Hey now, somebody may have just read the moneyshot chapter of a slasher novel I just wrote:
Thanks to Paul Tremblay for the headsup.
Good time this weekend in snowy Santa Fe. That’s me in the slash hat.
What you can’t see? There’s slashers all on the hatband:
Guess Ghostface is kind of criminally tilted (sorry, Billy and Stu), and the jewel of them all is the werewolf, but slashers on a Slash hat is the real joke. Werewolves? Werewolves are never the joke.
Anyway, we talked Alice and “Alis” (my story. we all talked about our own stories, to start things off) and I think I misremembered an old SyFy miniseries out loud for all—who were too polite to call me on it—then we signed a truckload of books, and I saw an old yellow friend from one of the other times I’ve been on this excellent little stage:
Man, had no idea about any of this. And, it’s just a shade away from the slasher, too: masked, punishing the “guilty,” using violence the law can’t use, preferring the night.
Not sure how many slasher stories I’ve written, exactly. There’s this one, there’s “I Was a Teenage Slasher Victim” (also at Juked), there’s “Kissyface” in Unspeakable Horrors 2, there’s “A Survival Guide for the Police Officer Guarding the Final Girl’s House,” and I feel like there’s one or two more floating around in the horrorsphere. Anyway: there’ll be more. And more novels as well. Slasher is the truest genre/mode there is. It speaks to me. It says: ki-ki-ki, ma-ma-ma.