On the last day of March, Nancy Kilpatrick passed away, taken by cancer. I learned it on April first through social medias, and for once, with one day delay, instead of a week after the fact.
Nancy Kilpatrick, a talented colleague, wrote vampiric horror stories. It was not my usual reading, but I received her monthly letter. She always had interesting historical anecdotes about the times of the year (like the Ides of March). I tasted her unique author voice with the first book of the Thrones of Blood series Revenge of the Vampir King (very, ahem, “adult” horror, you’re warned.)
I met her for the first time at a Word on the Street table in Toronto B.C. (before Covid, in 2019). She shared a table with Caro Soles (author of the Merculian SF series, first novel Danger Dance.) When Nancy moved in Montréal, I had a few email exchanges later. In the isolation of the first Covid winter, she lived through several annoyances like fridge problems, mobility issues… Fortunately, she could get a little help from friends there.
Nancy Kilpatrick, pic from her WordPress blog, unknown credits.
So, at the end of March, her pen fell away.
No more meeting in events. No more emails. She was not the eldest among my colleagues, but nevertheless, it hurts. As one crossing to the older side of the river, as a SF and (sometimes!) horror writer, I have a keen awareness of the ineluctable flow of time. Impossible to ignore the tic-tic, of the great horloge.
Nancy didn’t to my limited knowledge, talked about her health, but she stopped sending her newsletter in June 2024. In the last one, she wrote: For a variety of reasons, I will not be sending a Newsletter out monthly. I will send a more irregular Newsletter out when I have anything new to say or to promote something that you might find of interest.
For now, you can find her monthly newsletters archived on Mailchimp here.
A long time ago when I was younger and starting in the field, I thought, a bit naively, that horror writers were devoid of empathy. Oh was I wrong! You can measure the degree of empathy, humanity and maturity in Nancy Kilpatrick by reading her blog entry in 2020, where she shared the sadness of losing her best friend.
At least, Nancy Kilpatrick leaves us her stories behind. Her translated books are available in French at the publishing house ALIRE.
May she fly over the oceans, under a full moon.
A word for you, visitor, fan or colleague
I share this loss because I want to remind you that you, fans and friends, do count in my eyes, even if I do not talk or wrote often to you. I do appreciate the emails you send (fortunately I don’t have thousands of fans, I can read and answer!) And I am happy to meet you in person at the various events, like the Salon du livre du Grand Sudbury (Sudbury Book Fair. May 8-11th), and the next Scintillation 6 in Montréal (June 6-8th).
To you, visitor, thank you for reading. If this post touches you, please, do something in Nancy’s memory: phone or visit a person that you have not seen in a long time.
Send that person an email or a paper letter, like a flower. In a world where empathy is decried by the powerful, your small gesture will warm a few hearts.
Echoes of a Sunday artist 
