Which one of your characters would you least like to meet in real life?

I’m not an author, I’m an editor, so I don’t create characters. But there are certainly plenty of unsavory characters and creatures created by others in the books I’ve edited.

The term horror, especially when applied to fiction always carries such heavy connotations.  What’s your feeling on the term “horror” and what do you think we can do to break past these assumptions?


I’m quoting myself here, from “Introduction to The Year’s Best Dark Fantasy & Horror: 2010: What the Hell Do You Mean by ‘Dark Fantasy and Horror?’” (You can find it here: paulaguran.com/introduction-to-the-years-best-dark-fantasy-horror-2010)

Once upon a time I felt the term “horror” could be broadened, accepted, and generally regarded as a fiction [to quote Douglas E. Winter who wrote in Revelations(1997)] that was “evolving, ever-changing—because it is about our relentless need to confront the unknown, the unknowable, and the emotion we experience while in its thrall.” 
 
One reason Winter was reminding us of that in the introduction to his anthology was because the word “horror” had already been devalued. He was right about what horror literature is, but the word itself had been slapped on a generic marketing category and, by 1997, the word had become a pejorative. The appellation was hijacked even more completely in the years thereafter and became associated in the public hive mind—an amorphous organism far more frequently influenced by the seductive images, motion, sounds, and effects that appear on a screen of any size than by written words (even when they are on a screen)—with entertainments that depend on shock for any value they may (or may not) possess rather than eliciting the more subtle emotion of fear. 
 
And while fine and highly diverse horror literature—some of the best ever created—continues to be written in forms short and long, the masses for the most part have identified “horror” as either a certain kind of cinema or a generic type of fiction (of which they have certain expectations or ignore entirely because it delivers only a specific formula.) 
 
So, the term “horror” has been expropriated, and I doubt we’ll ever be able to convince the world it means what we alleged horror mavens might want it to mean.

A lot of good horror movements have arisen as a direct result of the socio/political climate, considering the current state of the world where do you see horror going in the next few years? 
 
Wherever the world goes. In the last few years, we’ve started to see pandemics, climate change, current politics, and the like reflected in horror. That will continue. We are also now, finally and thankfully, seeing more and more fiction published by writers whose viewpoint is not only white, cisgendered, heterosexual, Western, and/or male.

Given the dark, violent and at times grotesque nature of the horror genre why do you think so many people enjoy reading it? 
 
Well, I’ve written essays on that. You can find many of my thoughts reflected in the introductions to various volumes of The Year’s Best Dark Fantasy and Horror: paulaguran.com/extras/ . To quote myself again, from the introduction to the latest: “Horror fiction and dark fantasy, at its best, can teach us how to survive real fear. It portrays both what is truly terrifying and what is nothing more than figments of imagination. That there are different kinds of evil to confront and defeat. It tells us, no matter what, we can fight back and survive the monsters, or, at worst, we can put up a damned good fight and leave behind a story worth telling.”

What, if anything, is currently missing from the horror genre?

Since I read a great deal of current short fiction, I find just about everything these days. Not always the case, but that’s changing.

What new and upcoming authors do you think we should take notice of? 

My annual anthologies are a great place to discover just those authors along with those you may be better acquainted with.

Are there any reviews of your work, positive or negative that have stayed with you?

No. 

Do you have a favorite line or passage from your work, and would you like to share it with us? 
 
“The farther we’ve gotten from the magic and mystery of our past, the more we’ve come to need Halloween.”
 
Can you tell us about your last book, and can you tell us about what you are working on next?
 
Here’s something about the two most recent...

The Year’s Best Fantasy, Volume One explores myth and fable, dark and light—a heroic creature facing a dangerous demon; an earthly love facing the mossy decay of death. With tales of living ball gowns and timid monsters, of modern witches and multidimensional magic, these twenty-four stories will transport you from fantastical realms that push the limits of imagination to alternative realities mirroring much of our own.

Discover bewitchment and wonder, the surreal and the chimerical, in a fantasy anthology representing a diverse array of accomplished talent from around the world . . . and perhaps beyond.
* * *
The supernatural, the surreal, and the all-too real. . . Such tales of the dark and the unknown have always fascinated us, and modern authors carry on the disquieting traditions of the past while inventing imaginative new ways to unsettle us. The twenty-three stories in The Year's Best Dark Fantasy and Horror, Volume Three where are as eclectic and varied as shadows. The anthology offers more than four hundred pages of tales from some of today’s finest writers of the fantastique 
 
* * *
And I am working on the next volumes of each (covering fiction published this year, 2022).
 
If you could erase one horror cliché what would be your choice?

I’d like to erase all clichés from horror.

What was the last great book you read, and what was the last book that disappointed you?

I’d prefer not to name one that disappointed me. I review and when I am disappointed, I decline to review. That doesn’t mean that book (or those books) might not work for others.
 
As for “great”—that’s a BIG adjective and I think it takes a little time to determine the truly great.
 
What’s the one question you wish you would get asked but never do?  And what would be the answer?
 
“We have a full-time job editing (and related stuff) available similar to what you’ve done before. Would you go back to doing that for a living?” My answer would, of course, be “yes!”

How did you come to work with the illustrator of Dead Mall? And how your working relationship with them works?

I think pitching comics, it’s a “there’s no set way to do it” kind of thing, but I think more often than not an artist and a writer collaborate on a pitch and then send it around. That wasn’t the case here, I wrote up a pitch and character sheet for Dead Mall and that’s what I ended up selling to Dark Horse, so then it became a case of finding the right artist (with the right, open schedule, which is such a tough thing). My editors were invaluable during that process.

It was actually another artist on our shortlist that tipped us to David Stoll. And I owe that artist a drink at the next con we’re at, because working with David on this has been a dream. One of the kindest, most patient collaborators I’ve ever had on any project. Phone, twitter DM, text, long email chains: we’re in pretty constant contact.

And he’s so talented. I had some weird, amorphous, and honestly, not as good, version of Dead Mall in my head when I pitched it, but what David and I have been able to produce, working together with this team (our editors, Justin Birch on letters): so good.

Who came up with the look of the characters?

When people say “comics is a collaborative” medium, they really really really mean it. My scripts had very minimal physical description for our human characters (and a little bit more for our non-human ones), the character descriptions I put down were more for “general vibe” and then David and I went back and forth, finding what worked and what didn’t, with input from our editors. I think Emmett, our teenage alcoholic, was the character who had the most design iterations. Which was fitting, because Emmett’s a complicated guy.

Are they based on anyone you know?

Oh not at all! I don’t have a ton of friends. Gotta make them all up.

Is this your first foray into horror comics?

It is, which is odd, because it’s like my third time working in comics? Not that I’m any kind of pro, by any means. But with Boom! I did short stories for Adventure Time, Power Rangers, which led to a 4-issue arc on their Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance title (a run I’m incredibly proud of). But, no, for being a fairly single-mindedly horror guy, this fourth time working in the medium is my first time doing horror.

What made you decide to step into this market?

I’m a lifelong comic reader and have been reading comics since before I could read prose. My dad grew up a comics reader, and as a child in the 90s one of the things we’d do together, he’d bring me to the comic shop, I’d pick my titles, and he’d read them to me. So it’s been a medium I’ve been dying to break my way into for a long time.

And I very much caught the bug, with those first short stories, and I kept emailing Boom!, after they made the mistake of letting me in that first time for Adventure Time. I love collaborating with a team, I love working with artists, who are basically wizards, to me as a non-drawing layperson. And now getting to do it with Dark Horse? Who was the publisher of at least half of those books I was picking up as a kid? It’s wild to me, I’m so grateful I get to work with them.

What was the inspiration for Dead Mall, and do you think there is a gap in the market for the YA age group?

Dead Mall—a comic at least *metaphorically* about the psychic and physical damage commerce does to young people—grew out of, oddly enough, my love of malls. I love walking around malls, looking up their Wikipedia pages, seeing what their anchor stores used to be, what the layout was before the last time it was renovated. And Dead Mall is an idea I’ve had in the back of my mind for a while, but every time I’ve thought about pitching it as a prose book, I’ve recoiled, telling myself: no, it’s 110% a comic. I could spend forever in a book describing what a mall looked like in 1964, then 1994, then what it looks like now, as an abandoned building, but in comics David and I can just show you. And that’s never mind the fact there’s a lot of other tricks we use, that are endemically comic book-y. It had to be this medium.

And as far as is there a gap in the market for YA, maybe? But I also I think it’s in the process of being filled? There are a lot of great YA and MG comics, especially in the original graphic novel space, both from the indies with YA/MG imprints (Boom! Dark Horse, Aftershock, Vault) and the big two (some of the coolest stuff DC and Marvel are doing is for teen readers).

