Anyway, with a couple of cases like Kuehls and Marotta doing the reviews for Fangoria, I quit buying the magazine.
I can’t take a magazine seriously when it publishes reviews by the likes of Kuehls and Marotta. I know firsthand the crap that this pair has spewn on me, so I don’t care what they say about anyone else.
3. Now, to Ellen Datlow. She appears to share Marotta’s view of my work, but she hasn’t attacked me as blatantly as her soul-sister. I suppose I should thank her for that. She mostly uses the snub. In her big annual summation of the year in horror a while back, one of my novels was banished from existence, not a word mentioned about it in spite of the fact that she seemed to list every horror novel published during the entire year. I mean every one of them. Except for mine. This nonexistent book was either Funland or The Stake.
Maybe I’m paranoid for suspecting that the omission was intentional.
But I’m pretty sure it was.
Hey, it was her list.
And this is mine.
Some more on Ellen Datlow. She opened her big, important essay on “The Year in Horror” with a study of American Psycho. In the course of that, she wrote, “I don’t believe the violence is any worse than that in genre horror writers Richard Laymon and C. Dean Andersson or for that matter in the works of the Marquis deSade.”
That’s such a good remark that I could use it as a cover blurb, but she never intended it to be a compliment.
Somewhere along the line, she also dumped on my stuff in Night Visions 7, which was especially annoying because she had written to me and asked me to send her a free copy of the book and I’d done it! Marotta must be right! I’m retarded!
4. Stefan Dziemianowicz. His review of Midnight’s Lair in the Winter, 1993 issue of Cemetery Dance is what prompted me to write this counterattack. It wasn’t much of a review, but it was enough to push me too far. In his pithy assault, this chap wrote regarding my characters, “By the end of the story, we know more about their underwear than their personalities.” Bravo! Such wit! I am awestruck by his rapier pen.
The line, however, was a standout in a review that was otherwise stunning in its banality.
In other words, he pooped all over Midnight’s Lair, but did a half-assed job of it. I’m sure he’ll try harder on future occasions.
I’ve heard about Dziemainowicz, and frankly it doesn’t surprise me at all that he hates my books.
One question, though: if he’s such a highbrow hotshot, why doesn’t he stop crapping on writers and try to be one himself?
Woops! Maybe he already tried that!
My fellow writers! Maybe I went overboard in the above, but it was lots of fun.
Why should mean-spirited reviewers be allowed to attack us without any fear of retribution?
Most of us, most of the time, tend to laugh off vicious reviews. And many such reviews are funny, because they’re so idiotic. But the reviews do hurt. You know they do. We read them and we get a sick little feeling in the pits of our stomachs even when we know the review is trash and the reviewer is a dumb puke.
They make us feel rotten, but we say, “Even a bad review is better than no review at all. Publicity is publicity.”
Maybe so.
But a lot of people out there haven’t yet discovered our books, and they are being turned against us when they read reviews that make our work look like crud.
Suppose a potential fan hasn’t yet read any of your books.
Suppose, before he or she gets the chance, along comes a piece of misleading garbage written about it by someone with a grudge. This person, who might’ve absolutely fallen in love with your stuff, never gives you a try.
Thanks to someone who hates your guts and has a forum.
Thanks to your tribe of enemies.
My tribe includes David Kuehls, Linda Marotta, Ellen Datlow and Stefan Dziemianowicz.
Their reviews aren’t reviews at all, but personal assaults committed on someone they don’t even know and had no reasonable cause to hate.
These are ruthless, gleeful muggings.
I want everyone who reads this article to know that their reviews of my work are based on their own little secret grudges and agendas and have little to do with the piece of fiction that they are purporting to review.
I also want everyone to know that I consider the publication of such reviews to be a personal attack on me by the publisher who provides a forum to these muggers.
Furthermore… !
Hey, my friends, let’s hear from you. Who is out there nailing you? Time to name names and kick butt. The creeps have been mucking with us, unscathed.
