Archive for the ‘Reflections’ Category

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I was watching the movie adaptation of My Best Friend’s Exorcism with my sister the other day. And, right before they’re about to do the exorcism, the exorcist asks the main character if she’s been baptized. And the main character, a high school senior at a Catholic school, taking catechism classes and attending evangelical events at school, says in a deadpan voice, “I’m Jewish.”

My sister and I, as well as her roommates (it was movie night at her place), burst out laughing, because it was great comedic timing. Plus, it wasn’t something about the character that was in the book, so I hadn’t seen it coming. But looking back on it now, I can’t help but feel like it’s the latest example of an issue of Jewish portrayal in media.

I said in a previous post that I might be talking about problems of portrayal I see in media, thanks to the panel I was on last month. And I’ve noticed that portrayal of Jews in the media–at least the media I’ve been consuming–has been problematic. This is because, generally speaking, I have noticed Jews tend to be portrayed in one of three different groups:

  • The religious types. They’re Orthodox, with black coats and beards. At least one of the men is a rabbi, and if the story is speculative in nature, Kabbalah shows up somewhere. I’m not too upset about this portrayal, because I have seen some good and nuanced portrayals of this group since Fiddler of the Roof. I’ve even used it myself. Still, it’s done A LOT.
  • The barely-Jewish portrayal. They say they’re Jewish, but the characters eat bacon, have barely any connection to their ancestry, and their religious affiliation is only used as a joke or a quirk of their character. Examples include Howard Wolowitz from The Big Bang Theory, Rachel Berry from Glee, and, most recently, Abby Rivers in My Best Friend’s Exorcism. There are Jews like this, but it’s nuts that this is the biggest alternative to the religious types I see in media.
  • Jewish equals some weird behavior or stereotype. The fact that they’re Jewish usually translates to some silly behavior or conglomeration of behavior or traits that defines their entire character and is equated with their Jewishness. Maybe they’re clownish wimpy goofs that are always going “Oy vey” and speaking in funny voices, like Krusty the Clown in The Simpsons or Mort Goldman in Family Guy. Or they’re hypochondriacs, like Stan Uris in IT. Usually satirical, but sometimes it’s meant to be taken seriously or realistic, like in IT.*
Ziva David. So far, the most unique portrayal of Jew I’ve come across.

Honestly, the only character I’ve seen buck this trend is Ziva David from NCIS, a former Mossad agent from Israel who was tough, somewhat religious, and very connected to her Jewish heritage and faith. When I watched NCIS, I absolutely loved her, and was so sad when she left the series for good. That was a great and different portrayal of a Jew on media. (As for her being portrayed by a Catholic actress…well, she’s still a great character.)

But that’s the only one. And honestly, I think that’s a damn shame. There are so many different kinds of Jews out there: Jews who are religious but enjoy listening to the Ramones and going out for drinks and bowling with friends; non-religious Jews who are connected to their heritage and use it to make art; Jews who are both Israeli, Jewish, and Arab (just read about him yesterday in an article a friend sent to me); and the disabled Jewish horror writer who lights Shabbat candles on Friday night and keeps kosher while also seeing plays on Saturday afternoons or getting tattoos of Tarot cards all over his body.

Me, if you couldn’t tell.

This is why I’m not just writing an increasing amount of Jewish characters in my work, but also a wider variety of Jewish characters. There’s the married and heavily connected Jewish gay couple in “The Red Bursts,” one of the stories in Hannah and Other Stories; the rabbi, his less-religious but still Jewish best friend and his secular daughter in “The House on Lafayette Square” in Symphony for Walpurgis; and in The Shape of Evil, a Jewish teen on the spectrum (who’s only partially based on me). And I hope to write many, many more.

It may be only a drop in the water. But mentioning those stereotypes at StokerCon did make one or two writers consider how they were writing their Jewish characters. Perhaps mentioning them here, and writing all those characters, might cause some positive ripples. Which, in these scary times, would be most welcome.

I very much prefer this version of Stan than the one in the book.

*In all honestly, I hate Stan Uris. At least Stan in the book. I love King and I love IT. Hell, I’m a horror writer because of them both. But Stan was barely connected to his Jewishness, except in how it made him different, and he was more defined by his clean-freak nature and his almost worshipful adherence to logic and a normal world. In fact, it’s stated in the book that Stan’s suicide was because he wanted to “stay clean,” rather than get “dirty” and jump into a world completely outside of normal. I hated that.

This is why I prefer Stan’s portrayal in the movies. In the first movie, he’s the son of a rabbi studying for his bar mitzvah (I can relate) and, while being religious and connected to his heritage, is still pretty much a normal kid. And as an adult, his suicide is portrayed as him ensuring that the others are able to defeat It. A true sacrifice for the greater good. No wonder I prefer that version.

From left to right: Rob Costello, Gaby Triana, Tamika Thompson, me, Aaron Dries, Rae Knowles, and Logan Johnson.

