a baseball bat before running me over with a truck. I was exhausted. I was in pain. I couldn’t get from my bed to the bathroom without having to rest. I slept most of the day and watched Dr. Who when I wasn’t asleep. My husband made sure I kept up with my pain meds because if I didn’t the pain was RIDICULOUS. Friends brought food. I got up- high as a kite on Percocet and was glad for the company.

My stomach was bruised and swollen. Despite having a laparoscopic hysterectomy my recovery wasn’t easy.

“You had major surgery,” my doctor reminded me during my one-week post op appointment.He told me I was healing well. I told him about my exhaustion. He told me I’d feel like that for about a month.

I felt my internal organs searching for the mass that once was- for the organs that used to touch my intestines. It all hurt, it felt weird and as if synapses were longing to fire with ones that were cut out.

I had to go slow and be mindful.

Three weeks post op and I have a bacterial infection growing around my belly button incision in a two-inch red, blotchy rash around it. It’s so gross and it itches like I have poison ivy inside my abdomen and out. I’m on a new prescription to kill it. I’m a little more tired again.

Healing takes time. I’m not so patient with myself. But I do recognize despite the need to take a hardcore nap during the day and go to bed early, I am doing well. I am healing. I will be healthy one day soon. I will be whole despite the hole I felt a few weeks ago.

I am healing a body that betrayed me. But it’s my body and I love it and its new scars. Scars are cool. They tell a story.

And I’m a storyteller mind, body and soul.

Fickle Muse

Creativity is fickle. I wrote for eight hours yesterday- inspired thoughts rambled then lined up, my fingertips dutifully tapped away on my keyboard then I replaced my mouse’s batteries and finished writing a story. I felt good about myself. Went to bed exhausted and satisfied.

Today, I’m revising a story I wrote a week ago and it’s all hard work. Nothing feel right. I try to massage it, make it more compelling and print worthy. But my creative muse vanished she’s mute and no matter how hard I type nothing works. Or at least it’s not working for me. I’m sure you can tell- even this post is awkward.

You ever have days like that?


Promising Pages

I wanted to pass along some information about Promising Pages upcoming “Bookie Awards” where they will be honoring literacy efforts in the Charlotte community.

They have categories for local author and local children’s author among others. I hope you can help spread the word and perhaps even nominate a deserving person or two.

Promising Pages is a Charlotte, NC based 501(c)(3) non-profit  that takes books others have outgrown and gives them new life. They partner with Social Service Agencies, Title I Schools, and other organizations to get books and revolutionary programming to kids who need it! Our mascots, Erm the Bookworm and Erma the Bookworma, place these books directly into the hands of children.  Our books and programs have the potential to turn ordinary children into enthusiastic bookworms!


I remember the first time I saw Ben Affleck. I was living in LA and at an IFP West screening of Chasing Amy. The director, Kevin Smith, spoke after the movie. I liked him. Liked the movie- it was pure independent feature and a slice of 1997 saved to film.

poster227x227   I remember liking Jason Lee and Joey Lauren Adams and the whole idea of falling in love with what you can’t have and the heartbreak that must happen. I was curious about comics- had my favorite characters like Wolverine and the Tick back then. Kevin used comics as setting and character in the movie.

I wanted to be a Producer who made films like this. What I never thought was, I’m going to be part of a comic book team.

crwj_kzw8aabfpm            But guess what happened to me? After working eighteen years in film and television I left the business to be a full time writer and stay-at-home mom. (because for me raising a good person is the hardest and most rewarding job)

And eight years after that I got a tweet from Jim Zub saying he read an essay of mine and wanted to know if I was interested in writing back matter for his comic book GLITTERBOMB. We tweeted back and forth then emailed- he sent me the first book and I was like HELLS YEAH! SIGN ME UP.

I became part of an amazing creative team. A creative team that is encouraging and talented and kind. It’s all very different than LA creative teams and I’m really liking it.

Here’s the team:

Creator/Writer: @JimZub

Co-Creator/Line Art/Cover



Back Matter Essay


Today, GLITTERBOMB launches- and I’d love for you to see what serendipity looks like as a horror comic.

18 years film production + 8 years of writing + one of my published essays= GLITTERBOMB back matter

Back Matter are my stories of life in LA and sets the real life backdrop for Farrah and the horror of a fading Hollywood actress. #whodoesn’tlikerevenge?


If you’e not sure where you can buy GLITTERBOMB click here.



A few months ago Jim Zub reached out to me via twitter. Now you never know what you’re going to get when a stranger flatters you but he is 100% professional and we soon traded emails. He read one of my xoJane essays and was curious if I was willing to reprint it with him.