Bearing in mind you wrote the hugely successful Clown in a Cornfield (2020), a YA novel widely read by adults, would the readership be equally blended for Dead Mall?

It’s interesting, in my pitch materials, I called Dead Mall YA, but then when it got time to start handing in scripts, I think Dark Horse was a little surprised at the content (violence, language, and… other stuff that would be totally fine in a YA prose setting), so I think they’re some days looking at it more like an adult title that features teens, rather than a teen title with adult crossover. But it’s fully YA to me, if a little, uh, goopy. I think this fits perfectly with the Clown books and my other (unannounced) YA novel work.

So, long answer short: yes, Dead Mall is definitely something I hope both teens and adults pick up and think will appeal to both audiences.

Comics, unlike novels, are more of a quick hit and don't have the advantage of having the narrative time to hook a reader; how did you ensure that Dead Mall hooks the reader with the first issue?

Haha. As I’m writing this the first issue isn’t out yet! So who knows if we have! But hooking readers in issue one was, clearly, something I tried to be cognizant of. Which I think was helped a lot by the fact that we’re a 28-page comic, which is longer than a lot of single-issue titles. We’ve got a little more space and, generally, I think one of my strongest assets is my ability to sketch characters quickly through dialogue. Add to that Stoll’s art and we’re in business. You’ll end issue 1 knowing who these teens are and what kind of trouble they’re in (very big trouble), you’ll also have a clear idea of who the villain is (the mall itself, who narrates the book), but, saying that, I don’t think you’ll at all see what’s coming next issue, or the one after that, and you deffffffinitely won’t guess how things end in issue 4.

Basing a comic on a bunch of teenage kids must be filled with narrative pitfalls and traps, especially concerning the "voice" of the protagonists; how did you tackle making the characters feel natural to the younger reader?

I taught high school English for 5 years, and not all that long ago. So I try and listen when I’m around young people, but I think the idea of “sounding young” is a trap in itself authors can fall into. Because we aren’t young, and language changes faster than publishing moves, so I try to write dialogue that works as dialogue and fits the characters and story, isn’t necessarily “true to life”.

We don't really have malls over here; we have shopping centres, but they are more like a wee corner shop to those of you over the pond. Please explain the draw of malls to kids to those of us more used to\ hanging outside of the local Walmart.

Oh wow, y’all are missing out. I’m sorry. Hmmm. How to describe a mall? First of all, think of your favorite stores, now move them closer together, and it’s not raining, and all your friends are there, and everything smells like hot oil and cinnamon, since you’re standing down wind from the combination Wetzel’s Pretzels and Cinnabon. Just heaven. You really should make a trip over to the States before they’re all gone. Because we are losing a lot of them, as the way people shop changes.

How many episodes do you see Dead Mall running for?

It’s a mini-series, so these 4 issues will tell a complete, self-contained story.

Were you ever tempted to turn Clown in a Cornfield into a graphic novel?

Hmmm. No, that was always a novel. And I think going back and doing a straight adaptation wouldn’t really work (or be something I’m interested in), but if there were a way to do a spin-off, a Frendo side story that felt like it fit the medium, maybe something that happened between the first and second book… I wouldn’t be against that at all, I’d be sharpening my pencil to write it.

It has taken graphic novels and comics years to lose the reputation that they are in some way 'dumbed down' literature, and I saw not too long-ago legendary YA author SE Hinton (of The Outsiders fame) was savaged on Twitter for alluding to this outdated opinion. How relevant do you see comics as a form of literature, particularly for the horror genre?

I think anyone who says stuff like that hasn’t read comics. But I also don’t want to get my knives out for SE Hinton. Who cares? She’s made huge contributions to literature. I say leave her alone. Do I think comics are lit? Yes, of course, if we’re doing the reductionist “what counts as ‘real’ reading” debate (hint: it all does). But I also think comics is a medium and artform completely unto itself. Like film, like music. I’m interested in consuming good art, not categorizing it (or, frankly, defending it) for the narrow-minded.

Clown in a Cornfield won the YA Stoker award and was a genuine flagship winner for the prize. Has your career had much of a bounce from the Stoker success?

Yes, I’m very honored and grateful for it. I think, even audiences who aren’t familiar with the award or the HWA, you put “award winning!” on the cover and it gives you a bump. Then there’s the faith it brought me with my publisher. It was a blessing on a lot of fronts, for sure. Plus: cool statue, *almost* in-scale with Warhammer miniatures.

The YA book sector is hard to make inroads into and is often seen as very cliquey. As a traditional horror writer with many adult titles under your belt, have you made many new contacts, been invited to speak to school kids or had the opportunity to develop your 'brand' as a YA writer, especially now that Clown in a Cornfield 2: Frendo Lives is out?

That hasn’t been my experience at all and I think it’s unfair to characterize YA that way. I’ve been invited to speak at stores, libraries, book conferences, classrooms, book clubs: I think the readership and support system around it is incredible and I’m so thankful for it. And that’s not even getting into the digital side of things, the remarkable booktubers and tiktokers and bookstagrammers (most of whom specialize in YA) that have supported me and the books in a big way.

Which of your adult novels would make the coolest comic?
​
Oh for sure either Video Night or Exponential. Selfishly, just to see what/how an artist would visualize the monsters in each.


Thank you so much for the insightful questions, it was great to talk!

Shop Til You Drop!
The Penn Mills Galleria is about to be demolished. Five teens sneak into the mall to take a last look around before it's gone. However, while Penn Mills has been closed for years, the mall is far from abandoned. A night of exploration becomes a shopping spree from hell. The teens must contend with the sprawling, transformative cosmic horror of Penn Mills or be trapped forever within the Dead Mall.
· Adam Cesare is a critically acclaimed horror author and is a leading voice in the emerging genre of contemporary YA horror.

​
Adam Cesare is a New Yorker who lives in Philadelphia. He studied English and film at Boston University.

His work has been featured in numerous publications, including Shroud Magazine. His nonfiction has appeared in Paracinema, Fangoria, The LA Review of Books and other venues. He also writes a monthly column for Cemetery Dance Online.
​
His novels and novellas are available in ebook, paperback, and audiobook from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and all other fine retailers.
You should buy some.

Hello Max, congratulations on releasing the brand new volume of The Last Kids on Earth. For the readers of the site who are unaware of the books, could you give an elevator pitch for them?

For sure. Other-dimensional portals open up – bringing zombies and giant monsters to our world. Jack Sullivan, the series’ middle school-aged hero, takes refuge in a tree house. His entire town is abandoned or zombified – and he decides to fight back. He puts together a team, gathering his best friend, Quint, and the school bully, Dirk, and his crush, June. And then they fight, fight, fight -- and have way more fun than they probably should.


The books emphasize fun and adventure over teenage angst and trauma etc. What made you decide to write the books with this slant?

The stuff that I read and the movies that I watch and the stuff that most inspires me and inspires the series – that stuff is all about fun and adventure. Angsty characters aren’t in my wheelhouse, really. I always want Last Kids to feel like an escape from real life – and that’s what fun and adventure is all about.


Were you ever tempted to shift the narrative tone to more YA Walking Dead?
Not really. I don’t read a lot of books that fall in the YA category – so I don’t think I’d know even know where to start. Also – I think YA tends to be more words. Whenever possible, I prefer writing less words.


I have to ask, should zombies, runners or shamblers?

Easy one! Shamblers. All day, every day. Dawn of the Dead is the movie that first got me into zombies and, in a big way, inspired Last Kids. I lived in Pittsburgh for a bit as a kid, and my dad’s family is from there – so I’m always going to be a Romero guy. There are a lot of runner-zombie things I love -- 28 Days Later, for sure – but that stuff falls into a totally different category for me.


You wake up in the universe of The Last Kids on Earth; what's the first thing you'd do that you wouldn't be able to do with the adults being around?

When I was 12? Hmm. Go to the video store and rent all the movies my parents wouldn’t allowed me to watch. Then the local go-kart track for real life Mario Kart through my hometown. That was such a big fantasy – I got to put it into the third Last Kids on Earth book, the Nightmare King, and it was so fun to write.

And what would be your go-to junk food/ drink combo?

Doritos and Mountain Dew, when I was a kid. These days… Plain nachos -- just tortilla chips and cheese – Cherry Coke Zero.


I love how your novels are set out; I haven't seen your approach of presenting them as a sort of graphic novel and prose combination before; what made you take this approach? And as a dyslexic and parent of dyslexic kids, I think these books are a breath of fresh air.

Thanks! Super happy to hear your kids enjoy reading them and like that format. The format – I call them “illustrated novels” but some people say graphic novels or just novels or something else -- exploded in popularity after Jeff Kinney released Diary of a Wimpy Kid. I’m not sure if he fully invented that format/style or not – but as a consumer, it felt like it. And then came really great stuff like Big Nate and Timmy Failure.


