2025 was challenging for me as it was ultimately spectacular. Here you will see my publication output for the year, which I wrote or appear in. Paltry compared to many writers who are posting dozens of credited publications, but I am damned proud to have my concert photos and interview footage with recently departed drummer Nicko McBrain in Martin Popoff’s Hallowed by Their Name: The Unofficial Iron Maiden Bible. Popoff’s a Master Jedi of rock and metal journalism and we’ve been friendly over the years, but landing my stuff in this be-all-end-all (unofficial or not) monster tome was the lift I needed when I came close to saying fuck it all.
I hit a tough place in ‘25 where I was dished one goose egg after another. Rejection, rejection, rejection. California nos galore. I still kept submitting anyway. I had Bringing in the Creeps released this year, what should I be complaining about? Marketing yourself is goddamned difficult and worse, it’s goddamned expensive. I went at it brutally hard to push this thing on my own with an indie publisher. No interest from the press, no responses from the retailers. Even retailers who said they’d go for it just didn’t. I have great testimonials, I have a story that placed runner-up in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. What I didn’t have was a budget to hire an effective marketing team. It was heartbreaking.
Let me just tell you all that no woman other than my mother and the women closest to me in my family and friend set has loved me like TJ does. TJ is a spitfire. She’s chippy. The trust we have in one another is the secret to our success and it’s why my 2025 went from a stinker in the making to one of the greatest rebounds of my life. It was TJ who kicked my ass in the wallowing of my self-deprecation and why I turned this year around after sinking into personal despair and a short-term financial drubbing.
There was a prolonged stretch where I dropped duckets in promotion and then paid for an editor on my new novel, October Rust. It’s a deep, personal project for TJ and I which is now being rewarded with a publication offer. Deeper into the financial rut I went to pay the editor and this with TJ and I seeking our new home. It was a point of contention where I needed to do some soul searching, especially with more rejection, rejection, rejection and California nos galore for October Rust. My social media accounts were ghostly, despite my constant interaction. Despite all the friends and family I have who love me, I felt worthless as a writer. There’s more to it, but screw the doldrums. I’m back on track, I’m out of the funk, my savings are healthy again and I’m inspired as hell. Onward and upward from here on out.
I have made numerous author and publisher friends in just the past few years, and in 2025, it’s gone through the roof. I’ve always been fearless in my approaching of people of notoriety and it’s a gambit which pays off for me maybe a third of the time. I’m not trying to ride coattails. I’m not trying to be a whore. I’m interested in genuine friendships with people who love what I love, who are on their own journeys of the word to be heard and seen. If you have status, great. If you don’t, just as great. In fact, the more of you like me pushing yourself and networking with all you have at the risk of annoying some folks by your earnestness to engage, I’m your brother in the trenches.
I’d hit such a funk my wife laid it all on the line for me and I’ll keep that conversation private, but it was an Adrian Balboa type of chewing out in disguise of a loving pep talk. When Rocky didn’t think he could beat Clubber Lang in a rematch, you could see his wherewithal shaken, his confidence left flat on the canvas where Clubber dropped him brutally the first time. TJ fearlessly gave me the juice to stand up and “go for it” with a more sensible and less emotive attack plan. I love this woman.
In my grousing to TJ, I’d added how deflated I felt having put in 16 years of freelancing in music and film and how I’d been ghosted right on out of there. I never once became arrogant about it, but being called an “A-lister” writer from the industry had given my morale such a boost it made me work that much harder. Until it was gone.
And then the Metal Hall of Fame came knocking in 2025. The catalyst moment. The turnaround. I’d already been supported by Jack Mangan, who’d interviewed me a couple times in recent years to promote Revolution Calling and Behind the Shadows and to talk shop on his podcast about metal and punk journalism. Similar to how I landed my six-year run at Blabbermouth, he put my name in the hat with the Metal Hall of Fame and lo, here I am. I’ve had a handful of articles and lost footage interviews I did which festered silently until now. More of that to come in ‘26, but the Hall of Fame and the Popoff inclusion rescued my year, rescued me after my wife did it first. Thank you, Jack, Rich, Pat, Mark and my brothers at the Metal Hall of Fame. Simply thank you.
