Scares That Care VIII Autopsy!

 

Another quality post brought to you by Steve!

Hey, everybody!  I hope you're all having a good week.  I just got back from my favorite event of the year, Scares that Care in Williamsburg, Virginia, which means it's time for another convention recap!

Those of you who have been following my previous misadventures may recall that I've been trying to suss out what, exactly, constitutes the best period to attend this con.  I've done everything from the super abbreviated (Friday afternoon to Sunday morning) to the extra elongated (Wednesday afternoon to Monday afternoon.)  But I think I've finally hit on the Goldilocks period: Thursday afternoon to Monday morning.

I kept my long-suffering girlfriend Amy up half the night Wednesday creating this tremendous piece of art to celebrate HORSEMEN, the piece I put published for this convention in a limited, 50-copy run:

There is rope inside that balloon and the pot has been personalized with my name and the balloon with my title and even a cow skull logo.  Air Studio delivers as always!

Anyway, as I said, I departed Thursday morning and arrived in Williamsburg around 4:00 pm.  The desk clerk was absolutely enamored of my balloon, as is only fitting.  Thursday afternoon I put the finishing touches on my reading and Gross-Out Contest entry for the weekend, which I imagine must have freaked out my neighbors, since I memorized it by loud recitation.

In any case, I headed down to the bar and caught up with Armand Rosamilia and Tim Meyer, who I hadn't seen in ages, even before the pandemic.  I was most thrilled, though, when the Scaraoke kicked off.  For those of you who don't know me, I love to perform, and karaoke is one of my favorite things.  I hadn't really expected to get to perform, though, as even in the years when I've tried to get on stage I haven't been able to due to time restrictions.  So I hot-footed it to the stage and managed to slip in as the second entry.  Since I hadn't prepared myself for anything more complex, I performed my old standby, "Maggie May."

At that point, Brian Keene, who doesn't normally pop his head up on Thursdays due to con organizing obligations, had arrived, and I got to speak with him a bit as some other folks, like Rio Youers and Wile E. Young trickled in.  I also got to catch up with Zach Rosenberg, a newcomer to the industry who I met briefly at Authorcon in April.  Zach was a breath of fresh air in a room full of old farts, both metaphorically and literally.  I learned he's sold his first few shorts and is very close to nailing down a novel deal!  (More on Zach later.)

Wes Southard and his wife and baby showed up quite a bit later.  But we were already planning, as is now tradition apparently for a gang of people who live within two hours of Philadelphia, to go to Rick's cheesesteak shop for an extraordinarily early 11:00 am lunch.  (Although, as a government employee, I just call that "lunch.")  We caught up with Jeff Strand, Bridgett Nelson, Kenzie Jennings, Emily Young, and a few others at Rick's.  (As I've done in past con recaps, I'll avoid naming family and friends who are not public figures.  Please don't take offense.  I haven't forgotten any of your names, I just don't know whether you want them out there for public consumption.)

Then it was time for the miserable process of dragging four boxes of books from my car around the back of the hotel in the sweltering July heat.  I made the mistake of showering before setting up my booth, when in retrospect I probably should have waited until after.  Here you can see me sharing that healthy patina of perspiration with my table-mate Wile E. Young.  What you'll also find amusing about this picture is that Wile E. is so much taller than me I have to stretch my arm to the limit to catch his shoulder with my fingertips, while he very easily claps me wholly around the neck without even trying.

It was also nearly impossible to get anything behind the table around the setup of John Wayne Comunale, who was sitting catty-corner to us, but he made up for it the rest of the weekend with beer and jibes.  After the traditional blessing from Father Evil, we were off to the races!

Here we are attempting to take a picture with Bridgett Nelson, which the Emo Joker, I mean John Wayne, felt the need to photo bomb.

We may or may not have have gotten him back, though.

Sales on Friday were spectacular.  I never know how conventions are going to go, but I know that STC has never disappointed me yet.  I even had one copy of HORSEMEN walk right off as soon as an attendee looked at the balloon display!

Instead of getting pizza from the worst place on earth due to Wile E.'s Oklahoma-addled sense of taste as we have in years past, this year we got it from Wes Southard's favorite, a place called Mellow Mushroom.  I must have absolutely terrified the poor fellow at the hostess's booth when I walked in and said, "Three pies for Wesley, please" because he looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"What?"

"I have a pickup for three pies under Wesley."

That only made things worse, and now he gave me a look like I was threatening him with bodily harm.  He looked over to the pickup station with an "I don't know" shrug so I repeated it again.

The lady at the pickup station was practically beaming when she announced, "We don't serve pie here...only pizza!"

"Is this some kind of Virginia thing?" I asked.

"Uh...yeah."

"All right, well, there should be an order for three pizziola rondoles under the name Wesley, please."

I still can't figure out if they loved me or hated me there.  In the comments, please let me know: is "pie" a particularly regional way of referring to pizza?

Anyway, that night we caught up with Candace Nola and several moving pieces of her immense family (again, no names for civilians) before heading back to the lobby.  In a rarity for Scares, I got to bed early Friday night.

Saturday was the long day.  HORSEMEN moved like crazy, but I was even more surprised by how randomly everything else moved.  I think I sold two to three copies of each of my books, which is unusual.  Most conventions have a way of bringing one or the other of your pieces to the fore.  But I guess everyone was just in an esoteric kind of mood this particular weekend.

I want to thank everyone who stopped by.  If you have pictures, let me know, but the only one I've caught so far was with Paul Synuria. 

On Saturday at 2:45 pm I did a reading with Daniel Kraus, which was a great honor.  I think we must have been reading right during the thick of celebrity autograph signing and photo ops, because it was sparsely attended.  I did my usual nonsense, and Daniel read from his latest THE GHOST THAT ATE US, which sounds absolutely tremendous.  I was really glad to get to chat with him and tell him how much I enjoyed his work.

That night, in addition to the usual suspects, I got to have dinner with Amanda Headlee, who was great to have as a neighbor while vending.  We hooked Amanda up with a reading spot when Steven Shrewsbury was unable to attend, and her reading went smashingly.  After dinner I went back to my room to attempt to take a nap before the Gross-Out Contest, but my body was simply having none of it.  So I headed downstairs to chat with Jeff Strand, Bridgett Nelson, the greatest copy-editor on the planet Kyle Lybeck, and a few others.

The Gross-Out Contest has not been good to me the past few years.  I thought maybe, just maybe, performing without a script would endear me into the hearts of some of the judges.  But I made the damn fool mistake of being gracious and helping Jamie Benedi, who came late, get on the roster.  So because of my compassionate largesse Jamie won and I was reduced to receiving the Bunny of Shame or some shit.

Sunday everyone started to roll out early, but I was shocked by how good sales were for those of us who remained in the vendor's room.  Somer Canon, who debuted YOU'RE MINE (which I talked about here last month) at the convention even sold out!  And Phoebe from the Horror Show sold all of the dear departed Dave Thomas's book collection.  

Sunday evening turned out to be the best evening of the con.  I got to buttonhole Jay Wilburn, who is one of my favorite people in the world to talk to, for a solid hour or two.  Then, when the bar shut down I was able to hang out in the lobby and share the beauty that is Old Crow with Brian, John Wayne, Kristopher Triana, John Urbancik, Anton Cancre, and a few others.  

And that was my Scares that Care VIII!  If you want one of the remaining copies of HORSEMEN, you can contact me through my personal blog, but you'll have to do it soon, because this is a limited release.

What about you?  Did you attend STC this year?  What was your experience like?  Let me know in the comments below!