Utah Halloween Expo

I'm a special guest at the Utah Halloween Expo this coming Friday, Saturday and Sunday in Sandy Utah at the Southe Town Expo Center. I'll be at booth 139  - signing books and speaking on the awesome nature of fear in writing on Saturday at 3:00 on the DIY stage.

They'll have a lot of horror related guests and what I'm sure will be some of my kids favorites some of the folks from SyFy's Face Off. My kids do love making masks.
Plus I'll get to hang with some good friends and hopefully make some new ones.

It promises to be a scary good time!

The Big Things in Life

I've neglected my posting for a bit now, but you know I have some good excuses.

My newest daughter (she's my fourth!)was born just three weeks ago. Her name is Athena Eve West, I wanted
something feminine and powerful and unique in that when she is in school there won't be a passel of others kids with the same name, That's my own hell with a good  but incredibly common name -I can't tell you other writers out there how many times I  pondered using a pen name for that very reason but at the same time I want everyone to know that I am me = ego wins.

That all said, despite the many sleepless nights (giving my wife all the breaks possible) this has been my most productive writing summer I have ever had. I don't have an exact count but I have probably nailed down about 70K words just this summer. And that is my personal all time best I believe. So progress has been good and I am working at keeping that drive and progress up and running.

Coming up very soon is Salt Lake Comic Con and I so hoped to have my latest quick project out but it won't quite make it - instead it will be available in time for October, which is fitting considering its ghost stories. Largely inspired by the weird tales I love by Robert E. Howard etc but also by a new favorite ghost story writer M.R.James, I'mm nearly thru all of his tales and think they are magnificent. His are all very English but I am borrowing a lot of his framing devices though set in the American West rather than the English countryside, a whole lot of found letters and the like  and a lot of this is really true, type verbiage. I'll have Whispers Out of the Dust available shortly.

Happy All Hallows Eve

I'm way behind in my reading pile, I meant to get some more book reviews up but its gotta wait for November now.

But here is a quick snippet of a tale (I'm still polishing) from my forthcoming The Mad Song and other tales of Sword & Sorcery...

Stygian Black

Miles into the trackless wastes of the Arabian Desert and just as the horned moon rose above the dunes in a darkening azure sky, the raiders fell upon the unholy caravan as wolves upon tainted sheep. Half of the hired swords fled when they guessed the identity of the laughing bandit chieftain and even the vexing fear of their master, the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, could not grant them sand enough to face the Lion of Palestine, Avi Ben-Kenaz.

The city-born sell-swords and cowardly veterans of decadent civilization were no match for the hard-bitten nomads, and with but a few strokes of steel all of Alhazred’s men fell before the raiders. These Judean raiders lived by their blades edge alone—not just the prospect and bravado of danger. Out here in the desolate wilderness, if you did not shed blood freely, your own would soon bleach upon the sands.

Alhazred dusted himself off after having been tossed from his seat by one of the raiders. He was lucky not to have been beheaded like so many others, but had been recognized as the caravan master early on and therefore perhaps worthy of sparing and of course, ransom.

One of the raiders shouted to his chieftain, “The wagons are empty!”

“All of them?”

The raider nodded to Avi and shoved Alhazred to the ground once again.

Avi, a pantherish man with a face of red-brown stubble and a reckless smile asked, “Who are you and what did you formerly carry within these wagons that needed such pathetic protection?”

“I am Abdul Alhazred, seeker of eldritch knowledge. I know of you Avi, and would ask that we make a sacred pact.”

Avi scrutinized the thin bearded man who was almost engulfed by both his dark turban and cloak. Alhazred’s sallow face, shrunken cheeks and baggy eyes belied a man who knew little sleep and even less toil.

“Speak Magi.”

All Hallow's Eve: Scary Story Beginnings

Sometimes to tell a scary story, I think about what would a tough as nails character say was their scariest experience...

Port Remembers

Old Port was mobbed by gang of children as he stepped through the door, all of them begging for another story from yesteryear. "All right you varmints, let a man take off his hat and grab a bite before you hear your tale. What will it be this time? Bandits? The Walker War? Ghost story?"

"No, we've heard all those. We need a new one."

"Yeah, Mr. Rockwell a new one, a new one."

Port nodded as the Lady of the house handed him a bottle of his favorite drink, Valley-Tan Whiskey. He slumped into the finest easy chair in the parlor. He tossed a knotty log into the dying fire and rubbed his old hands together. "Give me a minute, get the inspiration flowing," he said, before guzzling the liquor.

A jumble of the children's cries roared out like a river in flood. "What frightens you more than anything Mr. Rockwell?"

"Aww, nothing frightens him."

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up."

Port raised his hands demanding silence. "Kids! Simmer down. There's things that have put the fear of God in even me. Things out there in the bleak high deserts, pale things a crawling out of the earth, from tombs and holes and yonder; treacherous things such as you can't even imagine. Things that have driven me to drink on occasion," he said, winking and shaking his bottle for another from the Lady of the house.

"You're pulling our leg."

"Am I? You think I haven't tangled with a few monsters in my time, man and beast?"

"Well, I reckon you have. Sorry sir."

"Yeah, sorry," chimed the rest of the gathering brood.

Port lit a long match and puffed on his pipe. He settled into his chair a little more comfortably and nodded in satisfaction as the Lady brought him another bottle. "Now, where was I?" 

 The children paid rapt attention as a faraway look washed over Port's face...

*Porter Rockwell: Judgment Day by Glenn Hopkinson