I fell in love with the format because it’s sorta built for the sort of comedy and jokes I enjoy – and like to write. I loved the way the text would set-up a joke – and then the art would deliver the punchline. When I started thinking about writing something like the Last Kids on Earth – my thought was – can this format be used to tell a big adventure story? And would it work if the writer wasn’t also the illustrator – because the titles I was familiar with, they were all author-illustrator. So, it was nerve-racking to try it – at times, I was convinced it wasn’t gonna work.


Booki Vivat uses the format super effectively – but she also mixes in lots of fun stuff like handdrawn text, multiple illustrations per page, little doodle asides, things like that. Terri Libenson’s Emmie & Friends series is also great. It’s just a really fun format to work in.


Talking of the illustrations, how did you come to work with Douglas Holgate?

I got really lucky. First, the series’ designer, Jim Hoover, has an amazing eye for artists – and he thought Doug would be perfect. Second, Doug was available and interested. So – luck! When Jim sent me Doug’s portfolio, I freaked out – he was just so perfect.


You clearly had visions of the character's looks; how did you and Douglas settle on the characters' final look and the book's graphic style?

99% of the kids’ look is Doug. For Jack, I wanted him to have swooping hair that would be recognizable in silhouette – I remember making that note. But I don’t recall giving many art direction/notes beyond that. When I write the manuscript, I know I have X number of illustrations I can use in the book – at the start of the series it was 150, now it’s more like 175. And I know I can’t go nuts and make all those big, epic, super-detailed images or the book will never get finished on time and Doug will kill me.


The book’s graphic style is really the vision of the series’ designer, Jim Hoover. He’s the reason it works. Once the manuscript is finished, he lays the whole thing out in Illustrator – and that’s no small task. He finds all sorts of creative ways to get the illustration and text working in a way that gives space for the big illustrations to be big, the smaller ones to be small, the 2-page spreads working so that they appear correctly on a page turn, things like that. All while making sure the book hits the allotted page count. There’s so much he has to take into account – when I picture him at his computer working, I sort of imagine that scene in Apollo 13 when Kevin Bacon is doing a dozen things at once to keep the ship from falling apart.


The latest novel is due for release in September; what can readers expect from The Last Kids On Earth and the Forbidden Fortress?

Scary stuff and weird stuff. This is the most intense book in the series so far. I think it’s gonna surprise some readers.


Films like the Goonies and Star Wars have significantly influenced you; what about these films in particular appeals to you so much?

So much. Been thinking about that a lot, recently. They’re escapist – they let you shut off your brain for a bit. I find that really important. There’s a big dream or hope at the heart of those movies – Luke dreaming about escaping his life on Tatooine, the kids in Goonies hoping they can somehow find a way to prevent the impossible and save their homes. And there’s a huge wish fulfillment aspect – watching those movies, you want to go on those adventures with those characters.

If you were one of the last kids, who would you pick to be in your gang, living or dead, actual or fictitious?


Ooh, good question. Tough. I’ll treat it like a fantasy draft or something, and pick some favorite fictional characters: Ash, Snake Plissken, Ellen Ripley, Axel Foley, Furiosa.


The series is hugely successful. Other than it being extremely well written and an excellent concept, why do you think The Last Kids on Earth, over any of your other projects, has taken off so well?

Luck and timing. And I guess timing is also just a part of luck, so luck and more luck. I wanted to make zombie stuff – movies, books, comics, I didn’t care – since middle school. Then, when I was in a place to pitch a book series like this, the zombie craze was still going on. I was worried it had passed, but it hadn’t – thankfully. Then I got lucky again by getting a great editor. And then lucky again getting a great designer. And then super lucky Doug – his art is so incredible and perfect. I continue to be stunned by his range: funny stuff, scary stuff, big stuff, action stuff – he’s able to do all of it.


There is even a video game. Did you have much input on the game's design?

I did! I was able to be involved from the start – which was ridiculously cool. I had input in the style of game, some of the mechanics, some of the dialogue, stuff like that.

And have you managed to complete it?

Yes! I’ve only completed the finished game once, though. I played so many different versions of it while it was in development that, once it came out, I was like, “Okay, I’m playing this thing through once, getting all the trophies, and then I’m done with it forever. Or until my daughter’s old enough to play it.”

It must be on every writer's wishlist to have their property picked up for a film or a TV series; how did The Last Kids on Earth get picked up? 

A production company, Atomic Cartoons, emailed me. Totally out of the blue – it was a wonderful surprise. We chatted, we all liked each other, liked each other’s ideas – and then we went out and pitched it. And Netflix was into it!


And do you have any advice for other authors planning on pitching their stories?  

A good agent and a good producing partner really helps. But also – and this is silly, coming from me – get good at pitching. I’m not good at it. But I’m trying to get better. A friend recently told me they watched Shonda Rhimes’ Masterclass and found the part about pitching hugely helpful.


The show has some exceptional vocal talent attached to it. Did you get to go to any table readings of the shows?  

We didn’t do traditional table reads, because the cast was split between Los Angeles and Vancouver. But I was at a lot of the voice record sessions – either in person or remotely – and that was beyond cool.   


With a successful series of books, computer games, TV shows and toy lines under your belt, what can possibly be next for you? A VFW sequel? I'd sell my soul for one if it helps to sway you.


Oh man, I wish we were working on a VFW sequel. I have a great idea for a sequel – truly, I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had. Not kidding. But getting that to happen would be tough – new ownership at Fangoria, now. But never say never! Beyond that – more Last Kids on Earth books, including a spin-off graphic novel series, The Last Comics on Earth. And a few other things that I have to be quiet about for a little while longer... But more soon!

OH NO I’M STUCK IN A HORROR




This is a new, hopefully fun short interview template, where you imagine you are trapped in a series of horror books and films, it’s meant to be a lighthearted way to talk about the thing you want to promote without directly talking about it.  As with all of the other templates, please include a biography, the product you want to promote, any social media links or links to purchase your stuff at the end of the article and please attach a profile picture that we can use in the article.


You wake up and find yourself in a horror franchise, what franchise would you prefer to wake up in and why?
I’d prefer to wake up in the Jaws franchise. I don’t like the ocean very much, so I wouldn’t go in anyway. Therefore, I’d have nothing to worry about.



You find yourself as the “Final One”  which monster / villain would you most like to go up against ands why do you think you would survive?
I’d prefer to go up against the killers from “X” by Ti West. They’re both old as hell and could easily be avoided or defeated as long as you know they’re the threat. They’re literally beaten because they fall over.



And which creature would you least like to go up against?
The Thing





You find yourself in Scooby Doo, which character are you, and who would most like to have as the other members of Mystery Inc?

I’m definitely Scooby. I’m scared and I can run real fast. I’d pick my brother to be shaggy. We both know running is the best answer to all monster related problems. My dad should be Fred, cuz he’s the planner. And my two sisters could be Daphne and Velma.





Pinhead pops round for an evening of fun, what are you pains and pleasures?
It’d be utter torture if he made me watch any romance related movies. However, if he popped in a horror VHS or two, then I’d be very happy.




The Wishmaster gives you three wishes

1.  You can wish to write in any franchise
2. You can wipe on franchise from the minds of everyone
3. You can date your horror crush

What do you chose?

1. I’d wish to write in A Nightmare on Elm Street franchise
2. I’d erase the paranormal activity franchise.
3. I’d date Kirby Reed. She’s played by Hayden Panettiere in Scream 4.


Bio:
After receiving an education at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, August Hill started writing Division X, a supernatural horror filled with dark humor, adventure, and sinister creatures that leap off the pages.
His love for all things spooky and scary was unleashed when he discovered Jurassic Park at four years old and the R. L. Stine Goosebumps collection in elementary school. He holds a huge appreciation for 80’s horror and is partial to fun, dark, and witty ensemble casting with younger heroes. Some of his favorite influences include The Lost Boys, Aliens, Gremlins, and An American Werewolf in London to name a few.


Division X is the name of my new release, and you can find it on amazon.
    
    If you’re looking to find out more about me, my website is augusthillauthor.com.
    My Instagram handle is r.augusthill

Hello Fiona, congratulations on your novel; it's an exciting time for authors in the lead-up to the release of their novel, but it must be exhilarating for you, with this being your debut novel; how are you feeling just now?

Thank you! I’m still pinching myself to make sure it’s happening. I feel like I’ve been quite excited about it for a while, but now it’s getting so close to the release date, it’s so great to see other people starting to get excited too.

Rebellion books are publishing the book; how did you come to work with such a fine publisher?