I’ve been wanting to write this post ever since I got back from StokerCon, but life has been very, very busy. But hey, better late than never, am I right?

So, as you probably recall, at StokerCon I was on the panel Representation in Horror, where we explored the topic of including marginalized voices in our community, as well as writing characters from those communities. I was very excited about the topic; not just because it’s one that’s near and dear to my heart, but because it was my very first time sitting on a StokerCon panel. You know, one that wasn’t pre-recorded.

And I figured I would be bringing something to the panel. I’m Jewish, bisexual, and have some disabilities, including being on the spectrum, after all. With the amount of time I spent just thinking about the things I would say in response to the questions, I thought I could help my fellow panelists blow some minds and get our audience (which nearly filled the room) thinking.

I did not expect to have my mind blown as well. But there were several moments just like that.

Just for a couple of examples, I remember Rob Costello mentioning that fat people were the only group that it was still cool to beat up on and how he was sick of it, and while the audience responded positively to that (apparently they noticed that, too), I was like, “Whoa! How have I never noticed that?” And Tamika Thompson mentioned how much Stephen King uses the trope of the Magical Negro, and I was like “Huh, she’s right. Dick Halloran, Mother Abigail, that dude from The Green Mile. He does use that trope a lot.”

And I’ve been thinking about that panel and all we discussed since then, as well as all the things we didn’t have time to discuss. For example, we didn’t have a chance to discuss various communities and their inclusion in the community or in our literature, such as Muslims, Native Americans, or the Roma community (seriously, even when it’s not overtly negative, I can’t think of a portrayal of the Romani that doesn’t lean on stereotypes). And I forgot to mention how not-helpful the portrayal of mentally disabled people as being magic because of their disability is (examples: Dudditts from Dreamcatcher by Stephen King, the autistic kid from 2018’s The Predator).

I think we could all use further conversation in this topic. Photo by nappy on Pexels.com

And it’s made me realize something: the discussion needs to continue. Because this sort of subject, the kind of stuff certain people call “woke,” requires constant learning and further conversation. That way, we can continue to think about what sort of stories we are creating and foster better understanding between people.

So, don’t be surprised if I have a few more blog posts like this one in the near future, ones where I discuss portrayal in horror and problematic stereotypes and whatnot. I may even reach out to some of my fellow panelists to help with that (I managed to find most of them on social media). But hey, if they feel the same way as me, they might want to continue the conversation as well.

And who knows? We might see Representation in Horror become a regular topic at StokerCon. And I don’t think anyone could see that as a bad thing.

It’s the night before the Big Ohio Book Con, and earlier today, I went and set up my table. This is what it looks like.

I hope it looks great. I think it looks great, even if my stickers and bookmarks and whatnot aren’t out yet (I’ll do that in the morning). But one thing’s for certain: it’s cramped, about five feet total. And I have to make do with what space I have.

This lack of space, and trying to make a good booth for myself, made me appreciate all over again what goes into making an eye-catching booth. I thought I’d figured that out after my first ParaPsyCon, and a friend advised me to get at least some kind of sign for next year so people knew what I do at my table. Solid advice, and it made me realize that I need to be a lot more eye-catching if I want people to come check out my table. This has led to various changes to my booths over the year, including that big banner you see behind the table, which I got in December 2023.

But this tiny space, and the other booths around me, made me realize that all over again. My neighbors are romance authors, and they have such eye-catching booths, with banners and signs and little decorations like fake vines or flowers or game wheels or whatever. And just about every table I saw today was just as decorative and eye-catching. Made me think to myself, “Shit, I gotta be careful if I want to stand out, too!”

And that’s something I got to keep in mind from now on: I just can’t just have a simple template for my tables. I have to adjust based on space, the kind of con I’m at, and who I’m next to or near. That way, readers will be interested in coming closer and reading my work.

Sucks that I have to basically turn my table into a peacock just to get people interested in reading my work. However, I’ve long accepted that I need to be something of a carnival barker to get people to come over and find what I hope will be their new favorite book. So, adjusting my display as needed shouldn’t be too much more work.

Anyway, we’ll see how it goes. Tomorrow’s the con, and I’ll be there for most of the weekend. There will hopefully be plenty of opportunities for me to meet new readers, and to change my display as necessary. Should be interesting.


That’s all for now, my Followers of Fear. If you happen to be in Medina, Ohio this weekend, please stop by the Big Ohio Book Con at 735 Lafayette Rd. I’ll be there signing books and doing Tarot readings, and would love to see you.

If you can’t be there but still want to support me, you can support me by buying one of my books online. From plant/human hybrids and strange gods to Mafia-hunting serial killers and carnivorous horses, I have something for every horror fan. So why not check out a book or two? I’ll leave the link to my Books page below.

Until next time, my Followers of Fear, good night and pleasant nightmares.

