Remembering my friend, Andrew Pyper

Andrew Pyper

March 29th, 1968 – January 3rd, 2025

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The start of a new year is always filled with excitement and joy for the potential. The ‘what’s to come.’ We make resolutions, celebrate the previous year’s ups and reflect on the down’s and challenge ourselves to do better. To be better.

I had almost two weeks off from work over the Holiday’s, and it was spent with my wife and son, as well as a week with my mother-in-law and father-in-law. It was a mix of quality time and fun things. We went to a bunch of Christmas light events. We went to the Zoo for their Christmas celebration. We rang in the New Year’s by attending the family fireworks event. And we watched movies, played games and made memories.

On Friday, January 3rd, Amanda, Auryn and I went to the Royal Alberta Museum, or the RAM.

We love the RAM, go frequently, and we wanted to catch the new exhibit – artwork based around neurology and emotions. In Alberta, there’s a pass you can get called the ‘Explore Alberta’ pass. I think this is our third year getting one. It covers the admission to a ton of places around the province, with the RAM being one of them.

We spent a solid three hours there, revisited the Angkor exhibit before it closed and moved elsewhere, and then we packed up to head home.

First though, we needed to make a stop at a grocery store.

It was while at the store, that I looked at my phone and saw I had a DM notification from my good friend, Randall. The last line was his phone number, and my heart sank.

I knew.

I swiped my screen, entered my pin, and read his DM. It said ‘Oh man. This is a sad day. I’m thinking about you.’ Then he said I could give him a call and he included his phone number.

And I knew.

*

I’m not sure how or where to go from here. I’m struggling. I really am. And it’s an odd place to be mentally.

I’ve hardly slept. I’ve had a million things running through my mind at all hours of the day. Thinking of his family, his friends, their dog, his books, our times together.

My brain is wired in such a way that I need to write things. I need to express myself through writing. I have an easier time putting down hard truth’s in a word doc than having them rumble around my brain. I’ve stopped and started this a dozen times. One piece of writing advice Andrew gave me early on, was to examine what you’ve written with a critical eye. To never rush it and never launch it out before it’s ready. And outline. He was an ardent outliner.

I’d hoped the return to work would’ve eased some of the pain, stolen my focus, but it hasn’t.

*

The discovery of Andrew Pyper’s ‘The Demonologist’ changed my life.

I bought it, read it and once I was finished, I understood that I could do it. I could write a book. Now, don’t get me wrong, I never believed – nor do I believe now – that I could write half as well as Andrew, or anywhere close to his caliber, but after having toiled away working on my first novel – a novel I re-released just this past October 2024 – which surreally is about a man coming to grips with a terminal illness – reading ‘The Demonologist’ and discovering that Andrew was Canadian created a monumental shift in my own beliefs.

A Canadian did it. This Canadian could too.

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Since the news broke of Andrew’s passing, my notifications have been non-stop.

There’s been an outpouring of grief, but also a kindness in people asking how I’m holding up. I think Andrew would find it humorous that my most liked and commented on post about him is my post that he’s passed. I also hope his wife and kids see the love being shown towards him.

I feel a heaviness constantly. It’s a mixture of devastation, heartbreak and confusion. And guilt. I feel this guilt that so many people are checking on me, when in my heart, I’m still just a super fan. I hope people are stopping by at their home, that his wife is being showered with hugs. His kids are finding some light.

I used a fitting metaphor on fellow author, Tessa Wegert’s, Instagram post about Andrew. I said that Andrew was a beautiful spider who sent millions of gorgeous threads out into the wider world.

I believe that. Andrew Pyper was literature’s Kevin Bacon.

It’s hard pressed to find somebody who didn’t know him, hadn’t had any kind interaction with him or even received a blurb from him. He was there to help and use his platform to see you succeed.

It was through Andrew that I connected with Tessa. And I have hundreds more authors that I connected with, through him. Even now, I’ve had people message me to say that, while they didn’t know me, they’d seen some of my posts of Andrew’s books and wanted to send their condolences along.

I think it’s because people see this special connection that we had, that we shared. Often, we see readers rave about an author’s book, but seldom do we see it grow into a friendship like Andrew, and I had. To me, he was a celebrity.

If you’ve ever read one of Andrew’s books because of something I posted – thank you.

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Back in 2016, when I was transitioning from being an athlete to start writing, my writing world was small. All my social media pages were dedicated to sports. I even put a poll on my Facebook athlete page about whether I should just switch it to my author page or delete it and start over. All my followers at that time wanted to keep following me, so I switched it and that was the extent of my author’s world. Not long after, I discovered Books of Horror and connected with a few other authors, but it was seeing people posting book photos and reviews etc. on Instagram and Twitter that I noticed that not enough people were posting about Andrew’s books.