Way back when I was trying to put together a package to submit to an agent, an editor who worked at Rebellion gave me some great advice on my opening chapter. When it came to submitting the book to publishers, of course we sent it to her, and she passed it on to Michael, my editor, who is a big early modern history nerd. The first time I spoke to him, he told me that his first degree was in early modern history, and his second was in science fiction. After that, I think it was meant to be.
What does a publisher like Rebellion bring to the table for a debut novelist like yourself?

They’ve been great. Rebellion has several in-house history nerds, it turns out, and I’ve really felt the enthusiasm coming through in the amount of time and resources they’ve put into it. The Dark Between The Trees definitely found its people!
For those unaware of the book, how would you sell it to them?

Five women led by a historian go into a remote wood in northern England, looking for traces of a group of soldiers who disappeared in it during the English Civil War in the seventeenth century. Only two of the soldiers were ever seen again, and the stories they told about what happened to them make no sense – stories of shifting landscapes, of witches, and of a creeping shadow that seemed to follow them through the trees. But whatever it was that found those soldiers, it still walks the woods…

The Dark Between the Trees is a fascinating read that taps into the current love for "folk horror" what drew you to this particular horror genre?

I grew up near the woods, so it’s a setting I love to explore – there’s something about that feeling of relative isolation from other people, but also the lack of clear lines of sight you find in other kinds of isolated places. There’s so much scope for uncertainty and shifting ground, which lends itself to a kind of atmosphere you can have a great deal of fun with.

I also love the way old folk stories morph and change over the centuries depending on who’s telling them. A lot of folk horror starts with an outsider or a group of outsiders walking into a place where they don’t know the rules. They have to learn as they go, connect the dots as they find them, and be inventive if they want to survive. What a gift that is for a storyteller – you can take that in so many interesting directions.

The story is told with a dual narrative structure; what was the actual writing process? Did you write it as we read it, or did you complete one narrative thread before starting the other?

I wrote it as you read it, start to finish, with notebook and pen. I’m a big planner, though, so I was already armed with my spreadsheet of who turns up where, and who gets gruesomely murdered when.

What was the biggest problem you faced with writing a dual narrative structure? And how did you ensure that both threads seamlessly merged?

I think writing it as you read it – alternating between chapters with the historians and with the soldiers – gave each thread space to grow alongside the other one. I did have to go back afterwards and check that each story was coherent on its own, though! But I love reading books where several stories are intertwined and build on each other, so it felt quite intuitive to write it that way.

I loved how the historical thread had a cast of characters wholly comprised of male protagonists, and the current thread was composed of female protagonists. Was this a conscious decision from you?

In real life, there were a few female soldiers in the British Civil Wars, and many more women who travelled with baggage trains. But I knew from the start that my soldiers were too few in number and too disorganised for a baggage train. I wanted them to be ordinary men to whom the extraordinary happened.

As for the women – partly I wanted to highlight the contrast in leadership and negotiation styles, and partly I just really liked the particular characters who walked into my head.

Which of the characters do you most relate to?

I try to have something to relate to in every single character, and not to play favourites. There are a few characters who people might wonder if they’re authorial inserts – but hand on heart, none of them are!

It's hard to talk about the meat of the book without giving too much away, but I loved how the wood was almost as much of a character as the humans in the book, what was the inspiration for how you handled the wood, and the concept of what the wood is?

As a teenager I spent quite a lot of time in British woodland – I grew up not far from the New Forest, and I like a good walk. Sometimes when you walk for long enough without talking, you can get into a headspace where you’re really noticing a lot of what’s around you, and you start to feel a sort of affection or affinity for your surroundings. It’s a very particular feeling, and I love it, and part of my starting point for The Dark Between The Trees was trying to explain that headspace to other people too.

Setting and atmosphere are so tied up together for me, and one of my favourite things about good horror is that feeling of being extremely present in the middle of a situation. If you believe in the woods, that’s it – you’re in the story now. Good luck.

Like a lot of folk horror, you don’t provide complete answers for the fates of some of the characters, and you don’t fully explain everything that happens, were you ever concerned about having ambiguity prevail over the show and tell method of storytelling? I loved this approach.

I think you either love or loathe the open-endedness, but for me, there was no other way to do it. The thing about a lot of stories from history – and especially from the British Civil Wars, which is a period that interests me a lot – is that they are incomplete. You don’t get all the information, and you won’t get it, because that’s life, and that’s record-keeping. Often we’ll never be able to know exactly what happened in a situation on a particular day in a particular place. And often, the way historians understand an event – and people’s motivations and such – has changed significantly over time.

There’s one really interesting story about the civil wars that I first heard in Diane Purkiss’s The English Civil War: A People’s History. We know that a lot of roving groups of soldiers at this time would go into villages and steal everything. They’d steal stuff they didn’t need. They’d steal completely stupid stuff like furniture they could barely carry. And then, towards the end of the 1940s – three centuries later! – scientists working on the effects of starvation at the end of World War II discovered that prolonged starvation causes people to become hoarders. As in, it physically does something to their brains. It’s a whole different spin on it, right? Suddenly this is not the Terrible Roundheads Raging Through The Country Stealing Everything Out Of Spite. Suddenly it’s desperately hungry men who don’t know where their next meal is coming from, or the one after that, and it’s literally changed their brain chemistry.

But before the 1940s, nobody knew about that, so their theories about what was happening were different. We’re all of us, always, working with incomplete information, and trying to make the best sense of it that we can. That’s the predicament of every historian. Every single one of my characters is doing it, and every reader too. The level of open-endedness is a massive gamble on my part: with my storytelling hat on, I know that finding out “the answer” at the end can be satisfying, and not doing so can be frustrating. But as a frequent history-enjoyer, this is the balance that rang true to me.

Woods and forests have always had a massive role in the psyche of the British people; why do you think that even in this technological age, we are still afraid of going deep into the woods?

I wonder if, for a lot of us who live in built-up areas, it taps into that feeling right in the middle of folk horror – of being away from your home territory, of being an outsider who doesn’t know the rules. If you needed help, could you call for it, and how long would it take to arrive?

Are the woods in your book based on any natural woods, and have you had any experiences in the woods that you'd rather not have had?

Mate, I once got lost while orienteering with a group of half a dozen teenage girls, six weeks after several of us had seen The Blair Witch Project. I’m not saying it had a lasting impact on me, but…

Your description and use of the Corrigal was magnificent, mainly how you kept it unseen, more of a presence than a full-on in-your-face monster, was this always your intention?

Oh yes. We’re back to that thing about having no clear lines of sight in the woods – it’s so easy to watch people without being seen, far easier than it would be halfway up a hill or something. I did wonder early on whether it might be fun to leave it open whether the Corrigal really existed at all – but there’s quite enough uncertainty in this book, and sometimes we all deserve a nightmare-haunting monster, as a special treat.

The dynamics of the relationships between the researchers was another highlight of the novel. Would you have kept the same dynamics if you had introduced a male character to the team?

I wonder. Dr Alice Christopher, my lead researcher character, has notably had some frustrating experiences with male academics which affect her decisions at several points. With the greatest respect to male academics, I suspect if any of them had asked to come on Alice’s trip, she might have tried to eat them alive on principle.

For those who are thinking about reading the novel, what other books or films would you recommend they read to get a feel for The Dark Between the Trees?

Speaking as an abject coward when it comes to cinema, I can never watch The Descent or I’ll die, but The Witch, The Blair Witch Project, and Ben Wheatley’s A Field in England all have that slow-burn dread to them and a great attitude to poking local legends with a stick.

As for books, a couple of less obvious ones that definitely influenced me are Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay (in which a group of schoolgirls go missing off a mountainside in the Australian bush in 1900), The Owl Killers by Karen Maitland (where fourteenth-century lay nuns in East Anglia find themselves pitted against the local village’s ancient owl gods), and Witch Wood by John Buchan (he’s much better known for The Thirty-Nine Steps, but this one is set during the British Civil Wars, as a newly minted local vicar in the Scottish Borders discovers his parishioners still secretly perform pagan rituals in the woods after church).

As mentioned earlier, folk horror is experiencing a golden period, but what do you think is the most significant mistake authors make when writing in this field?

I think one of the biggest strengths of folk horror is often the strangeness (from an outsider’s perspective) of insular communities or traditions, which translates for that outsider into unpredictability. If you choose to explain it in too much depth – or if it’s too obviously a metaphor for something else – then it can lose some of its impact.

That being said, folk horror is definitely having a golden period, isn’t it? I’m so delighted, I feel like my to-read list has exploded lately. What a brilliant moment it is to be in the middle of this wonderful, niche little subgenre.

And what is, in your opinion, the greatest piece of folk horror ever produced?

I’ve been wracking my brains about this, but in my heart I know there’s an easy answer. It’s the Edward Woodward Wicker Man, isn’t it? The Wicker Man is just a pitch-perfect bit of horror. By the way, as an seventeenth-century history nerd it pains me deeply to have to say that Witchfinder General is pants, but I’m afraid it is.

