The Case for Anthologists

Discussion has cropped up on the Internet regarding anthologies and the editors who curate them and the writers who contribute stories to them. An open letter to the varies bodies that administer speculative fiction awards has been circulating that calls for Best Anthology awards to be awarded to each contributor of the anthology, as well as the editor(s). The proposal calls for an “equal share of the award” for each contributor. Part of the justification for this is that the editors “have not contributed a single story” to the anthology.

First, and foremost, I appreciate the discussion and the civility that has ensued despite differing opinions. I did not immediately weigh in on the issue, preferring instead to sit back and listen to the opinions of others—of those on both sides of this discussion—for a bit on various social media sites. But in some of the responses, loaded words like “injustice” and “inequity” and “unfair” have been introduced into the discourse.

Speaking specifically from the horror-side of the equation, as a point of clarification, the Shirley Jackson Awards have 6 categories—five are exclusively for writers, one for editors (the Edited Anthology category). The Bram Stoker Awards have 13 categories—eleven are exclusively for writers with one solely for editors (Superior Achievement in an Anthology) and a second (Superior Achievement in Non-Fiction) that could be won by either a writer or an editor. Are 2 to 3 editor-eligible awards out of 19 really an "injustice" or constitute "inequity" as has been characterized elsewhere? Neither one of these award bodies have a "Best Editor" award. So, at least in the cases of these two genre awards, an 85/15 split for writers and editors seems more than equitable.

I have both edited anthologies and contributed original works to others. When the editors of anthologies to which I've contributed have been nominated for an award, I celebrate them. I understand that my role was to write a story (or submit something already finished) and cash the check for said story. On occasion, that may include a few hours of research. Even after this business transaction, I still try to be a good cheerleader for the anthology's success. As a contributor, those were my obligations. As an editor, I'm responsible for developing the concept/theme, developing the pitch that sells the anthology to a publisher or convinces an agent of its potential to sell, negotiating an advance that ensures I can pay contributors at or above the prevailing professional rate (or bankrolling that portion myself in advance), reading through hundreds of slush pile submissions, notifying each author who submits of their story's acceptance or rejection, preparing author contracts/agreements, sending them out, and tracking their return. As the editor, I'm editing each one of the stories and working with the contributors on revisions, deciding on the TOC order, proofreading each story in the manuscript at least twice (usually more), pulling the manuscript together into one document, writing the introduction, working with the publisher on the cover concept and art, and proofreading the manuscript after it's been formatted. As the editor, I'm engaged in the pre-release marketing—email interviews, virtual interviews and podcasts, social media boosts—keeping the contributors updated on reviews and award nominations. For Other Terrors, my co-editor purchased and mailed each contributor a t-shirt with the anthology's cover on it at her own expense in celebration of the anthology and everyone who contributed to it.

So, respectfully, no, I do not believe that an award nomination or win for an edited anthology should be equally shared, as has been proposed. Each one of contributing writers has opportunities to be recognized for their work as a contributor to an anthology in one of several short fiction categories in those same awards. So why the call to dilute the anthologist’s single opportunity to be recognized within either of these awards bodies? Using Other Terrors, as an example, one of our contributors—the magnificent Tananarive Due—was recognized for her contribution to the anthology with a Locus Award nomination for her superb closer “Incident at Bear Creek Lodge” in the Novelette category. The anthology itself was not nominated. Should Rena and I—as editors of that story in our anthology—also been recognized as Locus nominees because (under the proposal’s logic) anthologies are a group effort? Of course not—that’s ludicrous. Likewise, it’s ludicrous to equate the amount of labor, time, and creativity that an anthologist pours into curating a 100k-word collection with the writer’s (inarguably valuable) single story contribution for which they have ample opportunity for awards recognition on their own. Again, with an 85/15 split between writers and editors in terms of awards eligibility in both the Shirley Jackson and Bram Stoker Awards, there is hardly a case that can be made for inequity.

Using an analogy from another art form, let’s take movies to illustrate the point here. Like an anthology, it takes numerous artists of various kinds to create a film. There is the film’s director, the actors, the producers, the screenwriter, the costume and set designers, the cameraman, the publicists, and countless others—many individuals who contribute to the success of a film. When a film is nominated for and wins an Academy Award for Best Picture, the producers win the actual award. The actors and everyone else involved in the film get bragging rights to having been featured in/worked on an Oscar-winning film, but the honor is bestowed upon the producer(s) (i.e., the person(s) who oversees the film’s production, the person(s) who plans and coordinates various aspects of the film’s creation, such as selecting the script, coordinating writing, directing, editing, and arranging financing).

As someone who strives to be a good and professional anthologist, I think the contributors should always be acknowledged and thanked in public forums; when I won the Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in an Anthology in 2009, I named each contributor in my acceptance speech. If OTHER TERRORS was to win the SJA, the same would occur. Throughout the process for OTHER TERRORS and my latest anthology, contributors were repeatedly tagged in each and every social media post highlighting a starred review or notable mention. I even asked the art department at Harper Collins to design a graphic celebrating the anthology's SJA nomination (which they happily did) and I immediately emailed every contributor to thank them for being a part of the anthology and to offer them the graphic to share. I think only 4 out of 20+ contributors actually did.

That all said, while I still hold to the idea that it's the editor(s) who is credited with the nomination or award for an edited anthology, I see absolutely no harm in a certificate being bestowed upon the contributors acknowledging that their story was included in an anthology that was nominated and/or won the <insert award name here> award. As was said elsewhere, contributors still get bragging rights for being included in said anthology, on top of being paid for their work (hopefully at or above the prevailing per word rate, as they should).

Books, Barbra, and Bad First Dates

For the second year, I volunteered to take the helm of the Horror Writers Association’s presence at BookExpo America (BEA). For those not in the publishing world, BEA is the country’s largest gathering of publishing professionals during which new titles are unveiled, authors meet their book-buying public (namely, librarians, educators, and retailers), and lots of business is done. This year’s event was again held in New York City at the Javits Center, a worthy venue in its size and capability to handle the thousands of attendees.

This year I decided to stay in the city for the duration. Last year, I schlepped back and forth on the Long Island Railroad, which proved disadvantageous once I realized all the free books I’d score. So this year I loaded up Alexis (Yes, my car has a name – get over it!) with the HWA’s snazzy new trade show display and enough provisions to get me through the week, programmed Penelope (Yes, my GPS also has a name – move along people!), and started off. Now, those who know me know that I’m somewhat of a homebody, so driving into Manhattan from the eastern end of Long Island isn’t exactly an everyday occurrence. So there was, admittedly, a bit of anxiety. Over what, I’m not exactly certain, but there’s something intimidating to the uninitiated about the volume and speed of traffic in New York City.

But by the Queens Midtown Tunnel, I was getting the hang of the whole thing and holding my own. As I approached my hotel (chosen because it’s the city’s only lodging with its own complimentary parking garage), I scanned the block trying to locate the entrance to the parking structure. As Penelope informed me that I had reached my destination, I still couldn’t see it and panic crept in. And I passed my hotel.

