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Interview with Author Monica J. O’Rourke: Suffer the Flesh; In the End, Only Darkness; and Poisoning Eros

Author Monica J. O’Rourke, legendary for her unpredictable and often very extreme horror short stories, novellas, and novels, is here to talk about some of her most famous—and notorious—works, which Crossroad Press celebrated through new editions not long ago.

Suffer the Flesh

Zoey Masterson didn’t know what pain was before, but she’s learning fast. Kidnapped off the Manhattan streets and whisked away from the safe, normal world she once knew, she finds herself the victim of one reprehensible man’s vision. Forced to witness the depravities of the seedy underworld where lust, rape, torture, and mutilation are a way of life, stripped of clothing, pride, and spirit, Zoey must play their games, bear their torture—but for how long? Somehow, she must learn to survive the daily perversions … but how can Zoey survive? How could anyone? Somewhere between ecstasy and pain—learn to SUFFER THE FLESH.

In the End, Only Darkness

Eighteen horror stories (and a few poems) ranging from quietly subtle to stomach-churning disgusting, this collection features fiction that will entertain or repulse almost anyone. Featuring an Introduction by gore master Wrath James White!

Read about a gynecological visit gone very wrong … a woman’s obsession with a Georgia O’Keeffe painting … a former sheriff forced to hunt children overtaken during a zombie plague … a mohel who performs circumcisions in a most unique way … or a graphic story about three young men who conduct an experiment on a fourth boy—an experiment held in a secret room involving melted metals.

Poisoning Eros (with Wrath James White)

Sometimes life is unfair. Sometimes life just plain sucks. You do what you can to get by, but sometimes even that isn’t enough.

Meet Gloria, aging porno star, drug addict, failed wife and mother—seduced into a monstrous world of depraved sex and violent deceit, battling to save her immortal soul and that of her only daughter from Inferno … and you thought your life was hell.

The Interview

(1) At a Crossroads? Even though one Amazon reviewer complains about Poisoning Eros once being “one of the most infamous—and hard to get a hold of—books in underground horror,” Deadite Press did editions of Poisoning Eros and Suffer the Flesh not long before Crossroad Press picked up all three titles we’re discussing and put them in company with works by Clive Barker, Joe Lansdale, and Jack Ketchum. I think the push to make your work available acknowledges its importance. The Crossroad editions might signal that you’re becoming part of the “canon” of modern horror. Do you agree? Why or why not? What would being a canonical horror writer mean for you?

MJO: I think all writers wants to be remembered for their work, but to be considered canon transcends even that. To be considered a canonical horror writer is a thrilling idea, that your work is something referred to time and again. I’m really grateful to the Daves at Crossroad for their amazing work, and there are a lot of great horror writers out there. I do hope someday to have something I’ve created be considered canon, but I know I have a really long way to go.

(2) The Politics of Extremity. Not all the stories in In the End, Only Darkness go to extremes, but you are known for delivering extreme violence, often extreme sexual violence, and the three works we’re discussing all deliver plenty. Has going to extremes ever been an obstacle in your career, particularly as the extreme end of horror tends to be even more of a boys’ club than horror in general? You often depict men committing violence against women in a way that seems to make a statement. Do you think characterizing your work as feminist is fair? Why or why not?

MJO: I was once accused by a friend of being a misogynist for the way I treat women in my stories. I told him my mistreatment of people wasn’t misogyny and asked if he saw the way I treated men as well. A long time ago my writing was cathartic—and I’ve killed off many people from my life through my stories.

I think years ago I was more militant in my approach, and not that I don’t have feminist ideals, because I still do, but maybe old(er) age is slowing me down in that regard. I don’t think my work has been intentionally feminist, because back in the day (say twenty or thirty years ago), I was writing for shock value. I would be approached by readers or reviewers who asked about the statement my story had made. See “Jasmine and Garlic” or “An Experiment in Human Nature” for examples. In “Experiment,” I wasn’t even aware of the homoerotic undercurrent that pervades that story. I was just writing about torture!

Surprisingly, I don’t think the extreme horror has been a hindrance, but I worry that it could be someday, such as when trying to sell a more mainstream novel, and my name has become synonymous with splatterpunk. But in a nutshell regarding extreme horror writing, when I first jumped into the fray in the late ’90s, early ’00s, very few women were writing extreme horror. My timing was excellent, and I got really lucky regarding the notoriety.

Click the pic for more on Amazon

(3) Focus on Flesh. Suffer the Flesh depicts men who at least try to get away with torturing women physically by manipulating their self-consciousness and anxiety about their bodies not matching with social norms for feminine beauty. What led you to focus on women of size and issues surrounding body image in this novel? How do physical and psychological torture work together, and to what extent—if at all—is the former a metaphor for the latter?

MJO: I’m such a literal person… I wasn’t looking for the meaning or the metaphor when writing Suffer (which was published in 2004). That book came about for two reasons: I was friends with a small-press publisher who wanted to launch an extreme horror line and he asked me for a book, and I had read an article where the focus was on a study (this is mentioned in Suffer) where women who had lost weight said they would rather lose a limb than regain the weight. Back then I was considerably heavier than I am now, and again, the notoriety I received from that book made my head spin. Jack Ketchum, many years before we became close friends, said to me, “Be honest—did you write that book with your hand in your lap?” I was mortified! He was one of my idols. I wanted to crawl under a desk.

Physical and psychological torture are such extreme points. They can work together if you do them right. This is the problem I see with so many recent extreme horror novels. Some books are simply murder and torture by numbers—essentially a body count—but if you can’t relate to the characters or feel their plight, after a while the body-count-by-numbers grows tedious. With psychological torture, you can inflict far more pain that with the physical. Develop your characters first, and the rest will follow.

(4) Sadism in the Flesh. The setup for Suffer the Flesh, with a group of sadists imprisoning another group on whom they inflict perverse violations, reminds me a bit of the Marquis de Sade’s 120 Days of Sodom, to which you make direct reference in the story “An Experiment in Human Nature” (in In the End, Only Darkness). To what extent do you take inspiration from sadism’s namesake? The novel’s structure also brought to mind rape/revenge films such as I Spit on Your Grave (1978). To what extent did these films—or others—influence you?

MJO: Wow, you really do your homework! Yes, de Sade inspired “An Experiment in Human Nature,” and he also greatly influenced the novel. I was a huge fan of his work, initially because of the shocking extremism that I couldn’t believe had been published, but then after seeing movies such as Marat/Sade and Quills, I saw his work in a very different perspective. However, I despised Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom. It was unbearably painful to watch, and I didn’t see the artistic value whatsoever (and here’s a woman who loved Caligula).

Rape/revenge films such as I Spit on Your Grave and Last House on the Left were shocking, and I was young when I first saw them (I was a child when they first came out, so I saw them in my teens). But they definitely influenced my writing. I was a huge fan of Wes Craven from a young age. My brother and I saw A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) shortly after seeing The Last House on the Left for the first time. We both noticed he seemed fascinated by the name Krug/Krueger.

(5) Erotic Suffering. A review from Cemetery Dance quoted on Amazon describes Suffer the Flesh as “disturbingly erotic.” Do you intend for the book’s depiction of violent, generally non-consensual sex to turn readers on? What might readers take away from their disturbing erotic experiences with your work? What if the experiences aren’t disturbing, just erotic?

MJO: It’s funny, but I did expect to turn readers on. I was hoping the more extreme stuff wouldn’t be a turn-on, but I wasn’t judging! I’m sure there are people out there who found the really sick stuff erotic… and again, no judgment. And I’m not going to be specific here … but I knew that if certain scenes were turning me on, I figured it would affect some of the audience as well. (Ketchum’s remark about my hand in my lap wasn’t all that far-fetched.) Of course, my 1-star reviewers absolutely hated the book. I always wonder what they were expecting with the title Suffer the Flesh, especially since the description on Amazon was really clear! Disney this ain’t.

(6) In the End, I Laughed My Ass Off. I hope you meant it to be—and maybe I’m a sick fuck—but “Huntin’ Season” in In the End, Only Darkness is one of the funniest stories I’ve ever read. It’s not the only story in the collection with a delightful sense of humor, either, while other stories, such as “Five Adjectives about My Dad, by Nadine Specter” and “Maternal Instinct” deliver gut punches of shocking pathos. When assembling the collection, did you aim for emotional range? What techniques do you use to achieve different emotional responses while remaining in your own dark groove?

MJO: It’s trippy going over your own work when trying to sort it out. I was going for emotional range, and I also wanted readers to be able to come up for air from too much extreme.

Thank you for your remarks about “Huntin’ Season!” It’s actually one of my favorites. I love writing dark humor (there are other stories in that book, such as “Nurturing Type”—inspired by King’s “Survivor Type”—and “The Rest of Larry” that are filled with dark humor).

As for achieving emotional responses, I just know that if something affects me, makes me feel something—anger, despair, hatred, love—I’m probably doing something right. I hopefully work this through my characters. To be honest, the only technique I use is to keep writing… and see if it gets under my skin.

(7) In the Young, Only Darkness. Let’s talk about kids. In the End, Only Darkness includes two stories about zombie kids, one story about bad college-aged kids, and young things fetus-aged plus show up as horrors in several other stories as well. What is/are the relationship(s) between the young and the horrifying in your work?

MJO: Kids are an easy target, in real life and in fiction. I know writing about them is a pretty easy way to invoke an emotional response, which is why I don’t like to do it. I don’t want to make light of a child’s trauma or lessen the intensity of their abuse. But if an idea that happens to feature kids pops into my head, I try like mad to not make it exploitative in any regard whatsoever. In a story like “Huntin’ Season,” the plot is so outlandish—and absolutely impossible—that I thought I could get away with it this time.

(8) Darkness of Different Kinds. Suffer the Flesh is grounded in a nightmarish realism, which some stories in In the End, Only Darkness share, but other stories go all-out supernatural, such as “The Three Wishes of Henry Hoggan” and “One Breath.” What are your feelings about the supernatural versus the “realistic” in horror fiction? Does one appeal to you more than the other? Why or why not? Is one more important than the other? Why or why not?

MJO: The supernatural is entertaining, and temporarily scary (temporary because you can walk away from it). Unlike realistic horror, such as serial killers, which scare the bejeezus out of me. Because you can defeat the supernatural, for the most part (ignore The Exorcist and Hereditary, please!—there’s no escaping the horror in those brilliant movies), but once a sexually sadistic killer gets a hold of you … goodnight, nurse!

I don’t think one is more important than the other, but we all have our favorites.

(9) Poisoning Sympathy. Poisoning Eros also delves into the supernatural, which radically increases the extremity of the situations that Gloria, the lead character, finds herself in. Gloria is not a typically “likeable” character, but I find myself cheering for her anyway, and I doubt I’m the only reader on her side. How do you feel about her? What does and/or doesn’t make her a good hero? To what extent does her battle through Inferno have a sincere moral dimension? Is Poisoning Eros more about repudiating the herd morality that Friedrich Nietzsche says poisons eros or about showing the perspective—à la John Milton—of a dark soul on a catastrophic immoral quest?

MJO: Gloria is a character I loved to hate. It’s a strange thought, since she wasn’t a bad or evil character (her daughter, on the other hand …), she just did a few, um, objectionable things, heh. It also is probably because of the way Wrath (James White) and I wrote the books. We really kept each other on our toes. I’m not sure I would call her a hero because her motivations are selfish, and much of what she does that’s heroic happened by chance.

Her battle through hell absolutely has a moral dimension—and you can thank Wrath for that. He added depth to the book I was being rather flip about, such as religion and its consequences. Believe it or not I was still pretty religious when we wrote that first book. I think we leaned toward repudiating the herd morality, and this is something we both struggled with in our lives—such as the whys of organized religion or the reasons things happen the way they do (see for example the Lake of Fire scene for how we tried to work it out). Gloria is a dark soul on a catastrophic immoral quest, as you worded it, but I think she was more along for the ride.

(10) Eros Against Type. In his excellent introduction to the Crossroad Press edition of In the End, Only Darkness, Wrath James White, your co-author on Poisoning Eros, writes, “I assumed she would write all the girlie parts, [but] Monica left all the sensitive stuff to me and proceeded to gleefully tear into the violence, sex, and gore with a passion.” How much—if any—of your pleasure in writing such material comes from exploding people’s assumptions? What fuels your passion for representing suffering like what Gloria endures? Why do you think people (like myself) enjoy reading it?

MJO: I had a blast being “discovered” as a splatterpunk writer and was pleasantly surprised when people were shocked a woman had written what I wrote. Like I mentioned earlier, not a lot of women wrote extreme back then, at least not compared to the number of men. Putting characters like Gloria through the ringer is just too much fun. It messes with my mind as much as it does the readers’! Why do people (like you) enjoy reading it? Because you’re sickos! In a good way.

And by the way, Wrath and I are about to embark on a new collaboration, an idea we’ve been kicking around for years.

Thank you for your wonderful questions!

About the Author

Monica J. O’Rourke is a freelance editor/writer and book coach who spends her days ignoring her own writing and correcting other people’s grammar. She’s had short fiction published in anthologies and magazines such as Clickers Forever, Nasty Piece of Work (remember them?), Fangoria. Chiral Mad and Horror for Good (for charity). She is the author of Poisoning Eros I and II (with Wrath James White), Suffer the Flesh, What Happens in the Darkness, and the collection In the End, Only Darkness. Her books and stories have been published in the Czech Republic, Germany, Greece, Poland, and Russia. Find her on facebook.com/MonicaJORourke. You just know she’s never going to finish putting together an actual website.

The post Interview with Author Monica J. O’Rourke: Suffer the Flesh; In the End, Only Darkness; and Poisoning Eros appeared first on L. Andrew Cooper's Horrific Scribblings.

Interview with Filmmaker Jason Georgiades: Beneath the Green

Talented director/producer/writer/editor Jason Georgiades discusses his experimental dark sci-fi film Beneath the Green, now streaming on Amazon Prime.