The folks of StokerCon waiting for the Final Frame competition to start.

Here’s a riddle for you: what took place in Connecticut last week, had nearly 800 people in attendance, and I was among the attendees? StokerCon! Yes, last week, horror writers from around the world descended upon Stamford, Connecticut. There, we had panels, a short film competition, and our annual awards show, the Bram Stoker Awards, noting superior achievement in horror from the previous calendar year.

(There was also apparently dripping goo and weird liminal spaces out of the Backrooms in the hotel, and somehow, I missed both! I’m annoyed about that, especially the weird liminal space. That would make a great YouTube video!)

As I said in a previous post, my goal for this StokerCon was to level up my writing career and get that much closer to writing full time. This would be achieved by going to panels that I thought would help me reach that goal, being on my first ever panel, and, of course, pitching The Shape of Evil to agents and editors. (Plus meeting new people whom I could network with, but I try to make that more about making new friends than trying to make new business connections.) Did I accomplish my goals? Well, let’s talk about the con and we’ll see.

Hanging with Logan Johnson, one of the organizers of this year’s StokerCon, the moderator on my panel, and a new friend, at the banquet cocktail hour.

Seeing all my friends (meeting new ones). One of my favorite things to do at StokerCon is just to see all my horror-writing friends. Many of us only know each other through social media, so it’s nice to meet in person or to catch up with one another when the last time we saw each other could be a year or two ago. So, of course, I did plenty of that. The hotel had a lobby and a restaurant/bar, so outside of panels, we would gather there or on the second floor (that was where most of the con stuff happened) and just talk. We catch up, discuss our lives and our projects, and just shoot the shit. It’s lovely!

Plus, there’s always new people to meet. I actually got to know quite a few people whom I’d never met before, and it was fun to ask how they were enjoying the con and what they were working on or up to with their horror writing careers. Obviously, some were already well-known within the community, but most were just like me: working stiffs who enjoy horror and hope to make our marks in the genre. I’ve connected with a lot of these people now, and I’m hopeful we can continue to be friends and support each other as we work on our stories.

Going to panels. As I said, with a few notable exceptions, the panels I went to were ones I thought would be helpful for me as I move forward in my writing career. This included a panel on getting your stories adapted for film (it nearly happened once to me, so I thought I’d get some tips in case it happened again), and on how to get along with others as a professional. This one was particularly important to me, because being on the spectrum, I often feel like everyone but me was given a rule book on social interaction at birth and I have a lot of catching up to do. I actually brought this up during the Q&A section at the end of the panel, and what I should do in case I made a mistake. The answers I received were very reassuring. Not just to me, but, as I learned afterwards, to others in the audience who also were neurodivergent and felt the same way. I even got thanked a few times for bringing the topic up, which surprised me but also made me glad I asked.

As for the other panels I went to, one was about a Jewish writer who, while not a horror writer, had some dark themes in some of his work (I’m going to have to read that at some point), and a panel on using public domain characters and stories in horror (as someone who’s seen the Winnie the Pooh and Steamboat Willie horror films, I couldn’t resist). All in all, they were very educational, and I’m glad I went to them.

The signature scavenger hunt. As you might expect, I went a little crazy in the dealer room and bought way too many books. One of the books was The Rack, edited by Tom Deady, which is pictured above. It’s an anthology of stories inspired by those vintage horror paperback covers from the 70s and 80s. I bought it directly from the editor, Tom Deady, in the dealer room, and he signed it. And then I ran into one of the writers in the anthology, Erick Nunnally, a little while after. On a spur of the moment, I asked him to sign the book where his story began, which he did. And then he suggested I get the other authors in the book who were in attendance at StokerCon to sign. Which I did.

Ultimately, I think I managed to get half the authors to sign their stories. Most of those were done during the Mass Author Signing, where you can go around a big room and get your books signed by the authors who wrote them all at once. That was fun, because I also had them sign other books they’d written I’d bought, and then got signatures from other authors whose books I had copies of. The rest were just during random meetings during the con, and they were always happy to sign.

So yeah, I spent a good portion of StokerCon on a bit of a scavenger hunt, but it was still a lot of fun, and I only missed three of the authors who were in attendance (maybe next year?). And now, I have a cool knickknack in my personal library, which I’m currently reading through and loving! So, no regrets whatsoever.

From left to right: Rob Costello, Gaby Triana, Tamika Thompson, myself, Aaron Dries, Rae Knowles, and Logan Johnson.

Being on my first live panel. I’ve done a few StokerCon panels in the past, but they were always pre-recorded on Zoom for the virtual audiences. And while that is great, I’ve always wanted to tackle being on a live one. Not only did I get to do just that last week, but it was on a topic I am passionate about: Authentic Representation in Horror, which was about including marginalized communities and voices in horror and how to do so. And wow, did a lot of people show up! By the end, nearly all the seats were taken. I guess other people wanted to talk about this as well.

