C.C. Adams's Blog: C.C. Does The Write Thing, page 3

Give Me The Night.

Currently it's the afternoon of Monday 25th December. Christmas day. All's quiet in my neck of the woods. Plus, it's nightfall when the muse really comes alive; when the neighbourhood is quiet. No more loud music blasting from in-car sound systems as the drivers loiter without intent. Or nighttime revellers full of drink and chatter. Neighbours with unruly dogs and loud TVs. Once they sleep, then the muse is truly alive. But I'm not writing anything, apart from this journal entry. Not yet.

The last few months have been ...challenging, to say the least. Post-surgery this July (which was a repair to a partially torn tendon in my left pec last July) left me out of commission for two months with my arm in a sling. As you might imagine, very little writing was done. To be fair, friends and peers had suggested various brands of voice-to-text software that'd let me get some productivity in. And I could have pursued those methods ...but they're not me. There've been additional challenges, such as rehab, property maintenance, etc.

What I have done now, thankfully, is finish outlining the new novel. For the most part, authors fall somewhere between one of two camps. They either write by the seat of the pants; and are therefore known as pantsers. Or, they need to outline the story before they write it. I'm more of an outliner - that said, the outline's not set in stone. It does mean that the outline I create allows me some wiggle room to improvise if that's where the story takes me. But I need that framework from the outset.

The last couple of weeks have seen me working on the outline to get a half-decent framework on the page. But it's not always been like that. My first (and to-date, only) National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo) effort, where the aim is to write a 50,000 word novel in the 30 days of November, saw me write a 52,000 word novel in 29 days. Aside from that, my other speedy effort was the first draft of But Worse Will Come, which I knocked out in 3 weeks. Maybe I'm slowing down. Maybe.

Given that I've only just finished outlining this new novel and there's a week to go before the end of the year, what are the odds that I'll actually get it done in a week?

Here's the thing. There's no contractual obligation I have to get this done in a week. But I'd like to get it done ASAP because:

1. it's long overdue

2. I've already got the next novel idea firmly in mind, itching to be written and

3. I'm still working to keep up with the muse.

It's not the worst position to be in to get ideas faster than you can write them. But right now, it's not enough - not fast enough, and not enough books. In addition to the next novel waiting to be written (right after the current one), there's another book finished over the last few months that needs an overhaul. But that's going to wait until I've knocked out the current book. Because it's gonna keep bugging me if I don't. And it might sound strange to be working now, where many people would take the festive season to chill and back down a gear or two. Believe me, that's actually what I'm doing. To just sit and write when the exercise regime alone puts me through the wringer. And already I can envision how that's going to tax a body when I get back to squats, benching, and the like.

The good thing is that, novel-wise, the groundwork is done. Basic research has been done, outlining has been done, pictorial reference material has been compiled. And since the start and end of writing each long piece of fiction starts with a glass of Jack Daniel's Honey whisky and Coke, both beverages are ready, and the whisky glass famously engraved with 'Get Shit Done' is on standby.

Open road, so to speak ...and miles to go. Give me the night.

#writing #surgery #lifting #nanowrimo #jackdaniels #butworsewillcome #research

Looking For Devils.

There's a rationale in creative fiction to 'write what you know.' But, as that may be, you can't expect to know everything about everything. And certainly - from the point of writing a good story - you may at some point need to write something you don't know.

Anyhow.

I get a message a couple of weeks back from fellow scribe Tracy Fahey, she of the soft-spoken eloquence, well-crafted work and bone jewellery. She tells me of something I never heard before: the London Society. And how they're doing a whole Love Letters To London thing (which might be my thing, given my love of the capital):

https://www.londonsociety.org.uk/page/loveletters

I take it as a point of pride that my audience cite my representation of London as engaging, authentic, vivid, etc. That's no accident. As much as I love London and what I might know about it firsthand, I'm aware that I don't know everything about it. So, in order to do a faithful representation of it in fiction, I need to do my homework. On hearing about this whole love-letter-to-London thing, I had an idea for a gargoyle tale. After all, they watch from on high and outlive the mortal. What better spectator on the evolution of a city? Never mind that by the time I remembered this whole love-letter thing, it's apparently about two days to go before deadline. Sure, it's 'only' 500 words to be written, but it still needs to be crafted.

I'm aware of such, but not sure exactly where in London I'd find them. So. The first place I look is at St Paul's Cathedral. If you look at the current picture on my Twitter/X wallpaper where the sun is setting behind me, the cathedral is to my left (and off camera). From subsequent investigation, these appear to be angels rather than gargoyles. I say appear to be, because not only do I search for images but articles as well. And while there are stories I can weave based on the cathedral itself - look and see how ghostly it is at night, for example - I'm more about the monsters we can see. The gargoyles, the imps, the demons, the devils. You get the idea.

Luckily, I didn't have to search long before I found a good fit: the Cornhill Devils.

For those that don't know, Cornhill is based in East Central London, not from Bank Underground station. This is important, because not only is Bank station big enough to have several exits that open onto various streets, but it's also big enough to have two stations, if you will. One side is Bank, the other side is Monument. Put this to the test: you can walk from Bank to Monument without going to street level ...but it'll take you several minutes. And it's not like I've never passed through the area before, whether it was work or events or dating or whatever. This was the first time I went there looking for the devil. Despite the fact that I was out and about yesterday and saw a black Lamborghini with a doctor's 666 cherished plate, it wasn't one of the devils I was looking for. More like a speed demon. Anyhow. Only when I got back to my neighbourhood and I'm looking up at wall fixtures to avoid birdshit from pigeons do I think 'oh, shit' - what I was looking up for was left across town. Luckily, I redeemed myself today.

