The second annual Anthology conference (AnthoCon) has come and gone…
One of the best parts of all conventions is seeing old friends, making new ones, and interacting with fans (like to the two women from Maine who can never remember which issues of Shock Totem they own, but always buy something—thank you!).
This time we shared space with Robert J. Duperre and Jesse David Young of T.R.O. Publishing, and we had an absolute blast. We’ve known them both online for a long time now, but it was great to finally meet in person. Lots of laughs were had.
Robert, Ken, Sarah, and Jesse.
Robert sold copies of The Gate: 13 Dark and Odd Tales, The Gate 2: 13 Tales of Isolation and Despair—which contains my story “The Candle Eaters”—plus his standalone novel Silas and his four Rift-series novels: The Fall, Dead of Winter, Death Springs Eternal, and The Summer Son. All of which come highly recommended. Jesse, artist of The Wicked and all T.R.O. Publishing releases, sold prints and ate obscene amounts of barely-cooked animals.
Sarah and I sold copies of Beautiful Sorrows, The Wicked, and Shock Totem, 33 in all, which we consider to be quite a success. Sarah also sold a few of her horror-themed tag blankets. We’ll be selling the blankets soon through our store.
As previously mentioned, Shroud Publishing/The Four Horsemen, LLC., released their debut anthology, appropriately titled Anthology: Year One. My story “She Cries” is featured.
A is for Awesome.
The anthology is now available in print through Amazon for $14.95. It looks to be a great one.
Special thanks and mucho respect goes out to the Four Horsemen—Tim Deal, Mark Wholley, jOhnny Morse, and Danny Evarts—for all their hard work in putting on such a great convention. For only its second year, I was impressed. Many of the (minor) complaints I had with last year’s convention were non-issues this year. So I applaud them.
In closing, I’d like to give a nod to Gary Braunbeck who, in his keynote speech, referenced and read his favorite poem, which just so happens to be my favorite poem. It’s by Stephen Crane, whose poetry—indeed the bulk of his fiction—is criminally underrated…
I saw a man pursuing the horizon;
Round and round they sped.
I was disturbed at this;
I accosted the man.
“It is futile,” I said,
“You can never—”
“You lie,” he cried,
And ran on.
So I tip my hat to Mr. Braunbeck. And we’ll see everyone next year!