To say the least, the conversations were illuminating. I even had a few moments where I was like, “I never thought of that.” Honestly, I want to give this panel its own blog post, so I’ll stop there, but I’ll say this: it was great being on a panel like that. I look forward to doing it again someday soon.

The pitches. I’m sure a few of you skipped ahead just to find out how this went. Yes, during StokerCon’s annual session dedicated to connecting authors with agents and editors, I did get to pitch The Shape of Evil. And you know what? I got results. Three agents and one editor asked me to send them part or all of The Shape of Evil, which I did on Monday after taking a little time to recover from all the travel (and that traveling is worth a blog post on its own).

To say the least, I am beyond happy about this result. It went way better than I thought it would go, even with practicing pitches beforehand (always recommended), and I am hopeful that at least one of them will want to help me get The Shape of Evil published. I’ll likely know something by the end of the summer. And, of course, if it all goes well, I’ll be sure to let you know.

***

Ultimately, StokerCon was an amazing time for me. Sure, this year’s hotel was weird, but I had fun with friends, accomplished my goals, and made sure to celebrate everyone else’s accomplishments with them. And next year, we’re doing it again: at the end of the awards banquet, it was announced that, to control costs and to ensure StokerCon continues to go in a direction that’s as good as possible for as many people as possible, it’ll be in Pittsburgh for the next two years.

Obviously, I’m stoked, since that means I can drive there. In fact, I’ve already bought my ticket! And next year will be the 10th annual StokerCon, so it should be extra special. (Yeah, I thought it’d been around for longer, too. Color us both surprised.)

Members of HWA Ohio at StokerCon. I have a feeling next year, we’re going to have a much bigger showing.

I wonder what will happen. Will I sit on another panel or two? Do a reading? Somehow get on the ballot and get to be a nominee? I guess we’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll work on getting my stories out there and meeting new readers and having plenty to talk about when I drive to Pittsburgh next year.

In the meantime, I’ll have a new blog post out Monday, so keep an eye out for that. And until then, my Followers of Fear, good night, pleasant nightmares, and have a wonderful start to your summer. I know I am.

Photo by Juan Pablo Serrano on Pexels.com

All you need to do is turn on the TV or go online to see that, particularly in the US, we’re in scary times. This is the first year in several years where the White House or the federal government as a whole haven’t acknowledged Pride Month, and governments around the world are rolling back rights for the LGBT community, especially for trans people. In the past two months, there has been a huge rise in the number of violent attacks against Jews and Jewish institutions, with the most recent being the attack on a run to bring awareness to hostages held captive in Gaza a week ago today.

And at the time I’m writing this, National Guardsmen and Marines are being forced at the direction of the President to attack people in LA protesting the ICE raids on immigrant communities.

And this is just a fraction of all the horrible things that have been happening to marginalized communities lately. Honestly, it’s not hard to feel afraid. I’ve certainly felt quite nervous on more days than one, especially after the attack at the Jewish Capital Museum last month. It doesn’t help that some of these actions seem to come from national governments, like the rollback of federal protections and celebrations on marginalized communities, or the UK Supreme Court ruling on sex and gender identity in April.

And I know that, with how scary it is lately, it feels very easy and somewhat natural to retreat into yourself and distract yourself with only books and TV and things that make you feel good. And I totally get that; there are days when I want to do nothing but watch anime or read books. And if you need to take care of your mental health, you should totally do that. DO NOT ignore your own well-being.

But if writing horror has taught me anything (and it’s taught me many things), it’s that we have to stand up to what scares us if we want to not only fight back but move forward. In fact, horror often teaches me and my fellow horror fans how to deal with current events, because what scares us, including in current events, often makes it into our stories. So, we need to stand up to what’s happening right now and for what we believe in.

So, what can we do? Well, some years ago, I heard a Christian minister say this during an event to commemorate Martin Luther King day: “Sometimes, the least you can do, and often what can say the most, in hard and scary times, is to be there and to ask if someone needs a hand.” Those words have stuck with me through the years, and I think that, right now, that’s a good place to start. Sometimes, just showing up and saying you support them and want to help can do wonders!

In fact, I know this from personal experience. Last week, after the attack in Boulder, some of my non-Jewish friends posted on social media their condemnation of the attacks, and how committing violence, especially against innocent people, was never okay. After hearing condemnations from mainly my fellow Jews and not enough from outside the community, seeing that support helped alleviate so much of my negative feelings.

So, at the very least, show up. Whether that be by showing up at an event or making your voice known online, asking how you can help can help those in marginalized communities feel that much safer and supported, and give them the strength to fight back against oppression. And if you feel safe enough to, please show up to events, reach out to your elected representatives, or sign your name to petitions. And,, of course, donate to organizations that help out with these causes. Doing so may feel like small gestures, but they can have huge impacts. Hell, during the first Trump administration, lawyers at the DOJ did confirm that the protests against certain policies did have an effect on what actions the administration took during the rest of the term.