The next pivotal moments to my year of transition came at this year’s Horror on Main and Shore Leave conventions. Both is where I got to engage with horror stars and fellow authors and best of all, meet esteemed horror film director Mick Garris, in person. I’d interviewed Mick twice in the past during his masterminding of the beloved Showtime anthology series, Masters of Horror. My interactions with Mick were short, but he did me the tremendous honor of remembering me, chatting with me and introducing me to his family as a “pal.”
Right afterwards, I met Friday the 13th series music composer, Harry Manfredini, who shared some hilarious stories with me. Horror on Main revitalized me. I had such a wonderful time chatting up publishers who actually knew my name (even if I’ve yet to drive home a winning submission with them) and other authors I know. Including John Boden, one of the greatest indie horror authors out there and someone I consider a real friend.
It’s TJ who has bridged me to the Shore Leave crew, a fine league of New York Times bestsellers, Star Trek and fantasy authors who were all her friends and most of them are now mine.
At this point in the year, late summer into fall, I burst inside. I put October Rust to the side for a few months while licking my wounds. I went on a writing explosion, penning nearly two dozen new short stories that have all been submitted. Three of which have been recently accepted. I did back-to-back book signing events including Frightreads, and had the best sales of my entire career, selling out of Revolution Calling in Delaware, once my weakest-selling book. I made more connections, I made new writer friends, I got my recent acceptance for “Shred of the Dead” for the Living Adjacent anthology through these book conventions. I even got to meet Troma head honcho, the hysterical Lloyd Kauffman.
A few local bookstores started carrying my books. Thank you, Snug Books, in Baltimore City, for having me down to sign copies for sale! It may sound mamby pamby to the major leaguers out there signing massive quantities and hitting the road on the promotion trail, but my year has been all about baby steps and gaining momentum.
As I began to make headway with my writing this year, I still took the “L” on submissions and coming into December, I took a few more. The ones which stung for only a moment came from those I’d spent quite a bit of time getting to know as people while networking, but with any and every rejection, I try to place the blame on myself. I know there are conspiracy theorists out there who claim favoritism rules and I’m certain that’s applicable all over the place. I choose to keep grinding, plain and simple.
I fell into the company of a large writing group in Maryland this year along with cultivating friendships with other local authors, landing me at the Scary Stories to Tell at Cult Classic Brewery. This gave me such verve, I can’t help but thank them all. It was like my old open mike days, reading “Galaga Dreams,” which was well-received at the venue and ended up getting republished this year by Books & Pieces and now for a fourth time in an anthology collecting the Cult Classic event stories.
If there’s one thing I’m proudest of for my 2025, aside from finding October Rust a home with Anuci Press after doing an eighth rewrite, it’s moderating the Godzilla panel and being on five others at Philcon this year. I’ve only dreamed of being on a Godzilla panel, and other cons, I’m always that guy with lots of contributions for those panelists. Getting to run the show for my own Godzilla panel? Holy shitballs, what a rush and man, was it a success. That came largely from my rockstar panel who made 50 minutes flow like ten, and I run a tight but fun ship, from the three total panels I’ve led thus far. Philcon was one of the biggest joys of the year for me and I got to spend much of it in the company of Mia Dalia and her wife, Chelsea, two of my sisters for life.
2025 finished as grand as you possibly can with TJ and I getting our home. I’ve gushed on what this moment means to us, in this post and prior ones. As we filter our lives into our new digs and we’ve already made instant friends with our new neighbors, the entire saga feels like 2026 is only bound to skyrocket. And hey, I got 5 letters published in comic books this year, plus TJ and I read together at the annual 24-hour Poe marathon, Doomsday! Not to mention getting our stories picked up together.
A dozen thank yous to all of you beautiful people finding your way here to Roads Lesser Traveled. I know my output has been spotty and I’m guilty of veering from the original course of this blog. Life has gotten tremendously busy and hopefully even busier, but I will strive to get this thing back to its roots as I can, while continuing to filter what I’m up to. At either rate, I appreciate your support of this little nook in cyberspace.
2025 was transformative for me and I can’t WAIT to see what next year brings, since I’m coming into it already on the ups. May your 2026 be a pleasure trip and all that you hope.
–Ray Van Horn, Jr.
Roads Lesser Traveled