Hellnotes Editorial

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As we anticipate (finally) getting back on a regular schedule around here, Paul has unveiled a new project — a Web site that will focus on his independent projects and a variety of other topics, some of which may not quite fit under the umbrella here at olsonandsilva.com. Despite the occasional detour or outright divergence, that site should complement this one quite nicely as time goes by.

Apparently, there was some sort of large-scale natural disaster that none of us heard about on CNN — a huge fire, a flood, an earthquake, at attack of locusts, frogs raining from the sky, or the arrival of pale horsemen on pale horses. Something like that must have happened, because the company that formerly hosted this site (as well as Hellnotes, Dave’s personal site and many other Web sites that he administers) simply vanished off the face of the earth a few weeks ago. This was a seemingly reputable firm that had never given us a moment’s trouble or cause for concern, so you see, it must have been something of strange and biblical proportions that caused them to disappear overnight, with no notice, no explanation, and no response to our queries.

At first, we didn’t think much of the “service outage.” About six weeks ago, the whole system had gone down for a couple of days, presumably for some technical problem or other. It seemed likely that the same thing was happening again, and we expected everything to be back to normal in a day or two. But then two days stretched to three, then to seven, then to ten, and with no response from the hosting company, it became clear that we’d have to make a move.

Which is precisely what we have done.

Set up with a new host, we then faced the daunting task of rebuilding the site. What should have been just a minor nuisance, a boring busywork sort of task, soon turned into a major headache, when it became clear that neither of us had a complete local backup of what was posted here before.

I know … I know. You can say it. You can call us every name in the book. It’s true. We were idiots. And we’ve learned our lessons, believe me. From this day hence, we will always — always — keep local copies of our Web sites. Did I say always? Because that’s exactly what I meant. Daily backups. Local copies. Always.

Fortunately, the story has a happy ending. I was eventually able to salvage all the old material in several different ways (one of them quite mysterious, even miraculous), which brings us to where we are today — in rebuilding mode.

As of now, just the biography and FAQ pages have been reposted, but as I said below, the rest will be gradually reappearing over the next week or so. That includes all of the exclusive material and all of the old posts. There’s a fair amount of formatting involved, so it’s relatively time-consuming, but when I start getting frustrated, I remind myself that the problems here are nothing like what Dave is facing at Hellnotes, where hundreds of posts need to be put back up. We’re all thinking of you, Dave, we really are. Now get back to work!

Anyway, that’s our story in a nutshell. There may be more to tell someday, including the fairly inexplicable way I was able to capture some of that old material. But for now, let me just say thanks for your patience and your support. It means a lot, and we appreciate it.

We’ve had a few technical problems, but they’re being ironed out even as I write this. Over the next week or two, you should start seeing all the old content reappear, including posts, links, exclusive material, etc.

As the title says, please stand by. All should be back to normal — or what passes for normal around these parts — soon.

I honestly can’t say enough good things about this novel, but let me try to at least say a few:

The Shadow of the Wind is a long, dark, densely-plotted, sometimes horrific, often thrilling, frequently humorous and overall enchanting treasure house of a novel. It’s a love letter to books and literature, writing, thinking, and ultimately, a love letter to love itself. It is overstuffed with both high ideas and gothic cliches, and seems written with the belief that a plot twist is no good unless it leads to at least a dozen more. It’s a reminder of why we read, why we write, why we crave stories in our lives … and a reminder that a good novel should be like life itself, not a rocket ride on a straight line, designed to get us from A to Z as quickly as possible, but a winding, mysterious journey.

It’s impossible to summarize this book without A) giving too much away, B) ruining the fun, or C) sounding utterly ridiculous. But I can tell you that The Shadow of the Wind is filled with dark mysteries, baffling quests, tense pursuits, great heroes, terrific villains, doomed romances, and even a genuinely creepy “haunted house.” Above all, it has plot to spare, and Zafon spins it all out like a master.

The Shadow of the Wind at Amazon

Although I once swore I’d never again take on that kind of obligation, things are a bit different this time, with a looser structure and a much more flexible deadline. In other words, I can write an editorial if and when I feel like it, as often or as little as I like; who can pass up an offer like that?