So, don’t be afraid to show up and to ask what people need. Your little act may end up having the greatest impact on both someone else’s life, and on the world as a whole.


That’s all for now, my Followers of Fear. I’ve been wanting to post something like this for a while now, but what’s happening now really made it a priority. Honestly, I wish I could do more, like that nationwide protest on Saturday against the military parade and a certain someone acting like a king. But as you know, I’ll be at StokerCon during that time. At the very least, I’ll be on a panel about including marginalized communities in horror and pitching a novel that puts my money where my mouth is. So, at the very least, I’m helping out in that way.

Anyway, until next time, my Followers of Fear. I hope you’ll take the message of this post to heart. Stay safe out there while still helping where and when you can. And until next time, good night and pleasant nightmares.

Grady Hendrix telling us about the history of witches and having us in stitches.

Recently, I went to see Grady Hendrix, author of Witchcraft for Wayward Girls and My Best Friend’s Exorcism, speak here in Columbus. It was an exciting event: the venue was an event space usually reserved for wedding receptions and the like, but it was packed, with possibly around 500 people inside the space! I was lucky just to find a table with a good vantage point.

And I’m glad I did: at 7 PM, Hendrix came out and spent the next hour using humor and a PowerPoint slideshow to tell us the history of witches as he saw it, as well as depictions of witches through history. It was hysterical! He made us laugh as he went through some of the ridiculous and not-so-ridiculous stuff that happened in witch trials, the plots of the wild books throughout the years revolving around witches, and why we keep having these witch scares. And I had a great seat to see it all.

It was an amazing night, and I could go on and on about it, but what I want to focus on is just how Hendrix, and other authors, use humor in their work.

I’ve written on this subject before, but horror and humor often go hand-in-hand, much to the surprise of some non-horror fans. You can see this quite prominently not just from Hendrix’s talk, but from his work, which is normally as funny as it is scary (Witchcraft is a rare exception, but then again, it doesn’t have much to laugh about). Not to mention, there’s a whole subgenre of horror called “horror comedy,” which is pretty self-explanatory. Some prominent examples include Clown in a Cornfield by Adam Cesare, where humor adds plenty to the slasher novel’s plot, and my friend D.M. Guay’s “24/7 Demon Mart” series, about a guy who works at a convenience mart with a talking cockroach for a manager and a portal to Hell in the beer cooler.

My friend D.M. Guay’s book. The series has quite a lot of followers.

And if you’ve seen a production of the musical Sweeney Todd (and I guess maybe the movie version), you’ll notice that despite the dark subject matter, there is plenty of humor. Hell, the musical’s most famous song is full of cannibalism puns! It’s almost sad how the movies cuts out most of those jokes.

Why is humor such a big part of horror at times? Well, part of it is for alleviating tension in the story, especially for non-horror fans who may not like stories that are so dark. But I think another part of it is that we need humor. Laughter is the best medicine, as they say, and it can help alleviate dark situations by shining a light on them. In fact, if you think about how horror is therapeutic for some readers (like me), the humor aspect really can pair well with the cathartic aspects of horror.

It also explains how a room of approximately 500 people could laugh so hard about stuff like witch trials, where people got murdered for bullshit reasons.

And it can’t be understated how helpful humor is in getting people to like each other. I certainly found myself liking Hendrix after an hour of his jokes.

Makes me wish I could put more humor into my own work. I love to laugh and joke around, but that doesn’t usually extend to my stories, where the stories I write are usually quite serious. Humor tends to pop up by accident or just evolves organically when I write it. In The Pure World Comes, for example, protagonist Shirley is practical and at times slightly condescending or sardonic, so humor kind of evolved naturally around her. And there’s a naughty joke appears in The Shape of Evil, but that’s because I’ve been in similar moments and made similar jokes.

Still, my style of writing tends to work for me. People like my stories for what they are, and I won’t force humor in when it doesn’t suit the story. And plenty of writers write amazing stories that have endured through time without a laugh. Who’s to say I have to add a laugh to join their ranks?

All that being said, if I find a place to put a bit of humor into one of my stories, and it doesn’t work against said story, I might add it. After all, a little laughter never killed anybody…as far as we know.

And in the meantime, I think I’ll just keep using humor as I have all my life: in my interactions with others, when appropriate and hopefully to great applause.

Do you use humor in the stories you write? Have you noticed any rules to writing humor or humorous passages? And what is your favorite horror story with comedic elements?

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Lately, my life has been nothing but growing excitement. Well, that’s not entirely true: there’s a bunch of other stuff. But work has been getting better lately after several months of insanity, and I’ve been balancing my life very well, which has allowed me to notice the excitement more clearly than if life was too busy and I was super exhausted.

