In Laymon's Terms

Jim Hillman

’M JUST A FAN.

I can’t recall the exact moment that I became a fan. It wasn’t a dramatic transformation or conversion. I just remember continually searching the bookstores throughout the United States in search of anything written by Richard Laymon. It was a mission. Aside from some finds at used bookstores and an occasional short story discovered in a new horror anthology, my thirst sadly went unquenched.

Then one glorious day, a librarian told me that Richard Laymon was a big author in England (this was before the Internet explosion), so I went there. Utopia! A corner convenience store in London had a treasure trove of Laymon novels.

Sightseeing? No, I had Laymon books to read.

And, boy, did I read.

Island! I tried to talk my wife out of taking an island-hopping cruise. The Cellar! I insisted our first house was not to have a basement. The Quake! I bought earthquake insurance for my Indiana home. Funland! Now I am a Director of the National Amusement Park Historical Association. The list goes on. Coincidences?

It really doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have the stories, we got to know the gentleman author of horror, and now have the opportunity to come together in celebration of his life.

The following short sequel is for his fans, his family, Laymon himself, and librarians everywhere. Enjoy!