Stephen Mark Rainey's Blog, page 30

I’m Getting Too Old for This Shit

After the horrors of broken sewer lines, hellishly expensive reparations, and restoration done improperly (which the provider must address) at our primary residence in Greensboro, Ms. B. and I have taken on a whole new, somewhat unexpected endeavor: restoring my old homestead in Virginia to livable and/or salable condition, since the issues mentioned above have necessitated the selling of property.

Before dementia crippled Mom’s cognitive abilities, as a housekeeper, she was beyond conscientious. The house always appeared immaculate, and she took care of its routine maintenance to the best of her ability. Still, she was either unaware of, or unable to address, some of the larger issues that beset the house over a long period of time. The place dates back to the mid-1950s, and a remarkable number of the house’s appliances, fixtures, and systems are original. Well, were, considering that Ms. B. and I have set about the updating with a vengeance.

Currently, the interior is a mess, as this overhaul is no trivial matter. I never realized that my mom was an honest-to-god, card-carrying pack rat, for there is virtually no corner of this outwardly immaculate house that doesn’t conceal miles of piles of stuff. Massive amounts of that stuff have gone to meet their maker or been set aside for an estate sale; but after days and days and days of clearing things out, the piles don’t appear very much smaller. Plus, we’re having all the walls dewallpapered and painted, the kitchen and baths totally redone, and the wall-to-wall carpets removed, for there is gorgeous hardwood hiding underneath. The plumbing was older than Noah’s ark, so we’ve had the waterworks redone — and just in the nick of time, as some of those old pipes were on the verge of giving up the ghost and flooding the earth.

We’ve still got a ways to go, and I can tell you, I am thoroughly exhausted. It all sort of reminds me that I might not be as young as all that anymore. On the other hand, when it comes down to it, I’m faring better than an awful lot of far younger whippersnappers, so y’all just watch yourselves, or I might hang around a while longer. You may take that to the bank.

It���s Official! DEATHREALM: SPIRITS

Alan Lastufka, of Shortwave Publishing , has made the official announcement!Deathrealm: Spirits is in the works and is scheduled for release in October 2023.
From Shortwave���s news release: ��� Deathrealm was, for a decade, the leading small-press horror magazine in the United States. In 1995, it won the International Horror Critics Award for best horror magazine. And in the Spring of 1996, issue #27 was ���banned��� in Canada when it was stopped by customs on the grounds the cover art (by Ian McDowell) was too ���disturbing.���  Deathrealm was edited by Stephen Mark Rainey and published from 1987 to 1997.���
For decades ��� literally! ��� the question ���Will you ever resurrect Deathrealm ?��� has come at me on countless occasions. Many, many times after the final issue (#31, Summer 1997), I toyed with the idea of continuing the title by way of an anthology (or series of anthologies), but I knew I would never go back to editing a magazine on a regular release schedule. A decade of that was enough. Over the years, I pitched the anthology idea a couple of times, and just a few short years ago, things were actually moving forward on that front. However, due to various circumstances, things ultimately didn���t pan out. However, fairly recently, the stars seemed to come right for another go at it, and now... it���s a-coming!
We���ll be making regular announcements regarding contributors and any relevant news all over social media. I guarantee you this:  Deathrealm: Spirits  features a killer line-up of authors.
This time around, I can tell you that Joe R. Lansdale, Brian Keene, and Eric LaRocca are on board. There are many more, to be revealed in time. Much like the magazine, the anthology will feature tales of deep, personal dread, whether rooted in the supernatural, the cosmic, the purely psychological, or other.
Do stay tuned...