Having got to Bank and taken the wrong exit despite reasonable endeavours, the brother in London Underground uniform is good enough to give me directions to Cornhill. During which, one uppity woman interrupts and chides that she's running late. But not before the brother kisses his teeth and helps her if only to be rid of her. Of course, I laughed. And wished him no more foolishness.

Finally finding Cornhill was worth it. Although the day has been bitterly cold, even with me rocking Timberland's best. What struck me about these devils is how inconspicuous they are. To be fair, they're several stories up. Plus the area has banks - not your regular high-street banks, though - bespoke tailors, high-end jewellers, etc. Asking at Benjys (no apostrophe) deli on the ground floor (54-55 Cornhill) about the building or the upper floors got me an 'I don't know' or two. Which is fair play. At least it was warm in there, and the food looked and smelled great. Fresh eggs, salad, barbecue chicken. Yellow fluorescence and white-chalk menus on black chalkboards. All the good stuff.

From an author point of view, it's important to do such reconnaissance. Especially since I live in London, so it's easier to do. So I'll not only take pictures, but video as well. I want to capture the sights, the sounds, the smells. The atmosphere. Like I say: all the vivid in bringing the city to life isn't an accident. You're welcome.

Watch this space, and I may just bring one of those devils to life, too.

#cornhill #london #ilovelondon #thelondonsociety #reconnaissance #research #devil #gargoyle #demon #londonunderground

Game, 101 - Publishing.

There's a theme that's run through a number of conversations I've had with my peers over the last couple of weeks on the business of horror publishing. Most notably from one of my mentees (as an HWA mentor) was on what considerations I have before I submit work to a publisher. I've spoken previously about Game 101; the basics of game - the savvy in how you do what you do. Detailed as it might have been, it was pretty high-level; so didn't go too deep on such things as dealing with publishers.

There's an American phrase I love to refer to: 'your mileage may vary.' In other words, I'll tell you what works for me and how well it does; you might see it differently. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but I can tell you what I'm looking for. Not necessarily absolutes, but the more of these boxes a publisher ticks, the more likely I am to do business with them:

1. CONDUCT. Beyond how much you might pay or how you may promote the work, etc., how do you conduct yourself in business? How do you conduct yourself as a ,person,? Are you articulate and respectful? Diligent? Mindful of deadlines, conflicting priorities, etc.? Open to listening and sharing ideas? Or are you dismissive? Lazy, e.g. leaving promotion to the author? My craft has now evolved to the stage where it truly keeps me busy; the writing, beta reading, mentoring, studying - since I devote more time to studying the business aspects of the craft. Even if I had time to waste, I wouldn't waste it. So how you treat an author, myself or otherwise, is key. If I don't want to engage with you as a person, I don't want to engage with your business either.

Now you might never get the measure of a publisher until you work with them BUT odds are good that someone else has. The likes of Writer Beware, word of mouth and demonstrated behaviour, etc. will help give you an idea of just who exactly you're thinking about working with. If they're not decent people, I don't engage further. That said, even if they are decent people (which is the norm), that doesn't mean they're decent in business. Which leads me to...

2. PAY. Arguably the bottom line of the agreement - ,how much are they paying me for my work? What's the rate per word? Is the royalty split down the middle? The less it's in my favour, the less likely I am to do business with them. Is there an advance? If so, how much is it?

I'll also add in author copies. Why? Because even if the publisher doesn't do conventions, I do. Which means I'm more visible, mingling with my peers, doing readings, discussion panels, etc. - and more likely to sell the books that I've probably brought to the convention for that reason. Plus, I also do online giveaways and readings to help promote the work - so author copies are a valuable add-on. I don't write for free, unless it's for a charity. If the payment is 'exposure,' then the answer is 'no.'

3. RIGHTS. In particular over recent years, I keep a close eye on what rights publishers ask for beyond print (books), electronic (Kindle/e-books) and audio (audiobooks), as well as the First Publication rights (since most of the stuff I sell is new and not a reprint). With film/TV rights, I do not want to sell those unless the publisher can show they can actually get my work into film/TV, e.g. have they done that before with other works they published. If they can't build a solid argument for it, I've no intention of giving those rights up. In a nutshell: I only want to sell the publisher the rights they're going to use.

How long the publisher holds onto those rights - e.g. a year for short fiction - will also be a deciding factor. Just because I sell a story to you doesn't mean I won't sell it to someone else afterwards. If your intent is to keep those rights for donkeys years, I'm less likely to do business with you.

4. ARTWORK. I'm aware there's an adage to not judge a book by its cover - but good cover art will definitely help sell that book. I've said this countless times: the same way you'd want a professional photographer to cover a wedding, you'd want a professional artist to do the book's cover. If you've dabbled in artwork and slap that on the book, that's exactly what it'll look like - you've dabbled in artwork. Nothing more. Which is shooting that book in the foot before the reader has a chance to pick it up and look at the blurb.

For me, this a good test: if you saw that book on the shelves at the likes of Waterstones, Barnes & Noble, etc., would you buy it? Would you willingly dig in your pocket and part with hard-earned cash to buy it? If you can't honestly say 'yes', that will show you the level of quality you should be aiming for.

