About the Author...

This item is intended to provide you with all the answers to the basic question, "who the heck are you, anyway?"  If you are asking that question, I can percieve that as an indication of at least lukewarm interest in what I am writing or trying to write, and for that I thank you.

The short answer:  My name is Darryl Dawson Brown, and I write horror stories.  But if I may go a little deeper...

I was born on the same day as Martin Luther King, Jr. in 1965. My first conscious memory is of staring at a Beatles cartoon on a huge black-and-white TV through the slats of my crib. Mom and Dad are both teachers (still alive, both retired), and I have one older brother. We lived in a comfortable two-story house in a lovely, integrated, suburban neighborhood called Harbor City, just a ten-minute drive from the beach. I can count myself among the original Sesame Street generation, back in the day when it was psychedelic and funny. The first three years of my education were at a Christian elementary school where I first learned values and how to properly rebel against them. It was also there that I developed an aversion to suits and ties. The rest of my education was public; President Avenue Elementary and Fleming Junior High.

I grew up watching "Sanford and Son" and "The Flip Wilson Show", listening to Al Green and The Spinners, and admiring the amazing talents of Julius Erving and Muhammad Ali. Simultaneously, I grew up watching "I Dream of Jeannie" and "Get Smart", listening to Three Dog Night and The Carpenters, and admiring the amazing talents of Pete Maravich and Fran Tarkenton. Simply put, I was aware of, and quite proud of, my Blackness, but harbored no fear or resentment toward the Caucasian world around me. I had a United Nations of neighborhood friends, and we all played football in the street (there's something you seldom see anymore, thanks to pedophiles and reckless drivers). Don't get me wrong; I was certainly subject to racist names and jokes that would fire from the unfettered minds of my childhood peers, and sometimes they would cause me to engage certain self-defense mechanisms. But bottom line, I never grew up angry. Cynical, definitely, but not angry.

I was fortunate to grow up in Southern California during the peak of rock radio (KMET versus KLOS, et al), and as I grew older I gravitated towards bands like Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. The first album I bought with my own money was a cutout bin copy of "Out of the Blue" by the Electric Light Orchestra. It remains my all-time favorite album to this day. Then MTV and 106.7 KROQ came along and sold me on something called "New Wave" and I became a fan of the ever-expanding Brit-pop scene, along with good ol' American mavericks like Talking Heads, Sparks and the Ramones. My favorite of these was Devo, who don't have the largest Black fan base in the world, but still espouse a life philosophy that I generally agree with.  "Why believe in things that make it tough on you?" is my favorite lyric.

I attended Narbonne High School, home of the mighty Gauchos. It was there that I failed miserably in athletics, but more than held my own in acting and creative writing. I took a very unique class not on the curriculum: "How to Shut Up 101." My final exam was a fist to my right cheekbone. It taught me how not to strive to be something I'm not, and to respect people no matter what their backgrounds or opinions are. I turned out a better, if quieter, person.

An odd circumstance considering my original career choice. I mentioned a couple of my favorite radio stations, KMET and KLOS. It wasn't just the music that drew me to them; it was the disc jockeys. Nowadays, everybody (myself included) hates disc jockeys, largely because they come in one of three types: 1) Loudmouthed demagogues with an axe to grind against those with an opposing political view, 2) Irresponsible pricks who have no understanding of real comedy, and worst of all, 3) Brainless automatons who give the time and temperature, tow the company line and, contrary to their job title, have no personality whatsoever. It wasn't that way in the 70's and the early 80's. Back then, you actually remembered the names of your favorite deejays. Joe Benson, Dusty Street, Frasier Smith, Gary Owens, J.J. Jackson, Jim Ladd, Jed the Fish, Dr. Demento, the Real Don Steele, Richard Blade. These were the people I admired, and wanted to be like. Those influences, along with "WKRP" and everybody telling me what a nice voice I had, propelled in the career direction of radio. After attending, then dropping out of, Long Beach State University in late 1986, I got my first radio gig in Redding, California at KARZ-FM/KHTE-AM. Over the course of the next eight-and-a-half years, the industry moved in a drastically different direction. FCC deregulation made it easier for one company to own two, three or more radio stations in one market, leading to safer, more predictable programming. When you compete against yourself, striving for excellence is optional.  Disc jockeys had little to no control over the music they played or what they said over the air. Commercial breaks became ridiculously long and promoting the station became infinitely more important than changing the course of culture. What used to be a canvas had become a billboard. Disillusionment led me to quit the business for television, which was equally corrupt, but at least it paid more.

My first TV job was in Reno at KRNV as an audio operator at first, then a video editor.  One summer day I took a job surveillance vacation in Phoenix, Arizona, checking out the lay of the land and the opportunities for higher paying gigs.  I remember stepping out of my air conditioned motel room into a stark, bright, 100-plus degree day and feeling the change in temperature in my skin, being flooded with goosebumps from the soft, dry hush of desert wind.  I fell in love with Phoenix on that day, and it is a love affair that remains powerful. 

KPNX hired me as a video editor in 1996.  The changing managerial climate would force me to leave six years later (The news director was an ill-tempered taskmaster with a penchant for humiliating his subordinates, and he nearly ended my career, but that's another story for another time).  My last day there was September 9, 2002, and I remember a conversation I had with the Chief Photographer/Operations Manager hours before I was off the clock.  "You know, Darryl," he said, "the first anniversary of September 11 is coming up, and we've got a lot of things planned and we're going to need some help.  I was wondering, as a favor to me, if you could stay a couple more days."  Red Flag #1:  In the local TV business, even after you turn in your two week notice, your time is not your own.  I politely told him no and shipped off to Albuquerque, New Mexico, where I had a forgettable career as a video photographer for one station and rebounded as an editor at another.  In 2004 I moved back to my first love, where I currently work for KPHO, CBS 5, as an SNG Coordinator (ask me to explain that to you later).

So that's where I come from. As far as who I am, well, that's the tricky part. I consider myself introverted, compassionate, intellectual and just a bit naive. I hate politics and love baseball. My favorite TV show of all time is "Rod Serling's Night Gallery", so much so that I consider it the main inspiration for everything I write.  I have a deep appreciation for a good horror movie, but it's got to be smart, be original and have a point.  (If you held a gun to my head and ordered me to reveal my favorite, I would whisper "Candyman" five times). Still like rock, and have been digging deeper into Black artists who perform in that genre like Fishbone, Living Colour, TV on the Radio and dozens of other bands you probably don't know (if you want to know them, check out The Black Rock Coalition).  I love watching poker on TV, but I'm not dumb enough to jump in the water with those guys. I have no interest in any drugs other than Honey Brown beer and those which keep my back from aching.  From time to time, I take pictures with my EOS Rebel, and sometimes they look good.

If you asked me to sum up my core writing philosophy, I would say this:  There are a million ways to scare people, but the best horror stories scare you for a long, long time.  Horror is not always about the monster; sometimes just the idea of the monster is enough. 

Thank you for reading, and I hope my "monsters" will be remembered for a long, long time.