He sent me a PDF of Glitterbomb and I fell in love with the story and art. And I loved his professionalism and the fact Glitterbomb was his passion project. He put his own money on the line and pitched it to Image Comics and the rest will soon be history.

What thrills me more than being asked to contribute to the back matter in each of the upcoming 4 issues, is the talent associated with this comic.

So if you’re curious about what the truth about Hollywood looks like via comic books, this is the one to read.

GLITTERBOMB launches September 7th.

Here’s a Comic Shop Locator site for anyone to find where one is in their area:



SEPTEMBER 7 / 40 PAGES / FC / M / $3.99

Farrah Durante is a middle-aged actress hunting for her next gig in an industry where youth trumps experience. Her frustrations become an emotional lure for something horrifying out beyond the water…something ready to exact revenge on the shallow celebrity-obsessed culture that’s lead her astray.

Fan favorite Jim Zub (Wayward, Thunderbolts) and newcomer Djibril Morissette-Phan tear into the heart of Hollywood in GLITTERBOMB, a dramatic horror story about fame and failure.

The entertainment industry feeds on our insecurities, desires, and fears. You can’t toy with those kinds of primal emotions without them biting back…

“A gut-punch of glitz and blood and starf**ked culture. You want to read this.”
– Chuck Wendig (Blackbirds)

“Taut, human, creepy s**t. Finding a new angle on the Hollywood meat factory is hard as hell, but this is all kinds of neat.”
– Kieron Gillen (The Wicked + The Divine)

“Sharply written and drawn, with deft insight into the trappings of celebrity culture, Glitterbomb just might be the ultimate Hollywood horror story.”
– Karen Berger (Founder of DC’s Vertigo Imprint)


check out some of the reviews:

• Newsarama: 10/10 “With its creature-feature hook and its blunt focus on the dark things women are subjected to in Hollywood, Glitterbomb #1 is a triumph.”

• Nerdist: 5/5 “Zub and Morrissette-Phan nail it. Glitterbomb #1 looks and reads great..”

• Adult Podcast For Kids“I cannot recommend this book enough. A fantastic read.”

• Comic Buzz“The art style is detailed and realistic, with a dash of the surreal, creating an eerie atmosphere befitting the material.”

• Comics Grinder“Glitterbomb provides a clever horror vibe as well as great biting social commentary.”

• Critical Threat“Farrah is one of the most instantly relatable characters I’ve read in comics, or any other media. I think it speaks to both Zub’s skill as a writer and Djibril Morissette-Phan’s talent as an artist.”

• Impulse Gamer: 4.9/5 “Overall, this new series has the potential to be the next sleeper hit from Image Comics. The story by Zub is intense, and it will grab the reader’s attention right from the start.”

Jim is incredibly generous. His blog is full of tutorials. Check back for more updates.


Resurrecting Sunshine

I met Lisa A. Koosis in a MediaBistro YA class. I’d just moved cross-country and was jacked up on hormones desperately trying to convince my body to stop having miscarriages. So obviously I was stable and a pleasure to meet virtually.

I was working my way through my first YA story WHAT DEATH HAS TOUCHED and despite my desire not to be clumsy I was and Lisa looked past my flaws to the writer I hoped to be. She became my friend.

Since meeting on-line she has written at least five books, queried lots, entered contests and received many No’s. She confessed to me she was going to quit writing. But I just couldn’t let her. You know why? She’s freaking talented! 

We corresponded and traded heartaches. She dazzled me with her ability to NaNoWriMo and her imagination. Her creative lens is unique and tasty to read.

But the very best news she ever shared was when Brianne Johnson Literary Agent at Writer’s House took her on as a client and sold her book. The road was not easy, but that’s Lisa’s story to share.

I’m telling this version of the friend of the woman who never gave up, who kept getting better, who continued to write and be kind and generous because I want everyone to know being an author is hard work. Lisa did all the hard work and put years into it and I never doubted she’d find her place in the world.

And today, 5 days post-op for me, as I’m feeling a little sorry for myself and in pain, my husband retrieved this from the mail. My own personal ray of Sunshine. And I started to cry, as if it was my accomplishment. This is how much her success means to me.

Then I picked the book up, smelled the freshly printed pages, checked out my book mark and flipped to the back. And to my total surprise she thanked me in her Acknowledgements. The tears came out and I’m in disbelief.

Here’s to you my long-distance friend. I am so proud of you for crossing the finish line to publication. I will always be your cheerleader!

To everyone else, this book is good. Please read it. Order it.