by Brian Hodge
“Now one of the homicides squatted down, inspected Serge’s pipe-broken jaw, used a latex-gloved hand to waggle its huge, grotesque skew, and said, ‘Looks like this cocksucker just didn’t know when to say when.’”
— “Little Holocausts” (1997)
I don’t believe I’ve ever led anything off with a quote from my own work. It won’t happen again. This time it simply seemed to fit too well.
Had a different column underway but decided to leave it for another time. Next month, I would say, except the last I heard we’ll be running short-short stories for October. ‘Tis the season, and all. So … November, then?
For now, this supplanting latecomer has evolved out of something that I have, until the last couple of days, been mostly keeping to myself for a while. I’d been thinking I would deal with it here eventually, but all of a sudden the time seems right, now that I’ve let it slip more publicly, when it arose out of an exchange over at Matt Schwartz’s Shocklines forum.
Someone who’d just read my short novel World of Hurt had some very kind things to say about it, and wondered about the possibility of seeing one of the characters again, considering the recurring motif of a line cribbed (with credit, of course) from Dylan Thomas.
And now I’ll let the response take over, because I doubt I could summarize it any more succinctly than it already is:
***
You know, if you’d asked me this early in the summer, the answer would’ve been easy: Yup, probably so. Not in this same form again, but yup, you probably will [see him again].
Now? All bets are off.
The bluntest possible truth: Sales of World of Hurt have been disappointing. Disappointing enough that over the past few weeks I’ve taken a brutally honest look at things and decided that, once some prior commitments are taken care of and promises kept, I don’t foresee writing horror anymore … at least for the near- and intermediate future.
The analysis, more or less: If, after the body of work I already have behind me, and the reviews WoH got, and the early reader reactions and endorsements it received, and the involvement of Stephen Jones and Brian Keene and what they had to say, and the way Matt so graciously planted the banner ad for a month here on every page … if, after all that, and more, this paltry figure is the best it could sell, then it’s pointless to continue. Because whatever I’ve tried to offer the genre for the past 20 years clearly hasn’t connected, and it’s time to admit that.
Remember Einstein’s definition of insanity: “Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
Time, then, to get sane.
I can, and have, written other things, and it’s time to focus attentions there. I used to hold to the notion that love of the genre, and its too-seldom-realized potentials, were enough to keep me at it while I worked at those other things. Unfortunately, I write too painstakingly to continue dividing my attentions, so best to just cut off the dead limb. If it grows back again one day, fine … and if it doesn’t, it doesn’t.
One exception, and to bring it back to your question: I’ll no doubt continue with the story cycle that WoH belongs to … and this may sound weird … but I’m not inclined to do it with an intention of publishing them. It’s just personally relevant and I want to see what happens next. What I DO NOT want is to ask small press publishers to risk losing money, because it’s not like they’re operating with bucketfuls to begin with, and they’re too valuable a resource.
***
Annnnd back to the here and now.
I have to wonder how many writers go through the same thing. How many hit the same wall of stark appraisal, but either keep it to themselves and hope that no one will notice they’ve needed a change … or keep it to themselves and fail to even do much about it, just muddling along wishing for a miracle while letting themselves get mired in a demoralizing cycle of diminishing enthusiasm and returns, until one day they realize that every last spark of joy they once took in writing has been snuffed out. At which point they are dead inside — creatively speaking, if not a piece of their souls, too.
Neither parallel track seems particularly healthy, but I suspect that one or the other would be the first choice for many people, maybe most. Something’s behind all those “whatever happened to…?” threads that regularly pop up on various forums. The illusory village of the Internet aside, if there’s any more chronically isolated a bunch of folks than writers, I don’t know who they’d be — shepherds, maybe? — and it seems that in almost any endeavor, the default position in challenging times is cryptic defense: Put the best face on everything, even if it’s a complete lie.
Except aren’t writers of fiction supposed to deal in truth, in their curlicue way? “I lie, so that I may tell the truth” — can’t recall who said that, or close to it, but it’s been stuck in my head for years.
Now, I’m absolutely not the type who goes in for public, gut-spilling confessionals. I’ve never fully gotten over the trauma left by Jimmy Swaggart’s upturned, bloated, tear-soaked face the first time he was caught with a hooker.
