MASHED Monday Author Interview : Darla Dimmelle
[image error]Darla writes the story “Sugar” in our upcoming anthology, Mashed: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror.
“Sugar” is the story of two teens getting ready to go to college that must deal with a teacher after he hits on the female teen on a ‘Sugar Daddy’ dating site. See a free preview of the story at the end of the interview.
Please tell us a little bit about yourself?
I’m a 21 year old student at Utah Valley University. I’m a creative writing major, with minors in cinema studies and Russian. I work two jobs, as a transcriptionist for an online company and as a writing tutor at my school. I’m naturally nosy, so this suits me well.
When not writing, what do you enjoy doing?
I watch a lot of movies, and I’ve recently gotten into professional wrestling. I like going out to eat, napping with my dog, and knitting.
What attracted you to submitting your story to MASHED: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror?
Honestly, you had me at “Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror.”
Influences:
When did you first discover that you wanted to be a writer?
In sixth grade. It was early enough that now basically all my marketable skills are in creative writing, so here we are.
Did you have any writing mentors?
Not officially, but I owe a lot to my professors; specifically Karin Anderson and Julie Nichols.
Who are your favorite authors? What are your favorite books?
Stephen King got me interested in reading horror and sustained me as a young girl. I grew up and got more into romantic dramas (my favorites being Maurice by EM Forster and Tipping the Velvet by Sarah Waters). Now I would say that my favorite book of all time would be Hogg by Samuel Delany.
What films or books have most influenced you as an author?
Brian de Palma’s Carrie was life-changing for me, being what introduced me to horror. I was obsessed with it. I was an anxious child, so I spent countless nights awake and terrified after seeing it for the first time. To cope, I started to watch the movie obsessively, going as far as to write down the script of the film, line for line.
Similarly, getting into erotica at a young age definitely helped me develop stylistically. I thank Sarah Waters and her works, specifically Tipping the Velvet and Fingersmith, for this.
Now, I find a lot of comfort in New French Extremity films. Not because of their content necessarily, but in the fact that they have an audience. It helps assure me that there is an audience for the type of work I would like to create.
Outside of Horror, what other genre’s do you write in?
I enjoy writing comedy, romance, and erotica – but none of these are as fun for me without some sort of horror element.
Is there anything else that has influenced you as a writer?
Song of Songs. Online pornography. The It Follows soundtrack.
What is the first book that made you cry?
Where the Red Fern Grows in fifth grade! I never read a dog book again after that! Thanks a lot, Mrs. Cavanaugh!
On Writing:
How do you describe your writing style?
I enjoy writing very conversational, fun prose. While I want to use beautiful language, I strive to keep the flow of narration natural so my readers can be immersed. To accomplish this, I focus on overall structure and rhythm, allowing my readers to fill in imagistic gaps.
What advice would you give to new writers just getting started?
Write as much as you can. Read a lot. Steal ideas. Write shit, and make other people read it. Viciously defend yourself against anything they say, and then internalize everything that night in bed and improve yourself. Teach yourself humility. Teach yourself arrogance. Never forget, everything is duality, and you are a humble, arrogant creation.
What part of writing do you find the most difficult?
Getting ideas out of my head and onto paper.
What story are you most proud of?
I once wrote a story about a person who lived in the woods and came across a young man who had died in a car crash. I made it into a filmed puppet show and showed it to a class. Lots of people were very uncomfortable with how romantic they found necrophilia for those couple minutes.
What do you hope your readers take away from your stories?
When it comes down to it, I want my readers to have a good time! If I can provide an outlet or flesh out a fantasy, I’ll be more than happy.
What is your next big writing project fans should be on the lookout for?
I’ll be giving a paper at 2017’s Pop Culture Conference in San Diego on queer fandom in professional wrestling. I have a few other stories I’m trying to get published, and a few novels I’m trying to get finished.
Write a 6-word story, GO!
He masturbates and cries, releases mixing.
Is there anything else you’d like your fans to know?
Always, always, always; thank you!
Where else on the internet can you be found?
Connect with Darla on Facebook and on Tumblr
And now here’s a special preview of Darla’s story in MASHED!
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Sugar
“Can you come over right now?” Honey asked. She sounded better than she had earlier, when she’d spaced out in Kiddo’s room and rambled, sweating and shaking like the devil had gotten into her. She sounded calm, miles away from the frantic I was so scared, he just kept touching me and I didn’t even try to stop him. It made the knot between Kiddo’s shoulders loosen a bit.
