And here I had such good intentions!

On Friday morning, I posted what happened on Thursday, my first day at the 2012 World Horror Convention in Salt Lake City, but then I got too busy at the con to report on the rest of the con during the con, which violates Edelman’s Schadenfreude Rule of Convention Reporting.

And now that I’m home, I see I don’t have the time (and am unlikely to find the time) to tell you the details of my further schmoozing, my trip to a cemetery with Wasatch Paranormal Investigators, and all the rest of my misadventures. So here are six videos that’ll have to stand in lieu of a blow-by-blow description of my weekend, because life intervenes.

First, take a tour of Friday’s night’s mass signing, at which you’ll spot every author, editor, artist, etc., in attendance at the con. (Except me, of course, since I’m wielding the camera.)

Then check out Saturday’s interview of Guest of Honor and HWA Lifetime Achievement Award winner Joe Lansdale by the effervescent Del Howison. Lots of wisdom here!

Next, a few snippets from the Bram Stoker Awards banquet, held Saturday night, starting with Toastmaster Jeff Strand’s always entertaining opening monologue. (more…)

The first day of programming for the 2012 World Horror Convention wasn’t going to begin until 3:00 p.m. Thursday, so at 9:30 a.m., I threw myself out on the streets of Salt Lake City. I didn’t return to the hotel until 1:00 p.m., having spent 3-1/2 hours jumping on and off buses and street cars, getting lost as none of them took me quite where I wanted to go, walking around 4-1/2 miles, having lunch for breakfast, and hunting the elusive ukulele.

I was going through ukulele withdrawal, so I had this crazy idea that I’d visit a music store about three miles away, pick up one of their extremely cheap bottom-of-the-line ukes so I could continue to practice each day, then give it away to some kid before I flew home. But due to that getting-lost thing, I never made it there. So I abandoned my plans and instead headed to the first stop on my Man V. Food tour of the city—Bruges Waffles and Frites, where I began my day with their famed Machine Gun Sandwich, which is “a fresh baguette stuffed with: 2 merguez (lamb) sausages, fries, andalouse sauce.”

Yes, there are two spicy sausages buried somewhere under there! (Adam Richman did NOT let me down.)

From there, I headed off to Intermountain Guitar and Banjo (which was much easier to find than that other uke place) to check out their collection of vintage ukuleles, including this 1929 Gibson banjolele.

But I’d made the mistake of showing up on a day the uke specialist wasn’t there, so I didn’t get to lay my hands on any of them. I might sneak back Friday afternoon, though, when there’s a break in the horrific con festivities.

When I returned to the hotel at 1:00, I immediately left again with Jeff Strand, Lynne Hansen, Gabrielle Faust, Stephen Kling and Derek Clendening so they could experience Bruges (it’s that good), followed by much schmoozing in the halls until the 6:00 p.m. opening ceremonies … which you can watch below whether you were in Salt Lake City or not. (more…)

I’ll be in Salt Lake City next weekend attending the World Horror Convention, which was last in that city in 2008.

As you can see from this photo of Gary Braunbeck, Lee Thomas, Nicholas Kaufmann, and me, things got UGLY back then!

But I’m not up for a Stoker this year, so there’ll be no need to wrassle other nominees. My pal Gene O’Neill, though, who’s up for three Stokers, had better watch out.

Aside from the awards banquet, where I’ll be a co-presenter for one of the categories, you’ll be able to find me on a Stephen King panel at 10:00 a.m. Friday (will any of you be awake?) along with Rocky Wood, Jason Brock, Blake Casselman, and Michael R. Collings. I’m sure that the average audience member will know as much about King as I do, but I’ll do my best.

Where else will you be able to find me? Well, if you’ve been following my con-going exploits, then you surely already know! (more…)

One of my favorite parts of the World Horror Convention—and the final thing I want to tell you about that weekend—doesn’t really have anything to do with World Horror Con at all. Liz Gorinsky invited a bunch of us along with her on what she termed an “illicit cultural outing,” which really meant we were sneaking away from the con Friday night for a performance of the play “I’ve Never Been So Happy” by the theater company Rude Mechanicals.