From that point on, I made it a personal mission of mine to shout about Andrew’s phenomenal books to a wider audience. When he followed me back on Twitter, it was a banner day. When he replied to my first DM to him, I took a screenshot and sent it to my wife. My favorite author knew who I was, for that briefest of moments. He’d seen my message, sent his thanks back and I couldn’t believe it. From that point on, every single like, comment, share/retweet, etc. etc. that I ever received from Andrew rocketed me sky high.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again – Andrew didn’t need me posting about his books. He was a lauded, award-winning and International Bestseller long before I ever came along. He never once asked me to post anything. I wanted to share my love of his books with as many people as I could.

And even now, I think I could’ve done more.

In May of 2017, I hosted the first Pyper-May-Nia! A month of celebrating Andrew’s books and fiction. I’ve done it every May since and in 2023, there was a 10th Anniversary celebration of The Demonologist at Little Ghosts in Toronto. A whole bunch of authors and readers came out and we all toasted Andrew, shared laughs, hugs and drinks, and by all accounts it was a wonderful event for all who attended.

It was also my way of telling him in person just how much he meant to me.

Even now, I wonder if I told him enough.

*

Behind the scenes, since the 10th Anniversary Celebration, Andrew and I had been involved in a few projects together.

The first was a non-fiction book titled ‘Provoking Fear – How Andrew Pyper’s Novels Changed the Landscape of Canadian Fiction.’ Andrew was super excited about it and every time I sent him an update, he was beyond thrilled to hear. It was picked up tentatively by an agent and a publisher, but ultimately, they declined, as the sample chapter I sent in with the pitch, market analysis etc. etc. was deemed ‘too positive’ and didn’t discuss anything negative towards the book I’d focused on. I told Andrew that I simply couldn’t do that. He understood.

With Andrew passing, I’ll be permanently shelving the book. In the future, I’ll release the sample chapter I wrote, as I think Andrew would love you all to read it.

The second was Mason Coile graphics. About 75% of the ‘William’ graphics you’ve seen Andrew post were graphics I made for him. Andrew had often DM’d me or emailed me about how I’d made something or posted something, as he wasn’t overly ‘graphic savvy.’ I started making stuff and sending it to him for him to post or not, and if he wanted anything specific, he’d message me and let me know. I’ll probably make some stuff and post it when the last two Mason Coile novels arrive.

A quick side story here, if you’ll allow.

Tik Tok was a place that neither of us could comprehend. He made a few videos over there, posted a few things, but in our conversations about posting content, neither of us could wrap our heads around that world. One time, I’d excitedly messaged him to share that a video I posted of one of his books had hit 4k views, which was astronomically higher than my other videos. He replied, ‘Watch out Kardashians!’ and I burst out laughing. It was a classic Andrew response, but it also had me wondering if him and the family used to sit down each week to catch up with Kim and her crew.

That the video I posted of my son and I, each wearing the ‘Read Andrew Pyper’ shirt is still my most viewed video makes me smile now.

The third project was a Guiness Book of World Records attempt. With Andrew’s blessing, I submitted an application to Guiness for the World Record of having the largest collection of Andrew Pyper books as well as the largest collection of signed Andrew Pyper books. The record attempt was accepted by Guiness, and I’m currently waiting to find out about getting it ratified and certified. Andrew thought it was the coolest thing ever, so I hope it can happen for him.

Lastly, Andrew and I had worked out the details for my own imprint, Black Void Publishing, to release the 30th Anniversary Edition of ‘Kiss Me,’ his debut short story collection. 2016 marks the 30th Anniversary and we’d confirmed the cover art, table of contents, foreword and afterword writers and release date. Andrew was excited for the book to relaunch and return to the small press world where it started.

Fitting, he called it.

I’m honestly not sure where this stands now. I’d love to proceed with it, and hopefully we can have a huge launch celebration, but ultimately this is a ‘wait and see’ project. I’ll continue working on it on my end, and proceed full steam ahead, but at this stage I simply don’t have any concrete answers.

Additionally, the Andrew Pyper Archives website I curate will continue, and will remain focused on showcasing all of Andrew’s phenomenal books.

*

In September 2024, Andrew’s newest/latest novel, and the first under his Mason Coile pseudonym, ‘William’ was released. It was Andrew’s first new physical book since ‘The Residence’ in 2020. Between that period, he’d released the ‘Oracle’ and ‘Oracle 2’ audiobooks, and had been working on various screenplays, but this was his first real book in four years. It was a time of great excitement. The sequel, ‘Exiles’ was announced as coming in 2025, and people were raving about ‘William.’