Time for us to do some scathing of our own!
Write in!
If nothing else, you’ll have a good time, you’ll be giving moral support to their victims, you’ll be letting a rather significant corner of our horror community know who is out to get you, and you’ll really piss off the reviewers who already despise you. Need anyone ask for more?
That’s my article. Unaltered, unexpurgated, unimproved.
Mike Baker was happy to publish it exactly as I’d written it.
I felt as if I’d tossed a hand grenade into a crowded room full of enemies.
I wasn’t exactly present to observe the results, but I know for a fact that all four of my targets got hit. I heard about it from people who knew them.
And I grinned.
Vengeance is wonderful.
Not only did I strike out at my four reviewers, but I attacked on behalf of every writer who’d been ambushed by such people.
From what I hear, the article caused a stir. Not only were copies of Afraid being snatched up, but photocopies of “The Lizzie Borden Syndrome” were making the rounds.
Apparently, it was the talk of the “horror community.”
Shortly after the article appeared, I received letters and phone calls from several writers who applauded my counterattack.
Their names would be familiar to you, but they might not wish to be publicly associated with this matter, so I’ll keep their identities to myself.
I even got a call from Richard Chizmar, publisher of Cemetery Dance, the magazine which had printed the Dziemianowicz review. Rich expressed concern that I might be angry with him for allowing the review to be printed. He’d noticed my statement, “I consider the publication of such reviews to be a personal attack on me by the publisher who provides a forum to these muggers.” We had a nice talk. He seemed like a fine gentleman and a really nice guy, so naturally I felt guilty about upsetting him. I assured him that I didn’t hold anything against him. We would later work together on numerous occasions and Rich has recently brought out the first and only hardbound edition of The Cellar.
In recent years, Stefan Dziemianowicz has been the editor (along with the wonderful Martin Greenberg) of several anthologies. As such, he has purchased some of my short stories.
I no longer bear any hard feelings toward him, and rather regret the nasty things I wrote about him in “The Lizzie Borden Syndrome.”
I also regret using the phrase “mean-spirited.” I have grown to hate those words because of certain unsavory political connotations. I couldn’t change them, however, without compromising the integrity of the article.
So I apologize to Stefan and I apologize for using such garbage language as “mean-spirited.”
I never received any sort of apology or explanation from Fangoria. Not that I expected anything of the sort. But I’d been a major fan of Fangoria (and own some extremely valuable back issues). Before the reviewer incidents took place, I’d had very good feelings about the magazine.
1. Fangoria had published a feature article about me, prepared by Stanley Wiater.
2. With my own money, I had purchased a full-page advertisement in Fangoria for The Woods Are Dark. (What a waste of money that was. Except that, in preparing the ad, I did gather some terrific quotes from such writers as Dean Koontz, Dan Marlowe, Al Nussbaum, and Gary Brandner.)
3. I had writte
n Fangoria into my novel, Night Show. The magazine actually plays a significant role in the plot. This was my homage to Fangoria, and probably one of the few times that a periodical has ever played such an important part in a work of fiction.
So the publication in Fangoria of several reviews that trashed me and my novels was especially disappointing. I stopped buying the magazine.
Haven’t bought a copy in years.
I’m sure they couldn’t care less.
But I bet they won’t be thrilled to find out what I’ve written about them here.
60 Favorite Horror Films
UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED, ANY FILM ON THIS LIST IS THE ORIGINAL, not a remake or a sequel.