5. WEBSITE. The shopfront of the publisher. What they need to have here is evidence of professionalism and serious intent. Does the website URL have 'wixsite' in it for example? If so, it's a hard pass. Ditto if it has poor artwork, isn't regularly updated, is cumbersome to navigate, isn't secure. Also if it's lacking basic info about who the publisher is, what they do, how they do, their latest news, who their staff and their authors are, their submission policy, how to contact them, etc.

6. SOCIAL MEDIA PRESENCE. Mostly the same as the website. I say 'mostly', because what I'm more mindful of here is how they engage with a potential audience: be they authors, fellow publishers, readers, or none of the above. Do they discuss what they bring to the table? Promote and applaud their authors and works? Communicate their achievements as a press? Give commentary on the state of the genre, e.g., taking a stance on the use of AI in creative writing or artwork? Or do they make too many jokes to be taken seriously? Or show themselves to have a bias which is racist, sexist, homophobic, etc. - whether deliberately or not? Or maybe they don't have much of a social media presence at all? Things that are more likely to warn me away from them.

7. CONVENTION PRESENCE. I'm aware that there are costs involved for publishers to get to conventions. Not only for them to attend, but also to set up in the Dealers Room if they're actually planning to sell books. Still, given that I make to more conventions now, on both sides of the Atlantic, a publisher's attendance means they're more likely to engage with an audience, which means I'm more likely to engage with that publisher. Plus, if you get the chance to meet in person, you get a better measure of who they are as a person. The more my craft evolves and the more I travel for it, the more peers I've met: not just publishers, but authors, reviewers, artists, et al. By and large, a decent community; gracious, good-humoured, dedicated, etc. All the good stuff.

Of course I appreciate that not everyone - publisher or not - can make it to a convention at all. Conventions can be pricey. Tickets for the convention itself, tickets to travel to the convention, accommodation for when you're at the convention. A fair undertaking if it's just in your country, let alone on the other side of the world. There may be additional concerns beyond money. Family/parenting responsibilities. Scheduling conflicts. Poor physical/mental health. Etc. But this is where engagement is important - maybe even more so. How are you connecting with that audience? What value are you bringing them? Author interviews? Q&A sessions? Teasers? Cover reveals? Online launch parties? Etc.

There it is; a deeper dive into another aspect of game.

#game #game101 #writing #publishing #publishers #horror #convention #stokercon #fantasycon #pay #payment #money #artwork #rights

FantasyCon 2023.

Easy Like Sunday Morning: shop talk on the last day of FantasyCon with Richard Clive, Adam Millard, and me.

One of my close friends once made the assertion that events such as FantasyCon are 'incestuous' - in that everyone is an author/editor/publisher, etc. That's not necessarily a bad thing. As an author, in terms of connecting with your audience at large, it's not the best place to start - again, because everyone is a 'someone.' But, if you want to connect with your community, it's a good way to go.

For this year's FantasyCon, I pushed my departure time to the convention back a couple of hours. Which allowed me enough time to hit the gym in the morning. I'm currently recovering from surgery on a myotendinous tear in the left pec/shoulder. The op, which the surgeon says was a success, was done mid-July this year, while the injury happened last July. That said, the op - so says the surgeon - needs some 4 months to recover, with my left arm in a sling for the first month. Nearly 2 and a half months in, I'm still sore and lacking full flailing mobility. So I let the genre community know that my famed hugs will need to be done with care, since I'm still healing from surgery. Most have been understanding and accommodating.

Once I arrived at the convention hotel (which is the same place I stayed in), I checked in and caught up with the likes of Wayne Parkin and Kayleigh Dobbs. Wayne, like me, is a bona-fide Spider-Man fan. And for some reason, he came through with a copy of Spectacular Spider-Man #161. A personal favourite, since it shows the possessed Hobgoblin (courtesy of Inferno) try to fulfil a hit on Robbie Robertson - and, of course, Spidey has to step in. I digress.

As a rule of thumb, I don't like to do more than a couple of panels at a convention - simply because I mostly prefer to be on my own time: eat when I want, see what panels I want, go where I want, etc. My first panel was a reading on Friday evening with Philip Fracassi and Ben Langley. Despite attendance being minimal, I'd like to think a fair time was had. As both an author and reader, I get why attending a reading can be a tall order: to just sit and listen to someone read isn't the most engaging activity for the audience. Outside distraction; joys of the convention. Listening to a story you're not familiar with from an author whose work you're not familiar with. My other panel was a discussion panel on the Saturday; talking about how we - in this case, me, Dave Watkins, Cat Cavendish, and WP Wiles with Kat Day as mod - imbue our horror with a sense of creepy.

Talking About The Creepy Things. With David Watkins, WP Wiles, me, Cat Cavendish, and Kat Day (mod, out of camera-shot).

There are a number of reasons why I go to a convention. Such as:

it gives me a chance to connect in real time with my peers.

it makes sure I remain visible (if you aren't being seen, no one will see you).

it gives me something to talk about.

more often than not, new business shakes loose.

it keeps me informed on the state of the genre.

While the attendance felt relatively sparse to me on the Friday, I got more sense of greater numbers on the Saturday; which had additional attendees. It's a sad fact that while your community is in attendance, you don't necessarily get to speak to them. You could be having a quick chat with Person A, then Person B happens along. By the time you're done with Person B, even if it's a matter of minutes, Person A has already gone to a panel, reading, meal, or some such. It can be like herding cats.

I finally catch up with Katie and her baking. And I saw that it was good (so thank you for that).

