With the future of paper publishing uncertain, established authors are taking a stab at the world of the "online community" blog. This reporter was able to locate a transcript of an online conversation between horror writers Clive Barker and Peter Straub, in which they discuss their experience.

The Stitchling Howl -- Clive Barker

Everyone wants to be heard...and so what?

CB: Damn, my post is not even on the feed for the last 12 hours. How could that happen? I thought the title "Death, Masturbation, and Gayness" would be provocative enough to get me read and rated. It worked for Anne Rice last week!

PS: It might have worked for you too if your post didn't actually turn out to be about the economy. Too gory! At least Anne's sex post was actually a good recipe for quiche.

CB: Whatever. Look, Koontz is number three and his post reads like it was written by a golden retriever.  How many times are we going to have to read about a rugged guy, his dog, and his petite and competent love interest, trying to escape from some monster in the California foothills?

PS: He's a whore. He PMs everyone begging them to read his pieces and whines if they don't rate him. Maybe he'll flounce again.

CB: And Ramsey Campbell's number four post. It's all obscure, oddly-placed words and weirdness. He thinks he's Lovecraft or something. If readers don't understand it then it must be brilliant. Rate it so you don't look like the guy who can see the emperor's ass.

PS: Next week it will be a freakin' poem. Where's Poe when you need him?

CB: You don't want to know who's in the number two spot...that hack, John Saul. I can hear the cheesy sound effects in my head. Formula, anyone?

PS: His post was all pictures and bullets and mentions of other popular bloggers -- and done in bold type to boot.

CB: Then there's King and his reality television pieces. No matter what he writes the editors love it. Never mind that he's resting on his laurels AND that the endings are always contrived.

PS: Mr. Popular gets ratings no matter what schlock he writes.

CB: Hmmph. It reminds me of last week when Poppy, Chelsea Quinn, and Tabby were entrail rasslin'. That's what passes for literary entertainment these days?

PS: Guess who's sitting at number one...

CB: Please tell me it's not a vampire detective romance...

PS: Nope.

CB: Not Whitley Whackjob...

PS: Nope. Not any of those. It's James Patterson and R.L. Stine -- although I think they're the same person using an alt -- collaborating to uncover the mysterious circumstances surrounding Michael Crichton's death. It includes an exclusive glimpse into Jurassicland, his personal amusement park where he once cavorted with Gary Coleman and other pathetic child stars.

CB: That's a cheap and disgraceful bid for readers. What is your next post going to be about?

PS: Homeless, child molesting, meth addicts who have had involuntary sex changes at the hands of evil clowns. I'm sending you a PM right now.

CB: Mine is 250 consecutive four-letter words with accompanying photographs of female genitalia -- in monochrome. Watch for my message in your inbox.

PS: If you rate and comment on mine, I'll rate and comment on yours.

CB: Deal!