Beneath the Green Click the pic for more on Amazon!

Six lost astronauts seek a way out of a planet that should be dead. Waking up on the forested planet of Anthemusa, Caleb (), the newcomer of the group, can’t remember how or why he landed on a planet that, up until his arrival, was covered in dry sand. He meets a group of colonists led by Hunter () who encountered the same problem but have yet to find a way out. Making matters worse is the disappearance of their mission commander, Victor (), who appears to the team in the form of a floating head speaking in cryptic riddles and phrases. Believing that Victor has found a way out, the team searches for “the door”—an image that appears to them during meditation. Learning how to meditate, Caleb uses the technique to track down Victor, who speaks to the team from an unknown location that contains the mysterious “door.” When the team catches up with Victor, they find more than a way out.

The Interview

(1) Beneath Many Mysteries. A planet that isn’t what it should be, a cryptic floating head, a door that appears during meditation—your characters find the world of Beneath the Green mysterious, perhaps baffling, and some audience members might feel the same way, at least at first. What do you hope to accomplish by layering so many mysteries into your film, and how do you think viewers generally respond to immersion in such an enigmatic atmosphere?

JG: I think “layering” is the right word, connected to the profound ability of films to contain multiple levels of understanding with repeated viewings. The key is to allow the film to evolve as it wants. I often feel like a conduit for ideas, a radar tuned into floating puzzle pieces of information that I feel compelled to capture, condense, and display. Sometimes it comes out as profound, confusing, even a little scary to me, but as an artist, I need to trust that output and let the film lead me. I also like the word “mystery;” it makes me think of magic. I see the trick being performed, but I don’t know how it’s done. That’s a beautiful thing to me, but not necessarily to others. Many people want to know how it was done; they don’t want to be tricked or confused. It can be a painful experience, and we often seek clear answers or objective reasons. We have a hard time leading with our hearts rather than our heads. Art and filmmaking, to a large extent, are about embracing the unknown and letting our hearts guide us to a deeper understanding of ourselves that we would never know if we hadn’t looked at that Francis Bacon painting or entered that James Turrell installation. The moment we gain a deeper insight into our true selves can be terrifying but also liberating through the process of experiencing art and film. Therefore, if someone is confounded by Beneath the Green, I welcome that reaction as much as any other.

Francis Bacon’s “Study for a Head,” 1952 A visual echo of Bacon’s work in Beneath the Green James Turrell’s “Perfectly Clear (Ganzfeld),” 1991, Photo by Florian Holzherr A skyscape from Beneath the Green that bears the imprint of Turrell’s exploration of light and space

(2) Meditative Technique. Your film’s description emphasizes meditation as a crucial part of the story, which suggests that significant parts of the characters’ journeys are inward. What techniques do you use to represent inward developments and discoveries onscreen? The film has a dark tone; I’d call it “dark sci-fi,” perhaps adding “with horror elements.” Would you describe the characters’ journeys, inward and otherwise, as fundamentally dark? Why or why not?

JG: Meditation is a significant part of my life, taking different forms over the years. Currently, I’m doing a lot of focused breathwork exercises that take me on inward journeys of self-discovery. Regardless of the form, I generally start “seeing” and feeling things—images, usually abstract, combined with emotions ranging from agitation to calm. These images and emotions are strung together like a string of pearls emerging from a deep ocean, in various shapes and sizes. I’ve attempted to translate that experience on screen every time someone starts to meditate in the film. The sequences that follow are visual abstractions of that subjective experience that lies beyond pure objective analysis. The darkness of meditation could be comforting to others who find that this darkness is beautiful and not threatening. In this context, we sometimes trap ourselves in semantic analysis of images to derive meaning, which, in my opinion, should never happen during meditation. This is why meditation is beautiful; it is an experience to be felt, not understood. The images and emotions should have no labels. To define them is to undermine their purpose entirely. The first line in the Tao Te Ching is, “The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.” In other words, to attempt to describe this vast “source” of life that appears during meditative practice is impossible using words or objective analysis.

(3) Genre Color. In our correspondence, you mentioned your impression that “audiences are a little more open to experimentation in horror and sci-fi.” Generally, I think you’re right. What do genre conventions allow you to do with sounds, images, and concepts that you couldn’t do in a “realist” or non-genre film?

JG: When people walk into a museum, they have been conditioned to understand that as soon as they enter, they’ll probably see unconventional things. Similarly, thanks to the fantastic evolution of horror and sci-fi filmmaking over the past decade, audiences of these genres come to expect that what they are about to see might be unconventional. So, I prefer to screen for audiences open to our film’s unconventional imagery and tone. Some elements of Beneath the Green qualify as “horrific” or “dark,” aligning with these audience expectations. I believe it was a happy coincidence that the film became very dark and evolved in that way, as I certainly didn’t expect it to. I’m grateful that it did!

(4) Experimental Influence. You also mentioned experimental filmmakers as influences—Maya Deren, Kenneth Anger, Stan Brakhage, Andy Warhol, David Lynch (early work), and others. Would you describe some examples of moments in Beneath the Green where specific influences creep in?

JG: I fell in love with cinema through these artists, and sometimes I feel obliged to honor them by using their techniques in my own work. It’s impossible for me to fully account for all the specific references in the film, but ones that stand out to me are references to Andy Warhol’s screen-print paintings. If you look at his self-portrait work from 1986, I think you’ll notice some similarities but also differences. The screen-printing techniques he used directly speak to the effervescent and disposable nature of fame. When I experience Warhol’s work, I feel a kind of disconnect between the man himself and the representation of the man. The idea of Warhol as a celebrity defined by our culture versus the reality of Warhol as a human being. In our film, this extends to the idea of Victor (played by Eric Roberts) as an abstract leader and member of a team versus the reality of who he really is to us and the characters around him. I’m also inspired by these experimental artists’ pioneering sensibilities. The 1970s produced some remarkable artists of all kinds, from The Ramones to David Lynch. They were unapologetically bold in their creative choices, and I love that fearlessness. I want to thank my former teachers, J.R. Hughto, Delanie Jenkins, Lenore Thomas, and Bill Judson for introducing me to these wonderful artists over the years, and my mother, Lydia Contis, for her unwavering support in nurturing my profound passion for the arts. Lastly, I have to thank my wife, Rosita, who has given me the courage and self-confidence to continue making art that feels true to me. I fell in love with her when we were dating because she gave me the only brutally honest review of an early cut of the film during editing! I said to myself, “I’ve got to marry this girl!” And I did! She’s a great author and artist in her own right, and I can’t wait to see what she has in store down the road.

Andy Warhol, “Self Portrait,” 1986 A portrait from Beneath the Green reminiscent of Warhol’s

(5) Beyond the Green. Speaking of experimental touches, your film uses a striking color scheme. What colors do you favor and why? How do colors function in relation to narrative, character, subtext, mood, and other aspects of the work?

JG: Thank you for the kind words. Narratively, it was important for audiences to distinguish between the different versions of Anthemusa, as there is a lot of discussion surrounding the different versions. We have the present version of the planet painted in purple and the past or ancient version in green. We also have an “inner” version of the planet in gold that we see at the end of the film. I “see” a lot of colors during my meditations, so I also tried to express that visually in the film.

The ancient version: green The “inner” version: gold

(6) Narrative Expectations. In our correspondence, you also mentioned questioning audiences’ need for narrative resolution even while understanding that we don’t get such resolution in life. I get the impression that, while you play with genre conventions, you’re not interested in delivering a conventional narrative. Avoiding spoilers, what sorts of narrative risks do you take? What’s satisfying about being risky?

JG: I think there was a point where the film wanted to move in experimental directions that made me very nervous as a narrative filmmaker. Any section in the film where it starts to move away from a conventional narrative could be viewed as taking a risk that alienates the viewer. So, you start thinking, “If it’s not a conventional ending, will people hate it?” But I believe very strongly in the power of making bold artistic choices that try to evoke something new, even if people may not like the taste at first. Filmmaking feels a bit like alchemy, where we’re trying to create gold from crude materials. In this case, we have these raw elements of filmmaking, such as cameras, scripts, lights, and editing systems, that somehow combine to create the visual magic we call “cinema.” So, you feel like a mad scientist, crossing wires together in different ways to create an uncanny experience. I don’t think it is the artist’s job to replicate other films; it’s our job to venture.

(7) Beneath the Text. You cite “general philosophy” and “specifically Taoism” as inspirations for the film. What specific philosophical quandaries do characters confront, and/or what philosophical questions do their situations raise? How does Taoism fit in? Is this the kind of movie that viewers should prepare to discuss, perhaps argue about, in a bar or café afterward?

JG: My co-writer Chet Vincent and I discussed Taoism and the principles behind one of the most widely misunderstood philosophies in the world. The term is often used in various ways and is sometimes incorrectly used to justify a “laissez-faire” attitude toward life, where one believes that if they do nothing, things will work out. “Go with the flow” is a popular catchphrase derived from Taoist principles, emphasizing doing what feels natural instead of constantly forcing things. The core philosophy originates from the Tao Te Ching, a text that academics and poets have dissected and interpreted in their own ways for hundreds of years. To me, this book feels like a reference guide for living. Whenever I face critical points in my life and don’t know what to do, I can find answers in the book. We never attempt to claim expertise in Taoist philosophy, but this fact should not deter anyone from exploring the text in their own way. In our case, we chose film as a mode of exploration. We aimed to capture some of its essence in the film with nods to nature, the balance of life, and references to the great “source.” Meditation is a tool that Taoists emphasize as a means to connect with this source. They believe that when we pass away, we return to this great source or void, and we believe that this is the journey Caleb (played by Anthony Nikolchev) undertakes throughout the course of the film. We are a unique species in that we are given the power to think, something unique to humans. Questions arise: Why are we endowed with the power to think when animals are not? Does the planet think? Does it dream? Are we the planet’s dreams or possible hallucinations? What happens if we don’t fulfill our self-imposed expectations in life? How do others perceive our actions? How do we overcome past traumas, and why do we cling so strongly to the past? Does any of this matter? All these questions can be explored through the lens of the Tao Te Ching, especially through the parables of Zhuangzi. In the end, I believe the film should remain open to interpretation and can be enjoyed without this specific context. This interpretation exists on another level, which contributes to the multi-layered aspect of the film. You don’t have to be a Taoist philosopher to appreciate this film!

(8) Access! How can people learn more about you, view your films, purchase your films, and generally get access to your world (please provide any links you want to share)?

JG: All our art, films, and contact information can be found on our website! Visit http://www.powerplantfilms.com to see what we’re currently working on. We’re excited about our upcoming short film, “Crickets,” which we’ll be filming next year. Additionally, we have two other documentary features set for release in 2024. Head over there for the latest updates!

I would also like to thank you, Andrew, for taking the time to reach out. It’s an honor to be interviewed by such a distinguished writer like yourself. I was a bit nervous about this! I’m deeply humbled by your interest and appreciate your efforts on this website to help artists share their message. It’s a valuable service for all of us, and we can’t thank you enough for the work you’re doing here. Also, a shoutout to Miami International Science Fiction Film Festival organizer, Troy Bernier, for connecting us.

About the Artist

Jason Georgiades is a Greek-American film director from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He received his B.A. in Studio Arts in 2010 from the University of Pittsburgh and his M.F.A. degree in Film Directing from the School of Film and Video at the California Institute of the Arts in Valencia, CA. Starting with his internship at Warner Bros. music group, Mr. Georgiades continues to produce content exclusively designed for online audiences and unique niche markets. He has since created professional online content in association with HBO films, Hollywood Reporter, Vice Media, Viceland, Burton Snowboards, Red Bull and Warner Bros. His most notable work to date is the feature length documentary Desert Age: A Rock and Roll Scene History (2016) (distributed by The Orchard). His sci-fi short film “Through Fire She Calls” (2018) is currently screening in traditional short form film festivals and was purchased by Gunpowder & Sky for their online sci-fi YouTube channel “Dust.”

The post Interview with Filmmaker Jason Georgiades: Beneath the Green appeared first on L. Andrew Cooper's Horrific Scribblings.

Interview with Filmmaker Nathan Crooker: “Midnight Delivery,” “#Nofilter,” and Isolation

Award-winning director, producer, writer, and actor Nathan Crooker knows a great deal about how to translate film into scares and about the artistic tradition of doing so. Here, he shares some of that knowledge–and some of those expert scares.

“Midnight Delivery” Click the pick to view the complete film (~10 min.)

Conjured from the imaginative mind behind the award-winning viral horror short “Playback,” Nathan Crooker’s latest supernatural thriller, “Midnight Delivery,” is sure to leave you second guessing that knock at your door. “Midnight Delivery” begins when a mysterious gift is delivered to an unsuspecting woman’s door at the stroke of midnight. The woman’s morbid fascination entices her to examine the gift, unleashing a sinister evil from within.

“#Nofilter” Click the pic to view the complete film (13:22)!

“#Nofilter” addresses the ever-growing issues surrounding Body Dysmorphic Disorder through the eyes of Beth, an insecure twenty-something, who becomes obsessed with an insidious filter, leaving her to question true beauty. It is a cautionary tale for all those obsessed by “likes,” being flawless, and thinking that somehow social media is the magical cure-all for happiness. The film stars and from Blumhouse’s Freaky.

Isolation Click the pic for more on Amazon!

Isolation is a feature-length anthology, weaving together nine tales of terror, following isolated citizens in cities around the world as they confront their darkest fears in an attempt to survive an increasingly deadly outbreak. The eleven filmmakers were only allowed to use the equipment, resources, and participants they had in lockdown. All nine scripts are original. Anthology Director Crooker created a world ten months into the future based around the current global pandemic and then briefed the filmmakers to bring their stories to life within this framework. Isolation explores the human condition through a genre lens, weaved together in an anthology experience. The films live under a banner of survival and deal with relatable themes such as human connection, paranoia, hope, love, escapism, fear of the unknown, and abandonment. Like in any good horror film, the themes transcend the genre.