“Sure, Honey,” he said, already looking for his boots. “Gimme twenty minutes.”
“I’m at Burner’s house.”
Kiddo blinked. “Burner left for Colorado State.”
“Yeah, and my mom said his parents are on a Christmas cruise, so,” she said.
Kiddo’s heart thudded. He cleared his throat, and said, “You broke in.” This was not the behavior he expected from square Honey, whose most devious act ever, had been legally signing up for a sugar dating website and not even enjoying it. She wouldn’t shoplift from Hot Topic or even smoke pot.
She huffed, like Kiddo was the one being difficult. “Yes. Get over here and help me,” she snapped and hung up.
Oh fuck, Kiddo thought, toeing on his snow boots and fumbling for his car keys. Shit, fuck shit, shit fuck.
Burner’s parents lived in a nicer neighborhood than his or Honey’s, which was why Burner had left town for college and Kiddo and Honey went to Community. Anyone who’d spent an afternoon after school with Burner knew which potted plant they hid their keys under. They would also know that they kenneled their finicky Pomeranian during vacations and that their security code was 00002. Most importantly, and perhaps unfortunately at this moment, Kiddo thought, everyone knew Mrs. Burner, an abstract expressionist, worked in a big, empty, concrete studio where she liked to splatter paint and then hose the remnants down the drain. Burner had done a presentation on it Freshman year, telling the whole English class about his hero, with pictures and everything.
But Kiddo was sure Honey was just fucking with him. She probably just wanted to steal booze, to kick back and watch some TLC on cable. Honey sometimes pulled the Burner’s mail when they were out for $5 a day, so it wasn’t that weird for her to be there. She probably thought this was real fucking funny. And, honestly, he probably would too once he was sure Honey hadn’t done anything too dumb.
He parked a block away, stuffed his cold fingers in his jacket pockets, and stepped over the snowy curb. Cold air freezing down his throat and lungs, he jogged to the big, boxy, environmentally conscious house, sneaking around to the back to get to the studio.
Honey was waiting for him, chewing on her thumbnail in the doorway, brow crinkled in concentration. Her blonde hair had been braided and pinned close to her head, and the makeup she’d mostly cried and rubbed off was still smudging around her eyes and mouth. She smiled when she saw him, though; her pink-banded braces close to glowing in the dim light of the open studio door. She exhaled. Her breath steamed.
“What the fuck?” he hissed. He looked over her shoulder, where Mr. Redacted was sitting, gagged and tied to a chair, struggling. His scuffed-up leather shoes were just brushing the floor drain. Kiddo looked at Honey again, more violently this time, and repeated, “Literally what the fuck, Honey? Oh my fucking God, what the fuck did you do?” Still, he followed her in toward warmth and let her shut and lock the cold out.
Mr. Redacted was sitting uncomfortably, looking on the sadder side of forty and gaunt, although he had a good head of hair. He was wearing old dude date clothes– khakis and a button down—and Kiddo remembered him wearing almost the exact same outfit to Woodshop. His skinny shins and ankles were secured firmly to the legs of the chair, his knobbled wrists behind the back, one final black, plush rope tight around his middle. He had a ring gag in, and the tip of his fat pink tongue lolled out of his mouth, spit drooling down his chin. Besides that, though, he looked fine. He pleaded with Kiddo the second he entered his line of vision, which made no one more comfortable.
“You said you’d help me.” Honey only looked a little put out by his lack of enthusiasm.
“I thought you were kidding! We were just joking around to make you feel better after a shitty date. Like, oh, let’s torture porn rape revenge this creep! Sure, that sounds fun! I didn’t think you were serious! You can’t just—where did you get all this stuff on such short notice?” he asked, distracted, circling the teacher, taking in how high quality all of Honey’s tools were. At least the guy wouldn’t be getting any rope burn.
“He brought it,” Honey said. “I told him I’d let him tie me up for sex if he showed me how to do it to him first.” She shrugged. “He thought it was a good idea. Even took a taxi so his wife wouldn’t notice the car was missing.”
Kiddo only realized he was staring at her when Honey finally met his eyes to offer him a small, hopeful smile. “So, you,” he took a second to process. He swallowed. “You invited him here?”
Thanks for joining us for #MASHEDMONDAYS, Find the rest of Darla’s story and more sensually sinister tales inside MASHED: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror
Find more #MASHEDMONDAY Author Interviews here!
