Columns and Editorials


Over the many years of my career as a writer, I've found myself in just about every collaborative situation in existence, and I thought maybe it was time to pass on what I've experienced, learned, and observed during this time. Why? Well, two reasons, basically. The first is that I'm an arrogant, incorrigible know-it-all, and spouting my own opinions is one of my first loves. The second is this: collaboration is not like any other writing experience you will ever undertake. No matter what the two inputs might be, the output, if the creative process is truly shared, will be unique. I've been through this particular mill with a great number of other authors, and found professional level publication with most of them. Some of my most memorable work has been created alongside a couple of familiar Chiaroscuro names: Brian Hopkins, Brett Alexander Savory, and Richard Rowand, who I collaborated with on a Chizine contest entry.

Those of you who have been following my erratic effort at an on-line journal over at know about my current collaborations with the artist Lisa Snelling. This is an entirely different experience, no less intriguing, but possibly more demanding. Bringing her 3-D images and sculptures to life in prose, through my own lens, is quite the experience. It doesn't hurt that the other collaborator is Neil Gaiman, but then, from my perspective, that sort of raises the bar (and the pressure) a few more notches. Thanks, Neil.

Then there is the serial collaboration, such as the story "Pseudofiction" published long ago in The Tome, authored by myself and about six others, or the Red, Red Robin Project that Brian Hopkins published featuring ALL...


I seem to come back again and again to certain topics, and I promise that it is remotely possible that this will be the last time I try to put my jumbled thoughts on this particular subject into coherent order. Just remotely possible, though, because the subject is one that?while it might disappear for a while?will inevitably be picked up and asked by the next generation of new authors and publishers coming down the pike. Actually, in fact, most of these questions end up getting asked after the fact?after the business has failed, the books have piled in boxes in the attic, and the money has gone WHOOSH out the window. Sometimes these questions never even get asked, and the principles involved go through the rest of their lives explaining at length how the publishing world denied them fame, how the work they put out was too innovative, avant-garde, or literary for the masses. How promotion or distribution killed them. How tons of crap was being published and people bought all of that, but somehow missed out on their genius. So, yes, here I go again. Some pitfalls of independent publishing, some reasons to consider not doing it, some suggestions on what to do if you ignore the prior reasons, and some things you don't want to hear.

One of the biggest mistakes you can make as a new publisher is to try and build a business based on anthologies. There are dozens of good reasons why this is so, but sadly (and in a manner that mystifies me) these reasons rush over and around the would-be publisher and they never really seem to catch on anything long enough to be understood. Let me qualify this up front so no one gets offended or gets riled to the point of ignoring what I'm about to say out of hand: I am not saying you cannot publish an anthology and make...


Over the course of 20 plus years of writing, I have been asked myriad questions, and seen some of the same questions asked of, and answered by, more writers than I care to date myself by mentioning. I thought, after all this time, and without the irritant of someone asking in e-mail, or while I'm sitting on some panel that they are only attending so that they can have a good seat for the s


Instead of a regular column this time out, I thought I'd share something I'm doing in a different neck of the net. It's an on-line journal I'm keeping on , the site I started for my upcoming novel, Deep Blue.

The journal is here .

The reason I thought it would be appropriate as columnesque material is that in the journal I have recently followed the process of creating a collaborative story. Not your average collaborative story, mind you, but a story based on my impressions of a piece of art by the talented Lisa Snelling. I'm currently co-authoring a book of short stories with Neil Gaiman titled Lost and Found?all inspired by Lisa's art, to be presented at an undetermined date in a gorgeous art-book format.

Anyway, I will be putting up a column soon on collaboration in general, and thought this would be a good way to start the New Year.

From the Shadeaux,

David Niall Wilson


I want to take the words and time allotted me here to write a little bit about the other side of the writing game?publishing. There are a lot of sites on the Internet, and a lot of newsletters, fanzines, and even slick hardcover manuals to help you decide where to submit your work as a writer, explaining guidelines and print runs, genres and formats that will help you to find your way into print.

What you won't find much of is instructions or guidelines for becoming a publisher. There are literally thousands of publishers now, of various types, levels, and competence. You can go from the photocopied fanzine or the book on a floppy disk all the way up to Putnam and Simon & Schuster, and there are so many levels in between it can boggle the mind.

And there are differences. What I want to cover here is my own thoughts on smaller, independent publishing, things that should be, things that are, and things that should not be. I want to cover the responsibility of setting yourself up to publish, the costs and labor you can expect to incur, and how to keep from imploding before you get up a good head of steam.

I'm not speaking just off the cuff here. I published "The Tome" for several years, was involved in Macabre Inc., a small-press venture that published limited collections, and I've been on the periphery of a number of presses, both smaller and larger, seen them grow and fall, fly and fail. And I've written for a great number of them.

So here's rule number one. Dig it, you can't become a publisher or an editor, just by saying you are one. I started out publishing "The Tome" because I was convinced that I could do better than other publications I was familiar with. I learned how to be better, the hard way, but if I'd had this...


Since I'm currently back in the position of editor, if only for the length of a single project, I thought I might take this opportunity to spew my opinions on this subject, particularly on the subject of anthologies in the genre. I sometimes get an idea in my head that itches itself into an irritation, and that is the case with this subject. The more I think about it, the more I have to vent those thoughts or risk allowing the irritation to blossom into outright frustration.

I've been writing horror fiction for a long time now. In that time, I've sold to a lot of magazines, and a number of anthologies. I've worked with good editors, bad editors, editors with amazing qualifications, and those with none at all. I've worked on themed projects, those without rhyme or reason, and structured shared-world fiction. I state all of that for the sole purpose of noting that, if from no other point of reference than experience, I have a good idea what I'm talking about.