As for books, The Weirdstone of Brisingamen by Alan Garner is a technical marvel which still gives me shivers.

You are marking the book launch with an Edinburgh event on 13th October. Do you have the details of how people can attend this event?

That is happening! I wrote some of the first draft of The Dark Between The Trees in the café of Waterstones on Princes Street in Edinburgh, so I have a lot of warm fuzzy feelings about celebrating its launch there. I’m sharpening my best 1640s superstition-related anecdotes (ask me anything about Prince Rupert’s poodle who was accused of witchcraft); if you would like in on this, please do come along to Edinburgh West End Waterstones, at 6pm on Thursday 13th October. You can get tickets here: https://www.waterstones.com/events/an-evening-with-fiona-barnett/edinburgh-west-end.


And a bio because you asked for it:

​Joe Ortlieb interviews Kenzie Jennings for Ginger Nuts of Horror, The Hearty and Soul of Horror Author Interviews. 

​Kenzie Jennings is an English professor sweltering in the hurricane-heavy, tourist pocket of central Florida. She is the author of the Splatterpunk Award nominated books Reception and Red Station (Death’s Head Press).

Carlos has been writing scary stories since he was a teen, later going on to train at the National Conservatory of Arts in Lisbon and at the Faber Academy in London. He currently lives in Hertfordshire, UK and works in Corporate HR, a job which has its particular kind of horror.

Could you tell the readers a little bit about yourself?

I was born in 1977 in Lisbon, Portugal. Started reading in English at a very young age as the long, hot summers would have been very boring otherwise, and I couldn’t find many books in Portuguese that I liked. I loved nighttime TV and my parents let me stay up late, so I watched whatever was on, mostly cheesy horror and sci-fi. My dream had always been to make low-budget movies, but I was born in a terrible country for it. After a million screenplays and cancelled projects, I decided to start writing novels as a way to be completely in control of my creative output. I also play the electric guitar and have performed dozens of gigs across London and Lisbon.

Not a fan of labels, but being a vegan (12 years and counting) and a lefty (lifelong) are both very important parts of my identity.

Which one of your characters would you least like to meet in real life?

From The Night Guard it would have to be Noor. I’m exactly the type of victim she’d have no trouble in dispatching.

Other than the horror genre, what else has been a major influence on your writing?
I’m an avid reader of experimental fiction and literary fiction. I had read every William Burroughs book by my mid-20’s, and there are few things more satisfying than digging into a thick Thomas Pynchon. And then there are all the books from the non-Anglo world which I’m lucky to be able to read in their original language (currently Portuguese, Spanish, and French).


The term horror, especially when applied to fiction, always carries such heavy connotations.  What’s your feeling on the term “horror” and what do you think we can do to break past these assumptions?

Horror has an incredible tradition from cautionary tales spread around the campfire to cutting edge video games. No matter what narrative medium we come up with, there will be horror stories in it. Unfortunately, horror’s popularity also means that there are a lot of stories out there that include all the aesthetic elements of horror, but nothing of what makes it a vital part of our culture. This has given horror a bad reputation, but we shouldn’t let that discourage us from exploring this genre and pushing its boundaries.

As far as my own writing is concerned, labelling my work as horror means that I owe my reader scary moments and tension. Everything else is up to me to decide. It’s hard to imagine a theme which could not be explored in horror. Seen from this perspective it’s a very liberating genre to work in, where we can use existing tropes to surprise our readers and perhaps do more than just tell a scary story.

If I’m allowed to give fellow writers a piece of advice, I’d say read far and wide. If you only read horror, then you likely will only recycle what horror has already produced. Nothing wrong with that, but why not open up new terrifying vistas?

A lot of good horror movements have arisen as a direct result of the socio/political climate, considering the current state of the world where do you see horror going in the next few years?

We’ve got a global pandemic that looks like it will rear its ugly head again soon. We’re at 100 seconds to midnight on the Doomsday Clock which is the scariest it’s been since its creation. There will be water wars soon, and the number of climate refugees will rise to tens of millions before this decade is over. All the while, Mother Earth dangles a Damocles sword over our heads and it’s only a matter of time before we pay the price for our mismanagement of the planet. Young people are increasingly depressed and disillusioned about the future, refusing to engage with it and not making plans.

In a world like this, the horror writer competes with the news bulletin for attention! I can only imagine that there will be a bigger and bigger appetite for horror stories.

Given the dark, violent and at times grotesque nature of the horror genre why do you think so many people enjoy reading it?

Either as catharsis for real life tragedies, i.e. living painful emotions through fiction, or as escapism, i.e. “I’ve got it bad, but not as bad as this character in this book”.
And people like feeling scared without actually being under threat.

What, if anything, is currently missing from the horror genre?

Better and more serious criticism of it by people who are neither writers nor typical horror consumers. These kinds of third party perspectives are often instrumental in advancing a fiction genre.

What new and upcoming authors do you think we should take notice of?

I’ll take a rain check on this one as my to-read pile is full of classics I never got to read and I struggle to keep up to speed on new authors.

Are there any reviews of your work, positive or negative, that have stayed with you?

An early reader asked me why I hated my protagonist since I put him through so much trouble. Well, that’s the point of a thriller isn’t it? The protagonist suffers so the reader turns the page.

What aspects of writing do you find the most difficult?

Apologies for the technical language, but it would be first person POV’s for characters which are very different from me. It’s a struggle to imagine the thoughts of people similar to me, let alone those who might be on the opposite end of the behavioural spectrum.

Is there one subject you would never write about as an author?

Anything that could be construed as propaganda for things I don’t believe in such as demonisation of poor and homeless people, any kind of racism or bigotry, cheerleading for war, etc.


Writing is not a static process, how have you developed as a writer over the years?

Mostly I’ve grown in confidence which lets me try new things. The more I write, the more curiosity I have about how other writers have overcome the problems I might be facing which leads me to study them and get excited about expanding my range.

What is the best piece of advice you ever received with regards to your writing?

“You have to read if you want to write,” to paraphrase Irish author Keith Ridgway who taught me at Faber. The best writing instruction is in existing fiction already, no need for how-to guides.

If I’m allowed a second piece of advice, then it’d be that you don’t need anyone to give you their approval as a writer. No agent, no publisher, no reader. If you write, you’re a writer. You might not be a very good one, but you’re a writer. That’s something to build on.

Which of your characters is your favourite?

The one I’ve been writing in my current short stories (published on Medium). I started by basing him on MC Ride from the band Death Grips, using his lyrics as a character portrait. But when I put him in actual stories, he developed organically as a character and now I feel like I know him very well. He also lets me write in this style which I’m enjoying more and more. Very hard-boiled and hip-hop-ish, and a million miles from my usual unadorned, clearer style.

Which of your books best represents you?

I’ve only published one so far, so I have to say The Night Guard.

Do you have a favourite line or passage from your work, and would you like to share it with us?

From The Night Guard:
“It started as a lack; a piece missing from his own body. Not a big piece, just a little bit that was supposed to be there but wasn’t. From humble beginnings, it propagated like a rapacious cancer. The hunger went from cell to cell taking over, until his whole body was more hunger than any other feeling. If he was asked his name, then the answer would be Hunger.”


Can you tell us about your last book, and can you tell us about what you are working on next?

The Night Guard is a horror thriller set in Europe about an illegal immigrant trying to flee a supernatural horror. This is the official blurb:

“In a forgotten Eastern European country, Andrei celebrates his 30th birthday by himself in a tacky nightclub. He has achieved nothing in life and he's finding it harder and harder to pretend that it doesn't bother him. His brother, his parents' pride, offers him an unwanted gift—a job as a night guard.

Across town, Andrei's future boss Niko is also celebrating his 30th birthday, but in an exclusive nightclub. His fabulous entourage have turned up to party with him, but they can't relieve Niko's terminal boredom. That is until he lays eyes on Noor, an exotic beauty that is much more than she seems.

As Noor takes Niko down a dark path, Andrei is dragged along first as a pawn, later as a victim. For the first time, Andrei's decisions could mean life or death for himself, his family, and his friends, as a shape-shifting, supernatural predator hunts him across Europe to London.”

My next book which is very close to being ready is called If a Tree Should Die. It’s a shorter novel with paranormal elements, but not what I’d call a horror.

“A young woman is found dead in the forest, yet, when the authorities come back to collect her body, she's gone, having walked away on her own two feet.

Rowan believes she's the woman he loves, but when he comes to the forest to find her, he meets others who think the same, and none of them are wrong.”

In early 2023 I’ll start on the second book of the Human Dregs series (The Night Guard being the first). It will be a more collective story than the single protagonist The Night Guard, set among call centre workers in the UK.


If you could erase one horror cliché what would be your choice?

