Oh yes, my ducks, I was once certain that my future wou'd be in drama, perhaps as a playwright but moft assuredly as an actor. Indeed, as a high school student I was determined, after graduation, to become "the next Boris Karloff" and make my living in horror cinema. (I had, after all, won Best Actor Award, pictur'd above, in 1970.) It wasn't until I played in a few professional productions, after high school, that I discover'd, to my dismay, that I was a wretched actor, that I slurred dialogue and was a bit of a ham. Thus I set aside my acting awards (I had won two, but lost one, a golden medal, when I attach'd it by safety-pin to my punk rock boots and it flew off during a slam-dance session), and took up ye Pen of Weird Fiction. I feel, however, that my tales are pregnant with drama, although I tend to avoid scenes of violence.
I am still uncertain when my next two books will see publication, but I am hoping it happens this year. We lost our original illustrator for my forthcoming Hippocampus title, a weird novel set in Lovecraft's dreamlands, written with David Barker. My publisher assures me that he will find some equally fabulous illustrator, but this may delay publication. So, be patient, my sweets, ye tomes will tumble toward ya in time.
Hope all be well with y'all.