And it’s not surprising that life feels like it’s nothing but excitement. For one thing, StokerCon is fast approaching, and there’s plenty I’m looking forward to with that. For one thing, as you know, I’ll be pitching The Shape of Evil to agents and editors there, and I’ve done the majority of my prep in that respect (a friend of mine who will also be pitching, and we’ll be practicing our pitches together as we get closer). Not only that, but I’m involved with a couple of panels, which I wasn’t the last time I went.

One is a virtual panel, “Understanding Historical Horror,” which I was the moderator of. I say “was,” because we filmed the panel ahead of time. As I suggested the panel (I blame “Sinners” inspiring me), I was asked to moderate and film it. And it went well! We had some great panelists–Philip Fracassi, John Langan, Alma Katsu, and John Kachuba–and we had an enjoyable hour and a half of filming and talking about historical horror: what it was, how to go about writing it, and the ethics of writing it. It will premiere during StokerCon, and will be accessible for those attending virtually.

The second one is “Authentic Representation in Horror,” which will focus on including marginalized communities in the horror community and in horror stories. As you probably know, that’s a subject near and dear to my heart, so I’m eager to talk about it with some like-minded writers in front of an audience. We’ve already spent some time emailing each other, suggesting topics for discussion and what we need as individuals to be more comfortable. That panel will also be livestreamed, so we’ll hopefully get a lot of people tuning in online as well as attending in person.

(And hopefully the anti-woke police won’t show up and cause a problem, lol.)

Add in getting to see so many friends, and it’s no wonder I’m excited for StokerCon!

Pretty much how I feel these days.

But StokerCon aside, there are other reasons I’m excited. For example, Symphony for Walpurgis is doing well. It’s only been out a little over three weeks since my latest collection released, but it’s been selling well and a lot of people have been telling me they’ve been enjoying it or expressing interest in getting copies of their own. One person in the horror community I really admire actually reached out to me yesterday to ask if she could have a review copy, which made my day! I’ll be seeing her at StokerCon, so I’ll give her a copy then.

And then there’s so much more! For one thing, we’re in the middle of Memorial Day weekend, and I’m already enjoying all the things I’m planning on doing this weekend, including getting some much needed sleep and doing a lot of projects I’ve put off till now. In fact, I’ve already made some progress with those projects, and I’ll tell you more about them when the time is right.

My Tarot cards say that for June, all troubles will pass, and lots of good things will happen in time. I can’t wait to see if that comes true!

And my birthday is coming up, which is another reason to get excited. I’m already arranging to get a nice massage on the day of, eat ice cream, and hang out with friends (not necessarily in that order and definitely not at the same time). It’ll be a nice celebration of my life and my inevitable inching towards death before heading off to a certain convention I’ve mentioned a hundred times already.

And a hundred other things are happening or will happen that just get me excited and full of zest for life and so glad I’m at this point in my life. Hell, even my Tarot cards seem to have caught something, because lately the majority of my readings have been super-positive! And if there’s something more to the cards than just pure randomness, then that’s significant!

And I’m looking forward to seeing how all these things play out. Whether it’s StokerCon and what I plan to do there, or the Doctor Who season finale, or even just trying out a new recipe this weekend. It’s nice to not only have so much to look forward to, but also to experience it when it arrives.

Makes me wonder what else I’ll get excited about as the stuff I mentioned above happens. I guess we, and especially I, will find out soon enough!

Me, my grandfather Seymour Ungar of blessed memory, and my dad Rabbi Michael Ungar at the English Department’s Graduation Breakfast.

I did promise I would write about this in its own post. And I do my best to keep my promises.

This past Saturday, May 10th, as well as being the Halfway to Halloween Expo in Ann Arbor and the third anniversary of when The Pure World Comes was released, it was also the ten-year anniversary of my college graduation. When I became an alumnus of The Ohio State University.

Wow. Ten years. It’s kind of crazy to believe. Some of you were following me even back then, reading as I made my way through my college experience, the highs and lows and everything in-between. I remember it being a very momentous occasion. All of my immediate family, as well as some of my grandparents who were close enough to make it, came to see me make that walk. I remember the head of our alumni association at the time making a speech, none of which I remember, as well as the former Secretary of Health and Human Services speaking as well (and someone booing her, which felt tacky AF). And I remember going down from the stands, getting my diploma, and then coming out feeling different. When I reached my apartment to change, I knew I was different.

I was a graduate.

Not even a year later, when I went on campus for a job interview, I felt so out of place walking among all those students. An adult among relative children. Ridiculous, because some of them were my age or older, and there wasn’t much separating us, but still.

And now, ten years later, how do I feel?

Well, obviously I’m glad I went to college, and that I went to the college I did (Go Bucks!). Sure, there are some things I would have done differently if given the chance to do them over, but I feel like most of my experiences there, positive or negative, made me into the person I am today.

But do I feel any momentous feelings regarding the passage of time? Or that I want to go back to my student days?