What continues to surprise me is some in the genre feel a degree of imposter syndrome: that their place in the genre isn't deserved. What makes this more ironic is that, despite the scope and depth of horror that we creators plumb, we're generally the most gracious, welcoming, and supportive community - even more so to those brave enough to confess they're not so skilled in social settings. Go to any horror convention and you'll probably see just that. You'll also see a good dose of humour, whether it's photo-bombing, some beauty-pageant variant of the The Best Legs In Horror (and Phil Sloman is forever a good sport to show off those legs), pec-popping to The Blue Danube Waltz, etc.

There's genuine enjoyment to be had from engaging with your peers. Whether it's talking martial arts with Shona Kinsella, talking contracts and rights with Jonathan Oliver, cover art with Adam Millard, etc. Time with your peers, especially in real time, is never wasted.

#fantasycon #writing #bfs #panel #surgery #horror

The Assessment.

It's now nearly two months since I had surgery to repair a torn tendon in the left shoulder/pec. The prognosis was pegged at 4 months recovery from the op, with the first month in a sling - so now I'm nearing the halfway stage. As is, the surgical wound has healed, the scar's fading, and I've got more mobility in the shoulder region. That said, there's still a way to go.

I can just about reach all the way up, but can't extend the arm backward yet, as if I were doing a reverse dive - not without undue tension in the side of the pec. So flexibility needs work. Not too surprisingly, I still have some soreness in the pec and shoulder, as a result of having a knife stuck in me and flesh pulled and stapled. A month in a sling where all the lifting was done by the right arm and right hand meant my left arm was smaller. A drop in reflexes and timing, especially if my gaming is anything to go by. I'm not the biggest gamer, but a half-hour of Tekken now and then helps take the edge off from the stress of the hustle.

The good news is that these are things I can work on that help redress the balance. Time back in the gym helps recover more of the physical and mental well-being. I'm not let loose on the likes of squats, bench, pullups and deadlifts yet, but there are things I can do in the meantime. And - thankfully - I'm now easing back into two-handed typing. Even as I type this, my copy typing is coming back to me. So there's that. Just as well; the last few months were sluggish. So here's where I can assess things.

I didn't make it out to Toronto this summer. A missed opportunity of time with friends, time at FanExpo, time with the compadres in the Ontario chapter of the HWA. And I do so love the pancake breakfasts out there; hitting the Sunset Grill downtown at 1 Richmond St W (off Yonge). I digress. Even though I didn't make it to FanExpo (and I missed the likes of Daredevil/Charlie Cox and Kingpin/Vincent D'Onofrio), what I may do is not only hit the Expo next year, but also take some books to sell and set up on a stall. For the uninitiated, this is FanExpo:

About the Show | FAN EXPO Canada (fanexpohq.com)

After all, if last year's FanExpo was anything to go by, footfall was some 130,000 people, if memory serves, over a 4-day weekend. A chance to sell, a chance to network, etc. Watch this space.

As I write this, I'm now on the home stretch of the new book. While it's at least a couple of months behind schedule in my eyes, it does mean that the execution is more meticulous. That, of course, is a good thing. Rather than trying to rush the book into production this year, it's more likely to drop next year. What's it about? Ah, that would be telling ...and I'm not doing that yet. What I can proudly say is that, thus far, it will have one of the most terrifying scenes I've ever written. I shit you not.

Next up will be a welcome respite - where I whore myself out to beta read for other authors. It might not sound like much of a break, but it does give me a chance to switch gears and keep my game tight in the process. This I'll do for up to another month before I get back to the next book. There's other stuff coming - beyond my anthology releases over the next couple of months - but I don't want to give too much away yet.

Reviewing my workstack and my body of work reminds me that I don't have anywhere near enough work out there yet - recent work in particular. If I'm honest, I'm not doing enough to promote it. In short, my game still needs work. The good thing is that now, getting back to normalcy, it's next on the agenda.

#game #game101 #surgery #fanexpo #toronto #sunsetgrill #HWA #writing #lifting

One-Armed Bandit.

It was Saturday 2nd July 2022. I was benching a paltry 90kg. Paltry enough for someone that used to bench 120kg (which I've never gotten back to), but could handily rep with 110kg. But 90kg, on that day, on that 2nd rep of the 2nd set, had proven taxing enough that I felt something in the outer side of my left pec ...rip.

Only as I'm typing this now am I aware that the 2nd of the 2nd on the 2nd is weird/unlikely/something I couldn't make up, etc., but that's how it happened. How exactly, I don't know. My guess is too much back arching and too wide a grip on a flat bench that was simply too high. Anyhow. With the thick ripping of tissue, common sense kicked in - seasoned lifter that I am. Rack the weight, straight to the mirror, pull up the shirt. No blood/bruising in the skin of the pec or shoulder that I'd expect from a muscle tear. That said, the muscle was still sore.

In the days, weeks and months that followed of ibuprofen, GP physio appointments, referrals, MRI scans, et al, what was initially assumed to be a haematoma was actually a partial tear of the muscle and tendon. Something of a freak accident. Not painful, but annoying that an athlete as myself wasn't treated sooner for the injury. Those days, weeks & months were hard fought, railing against the blight of conflicting info, cancelled appointments (R.I.P, HRH), NHS (National Health Service) wait times (e.g. 6 months) and such. Let me say for the record that I love the NHS; as someone with family that have served in it, I know the industry can be pressurised at best. Personally, I hate waiting for things. I can be patient, but time spent waiting needs to be productive. So I bit the bullet and went for private healthcare.

You get what you pay for.