Deep breathing ensued as I waited patiently for Penelope to chime back in with her recalculated route. But Penelope apparently decided to cop an attitude with me at that most inopportune moment and gave me the silent treatment (despite loud, expletive-ridden protestations to the contrary from yours truly), leaving me to quickly figure out the alternate directional flow of the busy city streets and decipher on my own. Happily, I managed to make it around the damn block, unscathed, and located the hotel and Alexis’ sanctuary for the next few days.

Once I checked in, I lugged our trade show display over to the Javits. Although I had all day on Tuesday to set the booth up, my compulsion to be ahead of schedule compelled me to at least drop off the container housing our display. Although the display packs neatly into a barrel-shaped container on wheels, it weighed a bit more than I had anticipated and I was schwitzing by the time I made it the three blocks to the Javits.

Our booth was in an excellent location in the 2900 section, right next to our friends at the Mystery Writers of America. Pleased, I dropped the container off, briefly scouted around (marveling at the construction of a few very elaborate booths some of the larger publishing houses were in the process of putting up), and then headed back to the hotel. Mission accomplished, I spent a quiet night in the hotel with a Lean Cuisine and a copy of John R. Little’s DREAMS IN BLACK AND WHITE.

Tuesday arrived and it was time to bring the last few things for our display (postcards, signage, and a revolving postcard carousel) over to the convention hall. Let me just say that I absolutely love this event. From the start of the convention, there is a palpable buzz of excitement in the air – plus, being around all those books makes me positively giddy. I made quick work of setting up our booth; despite a daunting amount of bars and crossbeams and fabric panels and lights, the display is surprisingly easy to assemble. During the set-up, I met Margery and Steve Flax. Margery is the administrative manager for MWA – and, let me tell you, the woman is packing some serious energy! Organization seems to be her middle name, even if her military-like efficiency was a bit scary at first. Steve is her husband, a nice guy who clearly shares his wife’s love of all things mystery and literary. Together, they made quite the team and I immensely enjoyed getting to know them a little better as the week went on.

Booth assembled, I awaited the arrivals of my trusty booth volunteers. Martel Sardina, fresh in from the Midwest, arrived first. Martel is one of those rare young writers who take advantage of every opportunity and experience (HWA-sponsored and otherwise) presented her, investing in her career the time and money necessary to make lasting connections and to put herself in the path of people who could be useful further along on her career path. She impresses the hell out of me, plus I enjoyed her company during Stoker Weekend in Burbank last year so I was thrilled that she signed up to volunteer at BEA. Editor extraordinaire Ellen Datlow arrived a little later, wanting to scout out the booth’s location for opening day of the exhibition hall the following day. I may tease Ellen (mercilessly at times, I suspect) but I have a profound respect for the woman. She is, by and large, the preeminent speculative fiction editor of our time, having edited too many anthologies and magazines to count. Plus, she’s just a sweet lady, knows just about everybody it seems (although she’s surprisingly shy by her own admission), and pulls together some of the best genre anthologies out there.

Tuesday night was the much-ballyhooed keynote address by one Ms. Barbra Streisand, who apparently has so much passion for design that she penned a book – aptly titled MY PASSION FOR DESIGN. I wasn’t particularly interested in hearing her talk, but I was frightened that the Velvet Mafia might somehow get wind of my skipping out on La Streisand and promptly rescind my membership, taking back that marvelous toaster in the process. So Martel and I decided to attend the event, getting decent seats about twelve rows or so from the stage, off to the right side.

So, how was Barbra, you ask? Streisand is a queen – a bona fide, bow-before-me-and-kiss-my-ring queen. There really is no other way to say it, phrase it, or otherwise communicate the essence of this larger-than-life monarch of modern-day pop culture. Everything about her oozes royalty, from her mannerisms to her speech pattern, from the way others react to her to the way everything in her path is staged just so for her arrivals and departures. Not content to simply stand before a podium and say what she had to say about this “passion for design” of hers, La Streisand had to stage her remarks within the context of an interview. Oh, yes, a full-scale, armchair interview complete with foliage behind her and a coffee table in front of her. (You didn’t expect her to actually hold her own notepad scribbled with her remarks, now did you?) And La Streisand wouldn’t deem just any interviewer worthy of grilling her about paisley pillows and damask drapes – no, she had to have a celebrity interviewer, here in the form of Oprah BFF/gal pal Gayle King (who took that six degrees connection to the talk show queen and is still inexplicably running with it!).

So the publisher introduces King, who in turn introduces Streisand (even the publisher of her own book is too common to be up to the task of reading an introduction in Barbra’s eyes). We are then treated to a little over an hour of La Streisand fawning over her own impeccable sense of style and feigning outrage over the color orange. High point in the program came when La Streisand neatly dodged a full-on stroke when King questioned her about why the flowers outside her house had to match the color scheme within. “Because the exterior of your home should be an extension of the interior,” Babs responded, her disdain of King’s suburban commonness apparent in her condescension. Good stuff, indeed. Suffice to say that La Streisand is about as detached from the economic crisis that has gripped most of our nation, as she is oblivious to the fact that while she was waxing philosophical about the many shades of red, the roomful of professionals whose industry is under siege by runaway technology, a generational apathy toward reading, and a declining literacy rate in this country might not give a rat’s ass about how her preference for certain colors is psychologically linked to her allegedly poverty-ridden childhood. Still, it was Streisand, and as a card-carrying gay man, I fulfilled my duty to listen attentively, even managing a moment of unobserved swooning when she delicately pushed a non-existent stray hair from her face with a pale blue-tipped finger.

So Wednesday came and the exhibitor hall opened to long lines of eager attendees ready to scavenge for free swag. Fellow author Gary Frank showed up bright and early, rounding out our volunteer quartet. The HWA booth was ready for business, with the always-fabulous Alexandra Sokoloff (just try to say or write her name without that particular modifier attached!) up to bat first with her book signing of THE UNSEEN. Unfortunately, St. Martin’s Press did not ship either her paperback copies of UNSEEN for her booth signing or her galleys of BOOK OF SHADOWS for her main autograph area signing – causing poor Alex to forfeit the latter while improvising during the former with hardcover copies of her first three novels that she had resourcefully brought with her. Always the consummate professional and eternal optimist, Alex did not let the shipping mishap stop her from making connections with those who stopped by our booth.

The HWA booth continued to rock throughout the two days, with our participating authors enjoying steady lines and giving away every single book they brought. Jonathan Maberry, who I swear is the hardest working genre writer today, and newcomer Roger Ma (author of THE ZOMBIE COMBAT MANUAL) enjoyed particularly long lines that stretched well into the next aisle. Ellen signed copies of BEST NEW HORROR: VOLUME TWO at the HWA booth, as well as THE BEASTLY BRIDE during a coveted spot in the main autograph area; Martel signed copies of the anthology BOOK OF DEAD THINGS; Gary signed copies of his two Medallion novels INSTITUTIONAL MEMORY and FOREVER WILL YOU SUFFER; Jameson Currier signed copies of his Black Quill Award-winning collection THE HAUNTED HEART AND OTHER TALES, as well as his new novel THE WOLF AT THE DOOR; Kelly Jameson signed SHARDS OF SUMMER and DEAD ON; and Connie Corcoran-Wilson signed copies of her new collection HELLFIRE & DAMNATION.

