I didn’t realize that I had developed a reputation.
In July, the Night Worms team asked me to write a blog post about werewolves. In August, my family gave me werewolf gloves, feet, and a mask for my birthday. Two weeks ago, while driving to Salem, my husband blasted a ten-minute track of nothing but werewolves howling. And just last week, my brother-in-law randomly texted me to ask why werewolves sometimes eat hearts.
Apparently, I have developed a furry, teeth-gnashing, guttural growling, howl-at-the-moon kind of reputation. And...
Readers Beware: You’re in for My List of Scary Classic Kids’ Horror Books
It feels blasphemous to write about children’s horror without uttering the word “Goosebumps” or naming him—the R.L. Stine. But before you brandish your pitchforks, allow me to say this: I was a Goosebumps kid right down to my sinew and bones, honest!
I was part of the Goosebumps Collectors Club.