Some of you may know me as C. Allen Reed. I originally chose this name when I began  submitting my work because it sounded better than Christopher Reed. Growing up in the eighties, I was forced to endure countless Superman jokes from people who were too ignorant to know the difference between Reed and Reeve. So I chose the name C. Allen to divert attention from the annoying parallel between my name and the late actor's. But after nearly 3 years of using this byline, I've decided to go by Chris Reed. After all, it's what my friends and family call me, and when it comes down to it I'm really just an ordinary guy.

As for my not-so-ordinary side...

In a way, I guess I owe it all to my Grandma Ketelhut. She bought me my first comic book, a copy of Spidey Super Stories #49, way back in 1980 when I was 9 years old. I fell in love with the colorful dialogue (Dolt! Cretin! Imbecile!), and the action-filled panels (Pow! Wham! Zap!). I thought the heroes were cool, but what really drew me in were the villains—guys like Dr. Doom, whose face was so hideously deformed he had to hide behind an iron mask, and Galactus, whose appetite could only be sated by devouring entire planets! By reading these comics, I developed an appetite for the fantastic, and it wasn’t long before I started writing stories of my own.

The first story I ever wrote was “The Super Heroes vs. The Movie Stars,” which featured such classic bouts as The Hulk vs. Carol Burnette and Spider-Man vs. Burt Reynolds. The only thing I really remember about that story is that the movie stars didn’t fare too well.

I continued writing stories until high school, where I got a bit sidetracked. I started drinking and smoking and skipping school, and eventually dropped out midway through my senior year.

From the time I was 18 until I hit 31 and met the woman who would six months later become my wife, I worked all sorts of jobs in various parts of the country. I did a little bit of everything from working on a tobacco farm in South Carolina, to a dog food factory in Indiana, to a brief stint on the railroad in Detroit.

It wasn’t until four months after my daughter, Molly, was born that I returned to writing. It was February, 2004 and I was working 60 hours a week, plus trying to help out with the baby while maintaining a healthy relationship with my wife. I was burned out. I needed something I could escape to every now and then, something I could take refuge in away from all the responsibilities and demands of my life. I needed something that was just for me. So I started writing again. Four months later I got my first acceptance letter from The Midnight Times for my story, “Transparent.” (I have that acceptance letter in a frame on my book shelf.) Since then, I’ve published more than fifty stories in thirty different small press publications, and won five Editor’s Choice Awards. 

I originally dubbed myself a horror writer, but I recently realized that this label is a bit misleading; after all, a good deal of my stories aren't really scary at all, but more a mixture of dark comedy and weird themes. Some might call my style "bizarro," but this also fails to adequately describe a good portion of my work. To be honest, I've never really cared much for labels. They imply that a person's work must fit into a box. Labels stifle. So if I consider myself a horror writer, it is merely by default, as there is no single adjective that can sum up my style as a whole. At least not that I can think of. But maybe YOU can. So I'll leave you, Dear Reader, to fill in the blank for me. Read VILE VISIONS and let me know what you think.