A little over a year from when the injury happened, I'm finally waiting in my own room at a private hospital in the West End. Hospital gown feeling thin and tight. Some 3 hours after I'm checked in, where I'm the last patient on the list, a couple of nurses in scrubs come to collect me & escort me to the operating theatre - where everyone else is in scrubs. It's chilly. Bright fluorescent lighting. Nowhere to hide in this room. So I lay down on the operating table. The anesthetist (who swung by my room prior to the operation, as did other nurses and the surgeon) puts tubes in the back of my hand while talking me through what he's doing. Nurses peel down the top of my gown - leaving me to get chilly - and start sticking electrode squares on me. A nurse on my left clamps an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth, trapping the edge of the left nostril. So I'm lying there with eyes closed, thinking, "how the hell am I supposed to relax, let alone sleep?" And then, I look over to my left ...and realise I'm back in my room, looking out into the hallway. With a dressing on my left shoulder. My left arm now in a sling.

This was disconcerting. Disorienting.

One, because I had no sensation of being drowsy when I was being anaesthetised - consciousness; boredom, even was followed by ...nothing. Two, because I had no sense of the passage of time. From trying to figure out how the hell I'd relax, let alone sleep as I lay on the operating table, the next moment, I'm looking to my left, seeing the hallway and then realising I'm back in my room - with no memory of how/when I got there.

Nurses come through with some water to sip/drink and cardboard bowls in case I needed to vomit, the surgeon comes through to inform me the op went well - good news indeed, considering it was untreated for little over a year. Also that I should expect to wear the sling for a month and keep the arm in 'internal rotation' (forearm held across the stomach), keep the dressing dry, etc. Still woozy I managed to down some water. And then, moments later, I had to vomit into one of those cardboard bowls. No feeling of nausea that you might associate with undercooked food, for example - just a directionless imperative to violently void the stomach. Which happened several times into several bowls over the next hour or two, with nurses offering a sympathetic "Ohhh...", until I was finally dressed and discharged. I could barely stand, let alone walk, still blindsided by anaesthesia - so I was folded into a wheelchair that barely fit me, wheeled out to the lift bay and into the lift, and down to the ground floor where my ride was waiting. Back home at last, I managed a chicken wrap that night - which promptly came up and into the nearby bucket I had with me. It took a week before I felt brave enough to stop carrying the bucket around the house with me.

Some two weeks on from the surgery and the prognosis is good. The dressing has come off, the muscle and tendon are healing nicely, and in a couple of weeks I can cut back on use of the sling - with a degree of normalcy in the next couple of months. That said, I need to be mindful that I'm still recovering. My surgeon has echoed what I already know; long-haul flights will be challenging at best - the scheduled summer trip to Toronto (and FanExpo being one such outing). Let alone trying to fold some 5'10" and 220lbs of me into an airplane seat, the bigger challenge is how to do even the most basic tasks with one hand ...even being right-handed.

Yes, I'm a one-armed bandit now. Imagine what that's going to be like on the writing.

Usually, I knock out around 45 wpm, which includes copy typing (since I've been typing often enough and long enough to reach this proficiency). Most of the new book is written, but the rest will - of course - need manual labour. I've had friends and peers recommend talk-to-text software. But despite what may be a laborious process, I prefer to type and see my words land on the page, mould and craft their structure. Refine the tone, pace and inflection. All the good stuff. After this book, I'm back on beta duty and mentoring; a welcome change of pace before I get into the next project.

Game still needs to be handled; even if there's a current speed restriction. Watch this space.

#game #game101 #surgery #pec #tendon #NHS #healthcare #toronto #FanExpo #beta

StokerCon 2023.

Good times. l-r: Mark Matthews, John F.D. Taff and me at this month's StokerCon, out in Pittsburgh, PA, U.S.A.

For the past couple of years, I'd attended StokerCon, but virtually - in other words, online. The coronavirus pandemic meant that, for many, the 'normal' would have to evolve. Businesses, clubs and organisations that would do business in person were forced to do online/virtual events. Or do an in-person event which was also available for an online audience - in a hybrid event. So it was/is for StokerCon.

In case you're not aware: StokerCon is a 4-day/long weekend convention of horror fiction and its exponents; the writers, editors, publishers, reviewers, podcasters, designers/illustrators, et al. This event is hosted by the HWA; the Horror Writers Association, who are, as per the HWA website, horror.org, 'a non-profit organisation of writers and publishing professionals around the world, dedicated to promoting dark literature and the interests of those who write it.' StokerCon also culminates in the Bram Stoker Awards a.k.a. the Stokers - think of the Oscars/Academy Awards, but for horror fiction.

There.

In case you didn't know, I live in London, UK. More often than not, StokerCon is held in one of the states of North America. And even though I do some travelling now and again, the past couple of years had me attend online. But this year was different - I decided to attend in person.

Why? I'll get to that.

The past few years have seen me putting in work, which includes working hard on my craft - striving to bring you the most skillful, engaging and terrifying stories. It also includes the business of the craft. Promoting/marketing my work, connecting with the wider genre community, whether it's Q&A sessions, podcasts, conventions, beta reading, mentoring. The HWA has a mentorship scheme, for which I'm one of its mentors, guiding and supporting less experienced writers in the craft and the business of it. Even in an unofficial capacity, I give back to the genre, regularly giving constructive feedback on stories of my peers, promoting their work, offering advice, a straight-up peptalk, or serving as a sounding board. I'm hustling, and evolving.