The Interview

(1) Supernatural Deliveries. What’s your attraction to working with the supernatural on film? Sometimes “supernatural” is synonymous with, or at least goes hand in hand with, “unexplained.” The gift in “Midnight Delivery” and the filter in “#Nofilter” go largely unexplained—the films emphasize hard-hitting story elements other than explanation. Do you deliberately devalue explanation? If so, why?

NC: The allure of the supernatural in film, for me, has always been its innate ability to tap into the collective unconscious fears and wonders we all share. It’s a realm that transcends cultural and personal boundaries, offering a canvas on which we can explore the darkest and sometimes most enlightening facets of human experience.

Indeed, as you pointed out, the supernatural often walks hand in hand with the unexplained. And that’s part of its charm. When we’re left without an explanation, our imaginations are set free, and we become active participants in the story, piecing together our own narratives and explanations. It adds a layer of intimacy and personalization to the viewer’s experience.

Take, for instance, “Midnight Delivery” and “#Nofilter.” By not dwelling too deeply on the origins or mechanics of the supernatural elements—the gift or the filter—we can put emphasis on the characters, their emotions, and the situations they find themselves in. In essence, it’s not always about the ‘what’ or ‘how,’ but rather the ‘why’ and the emotional journey.

In many of my films, I don’t necessarily “devalue” explanation, but I often choose to prioritize emotional resonance and psychological impact over detailed exposition. Over-explaining can sometimes strip away the mystery and diminish the visceral reactions we seek in the supernatural genre.

For me, the supernatural offers a rich palette of emotions, from fear to wonder, and sometimes, the unexplained is just the right tool to paint a hauntingly unforgettable cinematic experience.

(2) Supernatural Follow-up. Your description of “Midnight Delivery” emphasizes “sinister evil,” and the film’s title sequence emphasizes “evil” as well. To what extent is evil an explanation unto itself? What does your film say about evil?

NC: “Midnight Delivery,” like many of my films, delves deep into the concept of evil, not just as a superficial force but as an underlying theme that holds a mirror up to human nature. When I emphasize “sinister evil” or use the word “evil” prominently in aspects like the title sequence, it’s to set a tone and expectation. But beneath that, I aim to provoke thought and explore deeper philosophical questions.

Is evil merely an external force that acts upon us? Or is it an inherent part of our psyche, our choices, and our circumstances? By presenting evil as both a tangible antagonist and an intangible emotion or choice, I hope to blur the lines and make viewers question where evil truly originates.

“Midnight Delivery” isn’t just a tale of confronting an external malevolent force. It’s also a journey into confronting our internal fears. Evil, in this context, becomes both the challenge and the reflection of our innermost complexities.

In essence, the film suggests that evil is multifaceted. It’s not just an external entity or a malevolent spirit; it’s also our actions, decisions, and, sometimes, inactions. By not always explicitly defining the nature or origin of evil, I aim to create a broader, more encompassing commentary on its pervasive nature in both the supernatural and human realms. Our lead actress, Danielle Guldin, expertly embodies these elements in her performance.

(3) Midnight Memories. Although “Midnight Delivery” is original, glimpses reminded me of the adaptation of Richard Matheson’s story “Prey” in Trilogy of Terror (1975). Did you think of that film (or story) when creating “Midnight Delivery?” What influences would you cite for this film? Feel free to name cinema heroes, if you have any.

NC: Ah, Trilogy of Terror – a classic! Richard Matheson’s “Prey” is undeniably one of the standout stories of horror literature and its adaptation into Trilogy of Terror left a mark on many filmmakers, myself included. While I wouldn’t say it was a direct influence on “Midnight Delivery,” it’s true that when you grow up admiring and analyzing certain films and stories, they inevitably become part of your cinematic DNA. Elements from those influences might find their way into your work, consciously or subconsciously.

A significant influence for “Midnight Delivery,” which many might find intriguing, came from a personal experience. During my travels, I had the unique opportunity to meet a shaman who presented me with a headdress. This headdress wasn’t just a beautiful artifact; it carried with it a weight of stories, mysteries, and a tangible sense of the unknown. The headdress in “Midnight Delivery” is an exact replica of that artifact. It served as a physical representation of the unseen world, a bridge between the known and the unknown.

In terms of cinema heroes, I absolutely must mention the impact of films like Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Friedkin’s The Exorcist on my cinematic journey. Tobe Hooper’s raw, gritty vision in Texas Chainsaw Massacre shattered conventions and demonstrated the power of atmospheric horror. Meanwhile, The Exorcist was a masterclass in blending profound existential themes with visceral horror, something I’ve always aspired to in my work. Filmmakers like Alfred Hitchcock, Mario Bava, John Carpenter, as well as Hooper and Friedkin, have been pillars of inspiration for me. Their works not only broke new ground but showed that horror and supernatural films can be both artistically rich and viscerally impactful. My journey with “Midnight Delivery” was about marrying my own storytelling instincts with the mosaic of influences I’ve gathered over the years, including that hauntingly beautiful headdress.

(4) Unfiltered Horror. Why did you decide to address Body Dysmorphic Disorder through a horror film? What does your film ultimately say about this disorder?

NC: In the realm of horror, one of its greatest powers lies in its capacity to viscerally embody our modern anxieties and societal pressures. With “#Nofilter”, I aimed to delve into the contemporary obsession with social media perfection and the lengths people go to for validation.

The sinister Snapchat filter in the film isn’t just a tool of horror; it’s a metaphor. For many, filters offer a brief escape, a fleeting moment where perceived flaws vanish and ideals of beauty are momentarily achieved. Our protagonist, grappling with body issues, finds solace in this digital augmentation. However, like any potent drug, the more she becomes reliant on this filter, the more she becomes ensnared, losing herself both metaphorically and literally.

As the filter begins to modify her, it’s not just about the external transformation—though the chilling process of skin-stripping visualizes the raw vulnerability many feel under societal scrutiny. It’s the internal metamorphosis, the shift in her psyche, that’s even more terrifying. The filter doesn’t just alter her looks; it erodes her identity, her very essence, until she’s absorbed into its digital realm—a stark reflection of how consuming the quest for online validation can become.

Through “#Nofilter”, I wanted to sound the alarm on the dangers of tying self-worth to digital perceptions and the harrowing lengths one might go to fit into society’s narrow definition of beauty. At its heart, the film underscores the haunting reality that sometimes the monsters we fear are birthed from our own insecurities and the digital mirrors we hold up to ourselves.

(5) Beauty and Devices. Your description of “#Nofilter” says Beth questions “true beauty.” What is the film’s vision of true beauty, and how does it relate to the film being so pretty to look at, from its actors and color palette to its well-executed effects (even when they’re gross)?

“True beauty”, as explored in “#Nofilter”, is a complex and multifaceted concept. At its core, the film seeks to deconstruct society’s narrow and often harmful perceptions of beauty, largely dictated by technology, filters, and external validations. Beth’s journey serves as a microcosm of the modern struggle with self-worth and the desire for acceptance in a world where beauty standards are both ever-shifting and unrealistically rigid.

While the film indeed boasts a visually appealing aesthetic—from the casting choices to the rich color palette and sophisticated effects—it’s all by design. The allure of the film’s ‘prettiness’ juxtaposes Beth’s internal turmoil and the sinister undertones of the narrative. This visual dichotomy between what’s on the surface and what lurks beneath is emblematic of the filters we use in real life: they present a polished, perfected exterior, often masking the raw, unfiltered realities.

The special effects, even in their grotesqueness, serve a dual purpose. Firstly, they emphasize the physical and emotional toll of seeking digital validation and perfection. And secondly, they mirror the very nature of beauty—something that can be simultaneously captivating and repelling, depending on perspective.

In essence, “#Nofilter” assumes that true beauty lies not in the filtered, altered images we present to the world but in embracing our authentic selves, flaws and all. It’s in acknowledging that these very imperfections, the raw and unfiltered aspects of our being, are what make us genuinely beautiful. The film serves as a haunting reminder that when we let external devices and platforms define our worth, we risk losing our true selves in the process.

(6) Filtered Caution. “#Nofilter” is a “cautionary tale,” and comments on Isolation mention that in “any good horror film, the themes transcend the genre.” The idea that horror has a duty to caution or otherwise edify consumers is as old as the genre. In your view, is horror for horror’s sake ever enough? Why or why not? Why are you drawn to the cautionary and transcendent?

NC: Horror, with its rich tapestry of sub-genres and narratives, possesses an innate versatility that few other genres can claim. While “#Nofilter” is a cautionary tale, weaving themes of societal expectations and the digital age’s pitfalls into its narrative, not all horror films need to possess such layered messaging.

There’s an intrinsic value in “horror for horror’s sake.” Pure, unadulterated horror can be a cathartic experience for viewers, a means of confronting and processing fears in a controlled environment. Not every horror film needs a moral lesson or profound societal commentary; sometimes, the thrill of the scare, the adrenaline rush, and the shared experience of fear are valuable in their own right.

That said, the power of horror lies in its ability to illuminate the darker corners of human existence, to take everyday fears and anxieties and amplify them to their most terrifying extremes. For me, the allure of the cautionary and the transcendent in horror stems from a desire to meld entertainment with reflection. When a horror film can not only terrify but also make viewers think, question, and discuss long after the credits roll, it achieves a longevity and impact that is truly powerful.

In essence, while horror purely for the thrill is valid and enjoyable, there’s a distinct resonance in horror films that dive deeper, challenging conventions and making audiences ponder. It’s this duality—the blend of raw emotion and thought-provoking narrative—that keeps me captivated and continually drawn to the genre.

(7) Creative Isolation. The pandemic and quarantine created a lot of fears that people shared that could fuel tales of terror. What fears and horrific images do most films in the Isolation anthology have in common, and what are a few of the most quirky or surprising?

NC: The pandemic, undoubtedly one of the most defining events of our generation, brought forth a multitude of shared anxieties. It’s these very fears that “Isolation” taps into, drawing upon the collective psyche of a world in lockdown.

A recurring theme in the anthology is the fear of the unknown—whether it’s the uncertainty of the virus itself, the unpredictability of the future, or the mysteries of our own minds when left in solitude. Another pervasive element is the juxtaposition of external confinement with internal turmoil. The films often explore the duality of being physically trapped, all while wrestling with the mental and emotional claustrophobia that such isolation breeds.

However, the anthology also revels in its diversity of interpretation and presentation. ‘s segment, for instance, employs the evocative technique of stop motion, lending a surreal and haunting quality to his narrative. In a stark departure from traditional casting, ‘s contribution stands out, not just for its storytelling, but also for the unexpectedly profound performances of his two young children, demonstrating the depth and range young talent can bring to the screen.

The tonal range of “Isolation” is another of its striking features. While some films plunge into the abyss of darkness, embracing the gravitas of our shared situation, others adopt a more comedic approach, offering moments of levity amidst the pervasive gloom. This juxtaposition between darkness and light, terror and humor, reflects the multifaceted emotions we all grappled with during those uncertain times. The anthology, in capturing this spectrum, becomes both a chronicle of our shared experience and a showcase of the expansive canvas that is the horror genre.

(8) Productive Isolation. Your primary IMDb credit for Isolation seems to be Producer, which always has the potential to be an overwhelming job, but the mention of the title “Anthology Director” makes the job sound like it took on previously unexplored dimensions. How would you describe your work producing Isolation while in isolation?

Producing “Isolation” during these trying times was, in many ways, an exercise in both constraint and creativity. Pairing up with the immensely talented filmmaker was a plus. Together, we navigated the wild challenges posed by the pandemic to craft an anthology that serves as both a reflection of the moment and a testament to the resilience and adaptability of filmmakers.

Our framework, set in a speculative future shaped by the pandemic, was a constant. However, within this canvas, our filmmakers were challenged to be both innovative and resourceful, constrained not by the imagination, but by the tangible limits the lockdown set. The strictures we imposed—eschewing the convenience of platforms like Zoom and relying only on the tools immediately at hand—were not mere obstacles. They were catalysts, pushing our directors to think outside the box and find new avenues of expression.

I distinctly recall the early days of the pandemic, watching my own feature film halt its momentum due to the encroaching virus. It was a shared sentiment, felt by countless filmmakers across the globe. Yet, it was this very moment that drove me to conceptualize Isolation. Every filmmaker involved was driven by a singular passion—to create, even when the world seemed to have stopped. Our aim was never just to tell stories, but to craft a narrative emblematic of the time, a piece that future generations would look back upon as a barometer of our collective state of mind.

Being the “Anthology Director” meant overseeing this vast tapestry of stories, ensuring each piece resonated with the overarching theme, while still retaining its unique voice. The journey, though filled with challenges, was also replete with learning moments. Once I sold the film, the process of delivering it was nothing short of Herculean. Handling this task was daunting, but it also offered a profound learning experience. In Isolation, we didn’t just produce a film—we captured a moment in history, crystallizing the trials, tribulations, and triumphs of a world in lockdown.

(9) Isolation in the Open. We’re hardly post-COVID, but at least most people are saying we’re post-pandemic. How does Isolation fit in the post-pandemic world, and where does the type of filmmaking you were helping to develop go?

In the wake of something as globally impactful as COVID, art invariably reflects the times. Isolation, even if not directly born from the pandemic, taps into that profound sense of loneliness, uncertainty, and existential angst that many experienced during those long months of confinement and separation. It’s a mirror to society’s psyche, capturing the collective emotional turbulence we all felt.

During this period, I too felt the urge to create, to put into film the myriad emotions and reflections the pandemic instilled. However, I quickly realized that penning a feature and shooting it within a mere two months wouldn’t do justice to the gravity of the times. But an epiphany struck: instead of limiting the narrative to my singular vision, why not create a world, a universe, where stories can intertwine? An anthology, brought to life by some of the most iconic and cult horror directors from around the globe. Each segment, each director’s vision, could be a mosaic piece, capturing different facets of our shared human experience during these times.

