I love the opening line of this story. It sets us up for both the expectations that establish the stakes in this narrative and for the subsequent subversion of those expectations, especially as we are dealing with the thoroughly established “Final Girl” trope. When you think of traps people willingly walk into, can you point to a career “trap” that you willingly walked into in your life? Perhaps, just to hear the snapping of those steel jaws and feel your own figurative bones snapping? If you’d be willing to share it, I’d love to hear an anecdote about that and how you navigated it as a successful, publishing artist.

Ooh! That is an excellent question! I’m not sure if this exactly counts as a trap, but I have a tendency to say yes to too many things at once. Yes, I’d love to blurb that/review that/be a judge for that/write that, etc. I always feel bad when I have to turn something down, so I try to say yes to as much as possible. Plus, I genuinely love reading and sharing works with other people, and I get overenthusiastic and agree to take on more than I probably should. Then future me ends up cursing past me, but I never change because the trap is so nice and there are so many lovely words inside it. The best strategy I’ve developed to cope thus far is making lots of lists, trying not to panic, and methodically tackling each deadline one by one.

As someone who works on film sets pretty frequently, I’m always drawn to stories that take place in that setting, especially those that are in prose form since they so effectively blur the lines between my favorite art forms. What about a film set speaks to you as a setting and motif around which to build a short horror story? Have you worked on any film set? If so, care to share a favorite story from the film world? If not, do you have any aspirations to work in film in the future?

I’ve never personally worked on a film set, but from my perspective on the outside looking in, they strike me as magical places. I know making a movie or TV show is a lot of hard work, and there’s probably also a lot of drudgery involved—waiting, doing take after take—but the romantic ideal of it is still captivating. It’s a place where reality and fiction blend, a liminal space where anything seems possible. There’s a suspension of disbelief that goes on in any form of storytelling, and when it comes to horror narratives, I love the possibility that film and filmmaking opens up for doubt. Are fictional horrors happening safely on screen, or is the camera capturing something real? As a viewer, witnessing something terrible, how complicit are you?

I’m always fascinated with the intersection of horror and erotica and you explore this throughout the story. What aspect of human nature do you believe creates that inherent relationship and what aspects of the horror genre, specifically, thrive on that bond?

Horror and erotica both describe a heightened state where sensations are sharper and there’s a hyperawareness of both bodies and emotions. Heart racing, blood pumping, breath quickened—those physical reactions could accompany either arousal or fear. As an author, it’s fun to explore that overlap. There’s also a vulnerability that comes with both. Fear and desire put you in conversation with another party or parties in an intimate way, whether it’s a lover dragging a finger down your spine to make you shiver, or a masked killer stalking you through the dark. Your body and emotions are altered by that other person (or people) and you are taken out of yourself. You could, of course, make the same case for any strong emotion (love, grief) or sensation-based activity (extreme sports, uncontrollable laughter), but there’s something visceral about horror and erotica in the written form that makes them perfect for each other. Reading about someone’s funny bone being struck or someone climbing a mountain doesn’t hit in quite the same way as an effectively written sex scene or a claustrophobically written description of someone being buried alive.

This story routinely analyzes, speaks, and then breaks the rules of the trope and sub-genre in which it lives. When writing contemporary horror, especially in the short form, how important is it to be able to break the “rules”? Sometimes, it feels that the reframing and subversion of tropes becomes as much the norm as the utilization of the tropes themselves, creating a sort of cyclical rotation of subverting expectations BY returning to the original story structures that, once, were seen as “played out.” Ironically, I believe it can become original to go back to the basics when everyone else is still trying to be “original.” What do you think of that idea? Do you have any insight on that cyclical nature of subversion and trope or am I just talking out of my ass?

I think there’s definitely something to the cyclical nature of trope and subversion within storytelling, whether it’s in horror, comedy, romance, or any other genre. The saying goes that there are no new stories under the sun, but there’s always a new way to tell them and sometimes that new way is going back to form or revisiting an older version of a well-known tale. At the end of the day, there’s no right or wrong way for an author to tell a story, there’s just their way. Every author brings their own perspective to a work, just as every reader or viewer brings their own perspective as well. As a result, no story will ever be “done” to the point where nothing new can be said about it, because there are so many ways reader and author perspectives can resonate with each other. The last reimagining of “Cinderella” may have done absolutely nothing for you, but the next may absolutely blow your mind in a completely unexpected way.

Just for fun: Who is your favorite final girl in all of film and who is your favorite final girl in all of literature? Why them and what do they bring to the proverbial table that makes them unique, in your eyes?

I’m a big fan of Ellen Ripley as a final girl across Alien and Aliens (and let’s just ignore Alien 3), even though they aren’t traditional slashers. She survives, is disbelieved and disregarded when she tries to offer insider knowledge, as many final girls are, but she uses that same specialized knowledge to survive another round with the implacable killer the second time around. I also kind of like the idea of the flip side of that, with the xenomorph as the final girl. From a hive mind/collective consciousness perspective, she keeps having to fend off a seemingly unkillable human who keeps coming to her home, intent and destroying her and all her offspring. Rude.

As for literature, I’m a big fan of Jade Daniels from the Indian Lake Trilogy by Stephen Graham Jones, speaking of both embracing and subverting tropes in brilliant ways that constantly brings fresh new life to a genre. Jade both resists and embraces the idea of being a final girl at various points across the novels, while also being absolutely steeped in slasher lore and constantly commenting on the genre even as she’s living it. Her story is heartbreaking, cathartic, traumatic, and hopeful all at once—everything you want from a final girl!

What’s next for A.C. Wise? Any big projects, new publications, or anything else like that we can keep our eyes out for?

At the time of this interview, there’s nothing concrete on the horizon. I’m currently revising a very drafty draft of a new horror novel and keeping my fingers crossed for a possible new short story collection. I’m also always working on short fiction and reviews. So even though there’s nothing specific I can share, I’m hopeful for the future!