The Zombie Horde and Publishing
By Julie Butcher-Fedynich

Everyone knows that when the zombie apocalypse comes, the chubby, slow guy gets eaten first. Of course, you’re leaner, faster, and probably exercised more than twice in the last twenty years. So, when the horde stops to munch Rolly Polly, you put on a burst of speed and pull out in front. You aren’t luckier than Rolly Polly, you’re not smarter.

You just did what you had to do. You ran. Certainly, you never wished the zombies would eat poor Rolly. Nor did you collude with them on their menu choice. Therefore, you have no reason to feel guilt or sorrow about your own decision to survive.
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