Bear in mind that while the HWA is global, not everyone in the global community is a member. As someone who's done the UK convention circuit for a number of years in a number of cities, this - for me - needs to evolve as well. And while the online version of StokerCon is engaging, it's not the same as the in-person event; which I'd prefer.

So this year was the first year I went to a StokerCon. This year in Pittsburgh, in the state of Pennsylvania. In what's now standard practice for a convention, I:

stayed at the convention hotel.

appeared in the programming (I was on just one panel this time).

met with the usual suspects (albeit those I'd only IM'd or video chatted with).

indulged in shenanigans.

made some new connects.

drummed up some new business.

got through a decent volume of food and drink.

Putting in work - on the Psychology In Horror Panel. l-r: Patrick Freivald, P.M. Raymond, Sarah Hans, Rook Riley, me, Paul Tremblay.

Logistics mean that a number of North American authors may not travel to further states of the U.S. let alone cross the globe - the U.S. that big. Regardless, I have no qualms about getting my travel done. And so I did, meeting a number of peers, such as Brian Keene and Paul 'Noige' Synuria from before I was a horror writer, Jake Wyckoff and Eric J. Guignard from my early days of writing, David Thirteen, Sephera Giron & Colleen Anderson; authors I know from Canada that swung by. Breakfast with the likes of Johnny Compton, Nelson W Pyles, Gabino Iglesias, and Roni Stinger. An all-too-brief catch-up with Clare Castleberry.

StokerCon itself, as with other conventions, allows your community - your tribe - a chance to gather in the same space. Schedule-wise, there are panel discussions, a dealer room (where you can buy books from the publishers set up in there, along with any additional merchandise they might have; bookmarks, t-shirts, and such). StokerCon also has pitch sessions, where you pitch a story to a publisher and see if you pique their interest. And then there's also the award ceremony (remember I mentioned the Bram Stoker Awards?), along with the pre-award show banquet. In spite of all the programming, it's not surprising to only attend a fraction of it. And that's okay. The idea of the convention is to bring the community together.

Post-convention and getting stuck in. clockwise: me, Alexa Moon, John Crinan, Daniel Willcocks, Ally Wilkes, Catriona Ward, and Gemma Amor - all of us at Redfin Blues.

Be it known that I was a shy kid. Back when I was infant enough that Mama would take me to see the doctor, I was literally the shy kid in the room. Sat next to Mama, head down, swinging my legs (and I was small enough back then that my feet wouldn't touch the floor), because I couldn't make eye contact with anyone. As an adult, I don't suffer that shyness now, but I can appreciate how daunting/debilitating it might be for some people. Plus, I accept that shyness - whether it's dating or socialising - can cost you some serious joy. So, yeah, I mingle. I wouldn't say I'm a people person, but I appreciate people for being different, writers included. Writing is serious business (and it's not for everyone) - so the chance to hang with your peers for everything from shop talk to shenanigans is welcome. I can't comment on any such conventions for other genres, but for horror conventions, the camaraderie runs high in what's largely a supportive and welcoming community; it's a joy. But don't take my word for it - just look at convention pictures taken by anyone in the genre. And the sheer volume of authors out there is vast; in the horror genre alone, let alone overall.

Which leads me back to a major reason of stepping to StokerCon.

Remember when I said, 'I'll get to that'? Here we go.

As much as I love to meet my peers - and truly, I do - I'm mindful to keep an eye on *my* hustle. After all, it's my responsibility and if I don't keep an eye on it, who will? I'm also mindful of the wider audience of genre lovers; which is much broader than the audience of your peers (the authors, editors, reviewers, et al). The nine-to-fivers, the kids skipping school to watch a new horror film and then thinking about the novel tie-in, the flyers-to-be, looking for something to read on their next flight, etc. But as far as I'm concerned, not nearly enough people in the genre know who *I* am, or the work *I've* written - let alone the wider audience. But this isn't a lament, it's an assertion. Because whether you see me doing the rounds or not, know that I'm putting in work so that everyone gets to know who I am, and how I do what I do. So if it's now with a mostly U.S. audience (in addition to the U.K. contingent I see on the regular), so be it.

Only recently, someone asked me if I'd do StokerCon again. And my answer's the same:

"Damned right I will."

#stokercon #stokers #game #game101 #travel

In The Company Of Monsters.

For all the fitness clubs and leisure centres across London, there's only a handful of hardcore gyms - and it's been this way for years and years. York's in Clapham Junction. Beauty And The Beast, in Thornton Heath. MuscleWorks in Bethnal Green. Squats in Mitcham. Pink's Gym in Carshalton. Physical Culture in Putney. Grove Gym in Balham. Genesis Gym in Wembley. Some have moved (MuscleWorks), some have renamed (Beauty And The Beast), and some have shut (e.g. Grove Gym). Others are still going strong (e.g. MuscleWorks).

The likes of the fitness clubs and leisure centres, et al. are okay, I suppose (insert facial shrug here), if you want to stay in some kind of shape. If you want to get toned. If you want to get fitter. If you want a relatively light touch to improve your condition. If you want to socialise and exercise. But it's in these places I've seen where equipment for heavy lifting is put together as an afterthought following the likes of music and juice bars - and it's lacking as a result. Squat racks where the pins are too shallow to rack heavier weight easily and safely. Deadlift areas where the floor is soft, and so gives a poor platform to lever the weight up from. Benches too high, which cause arching of the back and promote poor form when pressing. Pull-up bars not hung high enough to allow for a dead hang of taller people. Etc. etc. etc.