The sanctity of the nuclear family. There are far too many stories where the protagonist is trying to restore their nuclear family at all costs. These bore me no end, and are often very reactionary. Please only write this trope if it’s a red herring!

What was the last great book you read, and what was the last book that disappointed you?

I thought The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling was fantastic. Couldn’t put it down. Would have been 5 stars except for the ending.

No One Is Talking About This by Patricia Lockwood was disappointing to say the least. It's not that there is nothing interesting to say about being terminally online; it's that the author only has banalities to say about it. A book that is all narrator can't afford one that is void of ideas and is a mere sponge for the consensus her echo chamber produces.

What's the one question you wish you would get asked but never do?  And what would be the answer?

I wish I was asked why I wrote The Night Guard in the first place. The answer would be that I was inspired to write this book from my experience immigrating to London with no job, no money, nowhere to stay, and no idea on how to get any of those. I wasn’t in quite a bind as the protagonist of this book, but I did have to take on some unsavoury and scary jobs to survive. I also met a wonderfully diverse array of people—both allies and villains—who have ended up in the book in one shape or another.

You wake up and find yourself in a horror franchise, what franchise would you prefer to wake up in and why?

Oh, goodness; if you knew how often I've imagined this scenario, you'd likely have me committed. A friend of mine, the composer and performance artist, Ray Curran, often says of horror media that the very best he's ever experienced is that which invites you to imagine: what would I do in this scenario or situation? And I can't disagree; that immersion is the source of what makes horror work on a visceral level: what if it were me? How would I respond? Most often, I have to say, my response would be to find a quiet corner, curl up into a ball and hope I'm never found by whatever the hell's out there.

In terms of the franchise I would prefer, the scenario I would prefer, I'd have to say, it would be the eponymlous town of the survival horror video game franchise, Silent Hill. The horror of Silent Hill is of a peculiar species that owes more to the likes of Shirley Jackson and Henry James than, say, Wes Craven or George Romero (not to diminish either of those; merely to draw the distinction): In Silent Hill, threats to the physical self and immediate, physical manifestations of horror take a distant second place to psychological resonance and symbolic insinuations. The town, akin to classic horror settings such as Hill House, Blye Manor and The Overlook Hotel, is a sustained psychic phenomena, a metaphysical palimpsest upon reality, which alters its condition to reflect the sublimated concerns and neuroses of those who walk there. Whilst one might very well encounter monsters, they are ones own; creatures crafted from metaphor and born from the deepest reaches of the victim's subconsciousness. In Silent Hill, horror isn't merely the inevitability of death or suffering; it is the realisation of our unspoken selves, our most forbidden traumas, desires, despairs. And thus, whilst it might very well break and consume us (as it does so many), it can also serve as a medium of healing, even transcendence.

For my part, I can't hep but wonder what my peculiar Silent Hill would look like, what monsters and atrocities would infest it. And, beyond that, hat it would make of me when it's finished (Silent Hill has a peculiar tendency of transforming those who walk there, sometimes in the abstract, sometimes physically, most often both).

In fact, any of those franchises which refine horror down to an examination of our personal traumas and forbidden desires is very much my jam. Clive Barker's Hellraiser is another obvious candidate (at least, given the mythology of the first two films): whilst those lost to Leviathan's Labyrinth must endure torments beyond the imagining of most sane human beings, a rare few emerge from it transformed, become the iconic “demons to some, angels to others” known as Cenobites. As in Silent Hill, the process of becoming a Cenobite involves the breaking down of the individual on a psychological level, their identities and states of mind gradually eroded by the raking and ripping open of their subconsciousness. Beneath the black light of Leviathan, god of the Cenobites, everything we sublimate and suppress is paraded before us, experienced over and over, alongside physical mutilation and torments that no flesh and blood entity can endure. Through that process, our preconceptions not only of pain and pleasure, but of self are undone, twisted and reconfigured into new shapes, until the perverse ideal of a Cenobite is born from the wreckage of humanity.


As with Silent Hill, I cannot help but wonder what form my Cenobite would take, what unspoken and sublimated traumas and desires Leviathan would use as the means and substance of my remaking.


You find yourself as the “Final One”  which monster / villain would you most like to go up against ands why do you think you would survive?

In the case of Silent Hill, the entities we ultimately face are the most monstrous realisations of our inner selves. For James Mason in Silent Hill 2, it's the iconic, immortal stalker known as Pyramid Head, that manifests all of James's complicated reactions to his wife's sickness (defeated desire, diseased love, the loss of a life once dreamed of etc). So, I have to wonder what Barkerian monstrosity the town and its metaphysics would comprise from the depths of my psyche, the polluted stuff of my imagination? Typically, the iconic antagonists are nightmarish and impossible to “defeat” in conventional terms (the aforementioned Pyramid Head cannot be fought or killed as any other video game monster; only run from and defended against, until the game's closing chapters, when James finally comes to realise and accept his own demons, which prompts Pyramid Head to commit elaborate suicide, and provide the means of accessing the game's conclusion). In that regard, surviving would involve an extremely traumatic confrontation with one's inner self, an acceptance of everything one loathes and fears in one's own mind. Most do not survive that encounter; they lose their minds and sometimes their souls to the town. Doing so involves a kind of rebirth through trauma; not conquering or defeating one's demons, but accepting them as part of oneself. As such, facing what Silent Hill gives birth to is arguably one of the most dangerous and treacherous engagements horror can provide: it risks so much beyond mere death. Here, the loss of oneself is a very real possibility, risking becoming just another lost and tormented ghost in the town's diseased metaphysics.


I'm not sure I'd have the psychological strength to pull through.

And which creature would you least like to go up against?

When it comes to horror franchises, the entities I'd least like to face are the mundane ones; the slasher movie stalkers that have nothing more in mind than providing a grizzly and overly elaborate death. It's entirely lacking in the wider possibilities that comes with other forms and subjects of horror, even at their most hideous and dangerous (for example, even the most vicious, inhumane tale of demonic possession suggests a wider state of metaphysics, a continuation that makes death paltry. Such is not true in those stories of mundane murder that simply involve being in the wrong place at the wrong time).

Alternatively, something like the unseen, malevolent force in The Blair Witch Project would be hideous to experience, as there's no potential or possibility of reasoning or escape. No matter what you do, that force is going to put you through hell, break you down and then finally end you in one way or another. There is a hideous inevitability to those scenarios, a pervasive sense that, no matter what you do or say or offer, you will never escape. The elemental evil of those places will play its sadistic games, torment and terrify, until it grows weary of the game and closes in for...whatever fate it has in store. That's a terrifying prospect; the entity or force that cannot be escaped, undone or reasoned with. That can't even be apprehended to any meaningful degree.

But I'd even prefer that to your average slasher-movie stalker; at least that is more interesting.

You find yourself in Scooby Doo, which character are you, and who would most like to have as the other members of Mystery Inc?

Given my proclivities, I'm almost certainly the Velma of the group; the one who finds everything fascinating and doesn't have the good sense to be scared, even when everything is going to Hell. Give me the forbidden ritual, I'm performing it, give me the occult puzzle box at the centre of hundreds of mysterious disappearances, I'm solving it. I want to know, god damn it!

As for the rest, if I might select from the casts and menageries of horror media, then our “Fred” would most certainly be the Mads Mikkelsen incarnation of Hannibal. I mean, why wouldn't it be? We'd have a man on our side more preternaturally capable and terrifying than most ghosts, demons and supernatural entities. Beyond that, he'd likely get the “mystery” instantly, meaning we could all retire early and go for a nice meal (errr...).

Our Daphne would have to be Chris Hemsworth's Kevin from the 2016 Ghostbusters; someone extra-pretty and pretty clueless, but there to provide a side of beef to Hannibal's sleeker, more refined stylings. Doesn't have to do much, really. Just stand around looking pretty, likely getting captured by whatever ghost/demon/ne'redowell is about. Shaggy? Not quite the same archetype, but I'd have to go for Dewey from the Scream franchise. Again, not exactly capable, but we've already got all of that in Hannibal. Dewey seems to be an antagonist-magnet, and also seems to be functionally immortal, given the amount of times he gets sliced up in those films and survives. Handy as a distraction while Hannibal does his work.

As for Scooby himself? Well, fuck it; let's have a Predator in Scooby's place. Try screwing with that, Old Man Willoughby the suspicious-acting Groundskeeper.

And, if we must include a Scrappy-doo, I think a Critter from the eponymous b-movie franchise fulfils the criteria pretty well.


Pinhead pops round for an evening of fun, what are you pains and pleasures?

Oh dear, I didn't realise it was going to get personal. How NSFW are we allowed to get? The thing with Pinhead and the Cenobites is, it doesn't matter what I want or don't want; they're going to give me an experience that transcends any measure or definition of it. So, for me, it's a case of: bring it on. Whatever they have a mind to show, reveal or inflict. I've no doubt, given what's revealed in the first two films, it will be a terrible, unbelievably traumatic experience, but I also have no doubt it will be revelatory, possibly transformative.

