What’s with me and zombies? It probably began when I was four or five, scared out of my mind, hiding under the dining room table as “Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things” played on the TV in the next room. (It was most likely playing on WPIX’s Chiller Theatre. Remember that?) That final scene when the undead get on a boat and head for the bright lights of the big city haunted me for a long time. Of all the movie monsters, zombies have probably disturbed me the most. They’ve also been pretty good for my burgeoning fiction-writing career.
Bards & Sages Quarterly just bought my short story “The Zombie Who Had a Name,” which follows a recently animated corpse as it travels through the apocalypse. It should be out in October, just in time for Halloween. The funny part? This is my third short story sale–and in each there’s a zombie (though they’re more of the sympathetic variety than the scary kind).
So here’s my dilemma: Do I continue writing about the walking dead or bury (heh-heh-heh) the zombies for the time being?