As a teen, I used to lift in a local leisure centre. And as a scrawny teen not used to the iron, it didn't take much for me to grow a little. Even when I'd pig out on two boxes of Mr Kipling's finest (Viennese Whirls, if I remember correctly) after a session, I'd still grow. Hell, I even got the nickname 'Bencher' from a couple of the guys; as a scrawny teen of 67kg who could bench 90kg. Then I went to uni in the North East and discovered 'Wearside Health & Fitness Studio' - also known as 'Arthur's Gym', which was a hardcore gym. So I was taking lifting more seriously. With a number of patrons being the door staff of local bars and clubs, I'd get to see these guys and build rapport. And because this is the first time I did squats and deadlift, I put on a stone of muscle in the first year. Seven pounds of that in the first 3 months. The goal was (and still is) to get bigger and stronger.

After uni, I was lifting at Grove Gym, which was on Balham Grove. Back then, it was run by Mike Pearman, who was a BAWLA coach (British Amateur Weightlifting Association).

https://www.theguardian.com/sport/2001/oct/29/theguardian3

This is also where I went up to benching 120kg. For the competitions run in the gym to see who could lift the most across squat, bench and deadlift, I'd rank, but I wouldn't win. Truthfully, it was about the camaraderie. As well as the kind of brute strength where you could rip a lamp post out of the ground (my man Kerwin will tell you). When Grove Gym finally shut, I was ...adrift for a while. It's really odd that there are only a handful of the hardcore gyms across the city, those churches of heavy iron. I flirted with Squats Gym. Lumped for time in a leisure centre, maybe. Until I made the pilgrimage across town to MuscleWorks in Bethnal Green, East London. Where I'd level off at squats of 140kg (like in the picture in this entry), stiff-leg deadlifts with 170kg and pullups with an extra 30kg. Never did recover the 120kg benching though.

For all the monsters I write about, these gyms - MuscleWorks for sure - are the places where you truly find yourself in the company of monsters.

https://muscleworksgym.co.uk/the-gyms/bethnal-green/

There are people bigger than you. There are people smaller than you. Leaner than you. Softer than you. But the monster is more than skin deep. These are the places where it's okay to curse, growl and roar. These aren't the fitness clubs and leisure centres where such behaviour might stun everyone else into silence and make things uncomfortable, no. These are the places where the bars start to bend from the sheer weight heaped on them. The places where each rep is a clattering of iron plates. The places where you're in danger of ripping your shirt when you try to take it off post-workout; it's stuck to you with that much sweat. The places where you're truly let off the chain to go to war on the iron and yourself, spurred on by your comrades in iron.

One thing that's changed for the better over the years is to see a wider demographic than 'just guys' hit the weights. No women-only rules here; the women are down to put in work like everybody else. And not just clapping with silver dumbells, no. Squats, deadlifts ...and pelvic lifts for some reason. The disabled as well; that motorised wheelchair will get the man to his station in the gym so he can train whatever muscles he can. The gym's even 24hr now; so the likes of the Ramadaners can still get their food and a good session in. And while MuscleWorks isn't my current gym (and I have York's offshoot Yorky's for that), it's still ...home.

Of course, such places find their way into my work, even if it's just a name check. And why shouldn't they? I love to be in the company of monsters.

After all, I am one.

#London #lifting #muscleworks #squat #squats #deadlift #beautyandthebeast #grovegym #physicalculture #yorks #yorkys #exercise #fitness #muscle #strength #strong #Ramadan

Rules Of Engagement.

There are a number of things I've seen in the genre recently, where I think, "uhhhh ...what?" When I say 'genre', I'm referring to horror fiction; and those members of our community. Not just the authors, but the editors, publishers, reviewers, bloggers, podcasters, artists/illustrators, etc. You get the idea. But, what kinds of things? Well:

Friending to get likes/follows, then unfriending once achieved.

Which is weird for a number of reasons. Yes, it might be seen as a degree of social proof - but your status isn't your product. So why would you follow/Like someone if you weren't into their product? I appreciate that's how I see it, but that's not how everyone else might see it. In the horror genre fiction community where we pride ourselves on our craft as much as our approach to it, this friending/unfriending is a hard pass. No. Don't do it. From a social media point of view, there are people or accounts that I might friend or follow - but this isn't a quid pro quo thing. I do so because I'm interested enough - and I'm happy if you think the same. If you think otherwise, then - to quote Dirty Harry - you're shit outta luck. And because news can travel fast in said community, if one person gets wise to your foolishness, it won't be long before others catch on.

Abuse of reviewers (including, but not limited to stalking and death threats).

What's important to remember is that no matter what your chosen endeavour is, whether it's writing, music, sculpture, sport, whatever - there will *always* be those who simply aren't moved by what you do; but *your* audience will love you for it. With that in mind, if someone states they didn't like your work, why wouldn't you leave it at that, and move on? Even if they continually give this verdict on more of your work, why would you give them headspace? They're just one person out of how many? Assuming your work gets good reviews, why would you dwell on the bad ones? Let alone stalking those who wrote them? And stalking opens you up to a can of worms that may include but isn't limited to bad press, legal implications ...and blowback from the same audience that you are, supposedly, trying to entertain.

Now, if a reviewer has reviewed your work and asserts it didn't work for them because of a, b, and c ...well, that's their opinion. Which they're entitled to. While these instances are few and far between, there are still too many reports of authors with a misplaced sense of entitlement that a reviewer (or publisher/editor, for example) is misguided because that author's work was met with a rave review. Again: there will *always* be those who simply aren't moved by what you do. And death threats are not only extreme and misguided, but open you up to a can of worms that may include but isn't limited to bad press, legal implications ...and blowback from the same audience that you are, supposedly, trying to entertain.