I suppose, if I might paraphrase a certain line from The Wishmaster, it would be a case of: “Show me wonders.” And I have no doubt they'd be quite happy to indulge.

Speaking in purely worldly terms? I suppose my pleasures would be pretty standard: good food, good stories, good conversation, good sex. That's more or less it. I'm sure the Cenobites would find me pretty boring in that regard.


Pains? Where to start? Banality is something I find agonising. The drear greyness of day to day existence inside a shell of rotting meat and bone. That frustrates me. The self-destructive insanity of our systems and traditions often makes it feel as though there are hot knitting needles driving in and out between the plates of my skull. Feeling futile and powerless in the face of forces and phenomena that were vast and ineluctable before I was even conceived, but which I'm now expected to endure and even fight back against? Yeah, that is an endless source of pain to me.

The Wishmaster gives you three wishes

1.  You can wish to write in any franchise
2. You can wipe one franchise from the minds of everyone
3. You can date your horror crush

What do you chose?

It would have to be Hellraiser. Of all the horror franchises that have been driven into the dirt and the depths of utter disgrace by successive sequels, I feel there's still so much potential for storytelling and myth-making here, so much that's gone sadly untold. If anything, the franchise is prime subject matter for a streaming series of some description (but, like so many examples, requires the involvement of creators who understand what it's about at its most essential, rather than the drivel of escalating comic-book violence it has become). A close focus on the implied mythology as established in Hellraiser 2, ignoring everything that came after, would be favourite.


Oh, that's easy: The Conjuring franchise. I've never come across a series of films that baffles me more in terms of their popularity, especially amongst horror circles. By the numbers, rote “haunted house” and possession movies whose metaphysics is as simplistic and moribund as you can get, that also commit the unforgiveable sin of lionising those overt con-artist bastards, the Warrens.
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Mads Mikkelsen's rendition of Hannibal? Fantastic. I don't particularly care if I end up on the menu, in that instance; it'll be probably be worth it (and at least I know he'll definitely make good use of me. I'd likely end up as something artistic and/or delicious). ​

You are big fan of the first person narrative, what draws you writing using this narrative perspective, and what are your thoughts on the latest “discourse” that first person narrative is a lazy way of writing?

I personally love first person. If it makes for lazy writing, then I’m the laziest. Moby Dick, lazy? Geek Love, lazy? Never. If anything, I feel like the writer is doing double-duty—both telling the story and presenting character, all at once. By filtering the narrative through the perspective of your narrator, you’re consciously hobbling your point of view, relegating your worldview through the eyes of one character. You’re in the trenches! It makes for a sense of immediacy, a feeling of urgency, that third person doesn’t have (for me). I feel unmoored by third person, lost in the vast expanse of the narrative cosmos… but first person roots me to the ground. It’s isolating and limiting, for sure, but that very limitation can be your story’s strength. Particularly when it comes to unreliable narrators.

I was being cheeky about Poe before, but he’s honestly been such a lodestar when it comes to my narrative style. When I first read The Cask of Amontillado, my world changed… I was done for. I’ve essentially been writing Poe fan fic for years now.

Your last three novels The Remaking (2019), Whisper Down the Lane (2021) and Ghost Eaters (2022) have all been outstanding and wildly distinct from each other. You were first published back in 2002, do you feel your writing has had a new lease of life?

God, yes. Thank the lord for Quirk Books. They broke me out from publishing prison. In all frankness, I’ve been fortunate enough to live an humble existence in-and-out of the publishing industry for two decades. There have been a lot of ups and downs through that. I’ve never been a bestseller, but I’ve been able to tell the stories I’ve wanted to tell. Ghost Eaters will be my tenth book. Tenth! How amazing is that? I’m a lucky, downright blessed son of a bitch, that I get to call this a career… but it wasn’t until Quirk that I’ve found a home. Their faith and support has been an absolute balm. It’s one thing to get a big advance at one of the Big Five—Four? Two? What’s the publishing monopoly up to now?—but it’s something entirely different to be at a house where everyone who works their believes in you and wants to help get your stories out into the world. I owe them so much thanks.

In your latest Ghost Eaters, there is a drug which allows users to see ghosts. Where did the inspiration for this come from?

A lot of different places… Two main sources, mainly: Years back, in Hollyweird, I was developing a feature film in the wake of It Follows that was about a group of teens who encounter a haunted drug. It was a trippy Freddy Krueger-style slasher and ended up not going anywhere, but I always loved the core concept of it. I couldn’t let go of the story but I didn’t know how to crack it. Get into the narrative and dig down deep. I had to find a way to make it personal. Make it matter to me.

I lost a friend to addiction in my early twenties. There’s no succinct way to discuss this, but I wasn’t there for him when he needed help and I’ve always regretted it. This book, ghoulish as it sounds, was a way for me to come to grips with my failure as a friend. It took on a life of its own and has now evolved beyond this particular bit of personal history, but that core conceit—losing a loved one, a friend, to drugs and the void it creates in the living—was the emotional genesis for Ghost Eaters.

And which ghost would you most like to see, and which ghost would you really not want to meet?

I would never ever ever ever take a haunted drug. Never. I’ve seen too many scary movies to know that’s a big no-no. Buuuut… since we’ve been riffing on Poe so much, maybe him? I could say thanks.

I thought Ghost Eaters was a terrific read and in a roundabout way the book asks the reader how far they would go in order to get the ultimate kick or high. Would you agree?

Absolutely… But are we reaching out for? The characters at the core of Ghost Eaters are all suffering from a certain ennui that leaves them desperate to feel anything. That vapid gulf of post-collegiate life, where you’re no longer a special snowflake and the professional workplace is sucking out your soul… What’s left to feel anymore? Death is the ultimate high. Let’s get haunted!

And what is your ultimate high?

Me, personally? Coffee. I’m boring, I know, but caffeine is about as high a bar as my body can take.

The central toxic and co-dependent relationship in Ghost Eaters between Erin and Silas was also very convincing and makes the subsequent horror very easy to believe. How did you develop the story? Did the supernatural element come first and you then built the characters around that idea or something else?

The focus as first was the grounded emotional relationship between the two of them. Then the supernatural elements were layered on. It’s almost like I tried to write the story without the ghosts at first, to show that we can be haunted without an actual supernatural haunting, so that when the real ghosts enter into the fold, it felt like a natural—not supernatural—progression of the story.

Ghost stories always seem to be a big hit with readers, why do you think this is, and what makes your version of the ghost story genre stand out from the crowd?

It's a bold declaration to make, and I’m bound to fall flat on my face here, but… I wanted to try to tell a new kind of a ghost story. How could you reconceptualize a haunted house tale? For me, it started with asking the simple question of “what’s it like to be haunted?” I kept going back to that basic premise and tried to keep it honest, keep it simple: How does it feel to be haunted?

But yes, you’re absolutely right… People go ga-ga for ghost stories. I sure do. This type of tale is intrinsically rooted in our own purview. We take these ghosts home with us, even after the story is done. You close the book, you turn the DVD off, and now your imagination is left to do the heavy lifting. The other side is right there, the veil always pressing against your neck. It’ll never go away because it’s just so unknowable. We don’t know what’s waiting for us until we kick the bucket… but we’re always wondering, always imagining, what might be there beyond this mortal coil. That makes for great grist, if you ask me.

We are all haunted by grief, do you think we can ever exorcise these ghosts fro our minds?

No. I know I can’t. I’m a man who defines himself by his regret, so I might be the worst person to answer this question… but I think that’s what makes us human and therefor more interesting. I am haunted by the personal tragedies in my life and I feel like to a certain degree they define me.

What attracted you to writing about the Satanic Panic phenomenon in Whisper Down the Lane? (even though it is never specifically named as such in the book).

Oh, man… I grew up during that era. The pentagrams were spray-painted on the walls! Looking back at it now, I find it so fascinating that our culture—here in the states—created a communal fear out of the unknown. We were taught to be afraid of something that didn’t exist, but so many of us believed it was real. Satan was real—or, if not the Devil himself, then his followers.

I wanted to tell a story about a lie that takes on a life of its own, only to come back and haunt the person who originally told it. I was fascinated by the McMartin Pre-School trial and how all these children had been coerced into spinning these fantastical flights of fancy, and people believed it! I asked myself: What ever happened to those kids who’d been put on the witness stand? Where are they now? Are they hiding? How do they feel about what they did? What they said?

I grew up during the Satanic Panic era, and it apparently did hit the UK shores, but I can’t remember much about it.  Why do you think it resonated so much more in the US than in the UK?

