Liverpool Horror Book Con.

Group picture for all the attending authors at Liverpool Horror Book Con, Saturday 11th April 2026, along with the IHC team that pulled it all together - thanks, people. Where am I? Somewhere under the 'e' in 'Liverpool', with the event logo shining in my face.

I have a saying that I'd rather be horribly early as opposed to horribly late. But when it came time to catch the train from Euston to Liverpool Lime Street for Liverpool Horror Book Con, I was neither.

To my credit, I had prepped in advance. I packed the suitcase full of boxes which were mostly full of books on the Monday evening that week. Train ticket had been bought a while before that. Had prepped food the night before because, as a dedicated lifter on an even tighter diet, I need to make sure I get food that hits the spot when I need it. So far, so good.

What I didn't account for was how much time it would take to shave my head, especially given all the cuts and scrapes I'd get if I went too quick. In spite of the fact that I was up before 6am (which I'm no stranger to), and took the tube to Euston via Northern and Victoria lines (in a hack shown to me by an ex) to shave minutes off the journey time, AND ran out of the tube station with arms packed a suitcase full of books, I still missed the scheduled train by two minutes. Which sucked, since I turned up two minutes before the scheduled departure time ...which is when the guards had shut the gate to the platform.

Plus, given that I'd already done squats the previous morning, I was doing a good job running anywhere, let alone with a big jack-off suitcase.

Anyhow.

The guards were sympathetic, reassuring and accommodating. As such, I 'only' had to wait another 15-20 mins for the next train, which got me to Liverpool a good thirty minutes before the event kicked off at 11 a.m. Luckily, the hotel venue was pretty much around the corner from the train station, so once I got in and was directed to my table, I then had the chance to do a quick(ish) lap of the room before setting up my table. I had seen the likes of Ben Unsworth, who was there to see Ramsey and Jenny Campbell, mainly, CS Jones, Dan Howarth - Daniel Willcocks as well (who I've not seen since StokerCon in Pittsburgh a few years back, if memory serves), Jasper Bark and MJ Mars, who had the table next to mine. That good lady, no doubt seeing I hadn't had the most relaxing morning was on hand with convo to ease me into things. In fact, a number of author types swung by my table with similar sympathy and camaraderie.

This will always be cool, being asked to sign books for people and being told how much they loved a particular work. Never gets old.

Most of the event (all 11 a.m. to 4 p.m.) was spent at my author table, talking game with Daniel Willcocks, or talking game with Ben Unsworth, or talking game with both Daniel Willcocks and Ben Unsworth. In the case of Ben, he was good enough to man the table while I took a toilet break, or needed to stretch my legs or order some food. He said he'd got it covered and, in terms of filling in for me, all he had to do was call people 'boss' and hug them. Smart ass. Note that, while I ordered food, it was for him (since I already brought food with me) and all he needed was a side of chips. Lightweight.

As always, props to the Indie Horror Chapter team for pulling the whole event together: Rachel, Gemma, Jen, and Trish. I'd messaged Trish before the fact in terms of booking a spot at the convention, travel plans and such. She'd said back then she was on crutches ...but I thought there was a degree of euphemism in that. No such thing. The lady was actually on crutches, and still challenged me to an arm-wrestle.

Be advised. That wraith of the writers, the spirit of the scribes, the apparition of the authors, the Indie Horror Chapter mascot drifts through the premises, haunting in plain sight.

In particular, I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the readers and fans. One high point of the convention was when a guy stepped to my table and told me how much he loved the Gifts Between Us novella, and that while he had the e-book, he wanted the paperback. And went on to tell me that the story had really landed with him (I'm paraphrasing) and that he could see it adapted, e.g.as a play or a short film. This hits me twice: once, because - as the author - I'D thought of having this adapted into a play (given the minimal cast of characters), and two: this is what makes an author's lot worthwhile. It's one thing to write stories and another thing to get them picked up by publishers and sold for profit, BUT: this, here? To have people you don't know step to you and tell you how much they love your work, they're hooked by your stories, they connect to your characters. That is such a compliment and one I'm truly grateful for.

After packing up shop, it was off to the hotel bar for a round of drinks with the likes of Priya Sharma, who swung by for a while, along with both Adrian Lee Baker and Stephen Barnard, the latter of which stuck around long enough for me to then bail out at the last minute and barely make it onto the train headed back to London.

Definitely a day well spent.

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