Also got to finally meet Dark Scribe Press’ go-to girl for fantastic book covers – Deena Warner of Deena Warner Designs. She was there with her husband Matt, a terrific horror author. You know when you picture someone in your mind and have that preconceived idea of how they’ll sound and act in real-life? Well, happily, Mr. and Mrs. Warner were every ounce the warm, personable couple I’d envisioned all these months dealing with them via email. Speaking with them was a delight, and I felt like I’d known them for years (well, I kinda-sorta have…). I did miss meeting their handsome little tike, Owen, on Thursday but managed to score a signed poster by children’s book illustrator (and frequent Jamie Lee Curtis collaborator) Laura Cornell for their new addition.

Overall, the new HWA booth was very well-received, particularly by those familiar with our past efforts. We spoke with numerous librarians and potential new members throughout the event, and made good connections with both MWA and SFWA. I had a nice chat with SFWA Board member (and former President) Michael Capobianco, and our booth and brisk activity may have inspired his organization’s future participation at BEA. I’ve always felt that the genre writing organizations should work more closely with each other so it was nice to exchange some ideas, share some information and insight, and make those personal connections.

Some other highlights of BEA 2010:

• The swag! Since I had the car with me, I indulged in more of BEA’s infamous book booty this year. (This year's haul pictured above.) Brought home just over 50 free books, with signed copies of William Peter Blatty’s CRAZY, Cherie Priest’s DREADNOUGHT, Dan Well’s I AM NOT A SERIAL KILLER, Sara Gruen’s APE HOUSE, Emma Donoghue’s ROOM, and the legendary R.L. Stine’s FEAR anthology among the treasures. My two favorite finds: an unsigned galley of Michael Cunningham’s BY NIGHTFALL and a signed ARC of Justin Cronin’s THE PASSAGE, which I stood on line for with Steve Flax from MWA. If anyone doesn’t think that there are still “buzz books” out there, one had only observe the mega-marketing dollars Ballantine spent on Cronin’s BEA appearance – with billboards across the front of the Javits, badge holders emblazoned with the book’s title, ads in PW’s SHOW DAILY, and two mobbed author signings.

• Meeting HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME final girl Melissa Sue Anderson, quite by accident! After coming off William Peter Blatty’s line, I noticed someone holding up a copy of a book with an attractive, familiar-looking blond on the cover. (At BEA, the harder working publicists will often go right out into the crowds when their author is signing with a copy of the book to generate more traffic on that author’s line.) Sure enough, I quickly realized it was Virginia Wainwright herself and made a beeline over to her autograph line. She was there hawking (er…I mean promoting) her LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE memoir THE WAY I SEE IT: A LOOK BACK ON MY LIFE ON LITTLE HOUSE. Looking no worse for the wear of the last nearly thirty years since her classic slasher, Anderson was quite personable – although she may have glanced around discreetly for security when I asked her to inscribe my copy of her book with “Happy Birthday to Me.” We chatted briefly about mutual friend and former castmate Lesleh Donaldson right before I realized that I hadn’t brought my camera with me(!). Photo op dashed, I was resigned to my one-of-a-kind signed book and my pleasant exchange with one of Crawford Academy’s elite!

• One of the high points of the week for me – being the self-proclaimed reality TV junkie that I am – was meeting Ethan Zohn, a professional soccer player who became the winner of SURVIVOR: AFRICA. Folks may not know that Zohn recently battled a rare type of cancer called CD20-positive Hodgkin's lymphoma, with which he was diagnosed in May of 2009 and then underwent a stem cell transplant later that same year. Happily, his CT scan was clear last month and he is now in full remission. There was always something immensely likeable about Zohn on SURVIVOR amongst all the outwitting and outplaying, and news of his cancer just hit me hard for some inexplicable reason. Plus, he used his fifteen minutes of fame to give back to the world through several AIDS- and animal-related charitable endeavors – including Grassroot Soccer, a nonprofit organization that trains professional soccer players to teach African children, through a tailor-made curriculum, about HIV/AIDS prevention. In any event, Zohn is now trying his hand at writing – with a delightful interactive children’s book (I believe the first in a series) that finds his cartoon character likeness traveling to South Africa and exploring the culture and traditions with a soccer enthusiast friend named Tawela. It was a real honor to meet Zohn and to shake his hand, expressing to him how happy I was that he beat cancer. He signed a copy of his book for me and graciously posed for a photo to mark our meeting. Here’s wishing Zohn, one of the genuine good guys and a true survivor, much good health and happiness in his future. (If you’re a fan of Zohn’s like I am, why not consider clicking on the link above and making a small donation?)

• Most surreal moment of BEA week came while standing on line for Justin Cronin. There I am minding my own business, trying not to feel the throbbing pain after three straight days on my feet, when I look up and see Dr. Ruth Westheimer – all forty-two inches of her(!) – standing not two feet away from me. Just strolling down the main aisle, sucking the life out of a candy wrapper of some sort. Now, not being one to let celebrities of any kind pass by without forcing an interaction upon them, I giddily (and, apparently, with a touch of what was perceived as acute psychosis) called out, “Hey! Hi, Dr. Ruth!” and waved like a six-year-old who just encountered a clown at the circus. Needless to say that the diminutive good doctor turned on her slingbacks and made haste in the opposite direction!

The end of BEA week for me was capped by the Lambda Literary Awards. The brilliant Lee Thomas, whose IN THE CLOSET, UNDER THE BED collection Dark Scribe Press had the honor of publishing late last year, was up for an award in the Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror category. Since Lee couldn’t make the trek north-eastward from Texas, I decided to represent. My good friend Jameson Currier agreed to be my date for the festivities, and, one short cab ride uptown to the School of Visual Arts Theater later, we found ourselves immersed amongst the LGBT literati. Ok, well, crammed into the excruciatingly hot lobby of an un-air conditioned theater with a standoffish group of oddly-attired writers, publishers, et al, is a more apt description – but, hey, a boy can glamorize, can’t he? Yeah, this one surprised me a bit. I was really taken aback by how unapproachable most of the folks were – including those representing the Lambda Literary Board of Directors, who I just assumed would have been making the rounds, introducing themselves to people, thanking them (ahem) for their generous contributions, etcetera. But they weren’t, and the night began badly in that sense. Having been to the Bram Stoker Awards, I can unequivocally say that the horror crowd is a much warmer bunch.

Alright, so things didn’t start off with a bang, but surely an awards show put on by a bunch of creative gay people would be nothing short of a Broadway production, right? Wrong. Lethargic doesn’t even begin to describe how anemic the awards ceremony was – so much so that even comic Eddie Sarfaty seemed bored by this bunch of literary stuffed shirts. At one point (and I sincerely kid you not) the young man who helped hand out the awards could actually be seen nodding off from his seat on the stage(!). Newly-out lesbian country singer Chely Wright, advertised as either a performer or a presenter, was a no-show, with no explanation given. There were a few high points, including Pioneer Award recipient Larry Kramer’s genuinely touching acceptance speech, Lynne Breedlove’s hysterical acceptance for her book Lynne Breedlove’s One Freak Show in the Transgender category, and Rakesh Satyal’s musical acceptance set to the tune of Lady Gaga’s BAD ROMANCE (even if it did overstay its welcome after the first dozen verses!).

