A Writer's Tale

Over the years, I’ve often asked my fans what they do for a living. Some are teachers and students, some are in the construction business. Others are in computer and aerospace industries. There are accountants, postal workers, newspaper reporters, film makers, special effects artists, animal trainers, musicians, and authors. One fan, Daniel, works in a morgue. Another, Roy Robbins, became a book dealer. Others, Del and Sue, opened Dark Delicacies bookstore in Burbank.

Not exactly a bunch of retards and perverts, as my detractors might expect.

Over the years, several of them have become good friends.

In addition to the fans I actually get to meet at book signings, there are those I know only from letters.

I receive a moderate amount of fan mail.

A word about fan mail…

Headline sends it to me very promptly. Most other publishers, however, take their time.

Fans need to be aware of this. If they mail a letter to an author in care of his publisher, it probably won’t reach him for at least two or three months. God only knows what takes the publishers so long. (I guess they’re busy screwing up the lives of mid-list authors.) I enjoy getting fan mail. Most of it, anyway. It’s exciting to find out that there are so many strangers all over the world who can’t wait for my next book to come out.

Of those who send letters, most became fans according to the pattern I described above; they read one of my short stories or books, then went out and grabbed every Laymon book they could lay their hands on. Most of them have read all my novels. Those who’ve only read fifteen or twenty complain because there are certain titles they haven’t been able to find.

After telling me how they became my fans, some tell me a little about themselves and ask me a few questions.

Some ask me a lot of questions. These are usually aspiring writers, and I often take the time to respond in some detail.

Most other letters, I answer with a few sentences on a picture post card. (On my travels, I spend lots of time in search of nifty cards for that purpose.) I almost always, eventually, send responses to my fans. Eventually.

Back to the letters they send.

A couple of questions pop up in nearly every one of them.

1. What am I working on now, and when will it be coming out?

2. Why haven’t there been any movies based on my books or stories? They would love to see a movie of…  then they name a couple of their favorite novels.

Fairly often, the author of the letter claims to be my “Number One Fan,” then tries to reassure me by denying any resemblance to Annie Wilkes or Kathy Bates.

And, oh yes. While we’re on the subject…

Hardly a letter arrives in which the fan doesn’t claim to prefer me over Stephen King.

Some fans even maintain that I’m better than anyone.

What can I say? They’re my fans.

Bless ‘em.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that they’re the minority opinion.

It does a lot for my ego, anyway.

Especially considering the position of my career in this country not a few rungs down from King, but off the ladder completely.

Every now and then, fans tell me wonderful things about my effect on their lives. They’re personal stories, and I don’t feel like telling about them.

Nor do I feel like complaining about my fans. If you want to read about fans who are nuisances, try reading Harlan Ellison or Stephen King.

I find it amazing, wonderful and delightful that, for whatever reasons, there are so many people in this world who value my fiction.

Who can’t get enough of it.

Who crave it.

Before leaving the subject of fans, I must mention three of them: Martin White in Scotland, founder of the “Richard Laymon Fan Club”; Steve Gerlach in Australia, creator of the “Richard Laymon Kills” website on the Internet; and Vince Fahey of Arizona, creator of “The Official U.S. Richard Laymon Page” on the Internet.

Terrific chaps.

I thank them.

The Summing Up

BY PURE COINCIDENCE IF ANY COINCIDENCE IS PURE I FOUND myself writing this book about myself during the fiftieth year of my life.

Fifty is, in itself, something of a milestone.

For me, another milestone is the creation of The Midnight Tour. A Writer’s Tale delayed the completion of Tour, which is the third book of the “Beast House” series.

The Cellar started my career. Beast House came several years later. Finally, here comes The Midnight Tour.

So now, fifty years old, I’ve written what amounts to an autobiography and I’m winding up the “Beast House” trilogy.

Time to call it quits.

Nah.

The only way I call it quits is when they pry my cold, dead fingers off the keyboard.

With any luck, that won’t be for a while.

The confluence of these several events has conspired, however, to make me think a lot about my life and career.

Assess things.

And boy, did I blow it!

Kidding. Whatever might’ve gotten blown was mostly out of my control.