It’s Official! DEATHREALM: SPIRITS

Alan Lastufka, of Shortwave Publishing , has made the official announcement!Deathrealm: Spirits is in the works and is scheduled for release in October 2023.
From Shortwave’s news release: “ Deathrealm was, for a decade, the leading small-press horror magazine in the United States. In 1995, it won the International Horror Critics Award for best horror magazine. And in the Spring of 1996, issue #27 was ‘banned’ in Canada when it was stopped by customs on the grounds the cover art (by Ian McDowell) was too ‘disturbing.’  Deathrealm was edited by Stephen Mark Rainey and published from 1987 to 1997.”
For decades — literally! — the question “Will you ever resurrect Deathrealm ?” has come at me on countless occasions. Many, many times after the final issue (#31, Summer 1997), I toyed with the idea of continuing the title by way of an anthology (or series of anthologies), but I knew I would never go back to editing a magazine on a regular release schedule. A decade of that was enough. Over the years, I pitched the anthology idea a couple of times, and just a few short years ago, things were actually moving forward on that front. However, due to various circumstances, things ultimately didn’t pan out. However, fairly recently, the stars seemed to come right for another go at it, and now... it’s a-coming!
We’ll be making regular announcements regarding contributors and any relevant news all over social media. I guarantee you this:  Deathrealm: Spirits  features a killer line-up of authors.
This time around, I can tell you that Joe R. Lansdale, Brian Keene, and Eric LaRocca are on board. There are many more, to be revealed in time. Much like the magazine, the anthology will feature tales of deep, personal dread, whether rooted in the supernatural, the cosmic, the purely psychological, or other.
Do stay tuned...

TERRIFIER 2

Some years ago, writer/director Damien Leone’s All Hallows Eve (2013) introduced me to Art the Clown, and I think it’s fair to say I found Art one of the most disturbing horror characters in existence — particularly those of the clown persuasion. Clowns have never frightened me per se, but I can readily admit that some have unsettled me (my daughter once had this cast iron clown coin bank that “ate” coins, which did none of our sensibilities any favors). With All Hallows Eve, Art kind of messed up my head because, in the situations in the movie, he was simultaneously funny as hell yet altogether terrifying. Knowing that his appearance to someone was a harbinger of personal doom — a horrific doom, at that — effectively creeped me out.

The first Terrifier (2016) followed along the same lines. It felt a little more over-the-top, but it still disturbed me on a level that most horror/slasher movies do not.

Last night, I took the opportunity to watch Terrifier 2. It offered quite a few brilliant, scary moments/scenes, such as the Clown Café dream scene with its catchy, whimsical tunes. (In fact, I quite enjoyed the music throughout the movie, particularly the techno dance stuff.) Art provided several horrific moments worthy of his earlier film appearances. And the introduction of Creepy Little Demon Girl made for an entertaining touch. For the sake of continuity, I appreciated the references to Art’s first two adventures.

Overall, though, I didn't much care for this one. First and foremost, the running time is way too long — 138 minutes vs. 83 minutes for both All Hallows Eve and the original Terrifier. All those extra minutes added nada, zip, absolute jack shit, and — worst of all — introduced the element of boredom. Bzzzt, wrong! The movie’s surreal, dreamlike moments worked well enough, yet almost all of the “real-life” events dragged on to the point of tedium and frequently dove straight into the realm of the asinine rather than the frightening.

No. No, thank you.

Yes, Terrifier 2 is a mixed bag, and its most effective moments might be considered classic Art. Sadly, though, the crap weighs too heavily in the bag, and thus it gets a rating of only two out of five Damned Rodan’s Dirty Firetinis.

Boo!

Fugue Devil: Resurgence: A Breath of Fresh, Foul, Fetid Air

With the kind permission of author Katherine Kerestman ( www.creepycatlair.com ), I'm posting her review of Fugue Devil: Resurgence in its entirety, which prompted an uncharacteristically wide smile from the old dude.
"Reading Stephen Mark Rainey's Fugue Devil: Resurgence (Black Raven Books, 2022) was a breath of fresh (foul? fetid?) air for this voracious reader of dark literature. I had approached this new collection of horror stories hoping for an above-average sophistication of style, a deliciously morbid atmosphere, and some enthralling plots — and what I found exceeded my wishes. Rather than relying on the usual blending of graphic violence and the cheap thrills of gore with supernatural elements, Fugue Devil: Resurgence faces the unutterable horror of human existence in a malevolent universe, Rainey's compelling style drawing the readers into the gaping jowls of a dismal world.

"Fugue Devil: Resurgence is an outstanding work, in that it achieves this outcome with a singularity of grace and style. Throughout the collection, a sustained dread of our most evil imagined outcomes is contrasted with Rainey's melodic prose. In 'Threnody,' you can almost hear the strains of the cosmic music beyond the spheres, which conjures horrific beings. I found myself breathless as I read 'Masque of the Queen' — I had literally been holding my breath, unawares — a tale which takes place in a deadly dimension of mystical beauty, strange gods, and weird planets. 'Fugue Devil' left me physically numb with fear. 'Hell’s Hollow' carried me into a world of rural woodland terror.

