On Writing:
Q: In 2021 you completed a Master of Writing at Swinburne University. During your studies was there any one lesson or a single realization that most challenged or lent insight into the way you approach storytelling? For writers tossing around the idea of formal study, what creative writing skills or habits do you think programs like that can help develop?
A: “I gained a lot from formally studying writing. I am not sure I learned how to write stories that publishers wanted to buy, however.
There was nothing wrong with the course I completed, it taught me a lot about writing, the different forms of writing such as research and different ways of presenting written media. It was just that so little of the course focused on writing stories for publication.
A tertiary course in writing teaches you how to learn to be a writer and prepares you to undertake further academic study in that area. The same way studying medicine gives you the basics of starting to learn to be a doctor; it is a formal starting point.
Where you can come unstuck in academia is you can create any number of complex, clever, creative, and peculiar pieces of art and it will be considered unpublishable ephemera outside of the academic institute. A doctor cannot invent different ways to surgically fix patients without being expelled from the science (or becoming a supervillain in the next B-grade horror movie).
Art is the same. There are plenty of artists who are quite outspoken in their criticism of contemporary academic art education, which teaches students to appraise and interpret art, yet fails to teach them the fundamental basics of drawing/painting (not least of which is many of the educators cannot do it either).
If you are interested in studying writing, complete tertiary education. If you need the pressure of assessments to adhere to study, complete tertiary education. If you are interested in proving yourself to be a genius, complete tertiary education. If you want to learn to write stories and novels, and/or you have all of the above, you can achieve this a lot faster with these resources:
‘Consider This: Moments in my Writing Life After Which Everything was Different’ by Chuck Palahniuk.
‘The Snowflake Method’ explored by Randy Ingermanson.
Good Luck!“
Q: Your work sometimes draws inspiration from spaces such as Creepypasta and contemporary mythology. When starting with a small eerie concept or legend, what steps do you take to expand it into a structured narrative with characters, raising the stakes, and creating tension? Is it important that writers have a ‘process’ or ‘practice’ when it comes to their writing?
A: “This is an interesting question. I have very strong ‘practice’, in that I have poured hours and hours of time into writing, reading, and studying works that I want to learn from. My process however is chaotic.
At least, that is what my fellow writer friends tell me.
I plan things. I map out the basic premise of every story using Ingermanson’s Snowflake Method (an invaluable way to highlight shortcomings in a story in minutes, rather than after years of painstaking writing) and I write character profiles. I make sure my characters exist outside of the story I am writing. It is critical the story feels like a moment in their lives, and not that they exist solely for the story. And then…I write.
I write the way I completed exams in high school and university when I completed my undergraduate degree in Physical Therapy. If I got stuck on a question, I would leave it, move on, and come back to it later. It is excellent practice, which helps me to highlight what additional work I need to do. If I am unsure of how to write a showdown between a sentient washing machine fueled by nuclear waste and an archangel from another dimension, I will look to other, better authors to steal learn from them. I write, re-write, print, edit, re-write, print, edit, and whittle away at the story, removing as much dead wood as possible and trying to enhance the bits that work. All whilst avoiding ‘overworking’ the story and making it feel dull and rigidly produced. It is important to take regular breaks from your work too: If it bores you, it will bore your readers!
I try to finish stories as quickly as possible, but with all the things life throws at me, whilst working full time, being a father of a young family, how long stories take…now they are pieces of string, and we know how long those are.
It is important to be able to identify the parts of a story that work, and the parts that do not. You will only learn this through trial and error, sharing your work with other people and authors, and getting dozens of rejections. If you are lucky, you will get a critique as well, telling you where you can improve.
If you have a process, and it works, and your work is published, great. If you do not, and it is not, you may need to do some more work on your process. Put in a bit of practice and refine it. How you do that is up to you.“
On Horror:
Q: On your blog, you have written thoughtfully about body horror. What do you think makes body horror such a powerful form of storytelling within the horror genre? Do you think it continues to resonate with audiences of today? Why or why not?
A:” “Body horror is so powerful because it is so immediate. We all feel pain. We all have horrible memories of injuries to ourselves or others. Broken bones, deep skin wounds, trips to the dentist. Kids getting poked in the eye with sticks at school. The horrible, and not too common sporting injuries where a person is permanently paralyzed.
Body horror is something we can feel. That causes physical revulsion. It is part of our DNA. Being repulsed by it is an instinctive reaction, developed over millions of years of evolution, to ensure we will do everything in our power to avoid injury.
Body horror will resonate with audiences for as long as we have bodies and know pain. Both of which could change in the not-too-distant future, what with the alleged Singularity allegedly rocketing towards us.