Still, I felt a surprising amount of relief at getting this off my chest a couple days ago, publicly, quite apart from the handful of individuals I’ve mentioned it to, mostly to explain why I was declining their invitation to participate in some project or other.
I can’t think of any good reason for treating the truth like such a dirty secret shame, beyond one’s desire to keep up appearances: “Why, yes, I really am the Master Of My Domain that I play in public.”
(Disclaimer: No insult is intended to, or should be inferred by, any actual Masters Of Their Domain reading this.)
The greatest benefit of admitting what has become obvious to you — and admitting it in a can’t-take-it-back way — is the kick in the pants it provides to a new course of action. Which is pretty much the strategy of AA-goers standing before a roomful of strangers and acknowledging that they’re alcoholics. Risking being taken for a fool while declaring, at the heart of it, “This is no longer working for me … and here’s what I intend to do about it.”
When in my mid-twenties I sold my first two novels back-to-back, after a few years of short story sales, I looked ahead and hoped to have accomplished more by now. Don’t we all? I’ve seen two more novels labeled by other people as “his breakout book” — one the biggest, most complex thing I’d done to date, and the other having sold at auction — but I’m still waiting for the right one at the right time at the right place that will actually deliver on such a prediction. I continue to believe that this is not beyond my ability and fate.
Still, I’ve come to better appreciate the importance of looking for that novel in the right places … and the process that goes along with it.
When you find yourself far from where you wanted to be, there comes a time when you have to ask, “What’s holding me back?”
And you’d better answer with as much unflinching honesty as you can muster.
Umm … publishers who promise one thing and deliver another?
Valid, but they’ll always be with us. What else?
Publishers who claim they want one thing and buy another?
Ditto. What else?
The fact that you’re a writer in a culture that seems to increasingly devalue the written word?
Well, you are what you are. What else? Something closer to home, maybe…?
Comfortable working ruts? A schedule that feels tighter than thumbscrews? A tendency toward procrastination? The fear of venturing into a new, less familiar direction? One or two of a hundred more?
No one else can furnish the answer for you. But when the time is right, you’ll know what it is.
If it’s a good day, or week, maybe you’ll even know the changes you need to enact to do something about it. The retooling and recalibrating required to get you closer to those goals that still lie ahead.
Even if it means you have to look at what you’re best known for and admit that love for it is no longer enough.
Then again, sometimes serendipity makes it a little easier than you expect.
This may seem a separate topic; it isn’t: I’d already come to my decision before the 2nd and 5th of this month, when Elizabeth Massie and John Skipp — longtime friends and greatly admired souls, both — posted their respective essays. But their timing could hardly have been more apt.
Flame if you will, but they each in their own way made me realize that I don’t particularly want to be associated with a field that has transformed to the point at which it even seems necessary to hash out the matters raised in the essays “Poop On A Plate” and the admittedly hilariously titled “How Lumpy The Turd Boy Wound Up In The House Of Horror.”
In what other genre could material that’s about nothing so much as its own propensity to repulse be an issue at all, regardless of whether it’s driven by writers who mistake it for artistic daring, or readers who reward it like a group of snickering twelve-year-olds?
I know that the more egalitarian folks will regard this as a by-product of horror’s unofficial big tent policy … but how big is the tent, really, when it’s pitched in a tidal pool? And in a tidal pool, the bottom feeders are always seen in closer proximity to the rest of the occupants. And if that’s part of the ecosystem’s collective image, it will always be a tidal pool.
I’m trying to imagine this transposed to, say, the Romance Writers Of America forums: “You know what we need more of? What’s been lacking in our work? Scat scenes! The love that dare not squeak its name! That’ll show everyone we mean business!”
No … can’t picture that at all.
Or a Bouchercon presentation, by crime and mystery writers, of the most lovingly detailed, fetishistically wrought, nauseatingly described entry and exit wounds.
Can’t quite picture that either.
But mostly, I’m trying to imagine past masters like Machen and Lovecraft, and living legends like Bradbury and Matheson, looking upon this strain of material, nodding with avuncular smiles, viewing it in the context of their legacies, and saying, “I’m proud of you.”
Guess.
And say when.