1. ABBOTT AND COSTELLO MEET… (whatever monster they meet, I like the movie.)*
2. ALIEN
3. THE ANDROMEDA STRAIN
4. THE ANGRY RED PLANET
5. THE BLACK CAT
6. BLACK CHRISTMAS
7. THE BLOB
8. CAPE FEAR
9. CARRIE
10. THE CAT PEOPLE (with Nastassia Kinski)
11. DAWN OF THE DEAD
12. DRACULA (including most of its Lugosi sequels)*
13. THE EXORCIST
14. FRANKENSTEIN (including most of its Universal sequels)*
15. FREAKS
16. FRIDAY THE 13TH
17. HALLOWEEN
18. THE HAUNTING
19. THE HILLS HAVE EYES
20. THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES (With Basil Rathbone)
21. THE HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL
22. I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE
23. I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE
24. INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS
25. IT’S ALIVE
26. JAWS
27. KING KONG
28. THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT
29. MAGIC
30. MARATHON MAN
31. MOTEL HELL
32. MOTHER’S DAY
33. THE MUMMY (including most of its Universal sequels)*
34. THE NAKED EDGE
35. NEAR DARK
36. THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER
37. NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD
38. THE NIGHT STALKER (made for TV)
39. No WAY TO TREAT A LADY
40. NOSFERATU (silent version)
41. THE OLD, DARK: HOUSE
42. THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA (silent version)
43. PSYCHO
44. RABID
45. REAR WINDOW
46. ROSEMARY’S BABY
47. THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS
48. STRAW DOGS
49. THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE
50. THEM
51. THE THING
52. THE TOWN THAT DREADED SUNDOWN
53. TREMORS
54. 2000 MANIACS
55. THE UNINVITED
56. WAIT UNTIL DARK
57. THE WEREWOLF OF LONDON
58. WHEN A STRANGER CALLS
59. WOLFEN
60. THE WOLFMAN
‘“Denotes that this listing is for more than one film. So it isn’t a true list of 60, but who’s counting?
My 47 Favorite Non-Horror Films
I. ADVENTURES OF A YOUNG MAN (about Ernest Hemingway)
2. BATTLE CRY
3. THE BLACKBOARD JUNGLE
4. THE BRIDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI
5. BULLITT
6. BUTCH CASSIDY AND THE SUNDANCE KID
7. CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF
8. DARBY’S RANGERS
9. DIE HARD
10. DR. NO
11. FARGO
12. A FISTFUL OF DOLLARS
13. FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS
14. THE FOUNTAINHEAD
15. FRIED GREEN TOMATOES AT THE WHISTLE STOP CAFE
16. THE GETAWAY
17. GONE WITH THE WIND
18. THE GREAT ESCAPE
19. THE HIGH AND THE MIGHTY
20. HONDO
21. HUD
22. INSIDE DAISY CLOVER
23. LAWRENCE OF ARABIA
24. LONELY ARE THE BRAVE
25. LONESOME DOVE (made for TV)
26. THE MAN FROM LARAMIE
27. THE MAN WHO KNEW Too MUCH (James Stewart version)
28. THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE
29. MEMPHIS BELLE
30. NEVADA SMITH
31. NORTHWEST PASSAGE
32. THE PARENT TRAP
33. PETER PAN
34. THE PETRIFIED FOREST
35. PULP FICTION
36. RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK
37. RESERVOIR DOGS
38. SOLDIER IN THE RAIN
39. THE SUMMER OF ‘42
40. STAND BY ME
41. THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS
42. A THOUSAND CLOWNS
43. To KILL A MOCKINGBIRD
44. TRUE GRIT
45. THE WILD BUNCH
46. THE WILD ONE
47. YOUNGBLOOD HAWKE
The Big Picture
HERE IS A BARE-BONES BREAKDOWN OF WHAT USUALLY HAPPENS TO A writer “me during the entire course of my involvement” with a novel. This is generally the way I’ve been operating during the last few years on the basis of multiple-book contracts.
1. I write about five pages in the course of a day.
2. The next day, I reread them on the computer screen, revise them, then write about five new pages.
3. After finishing a chapter, I carefully read it from start to finish on the screen, making more corrections. Then I print it.
4. I may be asked to provide my publisher with a description of what the book is about.
So I spend a day writing a synopsis.