Like most horror, the excitement comes from being able to explore and engage with harm and injury, infection and parasites, possessions and corruption, without actually suffering the damage or the pain.
We, as organisms, are fascinated by that which terrifies us, so yeah, I think Body Horror is here to stay.“
Q: In your story, Flesh of my Flesh the graphic elements serve a clear narrative purpose rather than feeling gratuitous. For horror writers who mostly stick to psychological horror elements and are interested in leaning into body horror, what suggestions can you offer when it comes to balancing visceral horror with meaningful storytelling?
A: “Every word in a story should be essential. If not, get rid of it. By extension, every scene, and every action, should be critical. Every injury, every gory moment, should build to something more. When I write body horror, there is a reason body horror is present. I want it to create richer meaning for the reader. In Flesh of my Flesh the horror is less about what is witnessed by the reader, and more about the actions taken by the characters. The few scenes of gore within it must be there, for the story to achieve its appropriate climax and resolution. They are not there to shock the reader. They are not there to make me look like a scary author who knows how to terrify his audience (I like to think I do, but it is hit and miss, at best, because everyone finds different things scary). They are there because they must be there for the story to function.
Do not use throw away gore and scenes of death and mutilation, and your visceral scenes will be that much more meaningful. Unless you are writing for the next teeny-bopper slasher-flick. Then go ham. The more corn syrup, the better. Otherwise, use horror scenes sparingly in horror. Less is more. More or less.“
Fanning the Embers:
Q: Is it an author’s job to be likable?
A: “This is a funny question. I do not think so. If you are worried about what people will think about you based on what you write, I think writing is not for you. Also, there is so much out there now, in the creative space, that authors are not tarred and feathered with their stories so much as they once were.
You do not need to be likeable as an author, as long as you do all the reasonable things expected of an author (or anyone, really): do not plagiarize, do not act like a jerk and down-vote other authors works to make yours rank higher online, and do not perform obviously antisocial acts on social media. Do not use AI and pass it off as your own work. I lose track of how many times editors complain they have been inundated with AI works when they specifically stated nothing AI will be accepted.
You would be surprised how little attention people pay to the author of a story compared to the story itself (in my limited experience). You would also be surprised how much of yourself comes through in even the most outlandish and crazy stories you write. It is a good thing no one associates them with you, right?“
Author/Story Specific:
Q: When creating profiles for your characters, what are some of the most important elements you include? Do those priorities change depending on the type of story you are writing?
A: “The most crucial elements are backstory. Ask yourself: What are the characters ideals? Their dreams? Their flaws? What are their strongest memories? And what is their arc?
You need to understand your characters because they need to exist outside of your story. I do not mean you need to write a series of stories about “Jonathon Bungbox” before you write your story, but the reader should not feel that he only exists for your story. And no, these priorities are essential for any and all stories UNLESS you are writing PULP, in which case “Muscle McKnuckles” with a tommy gun is expected to be two-dimensional, and drink cigarettes, smoke scotch, and communicate through one-liners.
Stories, like life, should happen to the characters in the most surprising, and often challenging and poorly timed ways. A zombie apocalypse should fall upon a young father who is struggling to adapt to full-time work and his wife having just given birth to twins. Armageddon can only be stopped by one man, who is currently hungover after having lost everything he owns at the casino. Plus, he’s tied to a toilet cistern. Naked. In an abandoned warehouse. There are 4 hours left before the universe collapses. A maniacal madman should storm the train when you are on your way to work to a boring job to give a presentation that might help you stay employed.
These developments in character create tension. They make them relatable. You need to understand them, in order for your reader to believe in them. You can only do that by writing out a detailed character profile (minimum one page).“
Q: Along with writing, your website features some ‘doodling’. Has there ever been a time where a creature, character, or ideal has started as a sketch before becoming a part of a story?
A: “You would think so. My writing and my drawing are both quite different interests. Clive Barker includes some of his paintings in his stories, but I do not know of other acclaimed horror authors who are also artists. I am sure there are plenty, I simply do not know any off the top of my head. I have never drawn anything from a story or tried to write a story to feature a monster or character.
Why? I draw for the same reason I write horror. Personal enjoyment. I love to write horror and will continue to do so until I feel like trying my hand at a different genre. I have absolutely no interest in writing in another genre, hence I do not. It is the same with drawing and art. I love to draw hands, faces, bodies, and comic book heroes. Whilst I do not mind drawing skulls and occasional eyes, I have very little interest in drawing things that are to be published in horror zines.“