In Laymon's Terms

I felt (and still feel) that A Writer’s Tale could have had the same effect on aspiring writers in the horror field, both in fiction and screenwriting.

It all made perfect sense to me. Get a great review for A Writer’s Tale in Fangoria, the most read horror magazine in existence, and the people who would utilize the book most would more than likely find it there.

But Dick and Fangoria were not the best of friends. I had that “hurdle” of hostility Fangoria seemingly felt toward Dick Laymon to overcome. Plus, I’m not completely stupid. I read A Writer’s Tale cover to cover, and I was well aware of the chapter dealing with critics in general, and Fangoria critics in particular. That chapter reprinted Dick’s article “The Lizzie Borden Syndrome Or Vicious Hacks With A Lust For Chopping Other People’s Wood, Fiction, And Necks”. The piece had caused quite a stir when it originally appeared in the horror newsletter Afraid in April 1993.

In the article Dick vented on some of the harsh criticism dealt to his work, especially from the Fangoria reviewers, and shed some light onto why his work may have been so viciously handled.

It was safe to assume that Fangoria had been made aware of Dick’s article at some point. To my thinking, I felt that their printing a positive review for A Writer’s Tale could serve as an overdue hatchet burying, an attempt to mop up some of the bad blood that had spilled over the years.

Surely, I convinced myself, a magazine that prided itself on helping aspiring fans break into the horror biz would not allow some sour sentiments to keep this wonderful book from being discovered by the people it would do the most good.

Man, was I wrong.

Because I was wrong, I will now admit my ulterior motive.

Betting that no one on the Fangoria staff had read A Writer’s Tale, I thought there was a good chance they would not know the book contained a reprint of “The Lizzie Borden Syndrome.” How funny it would be, I thought, to get a great review of a book into Fangoria—written by an author they did not support—in which a chapter of the hailed book was dedicated to attacking and trash talking Fangoria magazine!

For me, there was something wonderfully Andy Kaufman-esque about getting the review published in Fangoria. My intentions were honorable, if not a little misguided. It just seemed funny to me and a bit clever. Cleverly sinister, in fact. The prospect of my plan coming together made me feel like a James Bond villain. I did not see where it would hurt anyone. Besides, it was a joke only a handful of people would get. But it was worth it for just that handful.

Determined to achieve my goal, I got busy writing the review. I am no book reviewer, but the short write-up I concocted said what I wanted it to say, and I felt it would do the job it was conceived to do.

Then I sent it off and waited for a response. Months later, my response arrived.

From the biggest horror magazine in the world, you would expect a fancy rejection letter. Maybe blood-red rivulets dripping from the top of the page, maybe a decapitated head or plucked out eyeball in one of the bottom corners. Or maybe a bloody knife or machete encompassing the letterhead.

Well, the Fangoria rejection letter fell way short of my expectations. Actually, it was no more than a crappy, grainy form letter, photocopied off-center and devoid totally of any personality.

For that completely impersonal touch, the letter began with “Dear,” but no one bothered to fill in the blank. No “Dear Robert” or “Dear Writer” or even “Dear Dweeboid”. Simply “Dear”.

The form letter that followed was short and sweet. And under thirty-five words. It ended with a heart-tugging, “Sincerely, THE EDITORS”. In bold print like that, I imagined a godlike editing committee sitting at a long wooden table in the Fangoria office, laying down judgments and deciding the fate of freelance submissions from early in the morning to very late at night.

Folded over the rejection letter was my two-page review. This, I have found, is common practice for many editors, returning the submitted manuscript.

Although disappointed, I felt pretty good for trying. That was the whole point of A Writer’s Tale to begin with, to try. To persist and prevail.

Before filing the rejection letter away and stamping “Paid” on this particular due, I noticed something not at all common in the getting-a-rejection-letter business. It was something totally uncalled for and completely insulting. To my horror, the two-page review for A Writer’s Tale that I had submitted to Fangoria had been returned to me mutilated!

That’s right friends, you read that correctly—mutilated! It was carved like a paper turkey, sliced like a virgin sacrifice, and slashed like the victim of an unstable madman.