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I have no empirical evidence, but I’m going to guess that most regular Yard-apes are not regular perusers of No More Potlucks, the Montreal-based online culture journal. So I commend you to my story “OOPS,” just now gone live in their Mea Culpa issue. Guest-editor Mariko Tamaki approached me to write a Mea Culpa story […]

There were so many G20 moments worthy of note here in Toronto over the weekend: the moments when black-clad droogs raised the world’s consciousness about the dangers of fiscal restraint by setting police cars on fire, smashing store windows and lobbing mailboxes into roads; the moments where police boxed joggers, dog-walkers and Oh-Canada singing protesters

Well this takes me back. In 1991 (or so) Karl Schroeder and I sat down at a Brother portable typerwriter in a farmhouse on the top of the Niagara Escarpment, and banged out the line, “The man in the moon’s smile began to slip. It turned into a leer.” Which was the first line of

The Death Dealer comes for us all – even Frank Frazetta, the illustrator who almost single-handedly shaped the id of the 20th century teenaged boy; put the thew in Conan; and painted the covers of three-quarters of the paperbacks I read in 1979, easy. I would say Rest in Peace, but in Mr. Frazetta’s case,

Well that was some Goddamn fun I had, spending the weekend at Ad Astra as I did, staying up too late and doing a stink of a lot of panels and flashing the cover of Monstrous Affections in front of very many people who had no idea what was coming. Ad Astra is the local

Back from one convention, off to another: Ad Astra, in Toronto this time. It is at the Toronto Don Valley Hotel and Suites – a venue remarkably similar to the Toronto Crown Plaza Hotel, where it was held last year. Both hotels are located in the same physical space, at 1250 Eglinton Avenue East. The

Well I’m back, from England and Brighton and the World Horror Convention. The business end of it was pretty straightforward, and went very well. We had to get there on Thursday in time to launch ChiZine’s line of books that night. This, we did – with a certain amount of gusto, I think. Gemma Files,

I’m going to be at the World Horror Convention, cheerful but bleary-eyed after a red-eye flight from Toronto to London, and a bus ride to Brighton, on Thursday morning. If you’re there, Yard-ape, say hello. I’m not signed up for any programming, alas – I got my membership after all that had been finalized. But

This evening, I’m planning on spending some time at the Bitten By Books site, along with fellow Tesseracts Thirteen authors – for a part of a day-long marathon online interview-fest, in the continued launch of the chilling edition of the Canadian sf anthology. My story, “The Radejastians,” is an innocent enough story about the benefits

I’m beginning to think that my hometown of Toronto has more in common with Arkham, Innsmouth and Dunwich than just its aura of loathsomeness to the rest of the country. Turns out this town is, like Innsmouth, a bastion of eldritchery. Case in point: Joseph Nanni, a local H.P. Lovecraft fancier and film-maker of great