Strangely, for a bunch of etiquette-driven queens and kings who should know better, poor form was on high display that night, with awardless nominees walking out after their category was announced and presenters bowing out after their gig was up if just to show that they were too important to stay for the whole show. Didn’t their mommas ever teach them that it’s polite to root for other people, even in the face of losing? We won’t even touch fashion, with folks actually showing up dressed down in jeans and sneakers. Would it kill people to play grown-up for one night and show a modicum of class – or does it have to be gay club night in New York? The whole thing was downright bizarre and a bit too tacky for my taste – which included a lovely black pinstripe suit with turquoise shirt and patterned tie. Thankfully, neither Jim nor I had purchased a ticket to the after party, which I can only imagine was more of the same cliquishness.

Low point of the night was walking up to a certain anthology editor (to whom I contributed an essay, gratis, to his well-received anthology and never so much as got an invite to participate in a single book signing or reading in the New York area) after the ceremony to introduce myself outside the theater and seeing that the guy clearly had no fucking clue who I was and, essentially, politely blowing me off right on 23rd Street. Ouch. (Luckily, karma is a bitch and the guy lost his own bid for one of the non-descript hunks of glass everyone seems obsessed with winning.)

Alas, Lee’s collection did not win that night, but as he so eloquently said on Facebook shortly after the event, he’d rather lose in a strong category than win in a weak category. Now that, folks, is real class.

Not to end on a negative note, I must point out that, awards debacle aside, I really like and support – both financially and in principle – the Lambda Literary Foundation. They’ve got what appears to be a marvelous new Executive Director, a gentleman named Tony Valenzuela, and an excellent new webmaster, Antonio Gonzalez, who has done wonders updating the Lambda Literary website. Overall, the Lambda Literary Foundation does some marvelous work in supporting and promoting LGBT literature. Like every organization, they do some things better than others. I’ll still support them – even if I bypass their next awards “gala.”

We’ll just chalk our first up-close-and-personal moment up to a bad first date.

The Stoker Weekend Chronicles, Part 2

Friday morning. My body still hadn’t reset its internal clock, so although I was going to bed at 12:30 am PST, I was still waking up at my hardwired East Coast time of 5:30 am – which somehow also became 5:30 am PST(!). I know…I was confused, too. All I know is that I felt like I was running on fumes for most of my trip.

So, up and off to breakfast with Chad and Mike Hacker, despite a tempting offer from Nanci to join her and Tom Monteleone for breakfast at Denny’s. I don’t remember what the fellas had, but I had the most delicious Cobb omelet – basically everything that gets lumped into a Cobb Salad (minus the lettuce, thankfully) as the omelet filling. Scrumptious! We promised Lisa and John that we’d register early, so off we went to the hotel lobby to retrieve our name badges and goody bags. Great stuff in the bags – books, magazines, bookmarks galore, magnets, and more. Leisure was particularly generous, offering up one of their novels for every bag. I snagged a copy of Nate Kenyon’s THE REACH, which I had already read (great book, BTW), so I was hoping to swap with someone for perhaps something I hadn’t read (had my eye on Wrath James White’s SUCCULENT PREY). Of course, swept up in the whirlwind of Stoker Weekend, I completely forgot.

How amazing to finally meet and spend time with my friend and frequent collaborator Chad Helder. Most people we met couldn’t believe that we’d known each other since 2006, yet had never met until that weekend. Or that we’d managed to put together an entire project like UNSPEAKABLE HORROR using nothing but the Internet and telephone lines to connect when we had to. Chad is everything I’d hoped he’d be and more. Smart, personable, laid-back…he was the perfect weekend companion to share so many firsts. And we had a ball! So lucky am I to call him my flesh-and-blood friend now.

On Friday, I was scheduled to participate in two panels – one on anthology editing, the other on GLBT horror. A quick glance at the program and I saw that the estimable Stephen Jones (the multi-award winning editor of anthology series like THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF BEST NEW HORROR, FANTASY TALES, and DARK TERRORS) had been added to the panel that included myself and Chad, the venerable Ellen Datlow, R.J. Cavender, Bill Breedlove, and Kathryn Cramer (of the YEAR’S BEST FANTASY and YEAR’S BEST SF series). Now, I had heard all kinds of rumors and stories about Jones and, frankly, was beginning to lose my nerve. After all, what business did we have on a panel with the likes of him and Ellen Datlow and Kathryn Cramer? Hopefully, we could add something from the newbie’s perspective, but that was about it. To make matters worse, moments before our panel, I found Ellen (who was moderating the panel) in the hotel lobby and, with tongue planted firmly in cheek, asked her to please keep Jones from eviscerating us onstage if he found our presence bothersome. And, just to prove that the higher power has a sense of humor, Mr. Jones was standing right behind me when I said it. Insert foot in mouth as cursory introductions were made, slink away, and nearly die with embarrassment.

So, how’d the panel go, you ask? Considering how I’d set myself up (internally and with Jones), I’d say not bad at all. The veterans on the panel wowed with their vast experience and knowledge, while we newbies spoke when spoken to. Ellen did a fantastic job moderating, and Jones was quite astute and fair in his questions and comments. I think the audience may have winced for us a few times, but we came away from the experience all the better for it. Hey, if we’re going to play with the big fish, then we’d better learn how to swim faster, eh? High point of the panel: The spirited discussion that ensued when Ellen asserted that she reads slush and Kathryn categorically took exception, emphasizing that both Ellen and Stephen read works already published and that by virtue of their published status, these works are already pre-vetted and are thereby not true “slush” in the sense that most think of it. Interesting discussion that kept the audience (and the rest of us on the panel) rapt with attention. Low point of the panel: Jones politely calling Chad and me out for not sending him a copy of UNSPEAKABLE HORROR for consideration in MAMMOTH BOOK OF BEST NEW HORROR and internally debating whether or not it’d be poor form to correct him and tell him that I did indeed send a copy. In the end, I deferred to better judgment of not correcting him in a public forum and made mental notes to tell him privately at a later point in time (more on how that went later) and to send any future works to him via registered mail.

Next up was the GLBT Horror panel that Chad and I were participating on with the lovely Maria Alexander (whose lyrical “In Her Mirrors, Dimly” we were fortunate enough to have grace the pages of UNSPEAKABLE HORROR) and the effervescent Hal Bodner. Hal, who wrote 2005’s sexy vampire romp BITE CLUB, is the essence of a true character, the lovechild of Harvey Fierstein and Joan Rivers. An entertainment lawyer by trade, Hal now spends his days writing and as the proprietor of an “over-the-top” pet boutique called Heavy Petting. Indeed, everything about Hal is deliciously over-the-top…from his opinions (and there are many) to his warmth. He’s got stories galore with which to regale the willing listener, and he’s got more names to drop than Paris Hilton has handbags.

The panel went exceptionally well – decent attendance during which we met the equally handsome and intellectual Gabriel Novo, a first time writer’s conference attendee who’d wanted to hear more about us after the anthology panel. The questions were fantastic, the discussion lively, and the subject matter stimulating. The audience really seemed to walk away with quite a bit of food for thought, especially on the subject of whether or not the gay community should or needs to own its negative stereotypes in its literature and other artistic mediums. Mutual respect between and among the audience and the panelists for differing viewpoints was the overriding tone of the session. My little gray cells were refreshed, invigorated, and otherwise heightened during this enjoyable (albeit far too brief) hour.