27 Comments, Comment or Ping
David Niall Wilson
Brian, I feel your pain, and believe me buddy, I know the feeling of looking back at a road that actually has some particular successes on it and wondering how it would up here…BUT…it’s a matter of perspective. For one thing you and I share the belief that the fate we are actually intended for is brighter, and still ahead…still something we have full ability and talent to accomplish. That’s the magic, and always will be…I still believe patience will pay off…but here’s the thing.
Don’t say you aren’t going to write horror. Saying you are WRITING horror is the problem. Writing specifically to BE a horror writer is too limiting for an author, I think, and can lead to dead ends…
I am going to do something I rarely do.
I just covered something in my journal that is relevant. It involves the success of Clive Barker & Stephen King in our field.. It starts like this. At the end of this quote is link to the essay…I’d be interested to hear your take on it…
“Clive Barker, Stephen King, Dean Koontz…modern fantasists headed in different directions
I’ve been reading “Cold Heart Canyon,” by Clive Barker, and it has occurred to me that the authors I love best, a list likely topped by King and Barker, are not what I originally thought them to be, or at least not what the world at large initially categorized them as. You look back to the late seventies and the early eighties, to the early days of the careers of three authors, Stephen King, Clive Barker, and Dean Koontz. All three were categorized in their heyday as horror authors. In fact, to this day I doubt your average reader – counting only those who recognize the three names at all – would give any other answer if asked what type of books they write.
They are not horror writers, though. A lot of people have tried to figure out the broader appeal they’ve brought to the table, their ability to skip over genre lines with impunity and only grow in popularity, and their apparent invulnerability in the face of marketing barriers.
What I suspect is the cause is actually very simple. They aren’t, and never were, horror writers. They are fantasists.” —
The Deep Blue Journal Post
Sep 9th, 2006
Sully
Pen was poised. About to write something to the effect of, “Okay, don’t write horror, but for God’s sake write!” Can’t be certain that isn’t your intention anyway. But then David posted pretty much what I wanted to say. So that moves this down the line.
“Gutsy” scarcely covers it, Brian. You’ve channeled the whole diaspora of writers with this post. We all want to quit – have quit – at some time. Like the person who can stop smoking whenever he wants – he’s done it a zillion times. I hope this is you. I hope you merely shift directions. I have known one or two published authors who have just stone cold stopped, rare breeds who wrote out of a practical need, or to prove a one-time point. When my quest was a world record in swimming, I used to ask athletes if they would sacrifice everything if they were guaranteed a world record at the end of, say, a couple of years but no one would ever know about it. Most, quite honestly, said “no.” The deed, the self-knowledge, wasn’t their goal. It was the recognition. Hard to argue against that in our biz where the deed is, in fact, communication. If you aren’t communicating, how then are you succeeding? Nevertheless, there is a crossover point where you become what you are. You do something not so much to become famous or rich but because that is your nature. If that doesn’t make sense, I will not communicate here either. All the same, and despite the demands on time, the need to make a living, and the personal imperatives of your life, please recognize your outstanding potential to fulfill the role of writer as you once saw it. It’s a crapshoot. You lost in the terms you define as losing. The guy next to you, doing the same thing, may not see it as a loss. Might even see it as a win or a work in progress. I won’t question your admirably honest judgment, but there is an absolute in all this: Brian Hodges is a winner and a writer every bit as deserving of recognition as those who have it. Whether you want to continue working for it or not, you will have to exercise or exorcise your muse. Another swimming anecdote born of becoming habituated to the journey rather than the destination: I used to ask myself, “If I knew I was on pace for that w. record – if it was mine for the taking – would I pull back at the finish and never touch the wall?” Flawed metaphor rife with serious psychological issues, but there is no shame – no loss really – in doing what you do, in journeying, being in transit. Destinations are kind of sad, defensive positions forever in peril (oh, yeah, right, just give me one and I’ll change my tune). You write what you want to write, hope the world catches up to you, and if it’s all self-delusion, so be it. If your catharsis is invention through words, there are other outlets for that. Maybe this is just a vacation for you. A way of excising the mindless market for a while. It’s not a door you have to close behind you or a light you need put out.
– Sully (Thomas Sullivan)
Sep 9th, 2006
Sully
And I added an inadvertent “s” to your name — grotesque error in my post about identity! Forgive that. I.e., what’s in a name?
– Sully
Sep 9th, 2006
Brian Hodge
Thanks for comments. Much appreciated.
