It’s time to put on make-up, it’s time to light the lights, and then suddenly the shadows rush in and nothing is ever the same. This was a wonderfully dark story with a beautiful climax you could see coming and yet still wanted to know what would happen. What inspired the tale?

I’ve always been interested in laughter as a behavior. It is such a strange phenomenon—how physical it is, and also how it can be so sudden, uncontrollable, and contagious. A while ago I was reading about theories for why we laugh and was intrigued to learn that we don’t have a clear answer. Some of the most popular theories include laughter as a recognition of incongruity, as a feeling of superiority, or as a release of tension.

We think of comedy as being “happy,” but in a way, a joke is actually quite an uncomfortable thing—setting up a joke means creating and building up tension and then relieving the tension through a punchline. The comedian and writer Hannah Gadsby talks about this beautifully in her comedy special Nanette. That inherently suspenseful nature of a joke, of comedy, led me to think more about the relationship between comedy and horror, and combined with a random thought about cracking jokes and cracking eggs, eventually brought about this story.

There are many layers to the horror of this story. Domestic violence, abusive foster care, physical and implied sexual abuse, the brittle agonies of survival, and then the final joke. What was the most difficult part of the story to write, the worst horror for you?

 It was difficult to write about the painful experiences that Mitch and Cassie experienced. Children are especially vulnerable to their environment, the people around them, and other factors beyond their control. What helped me was to also picture the internal resolve that Mitch and Cassie developed in response, and how they managed to recast and channel their pain in a different way.

The best horror seeks that momentary connection when everything falls into place and the darkness spreads. I was as equally intrigued by Monica’s distance from Cassie as she watched her daughter’s reactions as I was by the example of parents right there for their children as they tried to escape the theater. In that moment when something wet and slippery appeared in Cassie’s hands, who do you think was most afraid?

 In those moments, I imagined that Cassie was already in her own world (perhaps a world also shared by Mitch), and did not feel fear, but rather, triumph. Her mother, on the other hand, would be utterly terrified.

To write, you must read. Who are some of your favorite horror and dark fantasy writers? To whom do you turn when you want to shiver under the covers?

 I have much to discover and learn about the horror and dark fantasy field, but some of my favorite stories have been those by Shirley Jackson, Stephen Graham Jones, Nathan Ballingrud, and Carmen Maria Machado. Recently I’ve been going back to read more of Edgar Allan Poe, and am increasingly surprised they had us read his stories in middle school. Reading “The Cask of Amontillado” as a nine-year-old rewired my brain, and I don’t think I slept well for a few weeks after that.

What’s next for Amanda Song? What can we expect from you in the coming months?

I’m working on a few things here and there and hope to share more news soon!