Somewhere in between panels and pitches, Chad and I had the privilege of sitting in on two fantastic author readings. The first was the delightful Rain Graves, who has personality to spare and a fantastically contagious laugh. She read selections from her poetry collection BARFODDER. Stunning imagery and lyrical verse that skimmed across the mental palette with Rain’s rhythmic delivery. The second reading was by Thomas F. Monteleone. Now, if you want to learn about how an author should conduct a reading and fully engage an audience, Monteleone is your guy. He read one of his older stories – title escapes me at the moment – to a spellbound audience. Monteleone becomes his characters when he reads – wide-eyed boy, curmudgeonly grandfather, sinister grim reaper – all with equal skill and believability. Watching him move about the room and lock eyes with audience members as his voice went from a whisper to a hiss, his reading was one of the most unexpected treats of the weekend.

Dinner in the Daily Grill with Chad, Mike Hacker, Reesa Brown and her mother, Deborah. We were joined by Scott Bradley, one of the editors of last year’s pop culture masterpiece BOOK OF LISTS: HORROR. Scott and I became instant Facebook friends a few months prior to Stoker Weekend, so I was really looking forward to meeting him in person. You know, one of the things I liked most about the whole weekend was how real people were. Scott personified this genuineness – just a tall hunk of sweetness and sincerity through and through. My biggest regret is that I didn’t have more of an opportunity to hang out with Scott and his girlfriend Amy Wallace (another of the editors on BOOK OF LISTS: HORROR) – but, hey, there’s an old adage that says when you meet someone you connect with, you’re destined to meet up with them again.

The Gory Ghoul Ball hosted by Heather Graham and Medallion Press was the spectacle it promised to be. There was music and food aplenty, with partygoers decked to the nines in fabulous costumes. Admittedly, the air temperature in the packed ballroom was a bit on the stuffy side, so I moseyed in and out – alternating between watching the Slush Pile Players and sitting outside with Reesa, Chad, and Deborah and enjoying the almost preternaturally consistent Southern California weather. Wiped, I retired for the evening around 11:30 pm.

Saturday was business day. It was time to slap on some casual business attire and prepare for meetings with publishers during the pre-arranged pitch sessions. Chad and I enjoyed a low-key breakfast together while I tried to boil an entire novel down into a succinct logline that would grab the publishers’ interest by the throat until they screamed to read the full manuscript. Met up with Alex Sokoloff near the elevators and the two of us went up to my suite where she was nice enough to hear my pitch and offer some words of encouragement. I seriously adore her – she’s whip smart, an über-talented storyteller, and has the most fabulous mane of blond hair that seems to be its own life force.

The pitch sessions were coordinated by Jeannie Eddy, with help from hubby (and HWA webmaster) Mark Worthen. Pitch sessions, for those of you who’ve never done one, are the literary equivalent of speed dating. You’ve got ten minutes to pitch your novel to an editor or agent – and at Stoker Weekend, you had the added challenge of doing so in a less than optimal setting: the hotel lobby. Imagine sitting there across from an editor from a major New York publishing house with one-sixth of an hour to sell your work while just mere feet away someone’s complaining to the desk clerk that the toilet in room 617 is clogged(!). Talk about disconcerting. But, somehow, Jeannie made it all work. How she tracked whose time was up, moved people up and down the schedule when someone didn’t show, and had those editors and agents spread as comfortably as possible across the hotel lobby, I’ll never know. Anyone who pitched on Saturday owed Jeannie and Mark a debt of gratitude for their generous help and coordination. My own pitch sessions went quite well, with both publishers asking to see THE RENEWED in various configurations – one wanting the entire manuscript, the other the first three chapters and a full synopsis. Both asked about what else I had in the pipeline, with one also asking to see FINAL GIRL when that was done. One even asked that I include the blurbage for THE LITERARY SIX with my submission, so maybe a retooling will be in order for a reprint someday. Fingers firmly crossed as I frantically work on the final rewrites of THE RENEWED.

Business behind me, it was time to get ready for Dark Scribe Press’ “Unspeakable 80’s” pre-Stoker Awards Banquet party and the big event afterward. The hotel staff had the room set-up appropriately (after some last minute reminders on layout), my DJ from Joe Diamond Enterprises showed up on time and with the music I had requested (and he was cute, to boot!), and Chad and Martel Sardina and JT Cummins were on hand to help hand out 200+ feather boas to guests as they arrived. The hour and a half flew by, but I managed to get some great photos. Feather boas really are the ultimate fashion accessory! Haircut 100, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Oingo Boingo, Icicle Works, Dexy’s Midnight Runners…the music just rocked!

On to dinner, yet another wonderfully overstuffed goodie bag, and then…the Stoker Awards. Unbeknownst to me, like a tribe that attracts its own, we ended up having what someone dubbed “The Gay Table.” Chad, Mike Hacker, Matt Schwartz, Derek Clendening, Hal Bodner, and I…with Nanci Kalanta, Maria Alexander, and Martel as our requisite (and quite fetching!) fag hags. Not quite sure how Maria’s dashing gent, Shad Ow, figured into the scheme of things, but let’s just call him “eye candy” for purposes of qualifying everyone’s role. Nerves had taken over by that point, and I honestly couldn’t tell you how my vegetarian lasagna was or what one person said during dinner. I just know Hal was talking.

So, as you know, we won the Stoker Award in our category – Superior Achievement in an Anthology. The moment came upon me like a speeding locomotive, and I wasn’t ready for it. First, the idea that John Skipp and Ellen Datlow presented the award was enough to send me into giddiness. But then, to hear one of the preeminent anthology editors of our time call my name and hand me a Stoker Award, the ensuing cheer from the audience…words fail me. (I grabbed Ellen’s hand the next day and tried to articulate just what it meant to have her present us with the award, but I’m certain words failed me yet again.) I know I spoke, tried not to completely flame-out like Sally Field in her 1985 acceptance speech at the Oscars, and said something about the lights being hot. It’s on tape and will hopefully be available to the viewing public soon. But, what I do remember, was feeling incredibly humbled to be accepting an award in the presence of Bill Breedlove and R.J. Cavender – two incredibly talented anthology editors with whom I had the distinct pleasure of becoming acquainted that weekend and whose works (Breedlove’s LIKE A CHINESE TATTOO, Cavender’s +HORROR LIBRARY: VOLUME 3+) I have the utmost respect for. I remember saying that the award was really for all of us in the anthology field, those of us working within our resources to keep the anthology format alive. And I meant every word of it.

Something else came to me standing on that stage. Earlier, during the anthology panel, Stephen Jones had asked Chad and I why our anthology was “queer horror” and just not “horror”. Wasn’t good horror with gay characters or themes enough without having to add the “queer” qualifier? Thrown a bit by the question, I just sat there like a dunce while Chad did his best to articulate an answer that spoke to easier identification by our intended audience. But there, on the stage standing in front of 250 or so fellow writers and editors, the answer came to me at the oddest moment. As I thanked my partner of 21 years for his unwavering support, I realized that I would be one of only two people that evening who hadn’t thanked a wife or a husband. That the commonplace spousal moniker used so freely by everyone else simply wasn’t mine to use. Not there in a Californian hotel, not back home in New York. The legal distinction between my relationship and that of legally married couples in the room was significant, and that was the reason that our horror had to be queer horror. That was the reason why our politics has to be queer politics, why our artistic expression has to speak to its queer elements. That separate does not mean equal is the horror of the queer experience. That, like much of horror in general, we approach life and those in it as outsiders looking in.