"Tinting a Lovecraftian world view with a psychedelic patina, Fugue Devil: Resurgence is the most original volume of horror stories I have read in a long time. The alluring quality of its description magnifies the horror of the dark and rapacious void it depicts. I read most of it in one sitting, unable to put it down."

Order Fugue Devil: Resurgence here.

Scares That Care AuthorCon II — Blow by Blow

Friday, March 31, 2023
Brugger and I set out bright and early for Scares That Care AuthorCon II  this morning, loaded to the gills with my various books and old copies ofDeathrealm to hopefully foist on theunsuspecting populace. We had good weather and mostly good driving conditions,at least at first. Just west of Durham, NC, some moron damn near collided withme in her ridiculous zeal to zoom across three lanes of traffic. Then, justnorth of Durham, NC, we ran into a two-mile, hour-long traffic jam due to bothhighway construction and accidents (the accidents clearly being the result ofidiotic judgment on someone's part in the highway construction zone). Happily,we survived these ugly setbacks, and the rest of the trip went swimmingly —particularly our stop at Indian Fields Tavern in Charles City, where we both found burgers of the most heavenly persuasion. Igrabbed a nearby geocache. From there, driving was a breeze, and we sailed intoWilliamsburg in good condition and tolerable spirits.
I immediately ran into a few authors/good friends — Brian Keene, Dave Simms, Ronald Kelly, Maurice Broaddus, Tim Waggoner, Dave & Trish Wilson, David Dodd, Rich Dansky, Mark Sieber, Bridgett Nelson, Jeff Strand, Lynne Hansen, Sidney Williams, and numerous others. Brugger and I set up our dealer table in our designated conference room, and it wasn't long before the opening ceremony kicked off the event.
As we sort of expected, with so many areas full of vendors and ugly weather setting in to dampen prospective attendees, the first night of the show was a bit slow. Still, we managed to make a loverly time of it. I picked up dinner from the nearby Emerald Thai  restaurant and brought it back to our table. After the closing bell, Brugger and I hung out for a while with drinks, Dave & Trish Wilson, and Crossroad Press's David Dodd. Before retiring, Ms. B. and I ventured to the grocery store to snag some staples.
We didn't get wealthy on the first night of the con, but we sure snagged a bunch of free-floating joy. The monstrously delicious Charles City Burger at Indian Fields Tavern Mr. Keene and Mr. Deathrealm "Menacing" Maurice Broaddus Richard Dansky and David Niall Wilson Saturday, April 1, 2023
After a quick continental breakfast at the hotel, Brugger and I headed to the convention area, only to find our designated conference room had been all but cleared out. A couple of tables remained in the room, ours included. Apparently, since traffic in the outlying rooms had been sparse, the wonderful con folks had moved as many vendors as possible into the main convention area. Brian Keene oversaw getting our table into a higher-traffic area, and this move paid off from the moment Brugger and I sat our asses down in our chairs. Before we knew it, business was booming, and books were moving. It was all the merrier for us, too, because friend Dave Simms settled into the adjacent space, and we shot some serious shit at each other throughout the weekend. Although I spent most of the day at the table, I did wander a bit so I could seek out some writers and editors I hadn't previously met in the flesh. Kenneth Cain, James Aquilone, Red Lagoe, Jonathan Janz, and a few other folks couldn't hide from me, despite their best efforts...
Midday, Ms. B. drove over to a nearby Subway for a couple of subs, which she brought back for us to eat at our table. Shortly after lunch, I participated in the "Golden Years of Horror" panel: a look at the horror-lit boom of the 1980s and 1990s, mostly from the perspective of those of us old enough to have participated in it. Yeah, that would be me. Also on board were Jonathan Janz (moderator), Sherrilyn Kenyon, James Chambers, Tim Lebbon, Mary Sangiovanni, Maurice Broaddus, Tim Waggoner, Ron Malfi, and Ronald Kelly. It was a great discussion, though with so many participants, time for detailed discourse was limited. Still, thanks to Mr. Janz's effective moderating and so much talent smushed together in one room, it was a sharp, informative, and all-around fun panel discussion.
At 4:15 p.m. Ron Kelly and I shared a reading slot. I read "Night Crier" (originally published in  34Orchard  magazine and reprinted in  Fugue Devil: Resurgence ), and Ron read a tale that will be coming out in a new fiction collection. It wasn't the biggest audience ever, but it was a very receptive audience. As "Night Crier" came to its conclusion, a chorus of gasps filled the room, and that was a perfectly gratifying response, particularly for this story. Happily, some of those audience members came around later to buy books. Ron also drew the audience in, so this turned out to be one of my favorite public readings in recent years. "The Golden Years of Horror" panel. L–R: Ronald Kelly, Mr. Deathrealm, Ron Malfi, Tim Waggoner,
Maurice Broaddus, Mary Sangiovanni, Tim Lebbon; outside the frame of the photo: James Chambers,
Sherrilyn Kenyon, Jonathan Janz After the reading, Brugger and I somehow found ourselves in the hotel bar, where I ended up with a smoked Old Fashioned. A delicious drink, and just the ticket for concluding the con business day and kicking off the con fun time. For dinner, Dave Wilson rounded up a crowd of ten, including us. We settled on  Maurizio's Italian Restaurant , which was a short walk from the hotel. Our group was split among a couple of tables; Brugger and I sat with Ron Kelly and his wife, Joyce. Now, I've known Ron for years, but I believe this was the most time we've ever spent together in person. As a writer, he's a machine; his catalog of written works is so massive it humbles me. And Joyce is a fun, lovely lady, full of vigor and antic-dotes of no small amusement.

