Jeamus After Midnight

This blog post isn’t necessarily for you, but it’s absolutely necessary for me. But if it can help you, excellent. It’s here to be a reminder to me to maintain a resolve . And yes, resolve needs reminders . Don't let any self-deluded arrogant person or group tell you otherwise. Last week the world of social media within the realm of the horror genre (primarily writers, publishers, editors, and artists) had reached such a point of visible chaos that all of the backstabbing, backbiting, screaming, excoriation, ax-grinding, and line-holding was rapidly moving me to the closest fire exit via a wall-hugging sidestep so as to minimize injuries to myself. I wish the irony and hyperbole of that previous sentence were laughable. I was ready to pack it in with a final, “screw this,” and find a way to eke out happiness in this life while keeping a day job and becoming a hermit regarding my creative pursuits. Better to keep them a secret than wait to be the next target borne of somebody’s offe...

I was five years old and playing in the dirt side yard in front of my childhood home when I met my first clown. I distinctly remember one summer day when a man dressed as a clown and carrying balloons (the colors black and yellow seem prominent in my memory) walked by my house and tried to sell me one of the balloons. I don't remember how much they were exactly, but it didn't matter. I had no change on me. When I told him I had no money, he seemed irritated and raised a hand like he was going to hit me, and skulked away. The whole time he was yelling back at me, “they’re only pennies , kid… they’re only pennies and you can’t even buy ONE? ONE!? ONLY PENNIES!! ” This frightened me in an indescribable way. For weeks I was scared he would come back and kill me because I didn’t buy a balloon. Or worse, he would just stand outside my window. *** “Why do you read and write horror?” Although some horror writers—that is, those who have the guts to actually use the w...