Photos taken, an appearance at the official after party made, champagne consumed, I retired to my hotel suite and clicked on Facebook to find confirmation of my earlier thoughts. Congratulatory messages from literary heroes like Lee Thomas and Michael Rowe and Jameson Currier and Scott Heim, from publishing trailblazers like Greg Herren and Steve Berman, all confirmed that Chad and I and our wonderfully unspeakable contributors did far more than win a Stoker Award that evening. We shattered the pink ceiling by becoming the first distinctly queer horror anthology to ever take home a Stoker in the 22-year history of the awards. Suddenly overwhelmed, humbled, and so completely at a loss for words, emotion overtook me and I sat awash in actual tears staring down at my laptop until sleep beckoned.

Sunday morning arrived, bringing two strange emotions with it. The first was an odd sense of melancholy that the weekend was drawing to a close. The closest thing I could associate with this reaction was the feeling I got as a teenager when a month of sleepaway summer camp was winding down. It was almost a sense of loss…a sense of imminent detachment from some real, newly discovered part of my life. An experience that was one-time only, a fusion of events, circumstances, people, and senses that could never be recreated again in totality. Weird, I know. The second was a sense of surrealism, a sense that something important had happened with which I still hadn’t fully connected. Even as I made my way toward the HWA business meeting – tall cup of Earl Grey in hand – and someone stopped me and asked me to sign his Stoker Weekend Program, I felt like events had powered forward and I was running to catch up with the reality of them.

The HWA Board met as a group for about two hours for its annual business meeting, the first time all four HWA officers – in this case, Deb LeBlanc, Heather Graham, Lisa Morton, and I – were in attendance at a live meeting. Trustees Ellen Datlow, Del Howison, and Rocky Wood, as well as legal counsel Les Klinger, were all on hand for a very productive session. Thankfully, Heather and I had devised a secret plan to leap up onto the table and belt out our version of “Do You Think I’m Sexy?” if things got heated, but that never came to pass. The great part about this Board is that everyone on it is forward-thinking and genuinely considers the membership at large when discussing plans for the organization. I have to credit Deb LeBlanc with this. She truly represents the organization with a sense of class and enthusiasm. Watching her in front of the Board or the membership, she’s truly an inspiration — funny, warm, and always professional. She’s set a tone for the HWA, appointed professional people to the right posts, and worked with a sense of quiet conviction in leading us. As much as Lisa Morton and John Little were responsible for the incredible success of Stoker Weekend, Deb’s leadership is a key reason why the HWA has grown its ranks. Deb gets a bunch of shit from some, legitimate criticism from others, but as I was reflecting on the weekend while writing up this recap, the good she’s done overwhelmingly overshadows any missteps our administration has taken along the way.

The general meeting with membership followed. Well-attended, enthusiastic bunch with terrific questions, concerns, and suggestions. The meeting could have gone on for another hour, but we were reminded by John Little that closing ceremonies were at hand. Chad and I ran into Stephen Jones and the lovely Mandy Slater along the way, Mr. Jones offering us his heartfelt congratulations on our Stoker win. We chatted with him for several minutes, during which I got to apologize for the copy of UNSPEAKABLE HORROR that never reached him. He spoke about WHC 2010 in Brighton, England, hoped we would attend, and mentioned the gay-friendly area in which the convention would be held. As we headed toward the closing ceremonies, that sense of surrealism again: the Stephen Jones just congratulated us on our Stoker win! Following closing ceremonies and a bunch of goodbyes that I’d rather not dwell on, the personable, farm fresh Joel Sutherland (apparently safe from a weekend’s worth of Hal hitting on him!) drove Derek Clendening and I back to Dark Delicacies for a group book signing for Lisa Morton’s new anthology, MIDNIGHT WALK. Most of the anthology’s contributors were there and signed up a storm. Great to meet some of my BUTCHER KNIVES & BODY COUNTS contributors like Mike McCarty and R.B. Payne.

Back to the hotel and an impromptu dinner with Lisa Morton, Scott Edelman, Gabrielle Faust, Joel and Colleen Sutherland, Derek Clendening, Rocky Wood, and my # 1 fan Amanda Reyes and her fiancé, David Cohen. Conversation and drinks flowed, Gabrielle and I picked (and picked and picked) at a delicious Apple-Blueberry Cobbler (a la mode, of course!), and soon it was time for more bittersweet goodbyes. Then, off to pack while half-watching the season premiere of TRUE BLOOD, and off for a few restless hours of sleep before my 7:05 am flight home.

Since my chronicles began with the action and adventure of JetBlue flight #350 nose-diving into the Rockies, I find it only fitting to close with the further thrills and chills of JetBlue flight #355, which hit turbulence somewhere over mid-Nebraska that did not end until we were over Pittsburgh. Yes, there were moments of sheer terror like the aircraft’s plummet and underwater dive beneath the Great Lakes (during which I staunchly clutched my pearls like Olivia de Havilland in AIRPORT ’77), but my recollections will only be challenged by those with far less credible historical recall. Suffice to say that I survived; arriving back home to loving arms and eager dog licks and armed with all the details of a glorious, memorable weekend to share.

The Stoker Weekend Chronicles, Part 1

Yes, it’s taken me a full week to digest and process the event known as Stoker Weekend 2009. The people, the connections, the parties, the panels…oh, yeah, and the Stoker Award. So much to sort through and to try and adequately capture in words.

The people. Let’s keep the focus of this recap there. After all, those human connections we make are so much more precious than all the rest combined.My trip started a week ago this past Wednesday. Standing on line to have my flip flops and nether-regions scanned for explosives at JFK, the lovely Nanci Kalanta – webmistress extraordinaire from Horror World – spotted me. Which meant that one of us owed the other a drink. I doubt that either remembers now which one owed and which one collected, so immediate was our connection, so instant our friendship. Yes, I believe Nanci to be yet another sister I’ve never had (the first being my longtime BFF Sondra Edwards, the third being discussed a bit later). Lovely, funny, sarcastic, candid…these are all the things I suspect I will love about Nanci for years to come, and they were on full display throughout the weekend.

Ok, for those of you who might have heard the rumors, yes, there was a traumatic mid-flight event. Now, depending upon who you listen to, there are slight discrepancies in the story. Nanci, as I’ve learned is not the best historian, given to untruths and the occasional nip of the bottle as she is, so one is well-advised to steer clear of her version of the JetBlue-takes-a-nosedive-over-the-Rockies incident. To further clarify, there were no screams — only an involuntary, manly shriek of “Oh, God!” Yes, one child may or may not have been frightened by said manly shriek, but 35,000 feet is a daunting height from which to plunge.

