Freddy’s Not Dead

And, are these even kind of in order? Well, not sure about the video game, I guess. Either way, this was a lot of work. A lot of very worthwhile work. Thanks:

I would look up the Jason-version—I seem to remember a pretty cool one, to the tune of . . . Drowning Pool, maybe?—but I’m supposed to be writing a novel right now. So, back that grindstone, that escape hatch, that even deeper rabbit hole.

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Ghost Town Writer’s Retreat

[ photo: Gwen Clayton ]

Think I’m gonna have to make this an annual thing. Great time this long weekend, starting with me getting to my first panel late:

It was “Haunts & Nachos,” but really it was Travis Heerman and me just answering any and all horror questions we could for an hour, whilst it rained and stormed outside—this is Colorado in July/August; that’s the way all the days are, pretty much. But it cleared up enough for burgers and exploring Georgetown. Of which I have the usual zero pics—I’ve never once thought, “Man, I should take a picture of this”—but I can steal this video, from Jeffrey Reddick:

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Past Couple of Weeks

have been full of events. Feels like I haven’t been wheels-down since Denver Comic Con, about. Had three deadline stories to jam down along the way, and trying to finish a novel besides. But, of course: wouldn’t have it any other way.

Anyway, at Tattered Cover Lodo . . . last week, I think it was, I got to talk to Andy Davidson about his excellent Texas/serial killer/vampire novel In the Valley of the Sun:

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Mapping the Interior of Mapping the Interior


starting this journalthing now, but I need to wrap up the week before, right quick:

➔ I had a story to write over the weekend. I wrote 2 or 3K words on it Saturday, decided those words were worthless, so wrote a completely new and different story on Sunday after seeing the Bourne movie. Both the movie and story were about three-quarters good.

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Werewolf short(s)

Not the kind Jacob and his pack wore for Twilight, and not the kind some certain wolfling was carving into bathroom stalls all over the southeast. I’m talking the fiction kind. This one puts me in mind of Peter S. Beagle’s “Lila the Werewolf,” or that one story of mine from forever ago, “Old Meat“):

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Fright Night 85

For my money, Evil Ed in wolf-form, stabbed and fallen and crawling across the floor, is still one of the creepiest ever effects (at 50sec)

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