I knew nothing about the troupe other than the fact that Liz called them “reasonably experimental,” and nothing about the play other than what I could glean from this poster.

Which wasn’t much.

It was definitely not a poster designed to have independently induced me to want to see the play, and as I was to learn, it wasn’t at all an accurate indicator of what we were to see once we got there. Later, after being blown away by the amazing evening, I realized I could have come up with a dozen posters better designed to draw people to the theater, but … that was still in the future.

After dinner with Liz, Nick Mamatas, Eugene Fischer, Meghan McCarron and Jen Volant at Casa Columbia, we walked to the theater, where we immediately learned there was a lot more than just a play planned for that night. We were met by cast members in western gear who convinced us to dress up to get the total experience.

So we were led through a “transmedia shindig” (a carnival-like set-up out front about which more later) to a room filled with clothes which we all tried on until we found something suitable. Since I’m tall, I despaired of running across anything that would fit, but luckily I discovered a long circus ringmaster’s jacket with tails. And since my head’s large, and none of the cowboy hats would fit, I took a scarf and rather than wearing it around my neck, well, take a look at me and Eugene below to check out my ensemble.

Now suitably garbed, we entered the theater, found some seats (since it was general admission, we didn’t all end up together), and I opened the program to discover what the play was about. Or perhaps I should say, discovered that there was no way I would understand what the play was really about without actually seeing it. Because here’s the description of Act 1, Scene 1:

“Annabellee’s Dream” — Annabellee dreams of a mountain lion and plans her escape from her father, Brutus, with help from her dachshund, Sigmunda.

At that point I realized that reading the program was pointless. I’d just have to let the performance wash over me. Which it did, going something like this …

Annabellee and her father, Brutus, run something called Brutus and Annabellee’s Country Western Family Comedy Variety Hour. Then there’s a brother and sister pair of dachshunds, Sigfried (owned by Brutus) and Sigmunda (owned by Annabellee). Annabellee dreams of getting the heck out of there, sings a duet with her dachshund about it, and then she and her father race those dachshunds to determine whether she can strike off on her own. And then there’s Julie, who lives on a wymyn’s commune, and when her son, Jeremy, turns 18 and can no longer live there because he’s now a man, she ties him to the last mountain lion in Texas so he can learn all the things she wasn’t able to teach him. And then …

And then …

Well, this is pretty pointless. Because telling you the bare outlines of the plot tells you very little. So how about giving a look and listen to that first scene I described above? (more…)

World Horror Con 2011 is over—but it’s never too soon to think about World Horror Con 2012. And what I really mean by that is—it’s not to soon to see what Adam Richman of Man v. Food has in store for us all in Salt Lake City.

Some of you who were at World Horror last weekend and at World Fantasy in October were dragged along with me on my Man v. Food triathlons. So be warned—if you plan to be in Salt Lake City March 29-April 1, 2012 for next year’s WHC, here’s where you might be roped into going.

Get ready for the Hell Fire Challenge! (Which for a horror convention will seem quite appropriate.)

Sunday at the World Horror Convention began in the middle of the night, which is appropriate, I guess, for a horror con. But the things that went bump in the night weren’t vampires or werewolves, but instead those damned frat boys, who for whatever reason decided to begin moving furniture from one hotel room to another at around 3:45 a.m., drunkenly bumping into walls as they carried box springs while shouting directions at each other. When I phoned the front desk, the immediate answer I got was, “I’m sick of these complaints. I’m calling the PD.” Whether the police ever arrived, and what they might have done when they got there, I have no idea, because I turned up the fan to block the noise and struggled to get back to sleep. Which, after 45 minutes or so, I was finally able to do.