Moving on, we eventually landed safely at the peculiarly named Bob Hope International Airport in Burbank, after enjoying six hours of turbulent hell, one lousy complimentary bag of blue chips, and a bottle of water. There was no time to do much more than drop our bags and scream in delight that there was a Denny’s adjacent to the hotel; it was time to get to work. Off to the HWA suite, where Nanci and I helped stuff the loaded goodie bags. Met John Little and John Palisano for the first time, saw Deb LeBlanc and Connie Wilson again, and (finally) met the seemingly indefatigable Lisa Morton — now officially my third long lost sister. Lisa is an amazing person, an old soul who’s the epitome of calmness and strength under pressure. I was on the station adding Nanci’s Horror World contest envelopes, Greg Lamberson’s JOHNNY GRUESOME magnets, and bookmarks (so many bookmarks!) to the bags. Lisa and her co-organizer John Little run a tight ship, and those bags (all 250 of them) were stuffed by 10:00 pm or so. After a few delightful minutes sitting, chatting, and exchanging winks with Lisa over a catty inside joke we’ve shared since just before BEA, it was time to call pseudo Day One of Stoker Weekend officially over.

Wake up calls between Nanci and me kick-started Thursday morning. We decided to stop first at the Concierge Suite, access for which came with my small, but well-appointed suite in the hotel. Complimentary eggs, a toasted bagel, turkey sausage, bacon, and Earl Grey tea got us going and off we went to explore downtown Burbank. Charming streets with stores that ran in a rigid store-coffee shop-salon-coffee shop-store-salon-coffee shop rotation amused us for a bit, the best being a dusty used bookstore called, oddly enough, Movie World. Books piled as high as the eye could see created narrow aisles and a veritable death trap should anyone ever drop a match. Lots of elated “oohs” from Nanci in the horror section as she stumbled upon Matheson, Yarbro, and Faris titles that would serve her well during the upcoming weekend proper. Best reality-check: Spotting an ACCESS HOLLYWOOD crew that was stopping people as they passed the coffee shop storefront at which they were stationed for “random” on-camera questions posed to various celebs. Nanci and I made at least 4 passes in front of them before we realized – with great amusement – that we apparently weren’t Californian pretty enough to be deigned worthy of asking Paris Hilton where she shops for cheese.

Exploring Burbank is arduous work, and we needed reinforcements. We speed-dialed Kim Paffenroth (the other zombie guy), and the good doctor joined us within minutes. I had the pleasure of first meeting Kim a few weeks earlier at BookExpo, so meeting up was like seeing an old buddy again. A trip to the local mall (and a refreshing Mango Smoothie for me) was followed by an impromptu book signing at Barnes & Noble for Kim, where he signed their stock copies of GOSPEL OF THE LIVING DEAD. We left B&N, doubled-back and re-staged the signing when we realized we’d failed to capture the event on camera, and then took an ill-advised trek across one of Southern California’s infinite number of freeways to Burbank Boulevard. Once Nanci and I realized that flip flops and high-heeled boots (I’ll leave it to your imaginations who was wearing which) are not appropriate footwear for dashing across on-ramps and dodging gun fire from LA gangs, we made two final stops – one at a hat store, the other at a convenience store at which alcohol was procured and someone obnoxiously called for a potentially embarrassing price check on aisle three (again, I leave the assignment of actions to your imaginations). Kim was nearby the home of the friends he was staying with, so he chivalrously saw Nanci and me to our cab with promises of weekend meetings to come.

Nanci and I made our way back to the Burbank Marriott and quickly answered a distress call from lobby-stranded R.J. Cavender (the Stoker-nominated editor of the +HORROR LIBRARY+ anthology series) and connected for an early dinner in the hotel’s Daily Grill eatery. Editor-to-editor, R.J. and I shared our Bentley Little stories over a delicious Cobb Salad, Fried Calamari, and Nanci’s American cheese-less burger.

The arrivals were in full swing by the time we’d finished eating. The bar at the Daily Grill was quickly turning into a who’s who in the genre: Gord Rollo, Gene O’Neill (whose vibrant red hair mysteriously turns white in photos much to his consternation), the gorgeous Alexandra Sokoloff (of whom I’m officially a groupie), Brian Cartwright from Cargo Cult Press, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro (not so much at the bar, per se, but rather dining, dignified-like with a female companion, farther down in the restaurant), F. Paul Wilson, and Shocklines’ Matt Schwartz. Best fanboy moment: Sitting with Alex Sokoloff at the bar perusing the program for the following night’s Gory Ghoul Ball (during which Alex and the incomparable Heather Graham, F. Paul Wilson, and assorted other genre luminaries were to take the stage in an all-star musical extravaganza) and commenting on the name Harley Jane Kozak. Harley Jane Kozak — as in the actress from HOUSE ON SORORITY ROW, ARACHNOPHOBIA, PARENTHOOD, and TV’s daytime soap SANTA BARBARA. “She’s in the band?” I asked incredulously, adding “And going to be here?” Alex responding that yes, indeed, Harley Jane was in the band and that “Hey, she’s right behind you.” Jumped up, squealed like a fifth grade girl opening the new issue of TEEN BEAT and proceeded to gush at poor, dumbfounded Harley Jane about how much I loved her as Mary Duvall McCormick on SANTA BARBARA and how sorry I was that they killed her character off, crushed by the letter “C” of the Capwell Hotel! Got it together, told her how much I love her mystery writing, and suggested an interview at some point in DARK SCRIBE MAGAZINE. Alex clicked a photo to commemorate Harley Jane’s meeting with her strange, gay, soap opera-loving fan!

One much-need shower and costume change later and it was off to the famed Dark Delicacies bookstore for an once-in-a-lifetime book signing. Two phone messages before I left: one from my UNSPEAKABLE HORROR co-editor Chad Helder saying that his plane had been delayed and that he was coming right to the bookstore from the airport, the other from my actress pal Jamie Rose who was leaving her house and would be at the signing by 8:00 pm.

Shared a cab over with Nanci, the too-adorable-for-words Gabrielle Faust, and UNSPEAKABLE HORROR contributor Michael Hacker and walked in to a veritable meet-and-greet of the horror genre’s best and brightest. Chad showed up as the festivities began, and we quickly met up with other UNSPEAKABLE contributors Maria Alexander, Reesa Brown (who was there with her capital “F” fabulous mother, Deborah), and Lisa Morton. Astutely, we found the perfect spot under a colossal air conditioning vent and signed more copies of the anthology than I ever expected. If you’ve never been to Dark Delicacies, then treat yourself at least once the next time you’re in or around Southern Cal. The store is a treasure trove of horror goodness, with enough books, DVD’s, posters, action figures and collectibles, and unique merchandise to make your eyes bleed (in a good way!). Del and Sue Howison are the legendary owners of this equally legendary establishment and know how to throw a warm-up act for Stoker Weekend!

