I found out about Fangoria’s Weird Words contest late in the game. I dusted off an old story I had, “The Girl I Hugged,” and completely rewrote the idea, experimenting with narrative form and voice. The resulting story is definitely my favorite, but alas was too long for the contest, even after some very deep edits. So I decided to dust off “Pink Lemonade,” another old favorite. “Pink Lemonade” won a spot in the contest and is currently published on Fangoria’s website. Read it here.

In April, two things happened: I turned 29 and I attended the World Horror Convention in Austin,TX. It was beyond cool. I wrote a longer post about (read it here). It was one of the pivotal moments in my career, one that made me feel like a real author.

Inspiration struck out of the blue (as it tends to do) while I was at the convention. I started writing the story, “Monstercock,” when I got home. Unfortunately, the story proved difficult to write, and I put it aside for a couple months. When I came back to it, I cut out a good chunk of it and called it good. But it never sat right with me, so I put that chunk back in, but rearranged it, more to my satisfaction. This draft is finally something that I feel good about submitting, so look for news soon. Read an excerpt of it here.

My summer was very busy for me and the tragic result was that I didn’t write very much. However, I reconnected with my muse and the resulting flash fiction piece, “Dahlia,” is probably only meaningful to me. However, if you’re interested, you can read it here.

Oysters form pearls when a grain of sand irritates it. So a barking dog made me write “That Neighbor Dog.” I like this story because it introduces a kind of twist that reminds me of classic noir. Read an excerpt of it here.

I tend to write stories and then leave them alone for awhile before coming back to edit them. I wrote “In Sanguis Veritas” in 2010, and finally got back to it. The basic idea was there, and the rewrites only strengthened an already solid story. Read an excerpt of it here.

Along those same lines, I re-edited an old story, “The Doll.” Read an excerpt of it here.

Work marches forward with Clean Freak. I’ve written three more chapters, am writing chapter 7 and drafting chapter 8. I still feel good about the idea itself and how it’s coming out. I pitched it to moderate success at WHC. I look forward to finishing it and continuing to pitch it.

Last but not least, I’m working on my first collaboration with musician, colleague and friend, Jim Territo. The project is super top secret, codenamed SJ! (the exclamation point is part of the title). I can’t really say anything about it yet, but it will be a musical comedy.

In May, I joined the staff of Dark Moon Books as a story editor. Word from the grapevine is that authors like my work on their stories, which is a huge boost for me. Also a huge boost is that in October, I was given a monthly column in Dark Eclipse, DMD’s e-magazine. “From the Chimerical Dark” explores such topics as superstitions, alternate horror, insights into the industry in general and DMD specifically, and really whatever else pops into my head. They haven’t taken it away from me yet, so I must be doing a halfway decent job. Order Dark Eclipse, read my column, and support American jobs here!

2011 was a great year, and 2012 will be an even better one!

Until December 21, when the Zombie Apocalypse begins!

It’s okay, I’ll wait.

…

Alright, I hope you went and read the story, because what follows is why I think this story is so great, including spoilers. If you read right through, don’t say I didn’t warn you or give you plenty of opportunity to stop reading.

Okay, here it goes.

The story is written in first person, which is always kind of sketchy for me. First person narration just has the potential to limit a story so much because the reader only gets that one character’s part of the story. However, in “Georgie,” the final horror comes from, and depends on, the reader only getting one perspective through the story. I’ll come back to that in a bit.

In the opening section, Mr. Ford gave me what I thought would be the full arc of the story’s narrative. The narrator’s son has died. If that was it, the narrator laments, he and his wife probably wouldn’t have divorced. No, the narrator’s wife leaves him because the son comes back – as what, we don’t know yet. But we want to know.

Back to first person narration for a moment: one of the reasons that it often doesn’t work for me is because of how dry it is. But Mr. Ford writes the narration conversationally, almost as if the narrator was sitting there, telling me the story.

So, Georgie’s back, but that doesn’t seem to be the point of the story as the narrator flashes back on how he met his wife, Maria. Georgie comes back into the story during the next two flashbacks when the narrator tells us how Maria told him she was pregnant and then that Georgie was stillborn, the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, and that the doctor brought him back, seemingly through force of will alone, since I’ve never heard of anyone being resuscitated by a smack on the ass (but we can forgive Mr. Ford, can’t we?).

If I had edited this story, I would have suggested that Mr. Ford flip sections five and six. When I first read the story, I was confused by the insertion of section five where it is. I read it as a consequence of Georgie being stillborn, which didn’t make any sense. Then, it dawned on me that it’s the Georgie that came back who is in his room throwing things and making a ruckus. Section six flashes back on what Georgie was like as a kid, a good kid, and ends with the line, “Nothing at all like what he is now.” That line, I think, would have set up section five nicely. Instead, section seven is another flashback about what Georgie was like, expanding his character to explain why Halloween was his favorite holiday.