After I woke, packed, and checked out, I headed to the 10:00 a.m. “Zombies Mega-Panel,” a 90-minute celebration of the living dead moderated by Joe McKinney and featuring me, RJ Sevin, Julia Sevin, Joe R. Lansdale, and John Skipp. (And Brian Keene, too, whom we pulled onstage about halfway through.) But before we began, I tossed out a couple of dozen glow-in-the-dark zombie finger puppets to get people in the mood.

It turns out that Lee Thomas also had something planned to get people in the mood—a video which was played before any of us began talking about why we loved zombies so much. Thanks for warming up the crowd, Lee! Check out what we all saw in Austin.

As soon as the panel ended, I ran off with my only willing victim … er, volunteer … Liz Gorinsky, to the Cathedral of Junk, which I already told you about, after which I dropped Liz back at the hotel and headed to the airport … where I discovered the con was not yet over.

I had lunch at the airport branch of the Salt Lick, which as you might expect wasn’t quite as good as its Driftwood branch (no ribs!), but was still some of the best airport food I’ve had in awhile. And then when I wandered toward my gate, I bumped into this motley crew …

That’s Derek Clendenning, Gord Rollo, and Eunice Magill, and since the pic was taken by Michael Kelly, you can see that World Horror was the con which wouldn’t die. I hung out with these guys as long as I could, but eventually I had to board my flight to Dulles. But WHC wasn’t over then either, as I happened to overhear the person in front of me mention the word “horror,” and when I asked, learned he was Henrik Sundqvist, one of the artists who had displayed work in Austin. We chatted a bit, until my exhaustion overtook me (damned frat boys!) and I slept for most of the flight.

And that was my World Horror Con!

Well … there is one more thing I have to tell you about—my Friday night outing to the Rude Mechanicals production of the play “I’ve Never Been So Happy.” But I’ll leave that for another day …

After a long Friday at the World Horror Convention last week, I went to bed early Saturday morning at the Doubletree Hotel looking forward to some good sleep. But I wasn’t to get it, thanks to the sound of a crying woman and a man’s muffled voice that woke me around 4:00 a.m.

I was suddenly fully awake and at the door of my room, heart pounding, not sure whether or not I was going to have to leap out and interfere in a possible sexual assault. I listened for a brief moment to the voices outside my door. I peered through the peephole, but couldn’t see what was going on. The wailing woman was drunk and incoherent, and the man’s voice, based on what he was saying into a walkie-talkie, seemed to belong to a hotel employee, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he was helping (turned out he was, but you can’t be sure about these things), so I leapt out and asked the woman if she needed help, if she felt safe. She was blonde, in her late teens or early twenties, and from what I could gather (and from what I learned the next day from others who were also on the fifth floor) had been going down the hall banging on random doors because she was unable to remember her room number and find her boyfriend.

She cried into her cell phone, telling her boyfriend that she had no idea where she was or where she was supposed to be, and would he please come get her? Eventually, he did, and I went to back to sleep. Or tried to go back to sleep. I don’t know about you, but thinking I might have to get into a physical confrontation kicks in my adrenaline, and it took about an hour before I could wind down enough again to fall back to sleep. And it wasn’t an unbroken sleep, either, because for the rest of the morning, I could hear drunken kids returning from their late nights of partying.

When I went to the front desk the next morning, I was told that a couple of busloads of frat boys had arrived the day before, though the hotel claimed that if they’d known in advance that they were from a fraternity, the reservation wouldn’t have been accepted. I was also told that the group was now on a zero tolerance policy, and any infringement would result in immediate expulsion. (You’ll see below how much good that did.) (more…)

I woke up far too early last Friday morning while in Austin for the World Horror Convention. I have no idea why I was unable to get back to sleep at 5:15 a.m., but for whatever reason, I was suddenly wide awake. Since I knew my first stop was going to be Round Rock Donuts (part of my Man v. Food triathlon), which opens at 4 a.m. each day, I figured, why not just get going? So I showered, shaved, cruised the lobby for any other bleary attendees who might want to board the crazy bus, and then hopped in the car and pointed it toward the city of Round Rock, TX.