In all honesty, I’m looking forward to this project. My deep, dark secret is that I always enjoyed doing the Hellnotes editorials. The stress level and brain-drain were fairly severe, but the process was challenging, the work often pleasant and the feedback gratifying. When Dave and I first passed on the reins of the newsletter in 2002, it was an immense relief not to have that editorial shadow hanging over my head … but I kind of missed it, too.

It’s been exciting to see the success of Hellnotes in its latest version (using the popular if somewhat silly system of numbering everything in life as if it were software, I make this out to be Hellnotes 6.0 — maybe 7.0 if you count Dave’s original “Hellnotes” column in The Horror Show). It will be fun to be part of that madness once more.

My first column was posted yesterday. It doesn’t say much — it’s more of a mood-setter than anything — but if you’re interested, you can find it here.

Over the years, I only had a few chances to work with Charlie. He was a supporter of my old magazine, Horrorstruck. He provided a pair of terrific tales for Post Mortem and Dead End. He offered gentle, thoughtful and constructive rejections every time I tried to sell him something. (He also was generous about suggesting alternative markets for a particular story, which shows just what kind of editor he was, although I probably didn’t appreciate it enough at the time. I didn’t want to see my work in this anthology or that magazine. I wanted to reach my own personal holy grail. I wanted to be good enough to have a story in Shadows, dammit.)

As you can see, Charlie and I weren’t exactly “colleagues.” More like ships that kept passing in the night, often within sighting distance, occasionally within hailing distance. But I still felt closer to him than almost anyone else in the field, simply because I idolized him so much.

When I attended my first World Fantasy Convention (WFC 5, Providence, 1979), I was only marginally familiar with Charlie’s work, but that all changed over the course of that magic weekend. After watching him on several panels, chatting briefly with him during the autograph party and again in the dealers’ room, buying everything of his I could lay my hands on and gobbling down part of a novel and several short stories … well, let’s just say that by the time I left the east coast and flew back to Michigan, I had a new role model. I spent the next several weeks immersed in the work of Charles L. Grant and never looked back.

It was a pivotal time in the life of a young writer who was just then taking the first tentative steps toward a career, and Charlie became a brilliant signpost on that winding, mysterious path.

He was the kind of writer I wanted to be — not insanely, stratospherically successful, but someone who earned a living with his craft, who seemed to find real joy in doing the work, who always took that work seriously, who understood the field and truly believed in it, who saw value in the genre and eloquently expressed his feelings about it, who charted his own course in defiance of trends, who switched back and forth from writer to editor with apparent ease, who was helpful and kind and generous, and who, along the way, earned the sincere respect of his peers. Wow, I thought. If I could do all of that, I would be a happy man indeed.

Did I achieve the goal? No. But as I’ve told a few other people this week, I only missed the mark because what I wanted to achieve was nearly impossible. Charlie had set a standard that was simply too high to reach.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll feel this sensation of loss, this little black hole in my spirit, this … this emptiness. A long time, I’m sure. Perhaps forever. That’s what happens when a piece of you suddenly goes away, when the signpost you relied on vanishes.

I’m grateful, of course, that I still have Charlie in my library, three or four long shelves worth of Charlie, dozens and dozens of books to touch, take down, reread, marvel over, and reread again. But right now, that seems like cold, thin comfort. It’s not enough, not nearly enough.

This is what it feels like when one of your heroes dies.

Got something in mind? Send it along to: David Silva

Oh, and for anyone who’s interested in being notified when the short story course becomes available, just drop him a note with your first name and your e-mail address. When the course is ready, he’ll send you an e-mail with all the details. Send to: Short Story Course

Thanks for your help!

The coordinators of The British Fantasy Society’s FantasyCon have invited Robert to submit Dry Whiskey to the convention’s short film showcase. The convention runs Sept. 22 - 24. It’ll be nice to see what kind of reaction it garners. In addition, the short film has upcoming appearances at:

Yorkton Short Film & Video Festival: May 25 - 28 (Golden Sheaf Nomination - Best Drama)

Winnipeg International Film Festival: June 8 - 12