My sister Adi and I after I’ve gotten my diploma. And I’m about to go on the craziest journey I’ve yet to experience in my short life.

Not really, no. In fact, when I remembered on Saturday that today was the ten-year anniversary of that momentous occasion, I didn’t really feel anything. I just noted it like how one notes that it’s a bit warmer than the day before, or that I need to put something on the shopping list before I go shopping on Monday. It was a fact, nothing more. And as for whether I want to go back…well, whenever I have dreams about being back in school, no matter what grade I’m in or which school it is, I’m always annoyed about the situation. So I’d say going back feels more like a hassle than a chance to relive my glory days.

I’m not entirely sure why that is. Perhaps that’s because so much has happened in the ten years since, personally and on a global scale. It could be that either the world started becoming a darker place to be, or I started realizing the true extent of its darkness, or both, after college, and that dampens the feelings a bit. Maybe my sense of nostalgia only extends to formative media that I experienced at a certain age, rather than phases of my life.

Most likely, it has to do with not just being a different person than I was then, but the kind of person I am. I’m always looking forward, rather than looking back. Rather than focus on what happened or what I wish happened, I prefer to look into the future and daydream of what might happen or what I hope will happen.

But hey, maybe that’s all for the best. After all, there’s a time and place for everything. There was a time when college was one of the main focuses of my life, and that time has long ended. And like I said, I still have fond memories of what I experienced during those four years. Not to mention knowledge from my classes and life lessons that I’ve carried with me through the years. And I will always be grateful for that.

I think I’m a good example of OSU’s motto in action. At least, I hope so.

I just don’t want to focus on what was and what could have been. Instead, I want to focus on what is now and what could be.

Which, in its way, is probably a good thing. And I bet my old alma mater would agree. After all, Ohio State’s motto is disciplina in civitatem, or “education for citizenship.” And I got the education I needed to make my way as an adult and a citizen in this crazy world, trying to improve it and eke out a living as best I can. And if I’m not dying to go back or constantly wistful for my college days, then I consider it a job well done.

How do you feel about your college days, Followers of Fear? Do you miss them? What do you think and how do you feel when you look back at them? Let’s discuss.

Hello, Followers of Fear. As you know, my name is Rami Ungar. I’m a novelist specializing in horror and dark fantasy. I’ve published several books, with my sixth out in just a matter of days. I enjoy horror, anime, ballet and theater, winemaking, reading, and a bunch of other stuff. I am also on the spectrum, and have been my whole life. In fact, from the moment I popped out of the womb, I was so different, my mother thought until my sister came along that all the baby books were lying to her.*

And I am very, very upset by events this week.

Specifically, I’m upset by what our so-called Secretary of Health and Human Services, Robert F. Kennedy, Jr, said during a press conference, which is reiterated nicely in this tweet:

He also called autism an “epidemic,” as if it sprouted out of nowhere and has grown exponentially in a few years, rather than a medical condition that has probably existed since prehistoric times and of which we have had a name and research for since the early 1900s. But this is a guy who openly claims he had a worm in his brain, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that worm stole his common sense (and his ability to read as well).

But this level of ignorance has upset me on so many levels. We’ve made so many strides in educating the public about autism and disability in general (I was even quoted in an NPR article last year about what actual disabled people wanted listeners to know). And I don’t even know if Kennedy spouts this crap because he actually believes it, or because he knows there’s money to be made and power to be grabbed from spreading this junk.

In case it’s the former, however, and in case Kennedy or anyone else believes this garbage, let me inform you of some things: I’m 100% certified autistic. And yet, I’ve filed my taxes every spring since I turned 18. I’ve held various jobs throughout my life, being in my current job for the past nine years (I help other employees with disabilities get accommodations so they can continue working, in case you were wondering). I’ve not only played baseball and softball, but I was on my high school’s team for a little while. I’ve not only written poetry (bad as it is), but I’ve written several books and short stories. I dated here and there before I realized I was aromantic. And I use the toilet unassisted several times a day, every day, since I was a small child!

That’s because autism is a spectrum, and the people Kennedy’s describing are only a small part of the spectrum. What Kennedy is describing is like saying because the sky is blue and it’s always so visible, all colors on the color spectrum must be blue!

In other words, I’m not an exception, I’m just another dot on the spectrum. One piece out of a multicolored thousand-piece puzzle.

Autism may make me and others different, but we’re hardly all suffering. Photo by Tara Winstead on Pexels.com

And the fact that Kennedy, a man who has said time and time again he’s always looking for new research proving autism isn’t caused by vaccines, can’t seem to grasp this, shows me that he’s either stupid, stubborn, or he’s looking to profit off of other people’s fears just to be powerful. And I can’t decide which I prefer. Honestly, they’re all terrible.