The collaborative spirit and the diverse, yet cohesive, vision paid off. Isolation wasn’t just a film; it was a testament to the unity and resilience of the global filmmaking community. Our efforts didn’t go unnoticed. We were honored to be recognized and showcased at some of the most prestigious genre film festivals, including Screamfest LA and FrightFest UK.

The pandemic magnified the human need for connection and, paradoxically, our capacity for resilience and adaptation in isolation. The stories born from this era will stand as testament to our resilience and the enduring power of cinema to reflect, challenge, and inspire. By banding together, by merging our visions, we managed to craft a piece that’s not only special but also memorable and enduring.

(10) Access! How can people learn more about you, view your films, purchase your films, and generally get access to your world (please provide any links you want to share)?

NC: If you’re into horror and all things spooky, dive into my world on Instagram @thecrooker.  Additionally, you can explore my film company and my shorts at GhostGangProductions.com. If you’ve crafted any standout feature films or shorts that you believe would resonate with us, do get in touch at info@ghostgangproductions.com. For those keen on seeing the feature Isolation, it’s available for streaming on VOD and iTunes. Do check it out!

About the Filmmaker

Nathan Crooker is an accomplished filmmaker and screenwriter who hails from Leominster, Massachusetts, a small working-class town in the shadows of Boston. There he developed an interest in narrative and visual storytelling with an authentic and raw cinematic style. His career has spanned over 20 years as a professional Director, Writer, and Actor. His films have premiered at many of the top festivals, including the Sundance Film Festival, Nashville Film Festival, Nightmares Film Festival, and Popcorn Frights Film Festival. His most notable film, “Playback” went viral and acquired more than 1 million views in less than 24 hours. “Playback” was accepted in over 70 film festivals around the world and featured on countless sites such as Bloody Disgusting, Slashfilm, and Geektyrant. Crooker also produced the horror feature Before Someone Gets Hurt, starring Michael Welch from Twilight.

Nathan behind the scenes of “#Nofilter”

The post Interview with Filmmaker Nathan Crooker: “Midnight Delivery,” “#Nofilter,” and Isolation appeared first on L. Andrew Cooper's Horrific Scribblings.

Interview with Filmmaker Luke Momo: Capsules

Director/producer/writer/editor Luke Momo has kindly agreed to share insights about his thoughtful, innovative, and riveting horror/sci-fi film Capsules, now streaming on Amazon Prime Video.

Capsules

The film centers around four intelligent yet naive college students studying for their chemistry final. Worn out from a week of finals and gearing up to take their toughest one, they stumble upon a mysterious bottle of pills. They decide to take them to have a fun night off before returning to their studies.

Click the pic for more on Amazon!

They quickly discover that there’s a catch: if they don’t take another pill every six hours, they will die. They agree to keep taking the pills while trying to figure out how to escape this loop and survive without the pills. They use their knowledge of science and their cunning young minds to try to solve the pressing issue.

They find themselves in increasingly compromising situations that challenge their moral and ethical beliefs and ultimately force them to grow up and confront their own mortality. Capsules is a coming-of-age story told through the scariest drug trip you could imagine.

The Interview

(1) Encapsulating Characters. Your protagonists, like a lot of people I knew in college, are quite comfortable with drugs and alcohol, but they seem to go further than most when they’re willing to take pills that have unknown origins and effects. What does your characters’ willingness to take mysterious pills in the hope of having fun say about them?

LM: My friends were similar in college. I was experimenting with drugs and alcohol then, so this is all very personal.

I think this film says something about how we, as humans, are subject to temptation. The characters represent people with errant desires. This seems to be archetypal in our world narratives—just look at Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit in the Book of Genesis. This desire for the wrong thing seems quintessentially human.

Now, to be specific: each of the students has unique psychological reasoning for taking the pill. I’ll begin with Ryan.

is desperate to gain the romantic attention of Dev, so he wants to provoke an adrenaline rush with the pills. He commits morally wrong actions, like thievery, with ease. He’s a nihilist who believes “anything goes” and that one is meant to “try everything” in this life. He selfishly wants to satisfy his own desires without consideration of others.

is extremely impulsive and bored. She’s a loose cannon who is constantly distracted and not paying attention to matters at hand. She’d rather text profusely than study diligently. Like Ryan, she has no real conscious motivation in her life, and as a result she is also willing to try many things. She’s very open to suggestion.

is a split soul. On one hand, she’s a serious careerist who’s compassionate to the level of volunteering her time to serve as an EMT. On the other hand, however, she’s afraid to be left out of social groups, and as a result she’s affected by groupthink. She does not want to take the pill instinctually but is cajoled and overridden by her weaker-willed peers.

is morally refined, but he clearly lacks backbone. His extreme loneliness and social isolation also make him a victim to others’ influence. He’s in as much trouble as Ryan, but it is not clear on the surface because he lacks the more obvious character flaws. No man is an island, entire of itself.

(2) Capsule Plague. In light of the opioid “epidemic,” Capsules has a lot of cultural resonance. I see the film as meditating on the terrors of addiction, but perhaps beyond that, as a viewer more than a bit older than the protagonists, I found myself thinking about the fear of running out of life-sustaining prescriptions, legal drugs that can nevertheless create a seemingly inescapable “loop.” Were you thinking about these or related issues when you crafted the film? What are your views on such issues?

LM: I was indeed thinking about these issues as I made the film. I had a close friend who went to AA after we finished university, and her story struck me. These are very deep, intimate issues, so it’s hard to say something profound. I’ll defer to an idea: I thought of putting a quote in front of the film. It went ‘Drugs are a Waste of Time,’ and then the attribution is Kurt Cobain. That’s a real quote, look it up.

What is the idea here? Well, I find someone like Kurt Cobain being honest and raw about his experience with drugs to be very compelling and moving. He’s not a DARE employee, or a local police officer telling you to avoid drugs. Those people are easy to roll your eyes at.

Kurt Cobain is different. He’s bringing his memories and experiences to light in a very intimate way. I wanted to do something like that with the film. I agree wholeheartedly with Cobain.

This film is about the experiential aspect of being enmeshed in a tragically undesirable situation, akin to an addict who cannot overcome themselves.

(3) Smart Caps. The characters in this film, though they make some bad choices, stand out from the typical horror crowd in a very important way: they are not stupid. How do you feel about IQs in typical horror fare? Why make your characters smart? How do audiences respond to the characters’ intelligence?

LM: I don’t watch enough horror films to answer that wisely. With that said, I do think trying to make your characters smart is important. They should be deeply feeling as well. I think that desire comes from simply sitting down and writing intentionally.

(4) Time Caps. The related problems of needing to take the pills every six hours and having a finite number of pills creates a multi-tiered version of what many how-to screenwriting guides call a “time-lock,” an intense countdown scenario, especially apt for thrillers. Did you deliberately create the pills as a time-lock, or are the film’s time-locked circumstances a happy outcome of your original concept? What other techniques does the film employ to create tension?

LM: I have never heard of that concept, but I was indeed thinking about storytelling theories while making this film. The idea of a ‘ticking time bomb’ was in my mind. I’ve read that idea apparently goes all the way back to Jeremy Bentham.

Tension arises from the mysteries of the film. These include questions over what the pills do to those who take them, where do they come from, and so on. I don’t promise the answers to those questions are entirely satisfying in the film, but to that I add: what answers are ever satisfying in life?

(5) Film de Luke. The film uses unpredictable camera angles, clever cuts, slow-motion, time-lapse, unusual colors, and other arresting visual elements to create psychedelic effects as well as images of disorientation and panic. What films or filmmakers influenced the film’s style? Do you see this style as fashioned specifically for this film, or are you developing a visual vocabulary that might characterize your work in the future? Is there a “look” for a Luke Momo film?

LM: I love movies where I get lost in the depth of them. I saw Alex Garland’s Annihilation in theatres seven times in 2018. I wanted to make a movie a bit like that with Capsules. I did the best I knew how.

I don’t know if this will resemble future work, but I’m happy about how it looks and feels up there on the screen.

I have a lot of work to do to develop further works. I’ve learned that now. I want to take more time to develop my films going forward as I feel there is a relationship between the amount of time spent on something and the resulting quality.

(6) Deep Trips. You have a degree in philosophy, and your description of Capsules promises “moral and ethical” dimensions to the characters’ journey. Avoiding spoilers, can you provide hints about the moral and ethical issues the characters tackle? What makes a horror film a good venue for exploring philosophical—and perhaps especially moral and ethical—questions?

LM: Film stories touch our hearts. The morals and ethics at hand in this film are easily understood by people who cherish classical morality the world over.

There is a New York Times interview called “Nice Boy from the Bronx?” where Stanley Kubrick stops himself from deliberating on the failure of liberal mythologies out of a fear of sounding like William F. Buckley. I find myself in a similar situation here.

With that said, I’ll speak a little bit about natural law theory. I’ve come across it here and there over the years, and it can seemingly address the dilemma of substance abuse at the heart of this film.

If someone is ingesting a substance to manipulate himself neurologically to produce a pleasurable sensation independently of the external world, that’s a perverse pleasure. It’s a rejection of reality and a warping of the purpose of pleasure itself. 

Pleasure or delight is a natural response to some external good. Delight is meant to motivate us to rest in a good, to appreciate its presence. When we manipulate delight independent of its corresponding good, we lose our motivation to pursue and rest in real goods, and we twist pleasure in on itself instead of it pointing us out toward reality.  

(7) Mature Trips. On a related note, your film’s description also says the characters are coming of age through a scary trip. What’s the relationship between coming of age and fear?

LM: I think it’s essentially, “remember that you die.” The coming of age is the realization of mortality and its imminence. This is important for adults to reckon with.

(8) Dark Forecasts? Capsules is a dark film, but your earlier shorts come from several genres. Do you feel drawn to darker topics and themes? Should viewers expect more dark work from you in the future? Why or why not?

LM: I think that darkness and light go together. Perhaps the only way to experience things is in their duality, clash, and conflict. I’d like to think I’ll make more films along these lines in the future. Stay tuned.

I don’t know where I’m going next just yet, but I look forward to the opportunity to do so at all.

(9) Access! How can people learn more about you, view your films, purchase your films, and generally get access to your world (please provide any links you want to share)?

LM: https://crankedupfilms.com/capsules

https://www.instagram.com/lukeamomo/

Simply Google “Capsules Film” or “Capsules Movie” and you will be able to find it.

About the Artist

Born in Princeton, NJ, Luke earned his undergraduate degree in philosophy with a minor in visual arts from Fordham College Lincoln Center in the Class of 2019. As a student, he founded the Fordham Filmmaking Club. As a filmmaker, he directed Capsules, a feature film, alongside a series of short films including “The Stamp Collector.” He also interned for Marie-Louise Khondji at Le Cinema Club, a dynamic online cinema space.

The post Interview with Filmmaker Luke Momo: Capsules appeared first on L. Andrew Cooper's Horrific Scribblings.

Interview with Author Jessica McHugh: The Quiet Ways I Destroy You and Hares in the Hedgerow

Many thanks to renowned novelist, poet, and playwright Jessica McHugh for joining me to discuss her newest poetry collection The Quiet Ways I Destroy You and her 1970s cult horror novel Hares in the Hedgerow!

The Quiet Ways I Destroy You Click the pic for more on Amazon!

Women are expected to suffer in silence. Throughout history, myriad weapons of oppression have been launched at their intelligence, sexuality, compassion, & strength. Still, they endure.

And in secret, the sisterhood grows.

While trauma transforms, love germinates, and hope expands their power, women everywhere are united by something deeper than blood, affection, or pain. Quiet as mycorrhizal fungi, immortal ink colonizes their roots, branching from the iconic characters of Meg, Jo, Beth, Amy, & Marmee March and connecting them to a diverse web of women with appetites only destruction can quell.

Paying homage to the 155th anniversary of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, this collection examines Alcott’s timeless literary brood through 155 pieces of cosmic horror blackout poetry and celebrates the unapologetic & ever-evolving symbiosis of sisterhood, feminine rage, and the joyful vengeance that spreads in women’s whispers.

Hares in the Hedgerow

An aspiring singer/songwriter, Sophie Francis is searching for inspiration, pining for connection, and desperate to know why she feels so different from everyone else. Maybe it’s the ghosts whispering in the apartment above her, or the chilling thoughts writhing in her mind when the ghosts are quiet. Maybe she’s a reincarnated saint abducted as an infant and raised by a former serial killer.

Or maybe she’s just sixteen.

Upon meeting an intoxicating musician named Liam LaSalle and an enigmatic community of misfits known as the Choir of the Lamb, Sophie scampers down a rabbit hole of music, martyrs, and madness. There, she discovers her link to a dangerous legacy and a fiery little girl named Avery Norton.

Hares in the Hedgerow leads Sophie Francis on a disturbing and transformative journey to expose and harness the darkness in the roots of her family tree.

The Interview

(1) Blackout Speaks Out. How do you make “blackout poetry,” and what draws you to it? To create “cosmic horror blackout poetry,” are you using pre-existing cosmic horror texts, creating your own cosmic horror texts, reflecting on cosmic horror texts—or some combination? In form and content, how do you fuse blackout poetry with cosmic horror? Do you make the unspeakable speak?

JM: Blackout poetry is the art of finding a poem hidden within an existing page of prose (or poetry, magazines, vcr repair guides, etc) and using visual art to “black out” the superfluous words, allowing the poem to stand out. It doesn’t matter too much what the original genre is; you can make a horror poem out of pretty much anything, I’ve discovered. Obviously works with more evocative, spooky words will lend better to cosmic horror pieces, but you can also build words from the letters on the page, or find the words hidden within words to change the mood, as well as the tense and POV. Using these techniques combined with horror metaphors allows you to give a voice to all sorts of surprising characters and emotions.

A sample of blackout poetry from Jessica’s website–click for more!

(2) Women with Inky Roots. Why are Little Women and “Alcott’s timeless brood” so important?

