We interrupt your regularly scheduled
Facebook stalking to bring you Pt. 2 of my journeys in Provo, Utah at the 2016
World Horror Convention.
Last
time I left you with the tale of my arrival and how I met phenomenal horror
icons (Linda Addison, Kelly Laymon, and Jack Ketchum) and how I was about to
meet my writing inspiration Brian Keene.
I’m
sorry to leave all of you with a Walking
Dead-esque cliffhanger, but now you will finally be able to see the
conclusion after waiting with bated breath.
So there I was, being introduced to the man
who was my biggest influence in writing horror, whose work I read voraciously
every time he released something new, and the person who had inspired me to
become a writer myself.
I
had to do a double take as he walked out of the long hallway leading to the
elevators while Kelly and I were just standing there (me probably looking like
an idiot as I pretended not to be internally screaming like a groupie at a rock
concert).
Okay
Connor, this is it. Be cool, be cool… don’t nonchalantly lick him.
Kelly
made the introductions and then politely excused herself and headed to her room
(this was around midnight, so I didn’t blame her in the slightest) and that was
when Brian Keene bought me a Dr. Pepper and we proceeded to shoot the breeze.
It
was a wonderful conversation and I managed to hold in the fact that he was
basically the reason I became a writer and how much I admired his work until
about halfway through the conversation.
He
asked about my own writing and I regaled him with the zombie novel I’ve been
sitting on called Next Dead Air. He
offered me encouragement and advice and unexpected enthusiasm about my ideas for
future projects in the genre, and it was awesome.
I
can’t overstate the wonder of sharing sodas with your heroes in the middle of
the night at an out-of-the-way hotel in Utah; it’ll change your life.
Eventually
the night got to us and we both bade the other farewell for the evening
(Sidenote: Brian had been on the road all day and took the time to talk and
encourage a young writer even though I know he was exhausted. His writing and
fame aside, that’s the kind of impression that sticks with you… he told me in
20 years when I’m where he is now I better be doing the same).
So
I went to bed picking out the panels I wanted to attend the next day and pretty
much riding my noble dream steed across a battlefield made of trampled
rejection letters; I could keep receiving them, but I wasn’t going to stop and
now I felt like I had a legitimate shot of continuing.
I
woke up to a knocking around 7:00 in the morning. The lovely Linda Addison had
made a joke about waking me up that morning and I mumble-shouted at the door,
“Linda, it’s too early. I’ll be down in a minute!”
It
wasn’t Linda though, just a very confused member of housekeeping. As she
skittered away down the hall, I drug myself from a bed (I’m not an early-riser
and for anyone who has seen me do so, I probably lope around and look as
out-of-focus and low budget as a homemade Bigfoot video.)
Finally
I looked somewhat presentable (jeans and button up shirt... it’s either that or
a tee shirt proclaiming something awesome) and I proceeded downstairs.
There
was a tour group leaving to go view one of the original printing presses in
Utah and I found myself intrigued to learn something new, so I embarked on it
along with Linda Addison and several other authors who were there for the
convention including Joe McKinney (well known for his zombie novels that have
an element of realism not seen in many others), and Darren Shan (author of the Demonata and the Cirque Du Freak series). Needless to say I felt like I had gone
from my small fishbowl to walking with giants in the space of eight hours or
so.
The
tour went well and I got to know both Joe and Darren in this walk, along with
bonding with Linda.
We
returned to the hotel and the convention where upon we temporarily parted as I
went to find myself some breakfast. Lo and behold, I ran into Brian who had
emerged to take part in the convention activities himself.
I
told him of the morning activities after he asked what I had been up to and
then he asked me a question I never expected: “Hey, I want to do a new author
roundtable for my podcast. Would you like to be on that?”
I had been
trucking along really smooth (I thought), making inroads and trying not to go
fanboy on my hero… needless to say after that particular sentence I looked
something like this…
I,
of course, accepted and tried not to do a Breakfast
Club-esque fist thrust as both of us made our way to the named room (they
had tree themes: Aspen, Birch, and Elm) where the opening ceremonies of the
convention would start.
Brian
went off to interact with people he knew and I was left to my own devices. I
took a seat (front row because I was an eager young author) and watched as the
invited named authors of this convention took their places on the raised stage.
I
still dream of one day sitting on that stage with them.
As
I waited for the opening ceremony to begin, I did a small bit of Facebook
scrounging to kill some time and I happened to notice something…
Three
years ago my second published short story, And
the River Rolled was included in Sirens Call Publications anthology Fear of the Water. There were a lot of
good stories, but one in particular stuck with me, one called Pool Shark by Shenoa Carroll Bradd. To
this day, I’m jealous of that story and most likely always will be. The meat of
the story is exactly what the title implies… a shark… in… a pool!
When
I was a kid I used to go swimming at a golf course about half a mile from my
house called the Indian Hills Country Club. Now this being Atlanta, Texas where
I once put a pregnancy test in some city water and it returned a positive
result, the pool wasn’t exactly the most well kept. First time my hair was ever
bleached and not because I wanted to make a statement.
Still,
I was 5 years old and didn’t care I just liked swimming. I remember that blue
murky water and the fear that there was something swimming under there just
waiting for me to jump in. Shenoa’s story brought that brilliant nostalgia
back.
Long
back story and side anecdote short, I discovered that Shenoa was attending the
convention as well and I made a mental note to seek her out. In the meantime,
it was time for the opening ceremony.