I am going to attack this from three sides, that of the editor, the reader, and of the author. What I want to point out is a trend that I find ridiculous in the extreme, and then, in the age-old clich


Where to start is always my problem when it comes to these columns. I have a lot to say about a lot of things, and sometimes I have to draw back the reins on my lips and contemplate what I might say that would be useful in an other-than-venting-and-therapeutic sense. I could talk about the war, but I think enough people are talking about the war. In fact, you can turn on any news channel and see two things happening simultaneously. You can see the press intruding ridiculously and mindlessly where they have no business, replaying the same footage ad nauseum until something new "breaks"?reporters waving microphones at military leaders and congressmen and whoever they can find who will talk, asking why they won't "please tell us all the vital secret parts of what you are doing, when you are going to do it, how you will do it, and how it makes your brother-in-law in Kansas feel to KNOW you are doing it so we can broadcast it to the world (and the enemy) and render your plans useless. You owe it to us, you know, because we are the free press. Enquiring minds, and all." Screw that. It's a freaking war. People are dying, and somehow I don't believe those men and women of the press have that in the forefront of their Pulitzer-seeking-missile of a group mind at all. I think they see the story.

The second thing you will see is the phantom we call history in its nebulous, early stages. The fundamental error in most people's perception of history is that they believe it is possible, likely, and even in some cases a gospel certainty, that events will be recorded as they actually happened, and that ten years from now a person can look at the recorded history and get a clear, accurate, and honest impression of what has come before. It's a fool's hope. For a...


I really can't start this column without a rundown of Hurricane Isabel. You just don't live through something like that without it changing your perspective on things. We hunkered down in our big old house (about 92 years old) in NC and waited for the storm to hit. Now, keep in mind that nearly every year at least one storm threatens our coast, and the news gets in an uproar. Bottled water and tape become extinct. Batteries are not to be had. I guess, for me, the media had called "wolf" one time too many, and this time I didn't bite. Figures.

Trish and I went to bed late Wednesday night (or possibly early Thursday morning) worrying about what would happen. Internet sources were vague, and the news actually seemed to be holding back actual updates to get people to tune back in later. Ratings before viewers, it would seem. No surprise there. All we could do was wait, and, oddly we both slept through until about 8:00. The phone rang then. Trish got up and was talking to one of her many step-daughters when I decided to roll out and join her. Coffee was made, and I got a cup.

Just as we were about to head into our office to check reports on computer and television, the power went out. It would remain out until late Monday afternoon, but I'm getting ahead of myself. We shuffled about, dug the few batteries we had in drawers out, forbade all children and adults alike to open the refrigerator, wanting to preserve everything we could, and finally managed to get a radio working. We gathered around that and listened, but still, reports were vague.

By this time, it was raining pretty hard, wind was up. I brought the dog in and put him in his sky kennel in the dining room. This is where he lived for a long time, but very recently I'd...


Have I said lately that I’m not politically correct?  In point of fact, I hate the term, the very idea of it, and the sickening way it has affected changes in our society.  I hate that the people who were going to grow up and change the world for the better, “do their own thing,” and promote “peace and love” are the very people most likely in this day and age to do exactly the opposite.

When I was young, there was an occasional controversy over a book with something “questionable” in it, but I remember writing a junior high book report on Kurt Vonnegut Jr.– that I remember vividly.  What do you suppose would happen if a teen aged child brought home THE SIRENS OF TITAN in today’s world?  One of two things, I’m guessing.  Either nothing, because their parents don’t give a rat’s ass what they read, and probably never read it or anything nearly so literate in their lives–or they would pick it up, thumb through it and lock in like fire-control radar on the part where the protagonist and his lover are kept in a cage by aliens so that they can observe all of their behavior, including sexual.

Fiction is something that is best when it is true to the time at which it was written.  It is unbelievable to me that some idiot ( and yes, I mean that–I don’t care if they are supporting their own opinion, this is mine ) has nothing better to do than to start trouble in schools because of the way that an ethnic group is addressed in a classic piece of literature.  It might not be okay today to use the terminology, but it was accepted *then* and that is all that matters.  Next they’ll be going through and removing all...


Writing a column around the new year always puts me in mind of school assignments. The urge to write a memoir of the year gone by, and a list of resolutions for that to come, is overwhelming. This year, in particular, I’m Jones’n’ to get it all into some sort of cosmic perspective.

Things happened in 2001 that will never be forgotten, things in my life—things throughout the world. I’m not going to dwell on all of that. I’m dying to, but I won’t. There have been words enough written about the tragedies and triumphs of the year to fill volumes, and though there are those of you who value my opinions, or enjoy being pissed off by them, or read this so you can shake your heads collectively and ponder my madness, I don’t believe that any re-hashing of what has been through my perspective will add significantly to the slush piles of history.

The future. That I can get into—hell, even as I type, I’m there, or there from the perspective of the first word of this column, and thenceforth and so on . . . time is unforgiving in that, no matter how hard you prepare for any single moment of it, that moment passes with the same indifference as any other. There are millions - possibly billions, particularly if you ascribe them to animals and other critters—of perspective lines crossing any given instant in time. A single event could twist into a thousand short stories, hundreds of songs, love and war, hate and enlightenment. If one follows this line of thought for very long, insanity is a given. I think, probably, Lovecraft was given to such thoughts during his creative periods. He certainly enjoyed fuzzing the lines between reality and what MIGHT be reality—...