Even with the snafu in ordering, these sections are effective for me because they’re short and sweet, a father reminiscing about what he loved most about his dead son punctuated by his fear and trepidation caused by his returned son.

Section eight is the longest and is about how Georgie dies on Halloween, which flows nicely from section seven. This is where the story changes subtly from general reminisces to a detailed play-by-play. Georgie’s death is requisitely gruesome, swallowing a razor hidden inside an apple he received while trick-or-treating. But what makes this scene true horror isn’t that Georgie dies, but that he dies having lost all faith in Daddy, the guy who can fix anything and make any boo-boo all better.

Section nine is how I thought the story would end: Georgie’s ghost is haunting the narrator, its physical manifestations growing stronger; Maria has left; the narrator is trapped in the house by his knowledge that Georgie will never leave him and the fear of what Georgie will do if he commits suicide. See, one of the things that I like about this story is Mr. Ford’s implied idea that life and afterlife coexist and that the difference between the two states is what protects the living. Since this is what the story promised in its first section, the story of the narrator’s wife leaving him because their son came back from the dead, I would have considered it a good story, good, not great, had it ended there.

But it didn’t.

The narrator continues to empathize with his son’s loneliness. In a desperate plan to redeem himself in his son’s eyes, the narrator comes up with a plan to get Georgie a playmate by making “special” treats for Halloween this year. The narrator sees this as his obligation as Daddy, the guy who fixes things. The story’s concluding horror depends on the flawed thinking of the

That’s what really got me about this story. It delivers on its promised horror, then gives a final turn of the screw, which is what stayed with me days and weeks after reading the story, just as a good story should. Well done, Mr. Ford!

Now, if you didn’t read the story before reading my little review here, shame on you! But don’t worry, the story’s still worth reading, I think. Plus, this issue of Shroud has plenty of other good stories to keep you reading, including “Three Doors” by Norman Partridge, “Red Lantern” by Althea Kontis, and “Almost Paradise” by Jeremy C. Shipp, a surprising little story about humanity’s one day a year when they’re allowed to be bad.

Enjoy!

I’ve also booked all my stuff to attend the World Horror Convention 2012 in Salt Lake City, Utah. I’ll be working the DMB table some of the time, but mostly doing what I did last year and having a great time!

I spent most of the summer moving into and working on my first house, named Virginia Dare, but I’m back! Currently working on rewriting  a short story, “The Jack o’ Lanterns,” and plunging on with Clean Freak. Look for some new excerpts soon.

***

Dahlia

“Don’t think,” she whispered as he sat before her, hesitating.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“And I you. Where have you been?”

“Away,” he replied and turned, looking into that away that he’d been, a look on his face she did not care to see. “But I’m back now.”

“For how long?” She could not keep the plaintive note from her voice. She remembered his face, eyes, smile, voice; his hands, strong and gentle, forceful and caressing.

He lit a cigarette, took a long drag, the tip burning angry. His voice was smoke, hanging blue in the air. “Does it matter?”

She bowed her head, hurt. Instead, she said, “I thought you quit.”

“Only in the real world.”

So true, Laura. So true.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from my first WHC, but if you had asked me, I would not have said smiles. I wouldn’t have said hugs. I would have said drinking (which there was plenty of) but I wouldn’t have said Texas Chainsaw Massacre pizza (all kinds of meat, yum!).

I’m not sure what I expected, but what I got was a great time with good people who I can’t wait to hang out with again. If I gave you a blow by blow, we’d be here all night, so let me hit the high points.

On Thursday night, I met Jack Ketchum, who was the Grand Master of the Convention. I shook his hand and gushed as minimally as could be expected of me. He was all smiles, far different from the rather intense pictures of him in the souvenir book. Saturday night, I ended up standing next to him at the Cutting Block Press Book Launch Party. You’d think I was going somewhere with that, but I’m not. But that was exciting enough.

Also on Thursday night, I was at a reading given by Joel Sutherland, which was the best reading of the Convention. He gave us a very animated reading of “Blood Red Greens,” a truly engaging story about a pair of friends’ weekly golf game which is interrupted by the Zombie Apocalypse. Go to his site, read his stuff, but be careful complimenting him (he’s the aforementioned hugger).

Friday morning at breakfast, I met Gene O’Neill, who was perhaps the friendliest guy I met. Seriously, every time I ran into him, he always had a smile and a firm handshake for me. He clued me in on the Horror Writer’s Association’s Mentor Program, and the new category of membership in the HWA that would allow me to join. Just an out and out sweet man. And a damn fine writer. I went to the Bad Moon Books Launch Party on Saturday afternoon and heard him and Joe McKinney read from their new books. Again, read them.