For me, it meant more books for my Pyper shelves. I had the ARC’s of ‘William,’ paperbacks and hardcovers and the German edition was on its way.

In the meantime, I travelled to Ontario for DreadCon, where I was going to be hosting a panel with Andrew and Craig Davidson (aka Nick Cutter). I’d pitched the panel to Michelle, and was thrilled to learn both Andrew and Craig were receptive to the idea.

The trip was pure magic and a highlight of my career – right alongside the 10th Anniversary celebration.

It was there that I knew in my heart something was going on with Andrew, though he never out rightly told me.

I’ve had many, many people message to ask about his illness and how it was a shock. Andrew chose to keep it to close friends and family, as was his right, but seeing him that day, I knew, and it broke my heart that this person I cared for so much was dealing with something of a significant magnitude.

*

The drive to DreadCon is etched in my mind. Just like the trip to Toronto for the celebration.

Andrew picked me up early, and we bantered back and forth during the 90-minute drive like long time friends. Once there, I had him sign some books I’d brought before we went in.

I had no idea those would be the last ones he’d ever sign for me.

Originally, Andrew was going to drive me to and from DreadCon, but that changed. He arranged for Craig Davidson to give me a ride back after the event, as Andrew had to head out early – his son had his first hockey game of the season that afternoon and Andrew didn’t want to miss it.

Over the past few days, I’ve emailed with Craig a number of times – bless his heart, for if you know Craig, you know he’d rather still have a rotary phone than a cell phone or email – and I’ve learned a few things around the DreadCon weekend. While I won’t share those details here, learning them has filled my heart with so much joy.

Andrew was at DreadCon for a few hours.

We did the panel, which was hilarious and great, and looking back, I’m so thankful that I concluded by thanking Andrew, and thanking them both, for their kindness, support, friendship and their books, that propelled me – and so many others – towards writing. We took some photos, then we went, and they signed books at a table. Then it was time for him to head out.

During the day, Andrew hugged me at least – if not more – a dozen times. Before he left, he gave Craig a big hug, then gave me a huge hug, kissed my cheek and told me how great it had been to see me. I didn’t want the guy to leave. This was my favorite author and my friend, why would I?

I had no idea I’d never see him again.

I had no idea that had been his way of saying goodbye to me in person.

But that’s how this works, isn’t it?

*

A few years back, myself, my wife and son, drove out to Trail, BC to spend some time with my sister, her husband and her two boys. Trail’s a few hours from where we grew up, and we always love visiting.

While there, my sister surprised my wife and I by sharing that she’d bought us each tattoos.

On the day of my appointment, I had my sister message and ask if I had time to get an extra piece done. The main tattoo I got was for my son. The second tattoo was a merged piece between the papercut from the cover of Andrew’s ‘The Killing Circle’ and the tree-circles from the cover of ‘The Wildfire Season.’ When my son was born, I was reading ‘The Wildfire Season’ in the hospital. Andrew was ecstatic when I sent him a photo and the first time I ever met him in person, he excitedly asked to see it.

I’ve looked at that tattoo a lot over the last few days.

A permanent display of my love for the man.

*

On January 3rd, 2025, not long after learning of Andrew’s passing, a package arrived.

It was the German edition of ‘William’ that had been stuck in the Canada Post strike.

It’s a gorgeous book, but it’s also an edition that will forever be tied to that day. And it’ll forever be the first book of Andrew’s on my shelves that will never be signed. I have a few others that I was waiting to send to him after the strike was over and the holiday season had quietened.

And truth be told, I’d secretly hoped that somehow, the next time I sent some books his way, he’d sneak an advanced, advanced ARC of ‘Exiles’ into the package back to me. With the love being shown to ‘William,’ I hope there’s a collective excitement growing even more for ‘Exiles’ and the third Coile book. If you’ve missed that news, Craig Davidson wrote it with Andrew, to make sure it met Andrew’s approval before he left us. I can’t thank Craig enough for that kindness to Andrew, and to all of Andrew’s fans out there.

*

I didn’t want to believe the news.

I broke down, I bawled, was held close by my wife.

It was reading the lovely words in his obituary and seeing his wife’s Instagram post that confirmed everything. I was floating on a strange cloud, hoping like hell that it was a mistake.

If you’re inclined, you can find his Just Giving obituary here;

https://justgiving.com/campaign/andrewpyper

And if you’re able, and can donate, you’d be helping plant some trees in Canada.

*

With Andrew’s passing, the rest of us are left with a massive hole.

