I am going to give a giant shout-out, this Women in Horror Month to Jennifer McMahon.

Like so many of us who love Jennifer McMahon’s books, my first encounter with her was The Winter People. I write the date I finish a book in the upper right of a front page. I read The Winter People first in the middle of the summer, reading the last page on June 20, 2017. Then I read it again, this time in the winter, finishing it January 17,  2019.

I’ve read half a dozen more of Jennifer’s books, and that puts me seriously far behind, as she’s written more than twice that number.

I haven’t read all of the Shakespeare plays I want to read either. Some things I want to save for when I really need them.

There’s a particular magic to Jennifer’s writing that overwhelms me when I submerge myself in one of her books. I’ll sometimes find myself staring at a page as if amazed that I’m reading rather than experiencing.

At the moment, I’m quite in love with The Drowning Kind, which I read after several drafts of my own dangerous waters (not yet published) book. If I make a reader feel half as much dread, I’ll have done something quite right.

I met Jennifer this year at the inaugural Women’s Writing Symposium. I got in Tuesday night before the Wednesday morning kick-off, giddy from waterfall hunting and super-charged ready for the symposium. Who should be checking in right ahead me but someone who looked awful familiar! Jennifer McMahon.

In my usual fangirl fashion, instead of being cool, I blurted out, “Are you Jennifer McMahon?”

“I am Jennifer,” she said, and she was very nice even though I was stammering and starry-eyed.

I got to know Jennifer over the next few days at the symposium. She was a featured guest both there and at AuthorCon VI, which immediately followed.

She gave great advice about setting goals, establishing a writing manifesto, and remembering what’s important—the reason you started writing in the first place. I love the tender way she talks about her family, and also the mischievous smile when she told us about discovering she could tell stories that were scary—finding this out at a slumber party as a child. Perfect!

And she didn’t laugh when I wasn’t sure if I’d know how to eat the clams I ordered.

These are things that matter about a person.

I’m honored to call her a friend. And grateful I pulled her book off the shelf at Barnes & Noble one day when looking for something I could immerse myself in for a few days.