Sully — Quit? Oh hell no. This isn’t a flounce … it’s about changing tracks and tactics, and coming to terms with what’s no longer working in one’s career. To repeat: “I can, and have, written other things, and it’s time to focus attentions there.”
Dave — Again, appreciated.
>>Saying you are WRITING horror is the problem. Writing specifically to BE a horror writer is too limiting for an author, I think, and can lead to dead ends< <
And I’ve always resisted defining myself in straitjacket terms. “Writer” has always been just fine.
But I used the terminology I did to get the point across without the hair-splitting that usually comes once people get into anything involving labels. Otherwise, you just end up with strings of qualifiers like “weapons of mass destruction program related activities.”
We can chafe against labels all we want, but they usually end up getting applied anyway, by readers and marketing departments alike. Each fantasist — which you can’t deny is still another label, if a broader one — you mentioned, I tried to learn from and incorporate those valuable lessons in my own work … and did hear good feedback from two of those writers … indirectly from King, through my editor, and directly from Koontz. That meant a lot.
But publishers do what they’re going to do, and I was never anywhere close to King’s/Koontz’s/Barker’s position to ask that anything be done any other way and expect to be accommodated.
DARK ADVENT had almost nothing supernatural about it; one character was clairvoyant. The cover was a bright red snarling monster face.
NIGHTLIFE and THE DARKER SAINTS were just as much crime novels as anything. Still said Horror on the spines.
PROTOTYPE was about genetic mutation. See above. I still have a review in which the reviewer asked: “By why, oh god why, would they intentionally give a book of wide scope a narrow category title?”
Not that I wasn’t happy to see them in print. I just would’ve liked to see them have broader exposure.
You know when I DID have veto power? When Morrow bought crime novel WILD HORSES at auction. Their first cover was, considering the sexual abuse endured by the main character, about as inappropriate as you can imagine. I’d show it to people and their jaws would drop. I objected and it got scrapped.
Call it what one wants, or resist calling it anything, but I still think the writer is in the best position to know when what they’re doing is no longer bearing sufficient fruit.
And correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I see you make a comment not long ago, either here or on Deep Blue Journal, about having watched some people follow their muse into oblivion, something like that?
Whether it was you or not, it struck a chord … because I don’t want to be one of those people. There are too many other paths of interest, and things to write about, to remain on the one that isn’t taking me where I want to go.
Sep 9th, 2006
Janet Berliner
Good luck, Brian. A writer’s gotta do what a writer’s gotta do. Me? I gave up “never” a long time ago, but then I’m an antique by modern standards. Or perhaps it’s cowardice on my part. I like leaving myself an “out.”
May your dreams come true.
Janet
Sep 9th, 2006
David Niall Wilson
Yeah, following the path to oblivion was mine…and it was directed at people who try to force themselves into a dead end and won’t turn aside, take a different tack, etc….but I think there’s more to it.
The author and the editor aren’t the only people involved. Your agent can market the same book several different ways and to different groups of editors. We are all familiar with a small pool of editors, and all of them publish particular things…but there are a lot of others out there, it’s a matter of faith in starting over with a whole new “thing” rather than playing on what’s come before.
For instance, your novel DEATHGRIP (still my favorite) was pretty much mainstream-worthy, as far as I can see…could have been the big book, but everyone in horror was sold on Jeanne and Dell Abyss. I think our own excitement over things can get in the way of seeing the bigger picture at times.
I am doing what you are doing, though, to a point. I won’t say I’m not writing horror, or even that I’m not pursuing getting it published, but I’m writing a lot of other things too…
And putting a lot of interest into it…
Dave
Sep 9th, 2006
kuroshii
clive barker’s been maintaining for years that what he writes should be called “fantastique,” since there’s so much more to it than just scary-bits.
write whatever you want to write, just keep writing so we can keep reading.
Sep 9th, 2006
Christine
Maybe somethine cross genre is the ticket? Not totally pure horror, but one diverse enough that it allows other aspects of your brainscape into the picture. On a side note: there is a bit of a debate going on through the romance ‘undernet’ so to speak, on extreme scenes added under editorial pressure to push the ‘holy crap’ meter in erotic romance, and in some ’spicy’ romance. While they’re not scat scenes, the concept of in your face is present, if only as a lurker in one of the subgenres of romance. Check out JordanSummers.com, she blogs about it, and has link backs to other things. It’s hard to come to the decisions you have, but perhaps the universe is giving you an opportunity to take another road for a reason - there may be better scenery along the way. And a bigger pot of gold even?