5. After the entire novel is written and printed up, (about 600 manuscript pages), I read it again from start to finish, marking errors, dog-earing every page that needs to be redone.
6. At my computer again, I make all the changes, reprinting each page that requires a correction.
7. I take the finished manuscript to a photocopy shop and have a single copy made. On white paper with no holes.
8. I pack and mail the copy of the manuscript to my agent. (Keeping my original.) 9. I start working on my next project.
10. After my agent and editor have read my manuscript, they may ask me to make some changes. I usually get a page or two of suggestions, questions, etc. I discuss them with my editor, make whatever changes may be necessary, and fax them to my editor.
11. A month or two later, I receive an “on acceptance” check in the mail. So I have to interrupt my busy writing schedule for a trip to the bank to make the deposit.
12. My editor and I talk about what sort of artwork should go on the cover of my book. He may later send me some rough sketches for my suggestions and/or approval.
13. My editor writes cover material for the book and sends it for my approval.
14. In some cases, I am sent a copy of the “edited manuscript.” When that happens, I have to read the entire manuscript to see what’s been done to it and to look for errors. Then the corrections need to be phoned, faxed or mailed to the publisher. They usually give me about a week to do this. Headline, however, does not mess with my work and doesn’t usually send me a copy of the edited manuscript.
15. They do send me a copy of the “proof pages” or galleys. This is my novel set to print. This is the “next-to-final” version. It always seems to arrive at the worst possible moment. But it can’t be ignored.
If I don’t catch an error there, the mistake will likely end up in the finished book and make me look like a numbskull. So I read the pages carefully, mark all the mistakes, then communicate the changes to my editor.
16. After the book is published, I receive several copies that I normally send to friends and family members. I inscribe and autograph each book (usually about twelve), put it into a padded envelope, address the envelope, then make a special trip to the post office with the whole stack.
17. Over the next few weeks, various book dealers bring copies of the novel to my house so I can sign and sometimes
inscribe copies for their customers. I may travel to a bookstore for an “autograph party.”
18. I receive a check for the “hardbound publication” of the novel. I stop doing everything and rush to the bank.
19. A few months after the hardbound edition has been published, I will receive page proofs for the paperback version of the book. I used to ignore them, since they are based on the hardbound edition. After catching some errors in them, however, I now read and correct these proofs, too.
20. A month or so after the paperback is published, I receive still another check and have to make still another journey to the bank.
21. My publisher and agent send copies of reviews to me. I read them. They often amuse me, sometimes flatter me, occasionally make me angry. I almost never respond to the reviews.
22. My publisher forwards fan mail to me. I always read it. Most of it is wonderful. I almost always respond to the sender (unless he or she seems to be a nut), but it may take a while.
23. In some cases, I will eventually be notified that the hardbound version is being “remaindered.” The publisher tells me how many copies are unsold and gives me an opportunity to purchase them at a very low price.
By the time we reach the final stage, the remaindering, I have probably written four new books.
A Day In the Life
TO THOSE WHO OBSERVE ME FROM AFAR, I APPEAR TO BE ON permanent vacation.
Unlike most people, I’m not shocked awake each weekday morning by an alarm clock. I don’t commute. I don’t seem to have “a real job” at all. I am running loose when nearly everyone else is busy at work. Ann and I go out for breakfast or lunch at restaurants whenever we feel the urge. We can and do go to movies on weekday mornings or afternoons. We can and do spend a month or two traveling every year.
It’s a great life.
I have more freedom than just about anyone I know.
And I have no doubt that some of my friends and relatives resent it. The way I see things, however, I achieved this lifestyle because I aimed for it and worked hard.
They probably could have been writers, too, if they’d had the urge and been willing to do what it takes.
While they’re busy envying me, however, they mostly see only the surface. They see how free I am. They can’t help but notice that large, new books supposedly written by me appear with somewhat startling frequency. But they haven’t much of a clue about what really goes on during my daily life.