The Horror, the Horror: WHC 2011

There's a scene in Rocky III when Mick sees Clubber Lang (the Mr. T character) fighting in a boxing match. Mick sees an unpolished fighter, but a hungry fighter--a fighter who wants it. What he lacks in technical skill or talent he makes up for with sheer will and desire. It's enough to make Mick remark to Rocky that he simply can't win; Clubber is too hungry, wants it too bad.

I met a lot of Clubber Langs of the author variety at the 2011 World Horror Convention in Austin, Texas.

That's not to say there weren't some incredibly polished and talented authors there, the Rockys that already wear title belts in the form of an established and successful writing career.  Only at a convention like this can you sit down after a day of gleefully soaking up useful and insightful panel discussions, ready to refresh yourself with a Texas-sized Shiner Bock, and Peter Straub sits down next to you. Being new to writing conventions like this one, I took every opportunity to chat with the Rockys--the Straubs, Jack Ketchums, Joe Hills, and many others.

Yet it was the Clubbers that I found interesting. They had a swagger to them, an incredible light in their eyes (eye of the tiger, perhaps?) and passion and enthusiasm as they spoke about their expectations. I'm thirty, yet many were younger than me--they're the next wave, full of big ideas for the future of the book and for their own futures in the world of horror and publishing in general. Conversations like this were big highlights for me. Perhaps one day, I'll be able to say, "I had a beer with that guy back when he was on the verge of busting out."

So the networking and conversations and general fanboy goodness (I love me some Stephen Graham Jones, and to chat with him and Paul Tremblay was pretty awesome) was all great, but the panels were useful and entertaining as all hell.

The panel on writing realistic violence had an array of badasses telling you how streetfights and gunfights and knifefights really went down, complete with funny stories of broken bones, blackouts, and gunfire.  A panel on horror's place in the academic world made me yearn to enroll in Stephen Graham Jones's zombie class he carries at his university.  Speaking of zombies, how about a zombie mega-panel discussion?  Enough said.  And the panel I sat on about the future of the book was an eclectic mix of folks: the established (Joe Hill, Sarah Langan), the agents and publishing types (Robert Fleck, Jeff Burk) and the "who the hell is he and what's he doing up there?" (Fred Venturini). Without rehashing the hour discussion on the matter, the future of the book is unclear but exciting.  They're not going to die, they're going to evolve.  The frontier is upon us.  Who will the pioneers be?

My money is on the Clubber Langs of the world, and their passionate pursuit for their own championship belt--that effort is going to have a big impact on the future of the book.  I count myself lucky to be in that batch, trying to make a breakthrough.  The only thing missing is a booming Survivor anthem to motivate the effort.  I suppose Eye of the Tiger will have to do.