He was a literary titan, a Canadian juggernaut and as a man, one of the very best to walk this earth. He was kind, caring, compassionate, handsome, quirky, witty, funny, self-deprecating and smart. He loved his wife, kids and dog so very much.

Andrew was the best.

And this is where we’re left, after the best are gone.

Time marches on.

It’s a fickle thing and soon it’ll be a week, a month, a year since Andrew left us.

I’ll always cherish the relationship I developed with Andrew. It was special, something unexpected that began as a fan sharing his admiration about his favorite author before developing into a friendship.

My thoughts remain with his wife, kids, family and close friends and I hope they know how much Andrew was loved by the community he championed for over thirty years.

Andrew is my favorite author and was a wonderful friend. And I’ll never forget that, or him, and I’m going to continue to shout about his books as long as I possibly can.

For how long will we be heartbroken? That’s the part of grief that can’t be answered. We don’t move on. But we can carry on, even when a part of our heart will forever be missing.

I hoped he knew how much we all loved him; how much I loved him.

I think he did.

Until we meet again, Andrew.

*

I’d like to close this by sharing some of Andrew’s own words.

Over a period of years, I’d been toiling away in my spare time on a memoir of sorts. A merging of my own life, mixed with how Andrew’s novels intertwined within it. I was worried that if I approached Andrew, he’d suggest I change the direction, and that I’d offend him. I was so stressed about it, that I’d even discussed how to approach Andrew with Adam Nevill, who’d featured a book about his own novels in his newsletter. Adam gave me a solid pep talk and didn’t believe Andrew would be offended.

When I told Andrew about the project, which became ‘The Color of Melancholy,’ he was elated and honored. When I asked if it was something he’d consider contributing a foreword for, he heartedly agreed, and to my surprise, had one emailed over within a few days. I read and re-read and re-read what he sent, absolutely stunned at how beautiful it was. Andrew Pyper’s prose has a resonance to it, a warmth and scope. Andrew told me, that while the foreword wasn’t specifically based on my love of his books, it was. It’s about the love each reader has for every book they’ve ever loved from their favorite author.

Here’s what he wrote.

*

Reading, among other things, is an act of companionship.

An odd sort, admittedly, as the interaction is between you and an inanimate object. A book.

A book cannot speak or answer questions, never mind offer advice or pay for drinks or tell us we look stupid in those new shoes we thought looked so cool when we tried them on in the store. It’s a fixed set of words arranged according to the decisions of its author, and thus is not a person in its own right, nor even a representation of one. On the face of it, you’d think a book would make a lousy friend.

And yet readers know that books – some of them, anyway, when read at the right place at the right time – are capable of dispelling loneliness in a way no hand-holding or I’ll-be-right-overing or advice-giving human being ever could. A book of this sort seems to not only entertain or inform or excite us, but actually know us better than we know ourselves, as if they’ve been made specially for us and have been patiently waiting on some bookstore or library shelf for us to find them.

The companionship that reading fiction offers is made even more strange by the fact that we connect with a story instead of a person, something made and not the one who made it. The author isn’t speaking to us. We’re interacting with the story, and through it, speaking with ourselves. Reading is to participate in something that lets us feel less alone while remaining alone.

So how to explain then the way that certain books read us instead of the other way around? This is the mysterious part. A stranger writes a thing and across time, geography, circumstances of identity, even death itself we are pulled into an intimate embrace. I don’t pretend to know how it happens. Whether or not the book is “good” or “popular” or “worthy” has little to do with it. We hear a voice in our heads as we read – not exactly our own voice, but one we recognize deeply and instantly – and we are in the company of a dear friend.

For all the isolation that reading has helped relieve in readers the act of writing remains a solitary exercise. And once we’ve finished writing a book and it’s published? It’s even worse. At this point the author is estranged not only from the book but its reception. We are powerless. The story we’ve made will be misunderstood, perhaps loved, more likely cast aside or ignored. We know from our own experience that some books connect with people in profound ways. But as authors, we have no way of predicting who these people will turn out to be, nor why.

The compensation in this one-way exchange is that we hope the book we make will be that “certain book” for someone out there in the wide world. A stranger to us just as the author is a stranger to them. The whole arrangement is built on the premise that if I imagined these events and characters and places and felt involved with them, someone else is bound to feel involved with them too. Sure, I’m weird. But isn’t there someone in the world who’s weird in the same way?

It’s a bit like the theory that argues that because the universe is infinite, there must be life out there somewhere. We write and read books with the same searching desire with which we put our eye to the telescope aimed up at the sky: show me I’m not alone.

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