In Laymon's Terms

HE MOST IMPORTANT things are usually the hardest to say...which explains why I have sat down three or four times now to write this short introduction to In Laymon’s Terms.

I miss Dick Laymon. I think that’s maybe the most important single thing I have to say here. I miss talking to him on the phone. I miss his letters (yes, he wrote great letters, and I still have a file stuffed with them). I miss listening to him laugh and talk books and movies and people.

After he passed away, I ran a special tribute section in honor of Dick in Cemetery Dance magazine. A lot of great friends wrote lengthy essays to honor him. Mine was only a handful of short paragraphs, but I meant every word.

Here is what I wrote:

We never met but spent many hours on the telephone. Talking. Laughing. Brain-storming. Dreaming. So many stories. So many plans. So many words between us.

And now I’m left in silence.

God, I miss those phone calls.

I miss his wisdom, his kindness, his easy sense of humor. I miss his childlike wonder, his laughter, his wonderful celebration of family.

Dick Laymon was a treasure. As a writer...and a man.

I was honored to call him my friend.

Dick Laymon was, indeed, a treasure. And his work still is. We’re lucky to have it. As all of the authors in this book will tell you and as they demonstrate so well with their own Laymon-inspired contributions.

It’s my hope that all of us in the scary story genre continue to learn from Dick. Not only as creators, but as fathers, husbands, and friends. Dick set a helluva example to follow.

In the meantime, enjoy the stories that follow. Cringe, cover your eyes, and giggle out loud. Dick would want that.

Steve Gerlach

T SEEMS SO long ago now, 1996.

Thirteen years ago I started my online journey, a journey that has taken countless hours of my time and effort, been full of frustration and joys, sadness and wonder. I’ve met some terrific people online, and I hold these people to be some of my closest and dearest friends.

Critics said the Internet would cause people to become more reclusive, more solitary. I disagree. The Internet has brought me in touch with some of the dearest people I know. And for that, I thank it.

Still, we’re talking about 1996 here, when this go-get-’em Aussie from Melbourne, Australia decided to buy an X-Files modem, run a phone extension cord from the lounge room, up the hall and to the study, and log in for the first time.

You know that initial “Internet fever” you get when you first log on? There’s so much to see and so many places to visit. You have no idea where to start, or where to stop, and the fever just takes hold.

But my first visit online was also tinged with some sadness. I did the usual searches for everything from JFK ASSASSINATION to KISS, JACK THE RIPPER to HORROR BOOKS, but one search that brought me no results was RICHARD LAYMON OFFICIAL SITE.

I’d been a Laymonite since at least 1988 when I bought my first Laymon, The Woods are Dark. I read it and loved it. I’d grown tired of King and Koontz, with their bloated exposition and flashbacks that took half a novel. What I wanted was lean and mean in-your-face horror, and I got it with Laymon. After The Woods are Dark, I started searching for more by this fabulous writer. Night Show was next, and then The Cellar.

The owner at my local bookstore rolled his eyes every time I came in. I’m sure he was thinking, Here’s that weird Laymon guy again. In fact, I must have been a total pain in the ass. I would visit the bookstore every few weeks, wanting to know if there was any news on the latest Laymon release—there never was—and whether any of his back-ordered titles had arrived.

I can still remember the buzz of joy I received whenever I got a phone call to tell me a new Laymon novel was in. I’d be at the bookstore in no time, picking it up and getting home as soon as possible to start another great Laymon read.

And that’s why I was disappointed when my web search returned no website for Richard Laymon. The supposed “repository of all knowledge” had no information about Richard Laymon, other than a few book reviews here and there (remember, this was before the Amazons of this world made book searching so easy!).

Well, 1996 was during my “black stage” and, so, I had a suitably black answer to this lack of information:

“Well, fuck that!”