Best moments of the Dark Delicacies signing? There were dozens, but I’ll make mention of just two. First was meeting the delightful Amanda Reyes (who pens the fabulous MADE FOR TV MAYHEM and AMANDA BY NIGHT’S RETRO ECETERO PAGE blogs) and her charming fiancé David Cohen. Amanda may very well be my biggest fan – out of the dozen or so that I lay claim to – and absolutely made my night when she sheepishly asked me if I’d mind signing the copy of THE LITERARY SIX that she’d brought with her. Would I mind? Honey, where’s the paparazzi to capture the moment? Amanda has an encyclopedic knowledge of slasher films, making me adore her even more, and will be a contributor in my forthcoming BUTCHER KNIVES & BODY COUNTS anthology.High point of the evening was finally getting to meet my friend Jamie Rose, who was so unbelievably sweet to trek from Malibu out to see me and get a copy of UNSPEAKABLE HORROR signed. Jamie and I first became acquainted back in 2006 when I interviewed her for AUTOGRAPH COLLECTOR. With my love of slasher films (she was Megan in the ’81 backwoods slasher JUST BEFORE DAWN) and my fan worship of her in FALCON CREST (she played Victoria Gioberti), LADY BLUE, and just about every other movie and TV show she’s ever done, we clicked and have stayed in contact. In person, Jamie is even more stunning (heads turned when she walked into that bookstore, folks!) and is passionate about books and reading and dance. What a joy spending well over an hour with her and chatting about the arts, life, and comparing notes on various books. Her energy is contagious and she literally lights up a room with her intellect and warmth. You know how you build people up in your minds, only to be disappointed when you come face-to-face? Well, the opposite happened with Jamie. If it’s possible, I adore her even more now. (Plus, how cool for Amanda – also a fan of Jamie’s and her husband, the talented Kip Gilman –to meet her as well!)

Tired and worn out from talking to our adoring public, the weary horror writers made their way back to the hotel where the Daily Grill became a boisterous watering hole for the parched and sore-wristed. The UNSPEAKABLE gang was joined by Nanci, the marvelous Hal (BITE CLUB) Bodner, Angel Leigh McCoy, and DSM scribe Martel Sardina, who mesmerized us with the true life story behind a short fiction piece she’s working on that involves web cams and the emotional complexities of voyeurism. Funniest moment: When Chad and I were pondering aloud the possibility of a second volume of UNSPEAKABLE HORROR, perhaps involving the dangers of promiscuity and sexual compulsion in light of Martel’s story, and Mike Hacker suggested the subtitle “In the Bushes!”

As the night wore on and more drinks were consumed, our group began to disband, one-by-one, until only I was left to witness the entrance of Heather Graham and what can only be described as an actual, Hollywood-like entourage. I sat with Heather for a bit, meeting sons, adopted sons, drivers, costume designers, and the like, until my eyelids threatened to close for good. I bid the ever-voluptuous Ms. Graham, whose cups are forever spilling marvelously over (I can say that, I told her, because of my unequivocal gay good taste!), a good night and retired for the evening.

Next up: Stoker Weekend actually begins!

A Stoker Finalist!

File this one under "humbled" and "grateful" and then color me tickled.

Nominations were announced today for the 2008 Bram Stoker Awards, and I was proud to discover that UNSPEAKABLE HORROR: FROM THE SHADOWS OF THE CLOSET was named a finalist for Superior Achievement in an Anthology. Cloud 9 stuff, for sure.

It may be a cliché, but I'm humbled to be amongst the other nominees in our category — LIKE A CHINESE TATTOO edited by Bill Breedlove (from Dark Arts Books), HORROR LIBRARY, VOL. 3 edited by R. J. Cavender (from Cutting Block Press), and BENEATH THE SURFACE edited by Tim Deal (from Shroud Publishing). Even more cliché (Hey, I'm a freakin' Stoker finalist now — I'm entitled!) is the fact that I think all of us are already winners for helping keep the venerable short story format alive and viable. As editors and publishers, we've contributed something meaningful toward sustaining this literary staple.

An anthology is truly the sum of its parts, and I'd be remiss if I didn't thank Jameson Currier, Lee Thomas, Sarah Langan, Kealan Patrick Burke, Lisa Morton, Rick R. Reed, Scott Nicholson, Livia Llewellyn, LA Fields, C. Michael Cook, Gary McMahon, Reesa Brown, Elissa Malcohn, Erin MacKay, CJ Lines, Jan Vander Laenen, Christopher Fox, Michael Hacker, Maria Alexander, Joy Marchand, Kevin Reardon, Michelle Scalise, and Jude Wright for their unique and absolutely brilliant literary creations. Having these fine writers on our maiden voyage as both a small press and as editors was a blessing.

As for Chad Helder, my co-pilot on this project, what can I say? He's been such a support to me from day one on the scene, and he was instrumental in helping craft and fine-tune this project. My editorial sounding board, my partner in queer horror.

So, now it's off to find just the right evening gown for Burbank, where the Stokers will be handed out in a gala awards banquet on June 13th.

Better Late Than Never

Seems that my blogging buddies over at the wonderful Kindertrauma bestowed Slasher Speak with a Premio Dardo Award last week! Yes, the Premio Dardo Award!

What the hell is a Premio Dardo Award, you ask?

Basically, it’s a virtual a chain letter or tagging meme, in the form of an award. It’s given out by bloggers to other bloggers as a gesture of admiration and then passed along by the recipients and bestowed upon other bloggers. Fun, huh? Not much out there on the origins of the award, but I was able to find this.

Nebulous origins of the award notwithstanding, it was lovely to be recognized by Unkle Lancifer and Aunt John, two ingenious bloggers whom I admire tremendously for their thematic consistency with Kindertrauma.

Now, one of the unwritten stipulations of the Premio Dardo Awards is that a recipient must, in turn, bestow the award on five more deserving blogs. So, without further adieu, the Premio Dardo Awards go to:

Unspeakable Horror – How can I not recognize the queer musings of my friend and frequent collaborator Chad Helder? After all, it was through his Unspeakable Horror blog that Slasher Speak was born. Chad does a marvelous job exploring the queer aspects of popular horror culture, with recent expansions into the world of comics and coaching for horror writers considering the indie route. Check out his amazing poetry while you’re there, too!

Billy Loves Stu – More queer musings, this time from pal Pax Romano, who explores the more homoerotic subtext in horror films with a marvelously campy sense of humor and the queerest eye this side of Fire Island.

Anchorwoman in Peril! – Ross Horsley’s blog should win for the camp-tastic title alone! Anchorwoman in Peril is a glorious tribute to damsels in distress, TV-movie mayhem, and more slashers than you can shake a machete at.

Retro Slashers – A definitive blog for everything related to slasher films, with reviews, news, and interviews galore. There is a genuine and refreshing respect for the genre conveyed by John Klyza and company here.

Storytellers Unplugged – What happens when a group of thirty authors, editors, booksellers, and publishing professionals who want to share their love of writing and “behind the scenes” tips with readers who are also interested in the magic of writing get together? The result is Storytellers Unplugged, one of the most informative and important blogs for readers and writers alike. Each day of the month a different columnist contributes a post - some are thought-provoking, some are humorous, but all are enlightening.

Over the Moon...

...with happiness for my friend Lee Thomas who won the prestigious Lambda Literary Award in West Hollywood last night for his novel The Dust of Wonderland. Dust took the top honor in the Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror category.

Lee is one of a small handful of extraordinary writers working in the dark genre field today who combines eloquent prose, mood, character, and atmosphere to create a unique brand of literary horror. I had the opportunity to read and review Dust, and I wouldn't hesitate to recommend this superb novel to anyone looking to read something refreshing and deeply resonant. Get thee to the nearest bookstore and buy it. Now.

I'm also thrilled because Lee has contributed an original work of short fiction called "I'm Your Violence" to Unspeakable Horror: From the Shadows of the Closet, the gay-themed horror anthology that I'm co-editing with fellow dark scribe Chad Helder.