Pumpkin Growing, ISFDB, and a Giveaway!
Every Day is Halloween #98: The Official Newsletter of Lisa Morton
Hi All!
After January’s madness, I’d hoped to have good news to share this month, but…wellllll…
The truth is that my writing career is in utter limbo right now. There is no next book, just a few short pieces coming in various anthologies. No movie options right now. This Substack is the main thing I’m writing at this point.
This is the first time in decades that I’ve had just nothing happening, and that is - to put it mildly - worrisome.
I’m not one of those writers who has a lucrative day job and views any writing income as fun money, but I’m also not someone who lives solely from their writing. I’m in a strange third class that seems to be somewhat rare: I count on both a day job AND writing to survive. After all, I own a home in one of the world’s most expensive cities (my beloved Los Angeles), and my day job - as a bookseller in a used indie bookstore - is work I love but it alone can’t come close to paying my bills. I don’t live extravagantly (cats are my biggest luxury expense!) and I have housemates to help cover the cost of my property taxes, but I can’t make it without writing income. The occasional surprise pay-out for residuals, royalties, or foreign sales helps, but advances are what I really count on.
I thought I’d have a deal on my novel by now, or on a non-fiction proposal I’ve also been working on for years…but nothing is happening, neither acceptance nor rejection. My agent says the novel is out there and the non-fiction proposal is almost ready to go, but editors are all kind of hiding out right now. All I can do is wait this dry spell out.
Before we go on, let me just ask a favor here: Please don’t blurt out, “Why don’t you self-publish?” I’ve studied indie publishing and I know it’s possible to make a good living from it, but I believe it relies on doing three things (not counting acquiring a generous helping of sheer dumb luck): 1) writing fiction series; 2) putting out a new book every three months; and 3) spending 80% of your time promoting, not writing. None of those things is going to work for me. Most self-published books sell fewer than 100 copies. In other words, self-publishing a novel might cover two car payments, but it might not. With traditional publishing I get an advance, so I know the money is there.
Yes, I am exploring other alternatives. So far the paid Substack isn’t exactly lighting up my accounts, but I’m not giving up on it yet either. And then, of course, there’s always going back to how I used to do things: follow markets and submit short stories to the ones that pay the best. But that frankly feels like a step backward. If I do that, I’ll probably challenge myself by trying out a new genre. Maybe mystery, maybe science fiction… Horror, of course, will always be my main jam, but maybe I need to shake things up a little.
At this point I’m open to anything. I had to buy a new car in December (I’d reached the point where my 22-year-old Toyota Corolla made me anxious with every new rattle), and I’d like to hang onto my sweet hybrid ride.
Here’s hoping for better, more profitable news soon…
Lisa
NEW STUFF I LIKE
I’ve always loved the beautiful art books produced by Taschen (hey, Taschen, listen to this: YOU NEED TO DO A HALLOWEEN ART BOOK), so when they recently had a 50% off sale, I picked up (for less than what I’d pay for these used) two titles from their “Library of Esoterica”: Witchcraft and Tarot, both by Jessica Hundley.
These books are, of course, gorgeous, but the text is also very good. I have no doubt that they’ll become a valuable part of my research library, books that I’ll return to for both art inspiration and fact-checking. Highly recommended (even if you have to pay full price!).
Current favorite song: “Trouble” by Sharon Van Etten & The Attachment Theory
THE HALLOWEEN SPIRIT
It’s that time of year again when I think about pumpkin-growing.
Here in SoCal, the climate has changed so much over the last ten years that I can’t wait until May or June to start pumpkins; if I do, they’ll just be fried by the intense heat of August and September (which was not a thing prior to about 2017).
Every year I weigh whether to do it or not. It’s a lot of work. It uses up water - a valuable resource! - on something that I won’t even eat. I grow pumpkins purely for decoration and fun.
I hadn’t really planned on doing it last year, frankly…but then I threw some old seeds that a friend gave me out into the dirt, and damned if they didn’t go nuts, producing the beauties in the photo above.
So yes, I’ve decided to grow pumpkins in 2025. I opted for what was probably my all-time favorite variety from previous growing seasons: Harris Seeds’ “Warty Goblin.”
Let’s see if my good growing luck from 2024 can make a comeback this year.
