MASHED Monday Author Interview: Devon Widmer
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Devon Widmer writes the story, “Burnt Scrambled Eggs”in our anthology, Mashed: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror. “Burnt Scrambled Eggs” is the story of a woman and her succubus lover. What happens the morning after? Breakfast of course!
Please tell us a little bit about yourself?
I always describe myself as a grumpy graduate student, but then, what graduate student isn’t grumpy? It’s like an unofficial admission requirement. I do, of course, plan on graduating some day soon. Or at least some day. In the meantime, I’m enjoying living on the west coast and complaining about all of the unseemly good weather to my folks back in the Midwest.
When not writing, what do you enjoy doing?
Normally, I list sleeping as my primary hobby, but as the mother to an endlessly energetic toddler, I’m not entirely sure what sleep is any more. I also must enjoy complaining since I seem to spend so much time doing it.
What attracted you to submitting your story to MASHED: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror?
I really liked the challenge of combining horror, eroticism, and humor all into one story.
For your story “Burnt Scrambled Eggs” what was your inspiration?
The link between sleep paralysis nightmares and incubi/succubi attacks. Also sexy demon ladies. Mostly sexy demon ladies.
Influences:
When did you first discover that you wanted to be a writer?
When I was five, I dictated my very first novel to my mother. “Where is the Dinosaur?” chronicled the genre-bending adventure of a mother dinosaur in search of her child. (Spoiler alert: the baby dino was neither on the moon nor hiding in Peter Piper’s pepper field).
Who are your favorite authors? What are your favorite books?
My two favorite authors are Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett. I’m a big fan of British humor as well as any author who’s writing can give me a few solid chuckles.
What films or books have most influenced you as an author?
The works of the aforementioned authors as well as all things Monty Python. Nudge nudge. Know what I mean?
Outside of Horror, what other genre’s do you write in?
Fantasy and science fiction.
What is the first book that made you cry?
An unintentionally cruel middle school teacher assigned Where the Red Fern Grows when I was in the fifth grade. Needless to say, there were a lot of red eyes in class that week.
On Writing:
How do you describe your writing style?
An ongoing process.
What advice would you give to new writers just getting started?
Don’t be afraid to write a few crappy stories on the way to writing a great one.
What part of writing do you find the most difficult?
Finishing the rough draft. I love revising crappy writing, so once the draft is completed, I’m a happy little revising clam. But while trying to put those first words down on paper, I’m the opposite of a happy little clam. I’m an… angry giant bratwurst?
What story are you most proud of?
Every story that I manage to finish!
What do you hope your readers take away from your stories?
Hopefully a few enjoyable page turns.
Write a 6 word story, GO!
She served my heart over arugula.
Is there anything else you’d like your fans to know?
Even though I’ve described myself as grumpy several times in this interview, I’m actually quite nice. Drop me a line if you’d like to chat writing/books!
And now, here’s a special preview of Devon’s story in MASHED!
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“Burnt Scrambled Eggs”
(AKA When the Succubus Decides to Make You Breakfast the Morning After)
After fishing a wedgie out of her crack, Tammy sighed into the musty refrigerator air. Her midnight snack options were limited to a jar of expired mayonnaise, half a carton of cracked eggs, and a solitary pickle swimming in its juices. Grimacing, she grabbed the pickle jar. But before she could unscrew the top, a puff of cold air tickled the nape of her neck. Startled, she whipped around to face… her empty kitchen.
Back in bed, Tammy savored the combined taste of pickles and toothpaste—Delicious. She folded her hands behind her head. Nothing like getting laid off from the once-in-a-lifetime-shot-at-success-in-the-big-city dream job to really bring on the insomnia. Exactly how much longer would she be able to scrape by before she had to slink back to her parents’ house with her tail between her legs like a chicken?
Wait. Did that even make sense? Tammy rubbed her palms against her eyes and yawned. She seriously needed some sleep. Closing her eyes, she conjured a herd of fluffy white sheep milling along the back of her eyelids. One sheep, two sheep, I want, to sleep…
Creeeeaaaak.
“Who’s there?” Tammy bolted upright—the gravely groan of her bedroom door opening had sent those imaginary sheep running for the imaginary hills. She blinked frantically to bring the dark room into focus. Strange. Her bedroom door was still shut.
Her eyes rolled back in frustration, Tammy drug her fingertips down her cheeks. She’d been spooking herself all night, jumping at every moan of the wind or creak of her upstairs neighbors’ floorboards. It was kinda funny, really. She forced out a loud, “Ha!” and aimed a pair of finger pistols at the offending door. “Nice one, apartment.” She clicked her tongue twice as if firing. “Almost had me there.” Then, after flopping back down onto the bed, she pulled the covers all the way up to her nose.
Tammy’s eyes flitted groggily open. A heavy pressure had settled onto her chest. Breathing shallowly, she tried to sit up but her body refused to respond. Instead, she simply lay limp, gaze immovably fixed on the whirring blades of her ceiling fan.
She’d had dreams like this before, lying in bed, unable to move, asleep but not asleep. It would pass. And hey, at least she was finally getting some rest.
It was hard to feel restful, however, when clacking footsteps, like a dog long overdue for a nail trim, began meandering around the room, halting at last at the foot of the bed. Tammy’s heart raced as the sheets slipped smoothly down her body, settling into a crumpled pile by her feet. She shivered. If she’d known freaky dream monsters would be stealing her covers, she’d have worn more than a nightshirt and panties to bed.
Two clawed fingers glided into view. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. Tammy chanted the mantra in her head as the jagged fingertips hovered inches above her eyeballs. She’d had some frightening dreams in her time, but this felt awfully real. The claws descended. After planting firmly on Tammy’s forehead, they slid down, forcibly closing her eyelids.
Thanks for joining us for #MASHEDMONDAYS, Find the rest of Devon’s story and more sensually sinister tales inside MASHED: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror
Find more #MASHEDMONDAY Author Interviews here!