JM: At face value, Little Women is a feminist tale with the March family at the helm, leading all sorts of important conversations about womanhood. Jo is the most obvious character going against the grain, so to speak, but in creating The Quiet Ways I Destroy You and living within all the female characters in that book, I realized how many of them challenge stereotypical femininity, especially for the time. Though I identified with Jo most as a child, I realized that the March women and the other female characters represent the many facets of femininity existing inside most women. I saw myself in them all, their struggles and triumphs mirroring my own, and I firmly believe one of the most important things for someone’s mental health is recognizing that you’re not alone. In all situations, someone has been there before, many are probably still there, and finding each other–your people, your brood–so you don’t feel alone is a lifesaving endeavor. Just like the characters of Little Women, we become survivors when surrounded by family.

(3) Women Destroy. Women everywhere with appetites only destruction can quell… what is your vision of the destruction necessary to quell these appetites? How do women answer attacks from weapons of oppression launched since history’s beginning?

JM: Destroying weapons of oppression comes in many forms. Whether it’s gathering like we did for the historical Women’s March of 2016, escorting vulnerable women into clinics for life-saving healthcare when hate groups threaten their safety, speaking out when we witness harassment and casual misogyny, or creating art that shows the power of our collective voice, we must show we’re not intimidated by small people with loud voices. We must be louder, stronger, and more resilient—even if we choose to show it in small, quiet ways. Depending on the situation, compassion can destroy just as well as rebellion.

(4) Spreading Symbiosis. Your poetry collection’s description mentions a “symbiosis of sisterhood, feminine rage, and… joyful vengeance.” What does this symbiotic sisterhood really look like, and how do you capture it in your poetry?

JM: In life, it’s intersectional inclusivity embracing all versions of womanhood, which these poems embody in the metaphorical growing and sewing of sisters together like a cosmic root system, and in the artwork. I used thread and dangling flowers and layers of the same pages from 4 different copies of Little Women to show this slow but powerful fusing of hearts and minds.

(5) Serial Gardens. Hares in the Hedgerow is book two in your Gardening Guidebooks Trilogy. Does your audience need to read book one, Rabbits in the Garden, first? What can you say (without giving too much away) about the series as a whole—yes, the plot arcs and characters that unite it, but also the themes, imagery, tone, and style?

JM: Technically, you don’t need to read Rabbits first, but I recommend it for a fuller, deeper experience. In the basic sense, this a story of generational trauma and the poisonous little seeds we sow into each other, knowingly or not. And while the series explores many characters in and around the Norton family, it begins and ends with Avery Norton. She’s twelve years old at the start of Rabbits, and we watch her evolve in the shadow of death and doubt, into adulthood as she struggles to escape a 1950s asylum, through her tumultuous but therapeutic thirties in Hares, and into her fiery forties with the conclusion, Witches in the Warren. I won’t sugarcoat it; Avery suffers throughout this series, often at the hands of people who claim to have her best interests at heart, but she never stops fighting to regain control of her life and protect the people she loves.

(6) Cult Music, Cult Horror. Music seems important to Hares, especially the “cult” aspect of the horror. What roles does music play, and why did you decide to focus on music and musicians? How will readers feel about music enthusiasts Sophie Francis and Liam LaSalle?

JM: When I decided that Hares would take place fifteen years after the events of Rabbits, I knew I wanted to take it to a different location entirely and really have the feel of the mid-70s culture. When I decided on the Bay Area in California, the music and cult details came naturally. I’m an 80s baby heavily influenced by film, tv, and books. For me, 1970s California, counter-culture music, and killer cults go hand in hand. Sophie is deeply into poetry and music, especially that of Joni Mitchell, but because her mother Ava has her homeschooled, she doesn’t have a lot of friends who share her passions. So, when she meets Liam at a Jerry Garcia Band show, and he shares all her interests and obsessions, she’s hooked. And although he’s not necessarily lying about his interests to get closer to Sophie, once he introduces her to his family, a faith-based group called the Choir of the Lamb, it’s clear he has ulterior motives.

It felt natural to lean into this 70s cult vibe because Rabbits in the Garden is a dark pulpy 50s madhouse story. And, of course, the third book has a 1980s Glam Metal Satanic Panic feel, especially as it pertains the new tour for the most popular band in America, the bombastic Natalie & the Blackouts.

(7) Hare Imagination? Your description lists problems Sophie might be facing but cautions, “Or maybe she’s just sixteen.” You seem to be doing what I call, in honor of Henry James, turning the screw, suggesting that characters and possibly readers will question experiences reported on your pages due to doubts about the validity of the heroine’s perspective. Are you turning the screw, and, if so, why? How does your protagonist’s vulnerable age affect her perceptions and her journey as a whole?

JM: I do indeed turn the screw quite a bit. I’m a fan of unreliable narrators, since I feel most real-life people are unreliable narrators. We color situations and conversations differently based on our moods and memories, and we perceive as no one else can possibly perceive, with motivations and desires (un, sub, and fully conscious) that can only be known to us. And the fact that something otherworldly might be going on… well, that doesn’t help matters.

But even if Sophie didn’t have a little extra something-something, her age and family situation definitely have bearings on her reaction to certain people and events. I know I made a lot of stupid decisions at sixteen, pulled in different directions by peer pressure, hormones, and not wanting to disappoint my parents. I fully admit that if I’d met Liam LaSalle the way Sophie did, I probably would’ve fallen for him, too. I doubt I would’ve followed him to the Choir of the Lamb, though.

…eh…okay maybe I would’ve.

(8) Prolific Expansions. Your publication list from recent years is packed—you’re prolific! To lift the name from your website, the McHughniverse is becoming vast, so I have to ask a typical interview question: what have you got in development? Even if they’re still in the imagination stage, what sorts of projects might readers expect from you next?

JM: In addition to the 3rd book in the Gardening Guidebooks Trilogy, I’m also working on a new blackout poetry collection inspired by Wuthering Heights. It’s erotic horror, and I’m actually attempting to write in a play format, which is a really fun challenge. Following that, I’m planning to write a small-town horror novel that’s Kafka’s Metamorphosis meets Suess’s Horton Hears a Who.

I will also have an educational and interactive blackout poetry workbook coming out in 2024 from Apokrupha Publishing called SEEK & HIDE that goes into a lot of my favorite tips and techniques.

(9) Access! How can readers learn more about you and purchase your works (please provide any links you want to share)?

JM: I’m on instagram, bluesky, and tiktok as @theJessMcHugh for fun and inspirado, and my books [autographed copies! – Andrew], along with blackout poetry commissions, can be found on my website McHughniverse.com. I have a list of on-hand books for commissions, but I also accept requests from ones I don’t have. In fact, I welcome it! It never fails to bring me joy to make art from someone’s favorite book.

Thank you so much for the insightful questions, Andrew!

About the Author

Jessica McHugh is a 2x Bram Stoker Award-nominated poet, a multi-genre novelist, & an internationally produced playwright who spends her days surrounded by artistic inspiration at a Maryland tattoo shop. She’s had thirty books published in fifteen years, include her Elgin Award-nominated blackout poetry collections A Complex Accident of Life and Strange Nests, her sci-fi bizarro romp The Green Kangaroos, and her cross-generational horror series The Gardening Guidebooks Trilogy. Explore the growing worlds of Jessica McHugh at McHughniverse.com.

The post Interview with Author Jessica McHugh: The Quiet Ways I Destroy You and Hares in the Hedgerow appeared first on L. Andrew Cooper's Horrific Scribblings.

Interview with Filmmaker and Author Amy Leigh McCorkle: “The Other Side,” “Traveler,” and The Guardian

Director, screenwriter, producer, documentarian, memoirist, novelist—I hope you’re getting the idea—Amy Leigh McCorkle found some time for an interview about a recent streak of supernatural substance in her genre-spanning work. We discuss her two short films “The Other Side” and “Traveler” as well as her feature screenplay The Guardian.

“The Other Side”

A woman must come to terms with the death of her mentor and move on.

Click the pic to watch a version of this film (less than 4 min.) on YouTube

“Traveler”

A time traveling witch seeks out her vampire soulmate.

Click the pic to watch a version of this film (about 4 min.) on YouTube

The Guardian

In a dystopic world on the brink of self-destruction, Nala Washington must embrace her destiny and come to terms with her past. Hunted by a corrupt government for having a mental illness that also gives her supernatural abilities, she must decide to save the world and others like her or watch it all burn to the ground. She can’t run forever.

The Interview

(1) The Dark Side. Although you’ve written other scripts with supernatural elements, these two short films are unusual among your actual productions. Do they reflect a turn toward a darker—or at least more speculative—emphasis in your work? Why or why not?

ALM: I think my supernatural work can be bittersweet and tends to offer hope for a better tomorrow. My therapist instructed me to do “The Other Side” as a grief exercise. Del [the mentor whose death is the subject of the film] was such a huge force in my life, I still cry at the end. Bitter. But my heroine moves on and is at peace. And after two years, so am I. “Traveler” grew out of my fandom of A Discovery of Witches, and I love a good star-crossed, destined-to-be romance. Oh yeah, and Matthew Goode is just delicious to watch.

(2) The Personal Side. While the turn toward the ostensibly supernatural in “The Other Side” moves you further from the more realistic drama that characterizes most of the films you’ve produced, you also retain strong ties to the autobiographical. How do you stay true to your own story while expressing it in combination with supernatural fantasy?

ALM: Who doesn’t want more time with loved ones who have left indelible marks on them? Right now, so many good things are happening, the chance to tell “Del” one last time about my life face to face served to heal me even if it was make believe.

(3) Art Therapy. Might others find help when they need to “come to terms” with loss through contact with your film “The Other Side?”

ALM: I don’t know. The film has garnered mixed reactions from audiences. It makes them uncomfortable, and often they laugh. But when I share how personal it is, they do a 180.

(4) Traveling Genres. “Travelers” uses the supernatural in a very different way from “The Other Side.” What made you decide to combine a vampire and a witch, staples from the horror genre, with time travel, which is more sci-fi, in what is basically a love story? What should viewers expect from the mash-up?

ALM: I’m not a fan of horror for horror’s sake. But I love vampires and witches and romance sub-genre novels. I tend to be a fan of horror’s cousin, suspense. It’s a love story. Yes, there’s a horrific twist at the end, but it’s basically about two soulmates finally triumphing over evil.

(5) Compact Travel. “Travelers” covers a lot of emotional and historical ground between the two main characters within a very short runtime. Why did you decide to tell so much story in so few minutes? What might the future hold for your witch and her vampire soulmate?

ALM: It was just something that flew out fast. A friend called it a three-minute song of longing. I’m itching to write a novel or series and spend more time with the characters.

(6) Guarding against the Future. The Guardian is set in what seems like a near-future dystopia, where corrupt government figures are free to hunt down “undesirables,” such as people with mental illnesses. While it’s not a horror script per se, the scenario is scary. Why write about such a future? Do you think such extreme circumstances could actually come to pass? Why or why not?

ALM: I wrote it out of a reaction to the Trump election and presidency. I was and am terrified that as a woman, a mentally ill woman, eventually I’ll be stripped of all my legal rights.  I wrote it to manage those fears and give myself a catharsis. Now I am more scared than ever. The world seems like a really dark place now and in need of a hero. Writing is my way of fighting back.

(7) Powerful Stigma. The Guardian’s protagonist, Nala Washington, is a government target not only because she has bipolar disorder but also because her condition gives her supernatural abilities, such as a healing touch. How does your connection of Nala’s illness to supernatural abilities reflect on and challenge the real-life stigma surrounding bipolar disorder?

ALM: It’s like taking a perceived weakness and turning it into your most powerful weapon. You might not win at the end of the day, but there is the chance you can change lives or even change who’s in charge of the world.

(8) Reversing Stigma. Your other work, including the critically praised feature film you co-wrote, directed, and produced, Letters to Daniel, which is grounded in autobiographical realism, also raises awareness about bipolar disorder. How does The Guardian fit in with your larger goals related to mental health activism?

ALM: I always say The Guardian is Letters to Daniel’s fictional legacy. Letters to Daniel allowed me to tell my story and find my power and voice. I fought those themes for a long time because I didn’t want to be known as “the mental health writer.” But I, like Nala, had to stop running and embrace my purpose and help people like me realize those with mental health issues are just regular people trying to live their lives.

(9) The Guardian for the Future. What can you share about The Guardian’s path to production? Where is it on its journey toward the screen, and how did you get it there?

ALM: I can’t say much about it other than I’ve inked a two-picture contract with Fish4Him Entertainment. And meetings will be underway soon.

(10) Access! How can readers learn more about you and purchase your works (please provide any links you want to share)?

Amy McCorkle (@AmyLMcCorkle) / X (twitter.com)

Facebook

Amy McCorkle | LinkedIn

Letters To Daniel (DVD) – Walmart.com

Amy Leigh McCorkle (@letterstodaniel) • Instagram photos and videos

amyleighmccorkle (@amyleighmccorkle) | TikTok

About the Artist Amy (left) with collaborator and friend Melissa Goodman (right)

Amy Leigh McCorkle is one half of Healing Hands Entertainment. She is the author of the international #1 Amazon Bestseller Letters to Daniel and is a fifteen-time Amazon top-100 bestseller. She has been published more than thirty times and has directed forty films, including the breakout hit Letters to Daniel, which has over one hundred film festival awards, notably Best Original Song at the Twelfth Annual Indie Series Awards. Amy currently has six projects in various stages of development, pre-production, and production, including a limited anthology series spin-off of Letters to Daniel. Other honors include being named Writer of the Year in 2021 at AOF’s No Risk Fee Fest and the Imadjinn Awards in 2020 for both Non-Fiction and Paranormal Romance.

The post Interview with Filmmaker and Author Amy Leigh McCorkle: “The Other Side,” “Traveler,” and The Guardian appeared first on L. Andrew Cooper's Horrific Scribblings.

Interview with Author Sean Taylor: A Crowd in Babylon

Sean Taylor, a widely published author of comics, short stories, and novels and a general purveyor of things strange and scary, is here to discuss his new collection of dark short stories, A Crowd in Babylon.