STRANGE DOINGS
Whenever I'm asked (as I often am) in interviews whether I think any of the 19th-century Spiritualist mediums actually possessed the ability to commune with spirits, I talk about Georgiana Houghton. Houghton was unquestionably possessed of extraordinary talents...to create art. Now considered to be one of the grandparents of modern abstract art, she produced her glorious works while in a trance state, claiming to be in communication with great artists of the past. At the same time, she was an assistant to Frederick Hudson, a spirit photographer who she obviously knew was committing fraud. She fascinates me for these and other reasons.
While recently doing some idle scrolling, I stumbled across the above photo on ebay. If I had a spare $1,499.99, it would be hanging on a wall where I could see it every day and continue to marvel at her.
BEHIND THE SCREAMS
“Dark Ride” from Spine Tinglers
Many of you probably remember me talking here before about my brief-lived Spine Tinglers podcast, which consisted of short-short stories by me read by celebrities. Even though only about a dozen were recorded (Covid got in the way), I wrote about three dozen. They all went into the Spine Tinglers book that came out last year.
Many of the stories were based on suggestions by the podcast’s co-producer Rob Cohen, while others were just straight outta my head. I no longer remember which generated the story “Dark Ride,” but I do remember that once I’d decided to do a story about an old carnival ride I ran up against one teensy problem: I’d already done one that I liked a great deal. That earlier story, “The Devil,” was in my collection Monsters of L.A. and was about a young couple going through a Haunted Mansion-style dark ride at a major amusement park.
I wanted to steer this one away from that, so I opted to set it in a nasty, clanking old county fair-type dark ride. It would still involve a young couple on a date, but it would take a much nastier turn than “The Devil”: I wanted to delve into the idea that those old dark rides could turn really scary, harboring more than just dusty mannequins and black lights.
I really enjoyed writing these little Spine Tingler tales and I hope that shows in “Dark Ride,” included below as a free read.
THE WRITE STUFF
There’s a secret research weapon I find myself returning to more and more these days in both my day job as a bookseller and my career job as writer and editor: The Internet Speculative Fiction Database (or ISFDB).
ISFDB is both more and less detailed than something like Wikipedia: it doesn’t offer long bios or discussions of an author’s work, but it does present comprehensive bibliographies that show everywhere an author’s work has been published.
How is this useful? As an editor who puts together books of older fiction, it allows me to track down stories that I want to read. If a story’s original place of publication is too hard to find, ISFDB will tell me all the places it was reprinted.
As a bookseller, it tells me exactly what the first edition of a book was, and will often even tell me who the cover artist on that first edition (or any later printing) was. It also tells me if there was a publisher’s number or ISBN assigned to the book and the cover price, all useful in establishing whether a book is a true first printing or not.
Recently, I’ve been using it in an odd way: I go to the front page, where it lists birth and death dates of authors every day, and I go down the list to see if there are older authors I haven’t read. Using this method I’ve recently found several gems.
If you ever find yourself needing to research speculative fiction authors - or just want to browse a fascinating site! - I highly recommend ISFDB.
NEWS & WORKS IN PROGRESS
If you join Crystal Lake Academy via their free Heartbeat account, you’ll have access to both a free short video and a $20 two-hour video course from me on putting together anthologies.
February 16 saw a very special signing at Dark Delicacies in Burbank: it was my final signing event there. The legendary store is closing on April 5. I’ve signed at Dark Delicacies more times than I can count, and they’ve been a crucial part of L.A.’s horror community.
The signing was for the new Stephen Jones book Videotapes From Hell. See the photo below for the contributors who were in attendance. We had a great - if somewhat melancholy - day.
On February 20, I found myself in a Burbank courthouse to deliver a statement during the sentencing hearing of the young driver who killed my colleague and friend David J. Skal and his partner Bob Postawko on January 1, 2024. Here is the statement I delivered to the court:
A STATEMENT REGARDING DAVID J. SKAL
When David J. Skal was tragically killed in a New Year’s Day car crash, the world lost one of its most significant scholars of popular culture and film history.
It really is nearly impossible to overstate the importance and influence of Mr. Skal’s work. I knew him as an author before I met him in 1999; I was especially a fan of his 1993 book The Monster Show: A Cultural History of Horror, which has become a standard reference for those of us who write non-fiction studies of horror. In the early 2000s David and I both released books on the history of Halloween – the holiday, not the films – and so, as Halloween experts with lots of media appearances, our paths crossed frequently and we became friends.
