The hero, having returned from the wars, is happy to report that all is well, all is well, and all manner of things are well in the great state of Indiana. The second year that the Indiana Horror Writers have thrown their shindig, and the second year I’ve attended. I’m old news.

We cracked open some absinthe, poured a little in the dirt for our dearly missed homies (or,y’know, for Dr. K-Paff, who is not dead, but with whom I normally drink absinthe), and split the rest amongst ourselves. The immortal John Hay is an expert in the ritual preparation of the delicious stuff.

Gary Braunbeck and Lucy Snyder schooled us all in the ways of writing. They beat us about the head and neck with talent. We all hope the bruises will translate into some kind of transsubstantiative talent-transfer.

Matt Fucking Wallace. Was. There. Fuck yes.

Last year, very little writing or craft-workshop actually got done. Which was fine, because the weekend was really about hanging out, having fun, being with your own species. This year, the IHW shindig seemed to have evolved into something closer to an actual WRITER’S RETREAT. Which was excellent. We actually wrote. We actually workshopped. We read our stories in the round and applauded. Several people remarked that another day could have been tacked on and everyone would have stuck around.

I like panels. I hope to be on one some day. I would like to see them at the IHW retreat. I also like workshops. I bet we could fit in one more of those.

Now the wait begins… Mo*Con approaches. Slowly. See you suckers then.