A Crowd in Babylon and Other Dark Tales

Seventeen tales of Southern horror, dark fantasy, and weird adventure inspired as much by Flannery O’ Connor, Eudora Welty, and Shirley Jackson as by F. Marion Crawford, Stephen King, and Ray Bradbury, A Crowd in Babylon takes you from the chilling underside of the urban landscape and the homegrown terrors of rural life to the hidden frights that lie beneath suburban smiles.

Coming Soon! Click the pic to follow Sean’s Amazon Author Page.A zombie whose work funds the lifestyle of her cheating husbandA musician who learns that true art requires irretrievable lossA Cherokee brave who must face the monsters from his people’s legendsA time-traveling widow nursing a violent and deadly grudgeA woman who needs four-footed help to teach her grandchild to grieveA young writer obsessed with a dead actressAn immigrant haunted by the vengeful ghosts of childrenAnd ten other creepy tales!

Even though there’s already a crowd in Babylon, one more soul is always welcome. Prepare to meet the ghosts, creatures, and nightmares of people and places both new and familiar.

The Interview

(1) Babylon and the Crowd. A zombie, a musician, a Cherokee brave… your descriptions are character-driven and diverse. To what extent do characters and specific points of view drive your stories? You’ve got some wild characters as well as some wild storylines—would you say you prioritize either character or plot? If not, if you had to choose one, what would you say?

ST: I’m one of the nutjobs who still believes that character is king (or queen, or even court jester when that role is most important for a functioning kingdom). I’ll sacrifice plot for character all day long the same way Shakespeare would sacrifice logical plotting for a good sex pun.

There is no story in my mind without strong, compelling characters. If I don’t care about the characters I’m reading, then why the hell would I ever care about the plot that happens to them?

I love my wild characters. They’re wild, yes, but I hope readers will also find they’re normal too. There’s the publisher who just wants a successful series of books even if his wife is writing them as a resurrected zombie. There’s the grandmother who is so busy mourning her daughter that it takes the help of a dead family pet to help her grandson learn to grieve. So, yeah, on the surface, there’s a lot of wildness in the characters I choose, but I also try to ground them in the real and the true that we can all find in common.

(2) Babylonian Fantasies. Some of these stories take the perspectives of characters living through, or acting out, fantasies with dark outcomes. Where do you get material for character psychology? How does your own fantasy life relate to the fantasy lives of your characters?

ST: Thank you, Dr. Freud. I’m so glad you asked. (Ha!)

My imagination is fairly macabre and there’s no hiding it. When you couple that with my belief that human beings just don’t learn from good times and happy endings, but instead only learn when they face hardship or pain or tragedy, it makes me sound like a real downer of a person. I’m not a pessimist actually, but I do believe it takes those things to make us stop and pay attention. Yeah, I know it’s not the happy rainbows and unicorns outlook, but I’ve seen it happen over and over again in both my life and the lives of so many others that I can’t help but claim it as a truth for me.

(3) Crowds of Genres. While “horror” describes some of the tales, you’re right to emphasize “dark,” as you bring in sci-fi and other genre conventions as your stories wend along their dark ways. How do you think about genre when you write? Do you set out to craft stories in particular genres, set out to blend genres, let the stories tell you what conventions they should involve, and/or deal with category questions in other ways?

ST: My favorite writers tend to blend genres in their work. For example, if I look for Neil Gaiman, do I go to fantasy or horror or literature? For Ray Bradbury, are his collections sci-fi stories, horror stories, coming-of-age stories, or shades of all these? And if I want Vonnegut, do I go to literature or to sci-fi? C.S. Lewis wrote children’s fantasy and adult sci-fi and theological nonfiction, and he blended those in each of his books to some degree.

The author’s life blends genres

All that to say, I think the blending of genre tropes and styles are crucial, and yes, I fully intend to blend them as I write—from the get-go.

(4) Southern Babylon. What makes some of these stories “Southern” horror?

ST: To me, Southern is less a geographic place and more a collection of ways of thinking about community and where we fit into it. Southern features a lot of public politeness with private backstabbing. Southern features a lot of “support” that is really just thinly veiled judgment in everything from a haircut to chosen employment. Southern is the drive to remain part of that community despite those kinds of behaviors. After all, it may not be the best place to be, but it is MY place. I think that’s something I learned to put into words from reading Flannery O’Connor, particularly the novel Wise Blood or the story “A Good Man Is Hard To Find.” I think that on some level, all real Southerners live with the knowledge we’d all be damn good people if we just had someone there to shoot us every minute of our lives.

My characters live within that conflict and usually do so without consequence until the horrific event happens to make them confront it. (The stories don’t get good until my old ladies run into the Misfit, so to speak.) [Note from Andrew: If you don’t know what Sean is talking about, I give a brief summary of “A Good Man is Hard to Find” in this post.]

(5) Crowded Theaters. I know from your stories as well as from previous encounters—such as the compelling discussions you’ve often hosted on social media—that the movies play a big role in your stories and style and that you’re very well-informed about cinema history. What movies (and actors and other aspects of cinema) had the biggest impact on A Crowd in Babylon? Where and how will readers see the influences?

ST: Hands done, for this collection, it’s classic ghost stories with their slow build and their grinding tension, and also the Hammer films of the sixties. Both of these kinds of films tended to focus on the characters rather than the monsters—or they treated the monster/ghost as a character, not just the Satanus Ex Machina (I needed an opposite for the Deus Ex Machina, and I like it, so I’ll keep using it).

And to make an even stronger connection to film, in the story “And So She Asked Again,” I directly bring in one of the famous Hammer actresses, the always enchanting Barbara Steele.

There’s also a pretty strong influence of the more modern, surrealistic story (almost going so far as to become Magical Realism), where ordinary people find themselves in supernatural situations that feel as “every day” as they do “out of the ordinary.” I think I picked that up from films like Neon Demon and Last Night at Soho (and older Italian horror like Phenomena and Suspiria).

And “Death with a Glint of Bronze” is practically a steampunk Giallo, so there’s that, but it’s clearly an outlier in this book.

(6) Babylonian Influences. While we’re on the subject, your description of the book cites six of your prose-writing influences. Would you choose a couple and provide specific (spoiler-free) examples of where readers will hear their echoes within A Crowd in Babylon?

ST: Sure. Again, those influences are Shirley Jackson, Eudora Welty, Flannery O’Connor, Ray Bradbury, Stephen King, and F. Marion Crawford. I mentioned both Welty and O’Connor earlier, but I’d love to point out the influence of the others.

Shirley Jackson redefined what a ghost story could be for me. The ghosts of Hill House are both those warping the bedroom doors and those that live inside Nell. This changed the way I saw ghost stories. Suddenly the creepy stuff on the outside had to play off the creepy stuff on the inside to create a far more convincing level of horror. I think the stories “To Gnaw the Bones of Wolf-Mother” and “The Ghosts of Children” probably best show off that kind of influence.

Ray Bradbury seamlessly blended horror and fantasy and sci-fi with tales like “The Veldt” and several stories from The Martian Chronicles. That marriage of science and scary shows most in stories such as “And So She Asked Again,” which is based on String Theory, and in my approach to zombie stories, as seen in “Art Imitates Death” and “Posthumous.”

King, well, King is king, so to speak, and any horror writer who tries to pretend he’s not an influence is just lying to you. He’s influencing you in ways you probably don’t even know. I think for me, though, King is the master of a sort of pop-culture-stylized Magical Realism. It’s amazing to me how his characters can so easily deal with bizarre things like Indian burial grounds and living cars and haunted stationary bikes, etc. That kind of meek acceptance is all over my stuff, and I see it already as a strong part of my next collection of horror stories, too.

Crawford is a forgotten gem, I think, known only to the most die-hard classic horror fans. Crawford’s knack for getting into the psyche of his characters is the creepiest part of his stories. The ghost children in “The Face of the Yuan Gui” and the almost normalness of the bar in “The Color of the Blues” show the strongest Crawford influence because we see what the exposure to the weirdness does to the person experiencing it.

(7) Crowded Reasoning. You commented in our correspondence, “the horror of the why is far creepier than the horror of the what happened.” In your story “The Ghosts of Children,” one character asks another, “Why are you doing this?” before the “this,” the what that’s happening, is entirely clear. What effects are you hoping to achieve by withholding this information? Would you describe withholding crucial journalistic information (the five W’s and an H) as a central aspect of your style for creating horror and suspense? Whether or not this sort of withholding is one of them, what would you claim as major tools in your writer’s toolbox?

ST: My favorite horror stories (both on film and in prose) have a dose of mystery. Look no further than Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” and The Haunting of Hill House. Not only that, but it’s that mystery that make the 60s and 70s Giallo thrillers work, and not only those but the genre films they influenced, such as Friday the 13th.

So, of course, I want to include a little bit of mystery in my stories. I think withholding some of that helps maintain suspense and stretches the nerves for tension. Plus, I also write a lot of Noir/Hard-Boiled pulp stories, and the mystery that accompanies those tends to seep into my other genre work.

Sean and fellow authors spin pulpy yarns about P.I. Rick Ruby

That statement you mentioned, “the horror of the why is far creepier than the horror of the what happened,” that’s pretty foundational for me when I write. Why a person chooses to live in a house where they’re obligated to keep a bottled, dead squirrel in the basement is far more interesting than what happens when the bottle is moved. Why a person embraces the up-close killing with a gauntlet over a blade or a pistol is the really creepy part, even moreso than the description of the killing itself. 

As for other tools, I love to use the sounds of words to make guttural stops and soft letter sounds when I want readers to move quickly. The ‘k’ and ‘g’ and ‘b’ and ‘d’ sounds are the best for auditory knife stabs. Used with intentionality, they are the shower scene stabs you can use in your written work. They force a reader to stop, if only for a moment.

No surprise at this point–Sean is also a poet! Click the pic for proof.

I wrote about this in a tutorial on my blog and I’ll repost that bit here because it relates:

Use sounds that bother the reader, not just the characters. You can make up words that sound like stuff. The official literary term for this is onomatopoeia, and it works because it plays games with the reader’s ear, whether they hear the sounds spoken aloud or not.

For example, in my steampunk horror tale “Death with a Glint of Bronze,” I hit the reader right off the bat with the “crick-cracking of the neck bone where it attaches to the top of the spine.” But the following sentence continues the idea, simply by using sounds that create a stop and reflow, like restricted breathing might sound: “Then there is the delicious constriction as the breath slowly ceases its movement through the windpipe.”

(8) Details in Babylon. Your stories include magnificent details, specific types of knots, antique furniture, scientific theories that aren’t common knowledge, and more. Do you do a lot of research? Are you just extremely knowledgeable? Where do all the details come from, and what reactions do you hope readers will have?

ST: I wish I was naturally knowledgeable. But sadly, I have to dig for every bit and bob I use to add color to my work. But I won’t deny it: research is the fun part. I drop TK or blank lines (in bold, of course, to find later) all over my stories so I can research the things I didn’t realize I’d need to know about. I learned TK from my time on various magazine and newspaper staffs. I have learned so many cool things from this, like you mentioned, from antiques and scientific theories to the process of artificially inseminating a dairy cow and male and female fashion of the 1930s.

As for finding the details, I always try to find the original source behind the easy-to-find source. The last thing I want is for an expert to accuse me of not putting in the work to get the details right.

(9) Babylonian Truth. Your author bio (below) describes you as a writer of lies, but I’d be shocked if you weren’t aware of some truth-telling in your tales. What truths do you tell?

ST: At the risk of sounding like one of the literary snobs that make such great, bloated targets, I like to think that I tell lies to get to the greater truths. I know that as an English teacher, I’ve learned more about myself and the way I can be by observing the fictional lives of the characters I read about. I’d like to think that Edna Pontellier and Ethan Frome helped me not hide my real needs and desires. I’d like to think that seeing Captain Nemo’s unrelenting crusade helps me avoid such singlemindedness in my life. Those are the human truths that I think fictional stories can best present. I also believe that fiction is a fantastic place to discuss all those topics we’re taught to avoid in public and at the table during Thanksgiving—things like religion, spirituality, politics, gender issues, equality, racial issues, etc.

(10) Access! How can readers learn more about you and purchase your works (please provide any links, social media handles, etc. you want to share)?

ST: My website: www.thetaylorverse.com

My writing blog: www.badgirlsgoodguys.com

Twitter/Facebook/Pinterest: @seanhtaylor

Instagram/Threads: @seanhtaylor1111

About the Author

Sean Taylor is an award-winning writer of stories. He grew up telling lies, and he got pretty good at it, so now he writes them into full-blown adventures for comic books, graphic novels, magazines, book anthologies and novels. He makes stuff up for money, and he writes it down for fun. He’s a lucky fellow that way.

He’s best known for his work on the best-selling Gene Simmons Dominatrix comic book series from IDW Publishing and Simmons Comics Group. He has also written comics for TV properties such as the top-rated Oxygen Network series The Bad Girls Club. His other forays into fiction include such realms as steampunk, pulp, young adult, fantasy, superheroes, sci-fi, and even samurai frogs on horseback (seriously, don’t laugh). However, his favorite contribution to the world will be as the writer/editor who invented the genre and coined the term “Hookerpunk.”

For more information (and mug shots) visit www.thetaylorverse.com and his writer’s blog at www.badgirlsgoodguys.com.

The post Interview with Author Sean Taylor: A Crowd in Babylon appeared first on L. Andrew Cooper's Horrific Scribblings.

Interview with Author Hal Bodner: A Study in Spandex and “Funeral Games”

Celebrated storyteller Hal Bodner stopped in to let me grill him a bit about two of the latest additions to his dark, daring, fabulous, funny, exciting, and eclectic body of work.

A Study in Spandex

Grieving his husband’s untimely death, Alec Archer doesn’t feel up to donning the Whirlwind’s skintight turquoise costume to defend Centerport against yet another supervillain.

