Editorial
Editorial: April 2020
Be sure to check out the editorial for a rundown of this month’s content, plus all our news and updates.
Be sure to check out the editorial for a rundown of this month’s content, plus all our news and updates.
Read more. Don’t just read your friends, or who your friends say you should read, or who you’re comfortable reading, or who your model of literature is. Push yourself. Take risks. Read small things, big things, translated things, things in your native language but from different countries. Understand language is fluid, that it’s forever changing, that there are no rules. There are writers of every kind out there doing interesting and fascinating things and you want to find them.
This month, Terence Taylor reviews two books that wrestle with the past: The Sun Down Motel, by Simone St. James, and Remembered, by Yvonne Battle-Felton.
I begin to think most of my horror ideas are the product of dreams, haha. In this case (a little like “Sweet Dreams Are Made of You”), this was inspired by a dream, in which someone was telling me about the Flashlight Man game. My dreams have always trended towards vivid, WTF, and wildly inventive, so whenever I can mine those for (let’s hope coherent!) fiction, I love it.
For the longest time, I’d searched for a proper definition of horror. That whole, “defined by emotional response” never sat well for me, and felt lacking as a descriptor. Mostly because people think that emotion should be fear or fright, but at the same time the word horror doesn’t automatically mean fear, does it? Something can be horrible, and yet not scary. Add to the fact that some of the best horror digs in under the skin and does something else, something far more disturbing than simple fear.
Be sure to check out the editorial for a run-down of this month’s chilling content, plus all our latest updates.
You’ve seen the creature crawling on the ceiling before, out of focus, just over the shoulder of a character. You’ve heard the pitchfork dragged screeching across the concrete floor. You’re acquainted with the character who hears a noise and approaches a closet and reaches a hand for the knob . . . and finds nothing but a cat inside—only to turn around to face an attack from the monster. I could keep going. There are certain tricks to horror we grow overly familiar and bored with. I’m always trying to find a new way in.
Nicole Cushing is the Bram Stoker Award® winning author of Mr. Suicide and a two-time nominee for the Shirley Jackson Award. Rue Morgue recently included her in its list of thirteen Wicked Women to Watch, praising her as “an intense and uncompromising literary voice.” She has also garnered praise from the late Jack Ketchum, Thomas Ligotti, and Poppy Z. Brite. Her second novel, A Sick Gray Laugh, was recently released by Word Horde.
I can turn to my love of murder mystery television. What becomes apparent in this genre is that the past always returns to get its due—it might not always win, but it will wait, bide its time till you’ve forgotten, till you’re living your version of a charmed life, then it will remind you. I have been interested in, and writing about, karma and fate, so the meeting of obsessions came through in this story.
I’ve been jobless for two and a half months now, which has caused a spike in mostly-forgotten anxieties. I hate being broke, hate watching my savings dwindle, and hate knowing I’m one bad fall or car accident away from poverty. So like most anxious, broke people, I comfort myself by bingeing crap television. Luckily, Netflix’s algorithms got something right for once, and presented me with Haunted. Haunted is a 2018 Netflix original series, featuring non-actors telling true (or truth-y) stories about being haunted.