Search Results for: best of the year so far

It was the best of times . . . and then it got really good.

Was here for StokerCon 2017 this weekend:

But I never really saw it from that exact angle, or all lit up like that. Really, here’s the angle I saw it from:

That’s me reading “Dear Final Girls” at the Shades & Shadows event. And here’s a game of Werewolf the Apocalypse I got to public-play with the creator of the whole phenomenon, Bill Bridges, along with, after Bill on the far left, George R…

Not talking about the Jeremy Robert Johnson story, although it’s one of my favorites of his, but the kind of endurance running we hominids used to use (used to use more) to run down prey. I mean, of course we did that—it’s what my “Chapter Six” story argues. Also, I’ve read accounts that, in the Great Plains, long before Kevin Costner got there, it was kind of a Sunday sport for white guys (I specify because in the accounts I know, it’s only e…

I’m going to start this out in a way I’ve never felt I had to start anything out online: this is just me, talking. Not for any of the schools I teach at, any organizations I’m in. Just me, on my personal site. Check the URL up there: it’s my name, one of my book titles. There’s no corporate or university brands or endorsements or intended associations or anything here. Just me and me alone. Why I’m doing that? Because I’m not sure what co…

In Colorado, it’s all about the fourteeners. Here, we’re all about the sixteener—which this is, somehow, already, after all these months. So cool, all the werewolf stuff coming my way, all the Mongrels snapshots &etc happening still. All of everything, including all the previous installments, which are going to tax my Julius Caesar numbering: 

• I
• II
• III
• IV
• V
• VI
• VII
• VIII
• IX
• X
• XI
• XII
• XIII
• XIV
• XV

And . . . let’s start with Litsy, the best book-place ever:

&…

Was just on a panel about villains at Denver ComicCon—actually, my second villains-panel there—and then, just now, I went all the long way down to Alamo Drafthouse to see Footloose on the big screen for the first time in thirty-two years, then listened to the Sir Patrick Stewart episode of The Nerdist on the way back, and . . . it all left me thinking, I guess. About antagonists, and the building of them.

It’s Robert McKee who says that, when designing up your story, you alwa…

This must by my first post about food, ever. Anyway, was just commenting on a friend’s pic of a some pie on Facebook—can’t link to it, but the Instagram’d version’s here—and realized that the reason I have yet to try keylime pie (that’s what the pie in question was), even though I promised myself to after it looked halfway-good in Million Dollar Baby/on Clint Eastwood’s fork is that new food terrifies me like little else. Seriously. M…

Read two this week, each so, so excellent. Got like fourteen seconds here to say something about them, but I’ll try to steal fourteen more, too, as I can’t not say something about them:

Horrorstor was fun, definitely, but, gotta say: I keyed on the horror stuff, but the IKEA stuff, it went right past me, I think. I’m both not remotely interested in furniture or . . . ‘decor,’ is that the word? and, probably because of that, I’ve never been in …

And lo it came to pass, that the slasher did migrate to the small screen. Well, what we used to call the small screen. But the home viewing experience isn’t what it was in 1988. Nowadays, the image-quality and sound are practically theater, right? But that’s not the reason for the move, I don’t think. My first suspicion as to why the slasher would find a home in our living rooms, it’s that everybody keeps saying we’re in a golden age of television. …

I wish I’d taken more pictures. A part of my heart is still with each of these trucks. I remember dragging a chain out of the bed and leaving a big gouge on the bed rail of one. I remember loading a piano into one of the tall ones, in the sun, when I wasn’t sure I had gas money to get home. I remember a dog I picked up one day to get it a little farther down the road, and how it kept biting me and biting me. I remember pulling over in the ditch to write. I remember working through the ni…