But the evil genius who calls himself the Zookeeper doesn’t care about Alec’s feelings. The Zookeeper has chosen Centerport as the perfect place to demonstrate his latest creation—a genetic process that converts harmless house pets into lethal bioweapons.

Click the pic for more on Amazon!

Whether he’s battling giant spiders, rescuing the city from a vicious army of mutated puppies and kittens, saving a child from an angry grizzly bear, or simply babysitting a pair of awkward newbie superheroes who are more trouble than they’re worth, Alec dutifully does his best, even though his heart isn’t in it.

Unfortunately, the Whirlwind’s unique biology proves irresistible to the Zookeeper. Captured and horribly tortured to unlock the secrets of his superhuman genetics, Alec’s despair and grief threaten to overcome him, and the outcome of the Whirlwind’s final battle with the Zookeeper is far from certain.

“Funeral Games”

Originally published in the Sisters in Crime anthology Avenging Angelenos, this very dark, very funny story is about two rival cemetery owners/funeral directors who compete for celebrity bodies. As their resentment of one another grows, the competition escalates into increasingly macabre territory.

The Interview

Thanks for joining me, Hal Bodner! I’ve always enjoyed our conversations, and I’m anxious to learn more about the work you’ve been doing lately. So, let’s get to it…

(1) Lugubrious Laughs. When I called for guests with “dark aesthetics,” people might not have known I meant to include dark humor, but I certainly did, and your work excels at delivering both chuckles and chills. The title of A Study in Spandex, not to mention the idea of an army of mutated house pets, promises comedy, but your book’s description emphasizes “despair and grief,” promising a melancholy streak as well. How and why do you combine these elements? What do you expect readers to feel coming away from A Study in Spandex?

HB: Oh, wow. Let’s just DIVE into the deep end, shall we? LOL!

All kidding aside, that’s a pretty serious question, and I think it hearkens back even as far as Bite Club, my first novel.

Humor, I think, ultimately comes from pain. Some of the most heartbreaking moments in life can also, if handled properly, become the funniest. There is always something to laugh at when things start getting extreme – you know that old saying, “from the sublime to the ridiculous?” Well, I think there’s truth in that. In fact, I think if you dissect a lot of humor, you can often find some element that, had it not been deliberately made funny, might be alarming.

Look at The Three Stooges, for example. Those guys are actually maiming each other, yet we laugh.
I also think that humor is the best way to make a point without being obvious. People remember tragedies, but they also sometimes block them out. If the experience is too horrible or painful for them, they can go numb – even to the point of being unable to remember the event.  Yet I cannot think of any situation where someone would block out something funny. They might not see the humor or be offended by it – especially in today’s environment, or it might even be forgettable in the general sense. But the odds are, if done right, a point made humorously will tend to stick with people for much longer. They may revisit it from time to time and, hopefully, learn something from it.

I also think there can be a lovely shock value from irreverence. That’s one of my favorite techniques. If I can get my readers to think, “Wait a minute. He’s NOT going there, is he? He can’t. He wouldn’t dare! Ohmigosh. He DID!” and have them fighting not to laugh at something their mores and belief systems tell them they should NOT laugh at, I’ve made an impact. I may even have gotten them to look at their closely held values and conventions in a very different way – and I think that’s always part of what a writer should try to do.

(2) Scarlet Studies. Picking on your title again—A Study in Spandex echoes Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes novel A Study in Scarlet, which seems like an unusual reference point for a superhero adventure story involving bioweapons and superhuman genetics. Did classic detective tales influence you, and, if so, how? Similarly, does your background in the horror genre shine through in Alec Archer’s story/stories, and, if so, how?

HB: I’m best known as a Horror author, yet, ironically, I never felt that very much of what I write is “horror” per se. I’ve always considered myself as primarily a writer of capers. That’s what Bite Club and The Trouble with Hairy really were – capers. They weren’t even real mysteries – in both books, we knew very early on who the bad guy was. But since one of the main characters happened to be a vampire, I got pegged as a Horror writer.

I think, once that happens – once an author gets a label like that, especially if it’s due to a really successful book – the natural reaction is to buy into it. So, I found myself writing what was ostensibly Horror for a decade or so. What I also found, however, was that my definition of “horror” was very different from how most other people think of it. For example, monsters and crazed serial killers aren’t very real for me. Loss, however, is.

You already know this, but some of your readers may not.  I lost my first husband (though it was before same sex marriage was legal) when he was only 40. It was completely unexpected, a freak illness, complicated by medical malpractice. THAT, to me, is what horror truly is. So while there are traditional Horror elements in Fabulous in Tights and A Study in Spandex – and while “Funeral Games” is unquestionably macabre, the ultimate “horror” (particularly in Fabulous in Tights) isn’t supernatural at all. Nor does it originate in a character’s psychosis or delusions, as it does in the serial killer type books. The horror elements emerge from what was a simple misunderstanding, and a different way of looking at things – it’s the tragic consequences which become horrific, so to speak. And yes, in Spandex in particular, there’s quite a bit of gore (and a pretty intense torture scene which, I hope, is also very funny), and some of the murders in Bite Club are a bit tough to take. 

But those are mere “moments” of horror. The lasting impact – the horror elements which I hope will remain with the reader – have nothing to do with people being skinned alive with red-hot vegetable peelers, or with evil djinns emerging from a hot tub (both of which I’ve done, by the way!).  The type of horror that interests me comes from some of the very real, very natural events that will inevitably affect all of us at one point or another in our lives.


(3) Skintight and Super. Regarding Alec Archer, your book’s description presents him as reluctant but dutiful—how else would you describe him? Will readers fall in love with him? Why or why not?

HB: I’m very fond of Alec Archer – precisely because he is so terribly torn between his private life and his secret identity.  I set out to create a character who was really likeable in the “real” world but who became kind of a dick whenever he was forced to step into his superhero role.

Alec Archer embodies many of the qualities of what I think of as the ideal husband. Not only is he incredibly good-looking (What can I say? I’m shallow that way. Have you seen my husband? He’s pretty hot!), but he’s also very loving. He adores his husband, Peter – not in an unhealthy or obsessive way, but in a way where he never fails to appreciate him or takes him for granted. In some ways, Alec is one of those 1950s housewives whose life revolves around their husbands. He even uses some of that kind of language when he’s talking about the relationship.

But that doesn’t mean that he’s an insipid, besotted milquetoast. Alec is also a very effective and somewhat hard-nosed businessman, and even brusque and a bit impatient in his professional life. I made him that way on purpose. It’s a harbinger to what he’s like when he dons his cape and becomes the Whirlwind.

As the Whirlwind he’s an asshole! He can be quite witty and sometimes gets himself into very funny situations, but he resents the hell out of having to do the things that superheroes are expected to do, and he’s not very adept at hiding how he feels. He’s impatient, caustic, and intolerant. While he’s certainly aware of having to put on a good face for the press, he sort of resents that, too. The only reason he does it at all – and I think this may be one of the Whirlwind’s redeeming qualities – is that he feels a strong responsibility, even if he hates every minute of it.

As a mildly interesting side note, I was absolutely flummoxed by some of the comments in the early reviews – particularly Publishers’ Weekly, who ought to know better. In modern times, some readers are apparently incapable of distinguishing between the voice of the author and the voice of the character! There is a scene early in Fabulous in Tights where the Whirlwind enters a burning building – with his usual resentment at having to do it – to rescue a group of people who are the very antitheses of what he considers the “ideal” victim.  He has this fantasy of always being the proverbial knight in shining armor, rescuing a series of handsome young men who will all, out of gratitude, fall helplessly in love with him – a temptation he will resist out of nobility and loyalty to his husband. Of course that never happens in real life! In this case, one victim is a sharp-tongued older woman, one is morbidly obese, one is hysterical, and another is confined to a wheelchair. The Whirlwind, true to form, is not only not gracious, he’s borderline insulting.

The Social Justice Warriors and the PC police went wild! They attacked with as much sanctimony as they did gusto. They were determined to attribute the views and motivations of a fictional character… to me! What’s interesting to me is that, if you read the scene carefully, you see that though the Whirlwind starts out as a shallow and judgmental dick, as the scene progresses, he actually grows a little as a person, and becomes less judgmental as he gets past the physicality of one character and discovers he likes her as a person. It’s actually designed as a scene about positivity – but the PC types were far more interested in showcasing how clever they were at “exposing,” well, whatever it is that they pride themselves on exposing, than they were in actually taking into account the scene as a whole.

The thing that set them off, by the way, was a comment the Whirlwind makes: “Gay guys and fat chicks. It’s the perfect combination. Like pearls and basic black.”  I happened to think it was a very funny line that was quintessentially this particular character’s expression of the growth process he’d experienced. It shows that, though he certainly hasn’t achieved any pinnacles of tolerance, he’s at least farther along than he was when he walked into the building. Sadly, though, to prevent even more outrage and possible cancelling, it had to be cut. 

(4) Super Gay? Your bio (see below) points out that your novel Bite Club made you one of the top selling gay authors in America, and to add a personal note, your story “A Rift in Reflection” in the anthology Chiral Mad 3 ranks as one of my favorite gay-themed shorts of all time. Does A Study in Spandex have specific gay appeal? Why or why not?

HB: Absolutely. In fact, I’ve been told it’s “too gay”! LOL. Again, though, I think it’s interesting by what some people mean when they say my work is “too gay”. I generally avoid graphic erotica unless I’m specifically hired to write a paranormal romance like In Flesh and Stone – which is incredibly erotic!

However, I’m a Gay rights advocate from way back, and I was in the trenches, so to speak, for the duration of the AIDS epidemic in the 80s and 90s. So, I feel very strongly – perhaps more strongly than I feel about almost anything else in my life – that Gay men are not just little pink versions of straight people. We have a history, a culture, and even a lifestyle that is uniquely ours, and that is not always palatable to straight people – even the most PC of them. Not only do I not shirk at presenting my characters as Gay men, living openly gay lives, but I feel a strong responsibility to do so.  Nor do I shy away from, in some cases, presenting some of what might be seen as our cultural shallowness, or our purported “obsession” with sex, the graphic language we sometimes use, or the attitudes we espoused within the community.

Note that last part is in the past tense. Not to get too political, but I think the current alphabet soup of LGBT-etc. politics is slowly erasing many of the things that were quintessential aspects of traditional gay male culture and, under the guise of social progress, is acting as a kind of forced assimilation. I not only resent that, but I resist it as best I can in my life and in my work, even while realizing that I may be in the minority and that my views may be considered “old fashioned” and out-of-date.

(5) Subtext in Spandex. A lot of superhero stories these days tend to plant subtext beneath the battles between heroes and villains, stakes that reflect on politics, environmental issues, etc. Should readers expect subtext from the conflict between the Whirlwind and the Zookeeper? Why or why not?

HB: Oh, I’m all about subtext! But I don’t write overtly political “message” fiction. I find it tedious. The vast majority of it is overly preachy.

For example, I recently read a short story by a trans author that was more of a manifesto, or even an accusation, than it was a piece of fiction. It was offensively aggressive and filled with prose that was almost slogan-like. Reading between then lines, I thought it indicated that the author was still struggling with their own issues and still weren’t comfortable in their own skin. That’s not only a sad place for anyone to be, but I have to ask what the purpose is of injecting all that into your fiction in that particularly unsubtle way? True, it might be therapeutic, but if so, it’s very public therapy. The people who are inclined to agree with you are probably not the audience you want to reach. They’ve already gotten the Message, and there seems little point in hammering it in unless the author is desperate for validation. On the flip side, the people who need to be reached – the ones who either don’t understand the Message, or who are already opposed to it, are likely to be put off and resentful about being “lectured” to.

So, ultimately, what’s the point?

Subtext, however, when properly done, “lurks” and, if you’re lucky, may even haunt a reader and force them to re-evaluate their mores, opinions, views, and core values – even if it works subliminally. I think that kind of thing results in a truly lasting change far more effectively that hurling ostentatiously socio-political rhetoric into a reader’s face.

(6) Celebrated Bodies. “Funeral Games” presents two cemetery owners struggling for relative fame by trying to claim famous corpses for their businesses. The story seems to poke fun at celebrity and fandom, but the fun might be affectionate. How do you feel about the craze for fame, especially in Los Angeles, and how do those feelings affect your writing?

HB: I love Los Angeles – especially its quirkiness. Twenty years ago, LA was one of the best cities in the world to live in. Sadly, many of the things that made it so wonderful – notably the freedom that comes from not being particularly grounded in anything – have also made it highly vulnerable to many of the less attractive aspects of modern society. That said, emotionally, I am unquestionably an Angeleno! We have a way of thinking here, and a world outlook – or, at least we did – that I buy into completely. Yet, I also pride myself on being self-aware, and intelligent enough, to also see the absurdity of it. I don’t think I’d be able to keep any of that stuff out of my writing if I tried!

The quest for fame thing has always been part of the rubric of LA insofar as “Los Angeles” is as much of a concept as it is a physical city. I’m very fond of saying this about LA:

Many people who live here don’t understand the difference between being “unique” and being “special” in that everyone is unique, but few people are truly special. And because we are a city of surfaces, they believe that eccentricity is an outward manifestation of the “specialness” they aspire to. But Los Angeles is still a very young city in many ways, and true eccentricity requires a kind of venerable foundation that LA lacks. So instead of being eccentric, they come off as merely weird. And besides, they seem to forget that on the East Coast – which has that kind of a foundation, calling someone “eccentric” is not a compliment.  It’s something to avoid and, if you are found to be “eccentric,” they don’t celebrate you – they lock you in an attic!

(7) Word Games. You have a lovely vocabulary. I don’t recall the last time I saw the word “harridan,” but it appears twice in “Funeral Games!” How would you describe your style in general? Am I reasonable in saying it’s a bit more elevated than standard genre fare?

HB: Thanks. I’ve been told that about my vocabulary before. But… “elevated”? Good gods! I hope not! LOL.