Any new book released by David was a cause for celebration, whether it was a biography of Bram Stoker or an examination of the role of mad scientists in popular culture. He spoke to me over the last few years about other books he was working on, and now I’m saddened to know we’ll never have those books. At just 71 years of age he was still excited about his work, and now his genius has been snuffed out. As a friend and colleague, I’ll miss our chats; but this is a greater loss for readers and scholars all over the world. Because of the criminally bad behavior of one person, we’ll never know what other insights David had to offer to extend our understanding of the darker corners of popular culture.
I thank the court for its consideration.
UPCOMING APPEARANCES
March 17 - “When We Write, We Win”: I’ll be with Ryane Nicole Granados, traci akemi kato-kiriyama, and Kate Maruyama at the North Hollywood Library at 2 pm for a panel about women writers.
March 23 - I’ll be in Glendale signing at 1 p.m. at the Los Angeles Vintage Paperback Collectors Show
June 12-15 - I’ll be in Stamford, CT for StokerCon
THE WHOLE HAUNTED WORLD
February saw me delivering my in-depth piece on how The Odyssey presents history’s first great seance; a follow-up visit to the Queen Mary; and a few odds and ends. Coming up:
The Bible’s one great ghost story: Saul and the Witch of Endor
The magician who challenged Christ’s apostles to ghost-summoning battles
WHERE YOU CAN BUY MY BOOKS
GIVEAWAY
As promised above, here’s my Spine Tinglers story “Dark Ride” as a free read this month. All aboard!
”Dark Ride”
As Dani and Evan walked through the county fairgrounds looking for the haunted house ride, she risked a side glance at him and thought, He’s actually not too bad.
They’d met via an online dating service, where Dani had included her love of dark rides (“the older and cheesier, the better!”) in her profile. Evan’s had also mentioned dark rides (“If you like to get scared in a ride, I’m your guy”), they’d texted, and, since it was late summer, arranged a date at the County Fair.
It was a Friday night, and although the area just beyond the front entrance was crowded with strolling families and couples clutching cotton candy and corn dogs, the haunted house ride was situated away from the action, at the fairgrounds’ far edge. Evan bought them tickets and then led the way. As they walked, they made the usual small talk: traffic, work, weather.
He doesn’t seem TOO creepy, Dani thought.
“So have you always loved dark rides?” he asked, as they strolled the midway, between game and food stalls.
“Yeah, but it’s a little more than that. I’m part of a group that’s putting together a study of them. We go to as many as we can, catalog them, stuff like that.”
“Wow. So you’ve got almost a professional interest.”
“Almost.”
“How many have you personally been to?”
Dani took a second to calculate before she answered, “Thirty-six.”
Finally they found the haunted house ride, set apart from the midway, appropriately – eerily – isolated. There were only two couples in line before them as Dani and Evan walked up the ramp to the boarding area.
“I love that stupid mural,” Dani said, eyeing the grotesque, badly-painted monsters adorning the ride’s façade. Jagged letters in yellow shrieked “HAUNTED HOUSE” above portraits of a vampire, a zombie, and several things that were simply unidentifiable. Dani paused to photograph it before putting her phone back in her shoulder bag.
Evan smiled as he took it in the cheap art. “It’s pretty great, in that so-bad-it’s-good way.”
Dani had to admit he was kind of cute, in a nerdy, fanboy way. He wore a beat-up old leather jacket that he probably thought was either hip or hid his chunkiness, but she guessed it was a hand-me-down from an older brother.
One of the couples before them boarded. The ride attendant, a tall, gangly dude with long stringy hair wearing overalls, didn’t seem to be in any hurry.
“What all do you carry in that huge thing?” Evan asked, nodding at the colorful knit bag she had slung over her shoulder.
“Oh,” Dani said, looking down, “the usual girl stuff: phone, tissues, hand sanitizer, mace.”
Evan’s eyebrows went up. “Mace? In case the date didn’t work out?”
“Or for the monsters in this terrifying haunted house,” Dani said, trying to sound cheerful.
The last couple before them climbed into a clanking car that squealed as it rounded the first curve and bumped through the wooden doors going into the ride. From inside, Dani heard the sounds of recorded demonic laughter, screams, and hydraulic blasts.
“We’re up next,” Evan said. He reached out and took her hand. She let him. His grip was nice: firm without crushing, dry and gentle.