Here's a grand-sweeping statement for you: Americans need a boogeyman. We are a culture that is desperate to codify its fears upon the ‘other’ rather than look inwardly and rectify our own flaws. Satan is a simpler pill to swallow than to address our own shortcomings. The devil made me do it!

Culturally and politically, certainly in the UK we seem to be going backwards in time, do you think there is chance for a Satanic Panic 2?

Oh, man, it never left! It’s still going on right now! It’s just mutated and sublimated itself, but it’s always there, simmering in these disparate pockets of the internet. Pizzagate! L’il Nas X! Hillary!

When you were writing Whisper Down the Lane you completely avoided eighties stereotypes and wrote a totally non-sensationalist account of a scary time. Did you deliberately go out of your way to avoid the cliches often associated with the period?

First off… thank you. That’s really a relief to hear. With Stranger Things running rampant, I was always worried it would feel like an 80s pastiche and not a story truly rooted in the 80s. Honestly, I just wrote about myself. I was a child of the 80s, born in the 70s, reared on Spielberg. I just wrote from the point of view of a child absorbing the world around him, navigating the fears of adults.

Like Whisper Down the Lane your great witch and curses novel The Remaking (2019) also has an element of true crime to it. Is this another interest of yours?

True crime really has become a catch-all, hasn’t it? It totally interests me… but it comes with a strong sense of guilt. True crime to me is someone else’s personal tragedy. As a reader, I‘m always aware of the fact that this actually happened. How do the friends and family of these victims feel about the fact that I’m reading this book? Exploitation of grief and tragedy inevitably plays into the experience of reading these true crime books, and it most certainly factors into writing them… so when it came to The Remaking, I wanted to address that head-on. The appropriation of another person’s personal tragedy is right there in that book. Who has the right to tell these stories? What right do I have to tell somebody else’s tragedy? What’s the line between true crime and urban legend?

Could you walk us through your educational background and literary path towards having your debut collection Rest Area published in 2002? Did you see yourself as a short story writer before a novelist? Or by this point had you written longer fiction which hadn’t been published?

Ooooh, man… that’s a whole interview in of itself. Look: I was totally Cinderella. I was 21 when I got my first book deal from Disney. It was my senior year in undergrad, two weeks before graduation. Two books. The first would be a collection of short stories and the next would have to be a novel. That just doesn’t happen and it was suddenly happening to me. I didn’t have the depth of experience to understand how truly miraculous it was, nor the emotional depth to savor it. It was one of the best experiences of my life and I look back at that pivotal moment in my life where I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I loved it. I miss being naïve, but you can never go back, can you?

Let me see if I can answer this better: All through college—and in high school—I had been writing and performing these bizarro mono-stories. All first person narratives, all mini-Poes. Creepy characters telling their creepy life stories. I would read them to crowds and they took on a life of their own. I was lucky enough to convince an agent, who convinced Mickey Mouse, to make a book out of them… and I was off to the races. I spent the first five years of my professional life writing nothing but these weird stories and for the longest time that’s all I wanted to do. Back then, I would’ve loved to just keep writing them… I never wanted to write a novel. Not at first. My first novel-writing experience was a lesson in how NOT to write a novel.

Between 2013-4 you wrote a trilogy of children’s books called Tribe. How did those come about and is it an area you might be interested in returning to in future?

Yes! Absolutely… Middle grade horror is having such a surge right now, I love it. I love reading it and I’d love to write more of it. My series was a something like a frightening Fight Club for middle schoolers. What if there was a tribe of runaway kids living inside your school that no one but yourself knew existed? What if they wanted you to join their ranks? What would happen if you said no?

I fell in love with horror writing in middle school… I vividly remember sneaking in Stephen King under my desk and reading his short story “Survivor Type” while I should’ve been paying attention in class. If I could write more for that age group, I would be absolutely over the moon…

Do you read much horror fiction and how widely to you go beyond the genre? Recommend us something amazing you read recently.

I try to read as much of the genre and beyond it, for sure. You’ve got to be a student of the world, you know? I’ve definitely been imbibing a lot of great books lately… Between Two Fires by Christopher Buehlman. The Hollow Kind by Andy Davidson. White Horse by Erika T. Wurth. So many!

What sort of stuff did you read as a teenager and which authors have had the greatest influence on you, horror or otherwise? Do you have any ‘gateway’ novels which flicked the switch for you?

Geek Love by Katherine Dunn was a fundamental text for me. The poetry of Ai remains bedrock. Spalding Gray, Eric Bogosian. Stephen King taught me about my family tree. The Tin Drum. Flannery O’Connor. Shirley Jackson. Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark. The Far Side by Gary Larson. So many.

Which author, alive or dead, would you most like to walk past sitting on a bus reading one of your collections?

Um, Mr. Poe? Pardon me, but is this seat taken? Mind if I sit next to you? Whatcha reading there?

As well as writing novels you have had a successful career in the comic book world, what differences are there when writing a novel compared to writing a comic?

Comics are a visual medium. My script for a comic is not the final product. I am an architect for story and will eventually have to surrender my blue prints over to the individual who will build the actual thing. It’s a collaborative process where I’m in direct conversation with the artist and they lift my doggerel to a higher level. Thank God.

If you got the opportunity to turn your books into a comic, who would be your dream team to work with regards to illustration, lettering  etc?

Oh, wow! What a toughie… Dave McKean was the first person to pop into my head. I still have my copy of Mr. Punch and love it. As far as letterers go, I had the good fortune of working with Aditya Bidikar and you absolutely cannot beat their work. He’s a master.

Could you tell us a bit about your next ‘work in progress’?

I’m going to have to keep a bit mum about it, but let’s just say I’m wallowing through rewrites now on what I hope will be my next book and I’m absolutely floundering. Someone needs to rescue me.

“Like a demonic angel on a skateboard, like a resurrected Artaud on methadrine, like a tattletale psychiatrist turned rodeo clown, Clay McLeod Chapman races back and forth along the serrated edges of everyday American madness, objectively recording each whimper of anguish, each whisper of skewed desire. This is strong stuff, intense stuff, sometimes disturbing stuff, but I think the many who admire Chuck Palahniuk will admire Chapman as well.”—Tom Robbins, author, Still Life with Woodpecker

Clay McLeod Chapman is the author of the novels Whisper Down the Lane, The Remaking, and miss corpus, short story collections nothing untoward, commencement and rest area, as well as The Tribe middlegrade series: Homeroom Headhunters, Camp Cannibal and Academic Assassins.

Ghost Eaters, a new supernatural horror novel, hits shelves September 20, 2022 from Quirk Books, and it will scare the pants off you.

Upcoming projects include Unknown, a psychological horror anthology television series co-created with director Craig William Macneill, produced by Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy at Kilter Films and Amazon Studios.

Chapman’s story late bloomer was adapted into a short film, directed by Craig William Macneill. An official selection at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival, the short won Best Short at the Lake Placid Film Festival and the Brown Jenkins Award at the 12th Annual H.P. Lovecraft Film Festival.

Their second short, Henley, based on the chapter “The Henley Road Motel” from Chapman’s novel miss corpus, was an official selection at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival. It won Best Short at the 2011 Gen Art Film Festival and the 2011 Carmel Arts and Film Festival. The Boy (SXSW 2015), a feature-length adaptation of Henley, co-written with director Macneill, was produced by SpectreVision (Elijah Wood, Daniel Noah, and Josh C. Waller) in 2015.

In comics, Chapman is the writer of the Marvel series Scream: Curse of Carnage. He has written Absolute Carnage: Separation Anxiety, Iron Fist: Phantom Limb, Typhoid Fever, as well as for Edge of Spider-Verse and Venomverse, The Avengers, Amazing Spider-Man, Ultimate Spider-Man, American Vampire, Scream: King In Black, and ORIGINS among others.

He is the creator of Self Storage (451 Media) and Lazaretto (BOOM! Studios).

Chapman is the creator of the rigorous storytelling session The Pumpkin Pie Show. In the twenty years of its existence, it has performed internationally at the Romanian Theatre Festival of Sibiu, Edinburgh Fringe Festival, New York International Fringe Festival, Winnipeg Fringe Festival, Edmonton Fringe Festival, Minnesota Fringe Festival, Dublin-based thisisnotashop art space, IGNITE Festival, Women Center Stage Festival and Impact Theatre Festival.

Chapman wrote the book for Hostage Song (music & lyrics by Kyle Jarrow). He is the author of such plays as commencement, the cardiac shadow and volume of smoke. His story-monologues birdfeeder, undertow and the wet echo have been featured in The Best American Short Plays anthologies.

Chapman was educated at the North Carolina School of the Arts for Drama, the Burren College of Art, and Sarah Lawrence College. He currently teaches writing at The Actors Studio MFA Program at Pace University.