I often compare the creation of 'Feeding the Urge' to that of the Frankenstein's monster - the literary one, not that from the movies. It began with a dream, an idea on creating something new, something different from mainstay Horror literature, something which simply was not there. The dream became an obsession, and like that infamous 18th century scientist, I began delving into forbidden knowledge and maddening stuff. Sometimes, even allowed me a grisly laugh, while researching on morgues, causes of death, and instruments of pain. Like Victor, I ventured into forlorn graveyards of human knowledge, unearthing the bodies of those who preceded me, studying their anatomy and complexities. Next, came the meat and bones of the story. I spent whole nights penning down my manuscript, assembling and dissecting it again, always looking for perfection, yet achieving none. Once, it appeared too different from what I had in mind; a wretched creature which disgusted me. At another time, it distanced so much from whom I intended the thing to be. I could not allow. So, I suppressed the thing with a pillow, and created a new head for it. This head was Nemesis. Since I do not want to spoil my novel for you, I'm not going to reveal who - or what - this Nemesis is. Feeding the Urge received its first spark of life on the night of January 1st 2012. Mary Shelley published her 'Modern Prometheus' in January the 1st 1818. I was excited, because I'm in love with her masterpiece. Unlike its literary analogue it began to talk immediately and is even able to enjoy a good conversation. Yet, beware, because inside that large skull lays still an abnormal brain. Mine.