Finally they were the last couple in line; no one else had come up to wait behind them. The lanky attendant let a few cars go by empty before he waved them up. “What was he waiting for?” Dani whispered as they were seated in the old rickety wooden car.
“Maybe to let stuff reset,” Evan whispered back.
Silently, the attendant pulled the safety bar down over them, then punched a button on a control board beside the track. The car shot forward, moving toward the first door. “Here we go,” Evan muttered as he gave her hand a little squeeze.
Once inside, the sensations began: there, as usual with dark rides, were the strobing lights catching horrific figures and painted walls, there were the sounds of whooping laughter and, from somewhere farther down the track, ominous organ music…but there was something else in this ride, something different: a bad smell, like food that had been rotting for a long time.
A giant rat, its fake fur matted with age, shot forward at them, its air ram an amplified hiss. Evan laughed before leaning in close. “Hey, did you know there’s an urban legend about this dark ride?”
“No,” Dani said, her eyes riveted to a tunnel that now swirled madly around the car, its colorful sides illuminated in blacklight. “What is it?”
“They say that some of the figures in this ride are real.”
“Real? Like, what – real werewolves?”
“No. Like…” The car turned a corner, its wheels squealing, banged through a door painted like a stone castle wall, and wound its way down a corridor lined with hanging bodies. “Like those. Real.”
Dani looked up and had to admit that the overhead figures were better than the average dark ride mannequins; their flesh was impressively withered and darkened, the hair scraggly, lips drawn back to reveal brown teeth. But more than the visuals, Dani noticed that smell again, the smell of something gone bad. She knew about the scent cannons that were used in the major amusement park haunted mazes, but was surprised that a cheap carnival dark ride had something that sophisticated.
“But they’re just dummies,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
She actually wasn’t. As the car rumbled on, she counted ten of the hanged figures, all displaying the same attention to gruesome detail.
They reached the end of that section, the car swerved, pounded through another set of doors, and…
The new scene was a graveyard, filled with cheap cardboard cut-out tombstones sporting ludicrous names like “Sam E. Terry”, lit in flashing deep blue light that imprinted the images on Dani’s retinas.
And there were more bodies, thrown down on graves, spilling out of plywood coffins, propped up against the walls.
The car reached the middle of the graveyard scene and rattled to a halt.
Dani looked around. “Why have we stopped?” She started to pull her hand away from her date’s, but his grip tightened on her wrist. “Evan…?”
“I didn’t get to tell you the rest of the urban legend about this place: they say it’s owned by this clan who have a bunch of dark rides like this one, that they occasionally kill the guests, use some of the victims for props, but eat the rest.” He let his eyes pass over her before adding, “Guess which one you’re gonna be?”
His other hand reached under that stupid leather jacket and came out holding something that made a little thwick sound as he pressed a button. Dani caught the sudden gleam of a blade under the flickering blue light. He drew his arm back, pulled her closer, grinned –
She fired her pistol right through the bag, and Evan took two bullets to the chest and one to the right thigh. The impact threw him out of the car onto one of the coffins. He clutched weakly at his wounds, blood gushing through his fingers as he looked up at her in shock and confusion.
“You dumbshit,” Dani said, as she stepped out of the car, her ears still ringing from the shots. “You had me until you launched into the ‘urban legend’ bullshit. If it hadn’t been for that, you might’ve taken me by surprise. As it is, now I’m going to go hunt down the rest of your little cannibal clan and take them out. Thanks for making it easy.” When her keys fell out of the fresh holes in the bag, Dani kicked Evan angrily. “Damn, now I have to get a new bag, asshole.”
Evan convulsed a last time and then went still. As Dani wound up the ruined bag and tucked it under one arm, she knew she might not have much time to finish the job. She hoped the rest of the family wasn’t armed; that always made it harder. And she still had so much work to do.
After all, there were dark rides in carnivals and fairs and amusement parks all over the world.
Thanks as always for reading this far!
First let me extend bymy deepest condolences. Your court statement was powerful. I assume he was covicted accordingly.
I'm sorry to hear about dry spell . Hopefully someone will recognize your talent. in the next few months
On a lighter note, your pumpkins are fabulous, no matter what month they appear. Regards to R.L.
RIP David J. Skal. He was an astounding writer who was able to teach me a great deal about horror across all media. As a popular culture historian, I will always cite him as an important predecessor.