Friday, I met R.J. Cavender, horror editor and reviewer extrodanaire. He’s one of those guys I just kept running into. A good ol’ Michigan boy, he has fled the cold in favor of Arizona. We talked about writing, tattoos and I forget what all. A good guy who I hope I get the good fortune to work with someday soon.

Speaking of working with people, a huge shout out to Rhodi Hawk, who organized everything relating to the pitch sessions. She was so nice and helpful. She also wrote a book called Twisted Ladder. Find it, read it and tell your friends.

When Rhodi was escorting me outside to my first pitch appointment with Brett Savory of ChiZine Publications, she said, “Oh I have good news: Helen Marshall, the managing editor is here too, so you get to pitch to both her and Brett.” My response was of the soft and meek variety. Luckily, I didn’t have much time to be nervous. Brett and Helen were awesome catchers. It went well, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

Even with my confidence boosted, I was still nervous to meet with Don D’Auria from Samhain on Saturday. When I sat down at the table, my ears turned bright red (which is how I blush), which was quite distracting. Don and I chatted about Clean Freak and then I asked him some questions about the publishing world, which was really cool. I wish I’d run into him again and gotten a chance to talk with him a little more informally. Among other things, he writes a regular column in Cemetery Dance, which I read religiously.

At the Cutting Block Press Book Launch party on Saturday night, I met Boyd E. Harris, the submissions’ manager, who was also the Margarita Master. And let me tell you, the man makes a damn fine margarita! It was also at this party that I was one of the first to taste the new Texas Chainsaw Massacre pizza.

And I said we wouldn’t be here all night.

I also was fortunate enough to meet several other authors who, like me, are just starting out. Brian Francis has written a novel, The Trail,which he pitched with some success, so I can’t wait to see it in print. Paul Braus pitched his second novel while at the convention, but he generously gave me a copy of his first novel, The Creature’s Curse, which I can’t wait to dig into. I also met Jeff Burk, the editor and of Deadite Press, and  bought and read his book, Shatnerquake, before I even left the convention, it was just that fun! Look for a full review soon. And Gardener, who was probably the friendliest guy that I met, I haven’t forgotten you! Unfortunately, I don’t have any contact info, otherwise, I’d drop you a line or two.

Okay, time to wrap this up, since I’ve been working on this for the last couple days and I’m already so far behind on my reviews, not to mention the fact that I’ve read three more books in the last four weeks.

Bottom line: the Word Horror Convention was an amazing time, a pivotal time in my life. Thanks to everyone I met, laughed with, talked with, drank with, and everyone on the Austin crew for making it happen and making it such a blast! See you in Salt Lake City in 2012!

His latest collection, featuring four novellas, proves that King can still deliver. The strongest story is “A Good Marriage,” which cranks up the tension slowly and expertly. Even after the main conflict is resolved, King turns the screw a final time, which jolted me, making me question why I and the main character of the story were so willing to take the word of a psychotic serial killer. My second favorite was “Fair Extension,” a perfect blend of tongue-in-cheek humor and disquieting truth about what can lie behind the veneer of friendship. “1922″ kicks off the collection with a long rambling story that can’t really decide what it wants to be, which can appeal to some, but I feel that it had too much going on to be encompassed by the first-person confession-style of it. The story definitely has its high points, but unfortunately doesn’t end strongly, another casuality of its first-person style. If I had my druthers, “Big Driver” would have been written by Jack Ketchum, not that King can’t write stories like “Big Driver,” but it reads like he was in unfamiliar waters and was a little trepidant to go into the deep end.

After forty years, you’d think that King would have slipped into a pattern, which is only separated from words like rut and formula by the niceties of language. But with Full Dark, No Stars, King proves that he would never allow himself to go down that road, challenging himself as a writer and us as readers.

This book is a must have for anyone who fancies themselves a horror writer. The articles are written both intelligently and clearly. Some of the resources and markets may have changed (after all, this book was last revised in 2005, and things move quickly these days), but you’re at least provided a starting point. For example, I was interested in the Clarion Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers’ Workshop offered at Michigan State that Tom Monteleone, a name I know from Cemetery Dance Magazine, mentioned in his article, “Workshops of Horror.” After entering the web address Mr. Monteleone provided and finding that it didn’t exist, I searched the Clarion SF&F Writers’ Workshop and found that sometime in the last five years, it’s moved out to UC San Diego.

Despite this singular flaw, On Writing Horror should be on your bookshelves, but only after being read, re-read, highlighted, scribbled in, dog-eared and any other abuses that would evidence its status as an invaluable book.