In either case, harassment of reviewers is wrong.

Even with unflattering reviews, I'm still grateful that they help to put me and my work in front of the audience. More often than not, reviewers do this for the love of genre fiction and the genre itself - and without pay. They want to support the genre. For the record, I'd have no issue with reviewers charging for reviews; especially since it's a service that puts you and your work in front of the audience. That's not to say you're assured a good or bad review, just an honest one. Although, if a reviewer will charge for a review (and how much might be charged is a whole other topic), then I expect a review once monies have been paid. To circle back, genre reviewers provide a service free of charge and in their own time - which may be limited. So bear in mind that when reviewers state they will try to review a work, they're not being difficult. I bet there's a good chance they read more books than you do - so be appreciative that they actually try taking the time to read yours.

Unwelcome sexually suggestive contact.

Usually, I see this against women in the community and, thankfully, that community (regardless of gender) will show support and understanding. As for the perpetrators, I'm genuinely baffled as to what drives them to act this way. If it's not to pursue a genuine and mutual attraction, and you can't do it honestly and respectfully, take a long hard look at yourself. Why would you act in such a way making women uncomfortable? In some instances - and I say this because some women will post screenshots of that contact - it looks like the aim is just that: to make them feel uncomfortable. Again, I ask: why? Take a long hard look at yourself, and do better. Again: news travels fast in said community - and such behaviour may open a can of worms that includes but isn't limited to bad press, legal implications ...and blowback from the same audience that you are, supposedly, trying to entertain.

What's also important is that for all of the examples mentioned - and more besides - we speak up, even if *we* aren't directly affected. Why? Because it sends a clear message on what is and what is NOT acceptable. Be appreciative of the community and respectful to those in it.

Those are the rules of engagement.

#horror #horrorcommunity #deaththreat #review #reviewer #harassment #socialmedia #facebook #twitter

No More Zulu.

Some weeks ago, I had the good fortune to catch up with Gavin Jefferson. This goliath (and don't take my word for it, check his Twitter profile) is larger than life, and damn-near chilled to perfection. We'd long hashed out the idea that we'd need to hang at some point and talk 'bass, weights, and game.' Which we finally did, some weeks ago at the Blues Kitchen up in Camden.

Where we ordered no food and bailed before the live music started. My fault, on both counts. Anyhow.

What I had told Gavin at the time, in terms of what was in and around Camden, was that not too far inside Camden Market, there was an African restaurant called Shaka Zulu. And how, for all the times I'd been there, I'd never eaten anything. But from friends, previous dates and associates, et al, the place has come highly recommended.

Anyhow.

Gavin then tells me he's due to be around soon - but that Shaka Zulu has closed. Quick-fast, I head to their website and see that they are indeed closed.

Well, shit.

I first caught wind of Shaka Zulu as a restaurant some years back. This was off the back of a trip to Miami, of all places. Where I went with a bunch of the guys in July - not my idea. Where we'd been lounging on the beach; them in shorts, shades and ball caps, puffing on cigars. Me in t-shirt, jeans, Tims, and Kangol. Then comes disbelief that I came to Miami without shorts or flip-flops, and that it never occurred to me to go swimming. I was soon given my marching orders. Told that they would 'get my sexy black ass in them waves.' To their credit, the guys succeeded. Good fun, too.

For one of the guys, who has a December birthday, the celebration was dinner - and possibly more - at Shaka Zulu. For those unaware, Shaka Zulu was not only a bar as well as a restaurant, but also served as a club; playing R&B and hip-hop. Anyhow. For my man's birthday, I turn up at the pre-arranged time that night. Waiting outside in the cold. Dipping inside once or twice to see if the guys were actually there but snuck past me somehow. No such luck. The decor is dimly lit, and decorated with exquisite carvings of life-sized tribal warriors, jungle cats, et al. A proudly African vibe.

And after waiting about a half-hour or so, I went home cold and hungry, not having met up with the guys. Who, it turns out, exercised lousy timekeeping and showed up that much later. You think I'd have learned my lesson for when that happened in the year(s) to come - but, no.

The best look I had in there was when a singles/matchmaking company staged an event a while ago. Even as I was only in there for drinks and speed-dating, I got a chance to have a better look at the place. And the décor. And the menu (serving the likes of grilled sea bass, buffalo striploin and crocodile steak). Foodie that I am, this part's important.

Despite the fact that this jewel in Camden Market has closed, it's not the only place in London where you can sample such fare. What's struck me about London is that there are always new places to discover. There are places I've still not been to - Dans le Noir is a prime example. And yes, it is eating in the dark. Having been up at The Dilly (hotel bar) in Piccadilly Circus recently, I wonder how long that's been there. When I stepped to the Monmouth Kitchen in Leicester Square two weeks after it opened some years ago, I was blown away by the place - especially since I'd been up at Forbidden Planet about a month earlier.

For all the places in the capital that might disappear, there are always those places humbly step into the landscape and wait to be discovered, visited, Instragrammed, you name it. The city continues shift and evolve into more of the same, and it does so without fanfare or apology. Me, I'm just along for the ride. What can I say? - I love London.

But then, you already knew that.

#london #shakazulu #gavinjefferson #miami #food #foodie #dilly #piccadilly #piccadillycircus