Thank You So Much
Gratitude and Grit
If you’re reading this, thank you. Sincerely. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.
Allow me to elaborate.
It’s a gloomy day before Thanksgiving here in New England. Technically it isn’t winter yet, but the leaves have left the trees, the mornings are frosty, and the sky is ashen. I’m listening to the crunchy doom metal of Acid Mammoth and wearing the black hoodie I live in this time of year, along with sweatpants (for the ladies). It’s eleven a.m. as I write this, which means it’ll be full dark in less than six hours, and the cold of night will return mean and nasty. I don’t mind the early darkness. Maybe it’s because I have sensitive blue eyes or because I grew up on The Lost Boys, but either way, sunlight is rarely welcome in my house. I thrive in winter and suffer in summer, a sort of reverse seasonal depression. But that’s not to say I’m merry all season long. The holidays have a bittersweet magic to them, but I’m not going to repeat myself this year by explaining why. I have bemoaned Christmas enough as it is. Instead, I’d like to focus on Thanksgiving and what it means to me.
The history of Thanksgiving is complicated and, in some ways, unpleasant, but most traditions have dark roots (or at least astricts that must be applied to their liner notes). Despite its sordid past, the spirit of Thanksgiving appeals to me now more than ever. Maybe it’s just a side effect of getting older, but the holidays make me more reflective than normal, and Thanksgiving reminds me to remind myself of all I have and all I’ve achieved, rather than staying in my usual mindset of always trying to accomplish more and never being satisfied with my successes. It’s determination that drives me, but that can turn self-destructive, an inner critic that trash talks you into believing you’re not doing enough.
But I have done a lot.
By the time I was seven years old, I was writing scary stories. I’m lucky to have always known what I wanted to do, and luckier still that I’m able to do it for a living. But it was a long, hard road from there to here. I was past forty when I was finally able to make that leap from a miserable day job to being a full-time writer. There were decades of hardship, rejection, and personal tragedy. I weathered all of it, never giving up, unable to stop writing even if I’d wanted to. The stick-to-itiveness paid off, and my lifelong dream of writing for a living was realized.
But I couldn’t have done it without you.
As one of my readers, your continued support makes it possible for me to do this full-time. It’s not just that you buy my books. It’s that you speak highly of them on social media and recommend them to others. You leave reviews and send fan mail that brightens my day. You come out to see me at book signings and wear my t-shirts. Your enthusiasm assures me I’m doing something right. Through words in a book, the dark dreams in my head are transferred to yours, and there’s a unique magic to that. We share a wondrous hallucination, experiencing emotions for fictional characters created in my head but fleshed-out in yours. Because of all this, the bond I feel with my readers runs deep. You know me in ways non-readers never could. What we share is special.
Some of my books are mere entertainment, like Toxic Love or Music to Sacrifice Virgins To. Others are more personal, such as The Old Lady and The Ruin Season. Writing these books is a form of therapy for me. But reading them can be therapeutic too. Sharing pain reminds us we’re not alone in feeling it. More than movies or even music, books link us so effectively that even a gruesome, aberrant novel of extreme horror can touch our hearts, provided it’s written right and finds the right reader. Odd as it may seem, I’m not the one who decides which of my works will move people most. The readers are the ones who choose the champions of the bunch, as you all did with Gone to See the River Man, making it the book I’m most famous for.
Your love for that novel changed my life, and that’s why I am eternally grateful for you. It takes more than being a good writer to be a successful one. The love a writer receives from their readers is crucial. So this Thanksgiving, I am most thankful for you. It’s important to me that you know how grateful I am for all you do for me. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. Big hugs.
I have a tradition of watching a western on Thanksgiving. I’m not sure when or why this started, but I’ve been doing it for years. Sometimes I return to a Sergio Leone spaghetti western classic; other times I ride with a modern epic. This year I’ve selected the Coen Brothers’ 2010 remake of True Grit. Not only is it one of the greatest western stories ever told, but it’s also one of my top ten favorite movies of all time. Sorry to all the John Wayne fans out there, but this version is vastly superior to the Duke’s, and more closely resembles Charles Portis’s brilliant 1968 novel. Even if you’re not a fan of westerns, I implore you to see it if you haven’t. It’s one of those rare movies I get emotional watching every time I see it. I think it’s the second-best Coen brothers movie after No Country for Old Men, which is an absolute masterpiece perched even higher on my top ten list. Other viewing this year includes revisiting Eli Roth’s Thanksgiving (easily his best film) and maybe the original Thanksgiving slasher, Blood Rage. The holiday classic Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is also due for a rewatch. I’m not a sports fan, so Thanksgiving means movies and playing Monopoly.
While I usually prefer older movies to modern ones, I recently watched Weapons and thought it was the finest horror film I’ve seen in a long time—intricately written with genuine scares and a terrifying villain. I also rewatched You’ll Never Find Me on Shudder, a 2023 Australian horror film that doesn’t get enough attention. While a slow burn, it’s creepy and tense, and contains the same brand of grim, philosophical musings found in No Country for Old Men. The movie works like a stage play, focusing on just two characters in a limited space. It’s a seldom-used formula these days but one I always appreciate. Check these movies out, fright fans!
I’m late to the game on this miniseries, but I just watched Beef on Netflix and was thoroughly impressed. A tense story, expertly written, and performed by a stellar cast. I also appreciated the representation of Asian culture in an American program that didn’t rely on conventional stereotypes. I love a good miniseries and strongly prefer them to multi-season shows that always go on too long and start resembling a soap opera. So if you have any good miniseries recommendations, please drop them in the comments section.
I’m running a Black Friday sale on my website, offering the steepest discount I’ve ever given. Now until December 1st, everything is 20% off. No discount code necessary.
So grab some signed books for loved ones or just stock up your own bookshelf. My latest novel belongs in your collection... if you can handle it.
Music to Sacrifice Virgin To has continued to do well in its first few weeks, but it’s been my most divisive work yet. Some readers have said they were “mesmerized” by it or that it’s my “best work.” Others—including some long-time, die hard fans—found it too violent, twisted, and relentlessly evil for their tastes. It’s not a criticism I can argue with. This is my most extreme work, the Triana splatterpunk novel to top them all. While writing it, I embraced the evilest thoughts I could conjure, crafting a loathsome tale of Satanic possession. This is the result of me choosing to be as vicious as possible with this particular story. I was in the mood to create another Full Brutal and ran wild with it, and honestly, I may never write something like this again. I doubt my mental health can endure another trip through this brand of Hell.
You will not like the main character. You’re not supposed to. This villain isn’t pitiable or quirky or morally gray. Instead, I give you what I imagine a true incubus would be like. At the same time, the book serves as a harsh metaphor for our world, which often rewards evil actions over noble ones.
Music to Sacrifice Virgin To is not for everyone, and that’s okay. Only hardcore extreme horror fans will be able to take it. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
That’s all for this newsletter. Thanks again for everything, and may you have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Eat too much, go on a stoned walk with your cousin, and maybe watch True Grit.
Your pal, always,
Kris
I'm sure I speak for all of your fans when I say we are glad you stuck to it! Thanks for all the great reads and Happy Thanksgiving! 🤘
A Happy Thanksgiving to you and thank you for all the great book / stories!