Sep 9th, 2006
Brian Hodge
>>Maybe somethine cross genre is the ticket? Not totally pure horror< <
Christine: See the above. That’s been the DNA of most of what I’ve done.
>>The author and the editor aren’t the only people involved.< <
Of which I’m all too aware. There are, in addition to agents and many more, nameless bean counters, department heads, and Rupert Murdoch and his team of hatchet people, all of whom have affected my career at one time or another.
Still, the best we can do is take advantage of the opportunities that open before us, try to make the most of them, and try to create new opportunities as we go along.
>>DEATHGRIP (still my favorite) was pretty much mainstream-worthy, as far as I can see< <
Yeah, that’s the first one I saw tagged with the “breakout book” label.
You wouldn’t necessarily have been privy to it, but at Dell I was promised a level of support and promotion that never materialized. I don’t blame Jeanne for it, because machinations like that come from a higher level.
It seems, Dave, that you’re able to write faster than I can. I envy that. The main thing I’m doing here is championing the will to take as much responsibility for one’s future as possible — which includes using one’s available time as wisely as possible — and stress that this sometimes entails hard choices.
Others’ mileage may vary, but that’s my reality and … well, rather than sticking to it, I’m trying to transcend it.
Sep 9th, 2006
Frank Wydra
Brian, thanks for writing this piece.
After reading Liz and John’s pieces, I passed on commenting. After all, the angst was about horror, and I don’t pretend to that label. But, bouncing around, inside, was the thought, “Why label yourself? Why publish in venues that identify with a specific genre? Why go to the conventions of a specific genre?” And I don’t buy the notion that it is the outsiders who apply the labels. It is we who choose the company we keep, the places we go, and the comparisons we make. To me it was like saying, “I invited myself to this party and now I don’t like the guest list.”
After reading your piece once, then again, I said, “He’s right.” What I did NOT read is that you were going to stop writing, and I think you confirmed this in your comments. What I did read is that the label, either self applied or pasted on by some marketer, did not seem to be getting you where you wanted to go. So, you’re on to things that have a better chance of getting you where you want to go. Great. That’s as it should be.
It is far better than wallowing in a sea of regrets. Go for it, guy. Godspeed. But remember that this site at least has had the good sense or fortune to shed its label, so whatever you write and post here, you are still in the company of writers, and not horror, sci-fi, or dark fantasy writers, just writers.
Frank
Sep 9th, 2006
John Skipp
Dear Brian –
But…but…if you don’t write horror, I CAN’T BE YOUR FRIEND ANY MORE!!!
[Insert comical rim shot here.]
I gotta keep this short and sweet, but: as a guy who walked away for over a decade, in order to sort out who I was and what I wanted out of life, I ABSOLUTELY SUPPORT AND SALUTE YOU.
Enjoy your adventure, muh man!
If there’s one thing I can tell you out of my own experience, it’s that you will always be welcome here.
Yer pal,
Skipp
Sep 9th, 2006
David Niall Wilson
I dont’ think we’re even saying different things, Brian. We are both saying, basically, that we intend to branch out, and that writing and tossing words into a bucket that seems pretty full already is a waste of time.
I guess, for me, it’s a bit different. I never reached a point where I write for my living. I have a job that — while it (of course) limits my writing time — allows me the freedom to write more or less what I want to. I have tried some different things over the past two years or so with some varying success…
I think what I fear in making a statement like “I don’t write horror any more” is that it seems to indicate you believe that’s what you’ve been doing all along - that you had a narrow “niche” surrounding you in the first place. I also hear you saying “I have written other things” but by that do you mean jumping from horror to crime, or horror to suspense, thriller, romance? Another genre?