By the time I got there, not that much past six, the sun was barely up, but the parking lot was packed, as were the nearby streets, the line for the drive-through went around the block, and people had to step aside so I could get in the lobby. I bought six dozen donuts, plus that one monster donut I showed you here, and headed back to the con hotel where, since the con suite was not yet open, I set up in the lobby and made sure people started the day out right by handing out free donuts as they woke.

Luckily, that con suite eventually did open, so I was able to dump the remaining donuts there and head off in time to see the Yvonne Navarro/Weston Ochse reading which started at 10:00 a.m.

Yvonne went first, reading Chapter 13 of her novel Concrete Savior, and if you click below, it’ll be just as if you were there.

Wes went next, reading the short story “Fugue on the Sea of Cortez” from his collection Multiplex Fandango.

(more…)

I’ve already told you about my trip from Hell to get to Dulles Airport last Thursday morning, and where I stopped In Austin on the way to the World Horror Con hotel that afternoon. But what about the rest of Thursday?

Well, the first thing I did was take a long, hot shower to make up for the icy sponge bath I’d had to suffer that morning due to our thunderstorm-induced power outage. Then I headed down to the lobby in search of trouble, which I found in the form of dastardly duo Eunice Magill and Scott Browne, who kidnapped me for a massive dinner at The Cedar Door with Weston Ochse, Yvonne Navarro, Rain Graves, John Tomaszewski, Bradley and Sue Sinor, Chris Marrs and others, after which we headed to the Congress Avenue Bridge to wait for nightfall.

To wait for bats!

The wait was fun (see how Yvonne and I are smiling?), but unfortunately, the bats only come out at night, which means … the bats only come out in the dark. I couldn’t see them very well, so they didn’t look like much more than a swarm of gnats to me. Then it was back to the hotel, just in time to catch Norman Prentiss reading his short story “The Man Who Could Not Be Bothered To Die” from Blood Lite 3.

And now you can see it, too. It’s a fun one!

Then it was party time, where I chatted with Joe Lansdale (whose short story “Letter from the South, Two Moons West of Nacogdoches,” I published in Last Wave 25 years ago way back in 1986) and Steve Niles (whom I’d never met before, but whose Guest of Honor interview I’d be conducting two days later). I only partied for an hour or two, because the lack of sleep the night before and the tense trip getting to Austin had left me exhausted, so I headed off to crash at around 12:30 a.m.

But as you’ll see when I fill you in on Friday, I wouldn’t end up sleeping for long …

Some of my favorite things at last weekend’s World Horror Convention had absolutely nothing to do with the World Horror Convention. There was my Man v. Food triathlon. There was the illicit cultural outing to a performance of “I’ve Never Been So Happy” by the Rude Mechanicals, about which more later. And there was the trip to the Cathedral of Junk.

While in Austin, I’d planned to visit the Museum of Natural and Artificial Ephemerata. I’d been there before, but had liked it so much I’d hoped to drag some of my friends along while I checked out any new exhibits. When this came up while talking to a friendly flight attendant—who also had some great BBQ suggestions—she said I sounded like the kind of person who might want to visit the Cathedral of Junk, a bizarre construct a guy built in his backyard out of tons of … let’s not call it junk. Let’s call it treasure.

Once I did some research, I decided I had to see this for myself before the county shut it down, which it seems to be constantly threatening to do. So I put out the call for volunteers. Only Liz Gorinsky was brave enough to rise to the challenge.

Here I am in Vince Hannemann’s suburban backyard, showing as much of the “junk” as can be fit into one picture.

You can find more photos of the Cathedral of Junk over on my Flickr stream starting here.

But photos don’t tell the whole story, so here’s a video of me walking through Vince’s marvelous folly. It only shows the ground level, though, not the second level or the third level crow’s nest/gangplank, a little bit of which you can see in those pics.

Once you watch this, if you’re anything like me, you’ll be ready for a road trip.