David Sims, David Dodd, and David & Trish Wilson were among the other diners (I suggested that everyone in the party change their names to David to avoid confusion; for some reason, I don't think it took). The Pappardelle Mavarico was delizioso, although it would have benefited from a better balance of Mavarico to pasta; that was a lot of pappardelle on that plate. The Valipolicello Ripasso hit the spot — a fine complement to the entrée.
Dave, Dave, Dave, Trish, Brugger, and I had all sworn off karaoke this year, so — needless to say — we ended up in the karaoke hall. By this time, think most of the con folks were at the gross-out contest, so there wasn't a huge crowd. Still, there was racket to be made here, so we whooped out some noise. I gave 'em "Eyes Without a Face" (Billy Idol) and "Sweet Caroline" (Neil Diamond). Brugger joined in on the latter tune to whip up audience participation, plus she sang a few songs on her own. And Mr. Wilson hit us with some spirited soul music. It was all a hoot, to be sure.
I can't be certain what time we finally broke up and returned to our respective quarters, but it wasn't early (well, yes, it was early morning). Brugger and I had determined that we'd only spend a relatively short time at the con the next morning because we wanted to explore Historic Williamsburg and possibly seek a few geocaches.
Once our heads hit the pillows, we were pretty well out. Joyce and Ron Kelly at their table in the main ballroom David Simms doing his best to look unmenacing Sunday, April 2, 2023
Ms. B. might have been a little hungover this morning...
Sure enough, we spent only an hour or so at our vendor table before packing up, but I did sell a few more books in that time.
Once we'd loaded the car, we headed into Historic Williamsburg, found a parking garage, and set out walking. I've been to Williamsburg a goodly number of times over the years, but I haven't actually gone deep into the historic quarter since I was a young teen with my family. A nice Adventure Lab cache led us on a tour of some of Williamsburg's most noteworthy locations and also offered us a couple of miles of much-needed walking. Among my favorite highlights were the horse and buggies carrying tourists along the old lanes; the ubiquitous smell of smoke, which would have been much like in Colonial times; the shopkeepers, employees, and other folks dressed in Colonial garb; and the Colonial architecture in general. Just a beautiful place, and unlike yesterday, the weather wasn't ugly.
We'd made reservations for lunch at a joint called DoG Street Pub , so once we'd completed the Adventure Lab walk, we headed for the pub. Their fish & chips were awesome — and the portion was huge! Brugger had a turkey-BLT wrap, which she enjoyed. Neither of us indulged in any spirits, as after last night, that might have been a bad idea.
Then we hit the road. Yes, I stopped for a couple of caches. We also damn near got killed — again — by another blind moron who did exactly the same thing as the dumb fuck on the way to con on Friday: they switched lanes without even looking, which put them on a collision course with me, and when I laid on my horn, the idiots just kept coming, forcing me to take dangerous evasive action. I thank Yog that my reflexes were fast enough to avoid what would almost certainly been serious accidents.
Despite having to deal with certain superlative citizens of Planet Moronica, we made it home safely.
 As for Scares That Care AuthorCon II... what can I say? I'd previously been to the now-defunct Scares That Care Charity Weekend, but I wasn't able to attend the first AuthorCon last year. My thanks and compliments to Brian Keene and all the con organizers and staff. Their priority — their mission — was to make the event a superlative, inclusive experience for guests, vendors, and attendees, and by all accounts, everyone involved went above and beyond with every aspect of the con. I hope to be there for AuthorCon 3.
Here's a few shots of the sights along our walk through Williamsburg.

