In the previous installment of Horror Realm 2010, I concluded with a teaser: I said that in part three, I'd be talking about how I almost slept in and missed the plane home because Jacob Kier and I stayed up Sunday night, wondering why anyone would want to send a zombie back in time. Well, that's mostly bullshit.
On Sunday, the last day of Horror Realm, I felt like crap. Jacob Kier and I had stayed up late Saturday. Can't remember why. Okay, maybe we went dancing at the Night of the Living Dead Costume Ball, maybe we didn't. Who knows. Point is, I was dead tired and losing my voice--and my author panel was early that afternoon.
I attended the panel directly before mine to hear the readings of Mike Watt, James Melzer (watch video), and Tony Monchinski. One of them said "fuck" a lot. I'm not saying who. James Melzer presented a novel in progress, which he read from some kind of e-book reader. Here's a video to prove it...
Their panel was great, but it went till noon, which left me fifteen minutes to prepare for my own. I still needed to run up to my room to use the bathroom--had business that couldn't be dealt with in a public place--and also I needed to look up the pronunciation of the word "kaffiyeh." I knew how to spell it and what it was, and I even knew its cultural significance, but I swear I had never heard it spoken aloud. Sometimes I think I know how to spell more words than I know how to pronounce.
The first part of my reading went well. The second part... fatigue really affects the language centers in my brain. I think "kaffiyeh" is the only word I did pronounce properly. So I'm surprised I wasn't saying "fuck" a lot. But I keep a pretty cool head, and it takes a lot to embarrass me (like using public toilets; urinals are fine).
Timothy Long and Zombie Zak, my panel peers, did a great job. ZZ read from Chaptered and Versed: Poetic and Cursed, and Tim read "My Girlfriend's Got Crabs," a chapter from The Zombie Wilson Diaries.
Not long after my reading, and I think this is no coincidence, people started tearing down their booths, and the convention came to an end. I talked to the sword guy, who sells real Hanso steel, and he lost a lot of money on this event; I guess that's because in this universe, Uma Thurman doesn't need to decapitate any Crazy Eighty-Eights.
I wanted to make it an early night because I had to be back to the airport at four in the morning, but for some reason Jacob and I decided to plot a novel till half past midnight. Somehow it involved a time-traveling chair and the Vice President. Oh, and a zombie, which, for reasons beyond us, someone sent back in time. Long story short, I slept nearly the whole plane ride home. But at least I made it to the airport early. Too early, if you ask me.
D.L. Snell writes with Permuted Press. He edited Dr. Kim Paffenroth twice, John Dies at the End once, and provided a constructive critique to Joe McKinney on his next major novel after Dead City. You can shoot D.L. Snell in the head at www.exit66.net.
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