Here’s the thing: I believe that an author’s task, and their goal above all others, should be to communicate to the reader. I don’t have any patience whatsoever with hoity-toity “intellectual” fiction. The whole notion of “speculative” horror and “literary” fiction leaves me cold. That said, there’s no question that there are readers out there who get some degree of satisfaction out of reading things that, to my mind, are overly obscure and deliberately obtuse.

I honestly don’t know how else to explain the popularity of something like Mark Danielewski’s House of Leaves, or even Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian.  I found them to be virtually unreadable. Yet, when it comes to something like Andy Weir’s The Martian, I was transfixed the whole way, even though it’s not a particularly easy read. I think that’s because Weir never allows style to triumph over story, and, in the end, isn’t story what it’s all about?

So, I think – or, at least, I hope! – that when one of my characters uses a word like “harridan,” the antiquated vocabulary is organic to the character using it. In “Funeral Games,” Mickey is kind of persnickety (another antiquated word! LOL. But I think it’s the right word to describe him). He’s fussy and petty, and while he’s not gay, there’s a prissiness about him that is traditionally seen as a more feminine trait. There’s an aura of old-fashioned-ness surrounding him; in some ways, he’s out of touch. So, someone like Mickey would definitely use a word like “harridan.” In fact, I think he also calls Julia a “fishwife” at one point, doesn’t he?

I always try to use simple language in my work, but that doesn’t mean I have to sacrifice intelligence. I’ve notice, for example, that sometimes something as simple as rewriting a sentence, and changing it from active voice to passive, or swapping independent clauses for dependent ones, can create the effect of using elevated language without compromising clarity.

That said, In Flesh and Stone was deliberately written with so-called “heightened” language. The protagonist in that book is an artist – a painter. He sees the world in artistic terms. His experience of reality is more intense than normal people’s, more vibrant, perhaps less well-grounded but ultimately more real. His colors are brighter, his emotions are more volatile. As a result, I felt that the language of the book ought to reflect that.

While we’re on the subject, I am ASTOUNDED by how many purported “authors” do not actually know how to write! They don’t understand the parts of speech, or basic grammar rules, or how to structure a sentence. Mention the word “diagramming,” and you’ll get a blank stare in return. I don’t think they understand that writing is a craft as much as it is an art.  It’s not that they’re not creative – some of them are far more creative than I’ll ever be! However, they lack the ability to effectuate that creativity in prose. The result is a lot of “really cool” ideas, or “nifty twist endings,” in stories that ultimately fail.

I actually stress over individual word choices. I’ll often spend hours (sometimes days) rewriting a single paragraph until it says exactly what I want/need it to say. I worry about active vs. passive voice in a sentence and which is more effective. And I actively struggle to avoid “gerund-based” prose, partly because I find it awkward and oppressive, but also because I’m French – and we rarely use gerunds! LOL

(8) More Word Games. You relate much of “Funeral Games” through snappy dialogue, which makes the story very easy to imagine as a screenplay or on the screen. Why do you rely on dialogue to such an extent for characterization and plot development? How does the screen influence your imagination and writing?

HB: I believe characters express themselves in two ways: by what they do, and by what they say. A character that is based purely on a physical description is almost certainly going to be two dimensional at best, and at worst a cliché. You can do it in other ways, of course. Christopher Moore, for example, opens his novel Noir with the line “She was a blonde. A dirty one.”  In a mere seven words, a perceptive reader will instantly know who “she” is, who the speaker is, and what the tone of the book is going to be. Of course the details will need to be filled in later. But the essence is already there.

Believe it or not, I was trained as a playwright, and I’ve even got a BFA to show for it! I think that working in the Theatre helped give me an “ear” for dialogue that has stood me in very good stead as someone who now writes mostly prose. I say “mostly” because once or twice a year, I may find myself hired to do what we call “taking a pass” on a movie script. It’s generally limited to dialogue work, but every so often I’m asked to do something a bit more comprehensive. I’m not a member of the Guild, and I don’t want to become one, so it’s all very hush-hush. The people who hire me are almost always the writers themselves and not the studio or production company, and they pay me out of their own pockets. In what may seem like a typical example of “Hollywood” attitudes, although I’ve certainly got the necessary skill, what makes me even more attractive is that I have exactly zero interest in taking any credit! I honestly have no desire to see my name on the screen.

(9) Future Funerals. You’ve given me the advance tip that “Funeral Games” is bound for a collection tentatively titled In Sad Cypress expected from Cemetery Dance in late 2024. What else can readers expect from this collection? What does a Hal Bodner collection look like?

HB: Well, it will certainly be very funny at times. But some of the stories will also carry an emotional gut punch. You’ve read “A Rift in Reflection”, so you know what I mean by that. Cemetery Dance is primarily a dark fiction/horror publisher, so the focus will be on stories within that genre. However, I’ve also included a couple of mystery shorts.

In fact, two of my favorites, neither of which is strictly horror, will be in it. “The Baker of Millepois,” which is a rather charming traditional-style French fable – that happens to be about cannibalism – and “I Am The Ink,” which I think is a truly unique, thought-provoking, and often very funny approach to Noir.

(10) Access! How can readers learn more about you and purchase your works (please provide any links you want to share)?

HB: The best way is via www.halbodner.com.  Most of my novels that are currently in print are listed there, and you can click right through to the Amazon purchase pages. Though, to be honest, I’m not sure if the links lead to print format (which I prefer), ebook format, or the audio books. But I think Amazon makes it easy to just click on whichever you want. I’m not entirely sure because I’m a complete Luddite when it comes to online stuff.  I once bought my husband chopsticks with little pandas on them. I paid something like $35 bucks, so I assumed they were really nice chopsticks. It turned out that I’d inadvertently bought six boxes of 12 pairs of chopsticks each! After that, whenever I want/need something ordered online, I ask Gene to do it for me.

The short fiction is harder to find. Some of the older anthologies may be out of print, or available only as ebooks. I think Amazon has a search function that helps with that. Every time I have a short piece come out, I go to Amazon and figure out how to make the relevant anthology show up on my Amazon page. Whether I’ve always successfully accomplished that is anyone’s guess!

Note from Andrew: The images of book covers throughout the interview, including the anthologies, are also direct links to Amazon sales pages. Most of my links default to ebook formats, but you can switch to other formats from the Amazon pages.

About the Author

Multiple Bram Stoker Award nominee Hal Bodner’s freshman novel, Bite Club, made him one of the top selling Gay authors in America. Best known for his deeply emotional horror short fiction and for his comedic mysteries and capers, Hal spent 35 years working in Hollywood as an entertainment lawyer and was one of the founders of the prestigious Ovation Awards, the West Coast equivalent of Broadway’s Tony Awards. He is married to a wonderful man, half his age, who never knew that Liza Minnelli was Judy Garland’s daughter. Somewhat stereotypically, they have a poodle.

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Guest Post: Unveiling the Dark Corners of the Mind

by Christopher Kokoski

I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to my friend L. Andrew Cooper for inviting me to contribute a guest post to his website. Today, I’ll delve into my collection of horror and paranormal novels, discussing how their dark spiritual and philosophical themes give them distinct positions within the marketplace.

The Past Lives Novel Series: Diving into the Spiritual Abyss of Reincarnation

The Past Lives novel series is a chilling saga that delves deep into the concept of reincarnation.

Click the pic to view on Amazon!

Imagine waking up one day and finding out that you are a reincarnated serial killer. Under hypnosis, the protagonist of the series—Eric Shooter—goes through a transformative journey, coming face to face with his dark past.

The books blend horror elements with philosophical musings, offering readers an intellectual thrill ride.

What sets the series apart from most paranormal fiction is its unapologetic exploration of darker themes that many authors might fear to explore. It’s a cautionary tale, a reflection on the nature of evil that resides in each one of us, lying dormant until awakened.

Wicker Hollow: A Town Caught in a Spiritual War

I also wrote a standalone novel that fits into our darker theme. Wicker Hollow takes you to a small town where good and evil clash in unprecedented spiritual warfare between angels and demons.

The protagonist, a man struggling to redeem himself, gets entangled in this cosmic conflict, putting not just his life but also his family at risk. While the backdrop might be fantastical, the moral and emotional struggles are deeply human, capturing the complexities of morality and redemption.

Wicker Hollow packs expansive themes into its pages. It offers a different kind of horror—the existential kind, posing questions about morality, life, and what it means to be truly redeemed. The book carves its own niche within spiritual and paranormal fiction, seamlessly combining elements of both.

Contributing to Short Story Collections: Reimagining Frankenstein’s Monster

Beyond my novels, I’ve also contributed to various short story collections, one of which focuses on a unique twist on Frankenstein’s monster. The short story takes an iconic figure from horror literature and transforms him with even more layers infused with both horror and sympathy.

Through my short stories, I aim to stretch the boundaries of conventional horror and introduce new thinking and perspectives that add depth to traditional horror archetypes.

The Importance of Horror and Supernatural Fiction in the Marketplace

In a market saturated with genre fiction, horror and the supernatural maintain a special, unyielding place.

These genres allow us to explore spiritual and existential questions within the safety of the written word. The market for horror and supernatural fiction is not just about entertaining but also about educating, offering readers a cathartic space to face, understand, and perhaps overcome their own fears.

Conclusion: Beyond Novels – Tips and Tricks on Writing Horror

While I find immense joy in writing novels and short stories, I also regularly write blog posts on writing techniques specifically related to horror and paranormal fiction. Topics include “How to Describe a Ghost,” “How to Write a Funeral Scene,” and even “How to Describe a Scream.” For those interested in the art of writing within this genre, you can find these resources on my website, WritingBeginner.com.

Thank you for taking the time to explore the darker corners of the mind with me. Until next time, tread lightly in the shadowy recesses of your imagination.

About the Author

Christopher Kokoski is an author and blogger. Some of his notable works include Wicker Hollow, the Past Lives Series, and the Query Letter Swipe File. Learn more about him on WritingBeginner.com or sign up for his blogging newsletter at https://writingbeginner.substack.com/.

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Guest Post: Embracing the Uncomfortable

by Maeva Wunn

A big hug, a warm turtleneck, a hot cup of coffee…

Do those things make you smile or cringe? Is a hug just a hug or is it something else? Does the tight circle of fabric around your neck give you comfort or panic? Is that cup of coffee hot enough to burn or strong enough to wake you for a fight?

Free AssociationWhy does a kitchen towel become a gaga guitar stringa garrotea cracked glassa thousand knivesa quilta shrouda curtainto drown out the noisea lightswitchto hide the crimea doorknobanother way ina lockmeant for pickinga housea home

Perception is unique to every individual, and all our relationships with reality are different. As a fan of horror, I find myself drawn to things that make my skin crawl or my stomach clench. I know that my eyes see the world through a distorting lens that would fit right into a giallo film. For me, creating and consuming horror brings the rest of the world more in line with what I experience and helps me to process things in a healthier way.

Picture MakingI wield the scissors,cutting images of fake memoryto comfort me,snipping life details,trimming landscapes to revealthe shadows in a snowy field,the darkness in a waterfall,shaping things to fit the framesI’ve made over the years,filling them one by onewith safe thingsthat only hintat the life and times behind them.ReconstructionAs you waste away, joints failing, muscle and bone losing cohesion,let your memory lose mortar and glue,let the blocks fall into a more pleasing pile,and I’ll rebuild your little homewith stories that would make you proud—never mind my nameor that you forgot your own,the year, the city, the presidentare trivial—with a snap of my fingers you’ll awake—a new you made in my image.

I know most people don’t share that experience. A dark window is just a window, a hammer is a carpentry tool, a stranger on the street is just someone in the middle of their own story. So, what’s the benefit of consuming this media if you’re not inclined to the darker things in life? The answer is growth. Empathy is in short supply, and always has been really, so taking a look through someone else’s eyes can give you understanding that your personal experiences can’t. Reading a poem or watching a film that makes you question things can open up new lines of thought, make you question long held beliefs, maybe even change the way you live your life.

Sacrifice in the Big CityFolded alone into the corner curveof the couch, television sprayingcolored light on the ceiling and wallsin the evening gloom, in the backgroundghost voices drift in from next doorand feet padding on carpet up aboveremind me of the sounds I miss,the space next to me an empty achereserved for the ideal, not the real.The wicker man is free tonight,capering through the darkened streets,legs creaking as they jig, armsright angles open toward the sky,as the steel downtown twistsinto the form of a burning man,broken and crumbling in a mad rushtoward disintegration, carryingblood sacrifices to meet their godswhile their screams feed the peopleleft alive, bringing the city backto life and staving off ruinfor another year or twountil the blood runs outand the horror is washed awayand we sink back into the pitof apathy.The face is right but the eyes are wrong,the deep electrical puzzlefalling into place in a new pattern,erasing the memoriesand the looks that used to fiton that face,failing me for the last timebefore I give upand walk away.

Most humans gravitate toward things that make them feel safe. Comfort zones are just that – metaphorical places we can let down our guard and rest. They’re vital for our wellbeing. But it’s also vital to leave them now and again. Use the muscles before they atrophy. Let the discomfort lead to strength.

Last Wish of the DissociatedI don't know how to relate -you slice your handI pull out a ribyou stare and stammerI burn to ash.Let me turn to powderand sift with windunjudged unburdenedat last.About the Author

Maeva Wunn is a bisexual, non-binary, neurodivergent poet, crafter, history buff, and music enthusiast living with chronic illnesses. They have been writing poetry since childhood. They spent most of their life in Atlanta, Georgia and moved to the Midwest after meeting their spouse. They currently reside in Iowa with their spouse and cats.

Find them and their work on Chill Subs, in the anthology Reel Dark, in All My Relations, Vol. 5, and publications by Lupercalia Press, the winnow, Trouble Maker Fire Starter, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, The Hellebore, en*gendered, Masque and Spectacle, and others. They were nominated for Best of the Net 2022 by Spoonie Press for their poem “Digging.”

They can be found on social media at:

Kofi: maevawunn

Instagram: maevawunn

Twitter: MaevaWunn

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