Scares That Care AuthorCon IIThe Blow by Blow

Friday, March 31, 2023
Brugger and I set out bright and early for Scares That Care AuthorCon II  this morning, loaded to the gills with my various books and old copies ofDeathrealm to hopefully foist on theunsuspecting populace. We had good weather and mostly good driving conditions,at least at first. Just west of Durham, NC, some moron damn near collided withme in her ridiculous zeal to zoom across three lanes of traffic. Then, justnorth of Durham, NC, we ran into a two-mile, hour-long traffic jam due to bothhighway construction and accidents (the accidents clearly being the result ofidiotic judgment on someone's part in the highway construction zone). Happily,we survived these ugly setbacks, and the rest of the trip went swimmingly —particularly our stop at Indian Fields Tavern in Charles City, where we both found burgers of the most heavenly persuasion. Igrabbed a nearby geocache. From there, driving was a breeze, and we sailed intoWilliamsburg in good condition and tolerable spirits.
I immediately ran into a few authors/good friends — Brian Keene, Dave Simms, Ronald Kelly, Maurice Broaddus, Tim Waggoner, Dave & Trish Wilson, David Dodd, Mark Sieber, Bridgett Nelson, Jeff Strand, Lynn Hansen, Sidney Wilson, and numerous others. Brugger and I set up our dealer table in our designated conference room, and it wasn't long before the opening ceremony kicked off the event.
As we sort of expected, with so many areas full of vendors and ugly weather setting in to dampen prospective attendees, the first night of the show was a bit slow. Still, we managed to make a loverly time of it. I picked up dinner from the nearby Emerald Thai  restaurant and brought it back to our table. After the closing bell, Brugger and I hung out for a while with drinks, Dave & Trish Wilson, and Crossroad Press's David Dodd. Before retiring, Ms. B. and I ventured to the grocery store to snag some staples.
We didn't get wealthy on the first night of the con, but we sure snagged a bunch of free-floating joy. The monstrously delicious Charles City Burger at Indian Fields Tavern Mr. Keene and Mr. Deathrealm "Menacing" Maurice Broaddus Richard Dansky and David Niall Wilson Saturday, April 1, 2023
After a quick continental breakfast at the hotel, Brugger and I headed to the convention area, only to find our designated conference room had been all but cleared out. A couple of tables remained in the room, ours included. Apparently, since traffic in the outlying rooms had been sparse, the wonderful con folks had moved as many vendors as possible into the main convention area. Brian Keene oversaw getting our table into a higher-traffic area, and this move paid off from the moment Brugger and I sat our asses down in our chairs. Before we knew it, business was booming, and books were moving. It was all the merrier for us, too, because friend Dave Simms settled into the adjacent space, and we shot some serious shit at each other throughout the weekend. Although I spent most of the day at the table, I did wander a bit so I could seek out a few writers and editors I hadn't previously met in the flesh. Kenneth Cain, James Aquilone, Red Lagoe, and a few other folks couldn't hide from me, despite their best efforts...
Midday, Ms. B. drove over to a nearby Subway for a couple of subs, which she brought back for us to eat at our table. Shortly after lunch, I participated in the "Golden Years of Horror" panel: a look at the horror-lit boom of the 1980s and 1990s, mostly from the perspective of those of us old enough to have participated in it. Yeah, that would be me. Also on board were Jonathan Janz (moderator), Sherrilyn Kenyon, James Chambers, Tim Lebbon, Mary Sangiovanni, Maurice Broaddus, Tim Waggoner, Ron Malfi, and Ronald Kelly. It was a great discussion, though with so many participants, time for detailed discourse was limited. Still, thanks to Mr. Janz's effective moderating and so much talent smushed together in one room, it was a sharp, informative, and all-around fun panel discussion.
At 4:15 p.m. Ron Kelly and I shared a reading slot. I read "Night Crier" (originally published in  34Orchard  magazine and reprinted in  Fugue Devil: Resurgence ), and Ron read a tale that will be coming out in a new fiction collection. It wasn't the biggest audience ever, but it was a very receptive audience. As "Night Crier" came to its conclusion, a chorus of gasps filled the room, and that was a perfectly gratifying response, particularly for this story. Happily, some of those audience members came around later to buy books. Ron also drew the audience in, so this turned out to be one of my favorite public readings in recent years. "The Golden Years of Horror" panel. L–R: Ronald Kelly, Mr. Deathrealm, Ron Malfi, Tim Waggoner,
Maurice Broaddus, Mary Sangiovanni, Tim Lebbon; outside the frame of the photo: James Chambers,
Sherrilyn Kenyon, Jonathan Janz After the reading, Brugger and I somehow found ourselves in the hotel bar, where I ended up with a smoked Old Fashioned. A delicious drink, and just the ticket for concluding the con business day and kicking off the con fun time. For dinner, Dave Wilson rounded up a crowd of ten, including us. We settled on  Maurizio's Italian Restaurant , which was a short walk from the hotel. Our group was split among a couple of tables; Brugger and I sat with Ron Kelly and his wife, Joyce. Now, I've known Ron for years, but I believe this was the most time we've ever spent together in person. As a writer, he's a machine; his catalog of written works is so massive it humbles me. And Joyce is a fun, lovely lady, full of vigor and antic-dotes of no small amusement.