It’s such a strange semantic game. What I tried to say in my last note here (poorly) is that you write what you write. It never feels right if you try to force yourself out of that..what you write one time and another time may be absolutely different, but — and this might just be me — I never know when the urge will absolutely consume me to put a story down … and it could be any kind of story…so I hate to see someone say “I’m not writing this/that any more” because the best writing a person will do is whatever writing consumes them at that particular moment…
Deathgrip SHOULD have been your breakout book. I have to say it seemed to me as though much more was put behind the lady writers at Dell Abyss…though that might just be a reader’s perception…I wish that had been your breakout…you deserved it then, and you do now, and I am certain it’s coming…
One day we’ll talk about it on signing tour somewhere, or on the set of a movie based on our words…and we’ll remember this.
D
Sep 9th, 2006
John B. Rosenman
Thanks for writing this, Brian. It’s been a painful decision for you as well as a painful (and purgative) experience in writing it. A liberating experience as well.
Do you know what the word verification this round is? It’s icoap. That is, I cope. And that is what you’re doing. Especially if we’re writing for a living, writers have to be practical and make practical decisions in terms of their careers. I see nothing wrong in that. As you make clear, you ain’t trashing your PC and walking off in a snit; you’re moving on to other creative things. You’re still a writer, and shouldn’t we as writers feel free to test new waters?
Your essay struck home for me. Do you know what my past four novels have been about? A guy goes to a distant world and has strange and marvelous adventures. I vary it a lot but it’s essentially the same cosmic space opera. I’ve placed two of those novels and one of them is with an angel — uh, make that an agent — at the moment. But again and again, I’ve said to myself, “It’s time to try something else.” After all, you’ve only got one life to live and write.
A great piece, and I wish you well in the next stage of your career.
Sep 9th, 2006
John Skipp
Dear Brian –
One last thought:
I’m sorry that sales for WORLD OF HURT have disappointed, thus far.
But years from now, that piece will be legendary.
You did a glorious thing. And that counts for a lot.
Yer very good pal,
Skipp
Sep 10th, 2006
Gerard Houarner
I was sad after reading your piece, and I hope like Skipp that somewhere on your journey from this point you re-discover some love or hunger for the particular type of “horror” or “dark fantasy” or any of the other names what you do could be called. I also suspect that whatever you write from now on, it’ll have a touch of darkness, because I don’t think that Celtic imagination will you let escape.
Sep 10th, 2006
Mike Arnzen
When I pick up a Brian Hodge story, I know I’m going on a wild ride with a very capable stunt driver. Doesn’t matter what the genre package is: a Hodge story is a Hodge story and you know it’s going to a) be very well written, and b) generally kick your brain back on its, well, ass.
But a writer’s got to grow his audience and try out new things. Horror readers who have found you are probably already hooked. We’re out there, Brian, and you’ve got us, so keep writing down your own pathway and trust we’ll follow.
Well, unless you start writing children’s books about talking road pylons, anyway.
But heck, even if you did that, I have a feeling you’d run them over with a beer delivery truck eventually. More power to you.
Cold gin,
– Mike Arnzen
Sep 10th, 2006
Douglas Clegg
I don’t care what genre you write in, Brian, I just know I like reading Brian Hodge novels and stories. Keep writing exactly what you want and to hell with the rest of it.
Sep 10th, 2006
Brian Keene
Brian, as I said on Shocklines, I’d continue to read you no matter what genre you chose to work in. The important thing is that you stay true to yourself. You’ve never compromised in your fiction, and I can’t see you ever doing otherwise.
I look forward to the next tale, no matter what it might be.
Sep 11th, 2006
Teresa
It tough to weigh in on a topic like this when one is an ‘outsider’. Not being an author I won’t presume to try and understand the crisis of faith you are experiencing. (No I didn’t intend any religous meaning in that phrase; I didn’t know I was going to type it until it hit the screen.)But it fits, doesn’t it?
I can’t see an author with your publishing credits being moved to abandon a genre because of disappointing sales figures. No matter what genre you write you will always be confronted by authors who ‘abuse’ the genre of your choice in some way.
Everything in life is about the Good, the Bad, or the Ugly. Right now it seems to me you are angry that the Ugly in Horror is miring the Good in the slime at the bottom of the cess pool. You fear that inevitably the turds are going to float to the top, while the Good runs for cover. That your recently born, Good baby is one of the victims of a turd floating to the surface.
I’m here to say that all the ‘poop on a plate’ that publishers can shove under my nose won’t make me aquire a taste for it. Not even if it’s smothered in cheese sauce and and washed down with the finest French Champaigne.