And honestly, I’m mad about a lot of stuff right now–the tariffs destroying the American economy; the persecution of trans people across the world; my own government sending people out of the country without due process or any semblance of respect for the law to an El Salvadorian concentration camp with my tax dollars–but this one personally got to me. People act like autism is a curse or even worse than death to the point that they avoid giving life-saving medicine to their children!

But as much as autism sometimes hinders me in social situations, it also enhances my life. I see the world differently and am more empathetic to the plight of others because of it. It might even play a role in why I’m as creative as I am. I wouldn’t change who I am for anything! And the fact that Kennedy and his ilk pity me or treat me like an invalid not only shows how little they know, but also how much they’re missing out on people like me.

*I mention this because some vaccine skeptics tend to prefer personal anecdotes to scientific data, and also because anyone who disagrees with this and insists vaccination is the cause of my autism is calling my mother a liar. And you do not call a man’s mother a liar unless you’re prepared for the consequences.


Thanks for reading this far, my Followers of Fear. Honestly, as I’ve gotten older, as I’ve come to grasp how incredibly fucked up the world is, and as I’ve grappled with how to be vocal about my beliefs while also toeing the line at my day job (they prefer us to be politically neutral over there), I talk about politics less and less. But these days, I’m thinking about being more vocal. Especially with the road this country is going down right now.

Well, that’s all for now, my Followers of Fear. Don’t be surprised if I talk about this subject on my YouTube channel in the near future. But until then, or until next time, good night and pleasant nightmares.

No other way to say it: it’s important to use the right words when telling a story.

That seems to be an obvious statement, but yet it’s something that needs to be stated. Depending on your audience, the genre you’re writing in, the characters you’re working with, and a dozen other factors, what words you choose when telling your story is important. After all, you can’t use complicated, SAT-level words for children’s literature, and you shouldn’t use too simplistic language for work geared exclusively towards adults. You also shouldn’t use futuristic terms or contemporary slang in works taking place in an old-fashioned medieval setting (can you imagine someone saying in a Game of Thrones book, “Dude! The calculations state that winter is only 7.8 parsecs away!”), and you shouldn’t make children sound like adults in their dialogue, though the latter can sometimes work (do you now how often I use the word “dude” myself?).

But more important than this, is finding away to put your carefully-gathered vocabulary together to keep the story together. At least, that’s how it feels to me.

As you may be aware, I’m working on the third draft of The Shape of Evil, a novel I wrote last year about a 3D printer from Hell. I’m hoping to pitch it to agents at StokerCon in a couple of months, where you actually have the opportunity to pitch novels and other works to editors and agents. And I am working hard to make sure the words in that story are compelling and interesting and work cohesively together for that purpose.

That wasn’t such a big problem with the first and second drafts. With the first draft, the point was just to get it out. To make sure it exists and has some semblance of making sense. And with the second draft, the point was to clean it up so that it wasn’t so messy and so that the future beta readers wouldn’t have too many complaints regarding either spelling/punctuation/grammar or the plot (especially since my protagonist is non-binary and my beta readers were also sensitivity readers).

As you are no doubt aware, I’m working especially hard to make the words in this book be the right ones before StokerCon in June.

But with this third draft, the point is to impress agents and/or editors enough that they’ll want to work with me in bringing this book, as well as possibly others, to publication. And with that in mind, I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself–perhaps too much pressure–to make sure those words come together and work well with one another. Like the gears in a clock, moving with one another in beautiful harmony, rather than grinding against each other to make a messy pile of word-vomit.

Then again, why am I putting so much pressure on myself? As with almost all of my books, especially the ones published with publishers, it took way more than three drafts before it was ready for publication. Usually up to seven! And even then, none of my books were perfect. They were just done.

That’s how my high school English teacher, Mr. G, put it. “No story is ever perfect. It’s just done. You’ve done all you can to improve it, and any more edits will only hurt it. Even so, it’s not completely flawless. It’s just done.”

That lesson has stayed with me fourteen years after graduating high school, and I not only try to keep it in mind while writing, but I pass it on to other writers as much as possible. And, occasionally, I’ll remind myself of that lesson when I’m working on a project and have high hopes for it. Hell, I know that no matter how much editing I do, The Shape of Evil won’t be anywhere near done by the time I’m ready to pitch it.

However, it may be far enough along that, when I pitch it, whomever I pitch it to is enchanted enough, and sees enough potential in it, that they’ll help me get it done. And then out into the wider world. And to that end, I’ll try to keep the pressure off myself, so that this metaphorical clockmaker doesn’t feel like he’s forcing the words into the clock and making them work together when they don’t want to.


That’s all for now, my Followers of Fear. I felt like I needed to get this off my chest if I was going to move forward with working on The Shape of Evil. And man, do I feel exorcised of some worries! (Though not of my demons. Those are never going away.)

I’ll be sure to check in if there’s any more news, my Followers of Fear. But until next time, good night and pleasant nightmares!