David Sims, David Dodd, and David & Trish Wilson were among the other diners (I suggested that everyone in the party change their names to David to avoid confusion; for some reason, I don't think it took). The Pappardelle Mavarico was delizioso, although it would have benefited from a better balance of Mavarico to pasta; that was a lot of pappardelle on that plate. The Valipolicello Ripasso hit the spot — a fine complement to the entrée.
Dave, Dave, Dave, Trish, Brugger, and I had all sworn off karaoke this year, so — needless to say — we ended up in the karaoke hall. By this time, think most of the con folks were at the gross-out contest, so there wasn't a huge crowd. Still, there was racket to be made here, so we whooped out some noise. I gave 'em "Eyes Without a Face" (Billy Idol) and "Sweet Caroline" (Neil Diamond). Brugger joined in on the latter tune to whip up audience participation, plus she sang a few songs on her own. And Mr. Wilson hit us with some spirited soul music. It was all a hoot, to be sure.
I can't be certain what time we finally broke up and returned to our respective quarters, but it wasn't early (well, yes, it was early morning). Brugger and I had determined that we'd only spend a relatively short time at the con the next morning because we wanted to explore Historic Williamsburg and possibly seek a few geocaches.
Once our heads hit the pillows, we were pretty well out. Joyce and Ron Kelly at their table in the main ballroom David Simms doing his best to look unmenacing Sunday, April 2, 2023
Ms. B. might have been a little hungover this morning...
Sure enough, we spent only an hour or so at our vendor table before packing up, but I did manage to sell a few more books in that time. Once we'd loaded the car, we headed into Historic Williamsburg, found a parking garage, and set out walking. I've been to Williamsburg a goodly number of times over the years, but I haven't actually gone deep into the historic quarter since I was a young teen with my family. A nice Adventure Lab cache led us on a tour of some of Williamsburg's most noteworthy locations and also offered us a couple of miles of much-needed walking. Among my favorite highlights were the horse and buggies carrying tourists along the old lanes; the ubiquitous smell of smoke, which would have been much like in Colonial times; the shopkeepers, employees, and other folks dressed in Colonial garb; and the Colonial architecture in general. Just a beautiful place, and unlike yesterday, the weather wasn't ugly.
We'd made reservations for lunch at a joint called DoG Street Pub , so once we'd completed the Adventure Lab walk, we headed for the pub. Their fish & chips were awesome — and the portion was huge! Brugger had a turkey-BLT wrap, which she enjoyed. Neither of us indulged in any spirits, as after last night, that might have been a bad idea.
Then we hit the road. Yes, I stopped for a couple of caches. We also damn near got killed — again — by another blind moron who did exactly the same thing as the dumb fuck on the way to con on Friday: they switched lanes without even looking, which put them on a collision course with me, and when I laid on my horn, the idiots just kept coming, forcing me to take dangerous evasive action. I thank Yog that my reflexes were good and we managed to avoid accidents. They would almost certainly have been ugly.
We got home safely, so despite having to deal with certain superlative citizens of Planet Moronica, it was a lovely and mighty profitable weekend. I hope to be there for AuthorCon 3.
Here's a few shots of the sights along our walk through Williamsburg.