I suspect many other readers out there, whether they’ve ever read a word of Brian Hodge or not, are passing by the p.o.p. in search of filet mingon.
If all the good is gone I’ll have no where to go at all. Leave a light on so I can find my way, please. You are one of the Thirty very special Lights along my way.
Terry
Sep 11th, 2006
Matt Cardin
I can’t do much more than ditto a lot of what has been said above. Here’s wishing you much success in your new direction, Brian. Truly, you’ve proven that whatever you write will bear the stamp of your heart and soul.
Sep 11th, 2006
jeff resnick
I purchased World Of Hurt and it rocked! Read it last week in one sitting while my wife watched another episode of some show called “Intervention.” There is definitely a connection there, but I won’t make it
I wish you nothing but continued success no matter what “genre” you decide to publish.
Sep 11th, 2006
Sabrina Kaleta
Hey Brian,
I echo many of the sentiments of Skipp, Mike, Mr. Keene, Matt, Douglas…I’m not worried about ya at all. I think that as long you’re not running away from your true voice to find a big paycheck; which I don’t think you would do even if you wanted to or was scapable of it, then I say explore away. That said, I hope it nets you tons and tons of cash, because you deserve it.
We are all so much more than what people first see. All I think you’re saying is there’s more to me than you’ve seen, and while I love that side you’re familiar with; it’s time to try out another outfit that may suit me just as much, and possibly with better returns. With as rich of worlds that you’ve created for us under the somewhat random title of horror, I’m excited and curious to go where ever else you might take us. And to anyone that makes Brian feel bad and acts like he’s abandoned them or is a traitor to the cause or some such bs, I know some people I’d like to introduce you to down this alley…Much love and blessings babe,
Sabrina
Sep 11th, 2006
James Beach
Well, like I said at Shocklines and to echo Keene here as well - I will keep reading whatever you write Brian! Just keep on doing it!!!
And again, I will do whatever I can to help promote WOH in Dark Discoveries as it is a phenomonal book that deserves a lot of attention!
Sep 11th, 2006
Brian Hodge
Thanks again for all the comments, feedback, perspectives, well-wishes, and whatever elses. I really wasn’t expecting this, and it’s meant a lot.
Make that A LOT.
And you can bet I’m keeping the whole string of ‘em just in case I need to look it over again and readjust my antenna.
Here’s another quote whose point of origin I can’t remember, but has otherwise taken up permanent residence:
“We read so that we know we’re not alone.”
You’ve all proved it in resounding form.
Sep 11th, 2006
Anonymous
Brian,
Been reading this blog for months, and didn’t know that somewhere the rules changed and non-members could comment.
I just wanted to “ditto” the folks on here who said best of luck to you, and I’ll keep reading your stuff whatever the subject/genre. I loved “Wild Horses”, and loved the Hellboy novel published earlier this year, and all the short pieces I’ve read in between.
Looking forward to more of your output. Thanks for the entertainment.
Best,
Jeff P.
Sep 13th, 2006
Scott Nicholson
The thing to me is, “Please take the goddamned H-word off the spines of my books.” It’s death. Just ask any bookseller. Any store clerk. Any agent, any editor. Maybe it will change in 5, 10, 20 years.
I know from personal experience. I see my publisher’s catalog. My book is the last thing listed, a bit paragraph. A friend of mine had his horror novel pitched and sold to the same publisher as a “supernatural thriller” and got a two-page spread in the catalog, marketed as “fiction.” And thus is all the difference made.
I’m not bitter. I’m a realist. I don’t blame the publisher. It is doing the best it can to make money the best way it can. Its goals and my goals sometimes coincide, sometimes not, and mine is just one of 500 they will publish this year. I don’t expect special treatment and I don’t deserve it. I think I’ve been treated fairly, all in all. I just don’t want to be here five years hence. I’ve done my time.
So I perfectly understand your desire to test other waters. You can hardly fail.
But, of course, we all know the tragic recidivism rate of recovering alcoholics! Horror might just have its hooks deeper than you’d like.
Sep 13th, 2006
Anonymous
Writing for an audience instead of yourself creates this trap. I suppose it’s a catch 22. You want your stuff read…I hope you do continue to write for yourself.
Sep 20th, 2006
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