Reading or watching a horror story is like riding a roller coaster.

No, hear me out.

It’s scary. There are unexpected twists and turns. There’s a horrific drop and your stomach leaps into your throat. You close your eyes, you don’t want to look. You think this goosebump/shivering/screeching moment will never end. And then it does, and you’re okay. You breathe a sigh of relief and you might even be proud of yourself for surviving so well.

(Did this metaphor occur to me because I was just at Disney? Maaaybe.*)

That’s the point of scaring yourself, though. To show that you can handle it. That scary things are survivable and monsters can be beaten. In a weird way, it’s empowering.

This is on my mind since I’m attending my first StokerCon this week. It’s my first Horror Writers Association event, my first non-kidlit writers conference in years, my first time in a new city. Certainly the biggest writers conference I’ve attended. I’m hoping to meet some cool fellow nerds and learn some useful craft/industry info. Also hoping not to get lost. No promises.

It feels a bit like starting over, in that I’m not basing my entire fiction-writing identity around kidlit anymore. This time, though? I already know better than to walk around in heels. I’ll be the one in sneakers, thanks. With a notebook and an open mind, and whatever happens happens.

It’s a risk, and a lot of new faces, and possibly scary. But you know, I love roller coasters.

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I’m still on a high over Flame Tree’s Odysseus anthology, which is so gorgeous and such a pleasure to see my work in. A group of writers I know have started holding monthly public readings of their work, either published or in progress, at a distillery. Lovely place, speakeasy vibes, the drinks are dangerously good. At the last meetup, I brought the anthology along and read some of my “Phemius” story. I didn’t expect it to be so much fun to read aloud! I wrote it to sound like a bard was talking, very lyrical and serious, and it forced me to perform the work as well as read it, which is the right way to read a story aloud anyway. The real-time audience response was about as good as the drinks.

It’s tough to get a sense of how people will respond to your stories when you’re sitting at your desk by yourself, not hearing anything but your own thoughts. If you get a chance to share your work publicly, and support other writers who are sharing theirs, do it. Walking up to a microphone in the middle of a crowded bar is also scary, but it’s worth the ride.

*Bending my metaphor here to note that my must-do ride at Disney isn’t a roller coaster. It’s the Haunted Mansion. Have we not established that I like spooky things?