Scares That Care AuthorCon II—March 31–April 2 in Williamsburg, VA

Next weekend! Scares That Care AuthorCon II , (March 31–April 2) at the DoubleTree by Hilton Hotel Williamsburg (50 Kingsmill Road, Williamsburg, VA 23185). I’ll have the pictured titles and more for sale — and you know I’m always happy to devalue any and all of my books with an autograph. Brugger will be on hand to keep me straight and charm the crowds.

On Saturday, I’ll be sharing a reading slot with Ronald Kelly (most likely “Night Crier,” originally published in 34Orchard magazine), and participating on a panel (“Golden Years,” a look at the horror heydays of the 1980s and 90s — yes, I am old).

Hope to see a bunch of you there.

Purely Medicinal—Wicked Sick

Wicked Sick is a new anthology edited by Kristi Petersen Schoonover and Scott Goudsward, scheduled for release next month. The fantastic cover art is by Mikio Murakami. And this old man wrote the foreword!

Wicked Sick is a brilliant collection of stories by the New England Horror Writers, with something for every taste. A little terrifying, a little noir, a little lit, a little poetry, a little of the Poe-esque, a little of the Lovecraftian. All dark, all intense. And, as you can see in the pics, I've been taking my medicine in advance.

Ordering information to follow soon.

Table of Contents:
“They Come at Night” — Gregory Bastianelli
“The Cancer Ward at Midnight” — Lauran L. Soares
“Will’s Theory of Free-Floating Fat” — Peter Dudar
“Worry Wart” — Kurt Newton
“Toad in the Hole” — Gevera Bert Piedmont
“Moonsickness” — Jenna Moquin
“Irish Wake” — Michael Deady
“Happy Valley” — Howard Odentz
“Exorcising Attention Deficit Hyperactive Demons Requires an Order of Operations” — Trisha Wooldridge
“Author’s Note” — Rob Smales
“Body Work” — Nancy Brewka-Clark
“House of Tupper” — Meg Smith
“Eternal Prison” — Timothy Flynn
“Ghost Trains” — Tom Deady
“The Tall People” — Catherine Grant
“The Cancer Eaters” — Ken Vaughan

Ain’t That the Shit, Part 2 (Finale, Hopefully)

After spending a full workweek installing a new sewer line at our house, the crew finished up late Friday afternoon, so Brugger and I headed back from our somewhat extended sojourn in Martinsville. The front yard overall is a bit of a muddy, mucky mess, but the guys re-seeded and put straw down, so I very much hope it will return to its former glory (read with distinct irony) in a relatively short time.

So, at long last, we are able to flush again. Oh, wait... no we’re not! Now the downstairs toilet does not refill after flushing. The water in the rest of the house seems okay. So, we immediately recall the guys, who show up again, much to our mutual chagrin. Apparently, during the job, they inadvertently cut (and then repaired) our main supply line, but somewhere in the process, the fill valve in the downstairs toilet blew. Anyway, since that was clearly a consequence of the work, they repaired it, and I so hope this insanely expensive job is done and we will never have to deal with such a thing again in our lifetimes.

They did have to saw off about half the concrete from the driveway where Brugger typically parks her car, so it would behoove us to restore that, I reckon. The big honking excavator should vacate the property come Monday.

And now I have a yucky cold. At least, I think (and hope) that’s all it is. The covidz test was negative.

For now, I is done.

It’s enough to turn some of us into a basket case.