Titan
of SciFi writing Kevin J. Anderson was also in attendance and as they
introduced everybody it was like looking at some kind of modern pantheon. And here
I was; the young student eager for any kind of knowledge that they were willing
to lay on me.
So
the convention began and I was off to the races, eager to attend every single
panel I could and therein lies one of the hardest things about these conventions…
time and availability. You want to do so much and go to so many of the panels
but some of them take place at the same time and you do have to find time to
eat in between them.
I
found Shenoa at one of those panels and we became instant friends (that seemed
to be a thing amongst horror writers, fast friendships, probably because we are
all passionate about a corner of literature looked down on by the publishing
world).
Brian
was on the same panel as the one I met Shenoa at and afterwards I asked him
what time we were doing the podcast that weekend. He informed me that he was
still looking for one person and I recommended Shenoa and in Sensei Keene’s
infinite wisdom he decided to act on that recommendation and thus Shenoa was
added to the New Author Panel Podcast for the Horror Show With Brian Keene.
The
New Author Panel consisted of myself, Shenoa Carroll Bradd, Richard Wolley, and
Amber Fallon.
As
we helped ourselves to refreshments and got to know each other better, Brian
set up his equipment but eventually we were ready to begin.
You can
listen to the podcast here: http://www.projectiradio.com/mercedes-yardleys-rules-for-broadcast-excellence-the-horror-show-with-brian-keene-ep-68/
But for the
more sensitive among you, I deliver a disclaimer that there is some language so
take that into account before you listen to it.
I tell you
if you ever want to feel inadequate as a writer, sit down in a podcast with
Amber Fallon and Shenoa Carroll Bradd. Both of these phenomenal women blew me
away at their accomplishments and how they carried themselves.
Richard
Wolley, the other writer on the panel, became a fast cohort as both of us joked
that we were going to cosplay as Master Blaster (that’s from Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome for everyone
not in the know) at the next convention we attended. Richard also does a
podcast that reviews films called the Jabber
and the Drone which I would also recommend… seriously go check it out.
Going to leave a link for it right here for
your convenience:
All in all it
was fun, it was awe inspiring, and even now I look on those moments with
fondness.
Alas, the
fun and games came to an end and it was time for me to do what I had been
borderline dreading since I had arrived in Provo, Utah… to pitch my work to
potential publishers.
To all of
you who know me, I usually fly by the seat of my pants. In fact on my tombstone
someday it will probably say “I’m Going to Wing It!”- Wile E. Young (about
something that he most certainly shouldn’t have winged). So here I was trying
to put together something that sounded halfway decent.
Brian and
Linda were busy on panels, but I found Jack Ketchum at the bar eating his lunch
along with Kelly Laymon. We chatted about our day but I couldn’t resist asking
them, “Guys I’m about to pitch my work for the first time… do you have any
advice for me?”
And I
distinctly remember Jack Ketchum putting down his fork, turning in his chair
and looking me dead in the eye, smiling. “Here is your advice… go in there and
kick ass.”
I have to
admit that is some of the best advice I’ve ever received when it comes to
winging things.
I waited
outside a small room where my first pitch would take place (I intended to pitch
Don’t Reel In.)
I took a
deep breath.
They called
my name.
And that
will be in the third and final blog post that covers my time in Provo, Utah.
Keep that
bated breath handy, but don’t worry, that post is already half way done and
WILL be posted next week.
Literature
in Review
Over
the summer I went to the beach as you may recall, and when I’m on the beach I
like to read. This particular summer, I had picked up the Terminal by Amber
Fallon. I met Amber at the World Horror Convention in Provo (which you
obviously read about above) and was excited to read her novella.
I
really had no idea what was waiting for me with this particular piece of
literature.
The
story begins in an airport (big shock) and involves a couple going home to
visit parents for the Christmas holidays, reminiscent of virtually every
holiday movie, but then is derailed when a sudden alien invasion happens.
It
gets worse as our hero struggles through the airport trying to find his way to
freedom. This is where Ms. Fallon shines, her mastery of dialogue and her
willingness to show the gore such a situation would obviously produce.
The
style of writing was highly reminiscent of Brian Keene and J.F. Gonzalez (two
of my own biggest inspirations) and I found the book and the characters easy and
fun to read.
The
problem is… it is a novella! I wanted more!
Don’t
let that dissuade you though, she is working on a sequel.
In
short, Terminal is pulpy, Terminal is gory, Terminal is compelling… Terminal
is good!
Here is an
Amazon link should you wish to purchase it:
and a little
extra “encouragement” by way of the Hypnotoad
Wile E.
World News
Well
it has finally happened… the day is finally upon us… the season finale of
America. Hopefully it won’t actually be that bad, but I’m much more of a cynic
than I used to be, so I can only prepare for the worst and hope for the best.
Let
your conscience guide you as you head to the polls. As for me, well… we had a
5.3 earthquake last night in Oklahoma that lasted for a good half a minute.
Sometimes
life provides us with omens whether we want them or not.
Quote of the
Week
Em the Slayer: You’re so warm!
Wile E. Young: I’m like an
industrial space heater of evil.
Well,
that’s it for this week. I’ll leave you with a writing update and wish you well
as I set up my latest trap to catch the roadrunner.
Interstate
Eldritch:
16,000 words
The Twitch: 500 words
(out of 8,000).
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