News & Blog

Welcome to this week’s installment of The Scariest Part, a recurring feature in which authors, comic book writers, filmmakers, and game creators tell us what scares them in their latest works of horror, dark fantasy, dark science fiction, and suspense. (If you’d like to be featured on The Scariest Part, check out the guidelines here.)

My guest is Charlene Challenger, whose debut novel is The Voices In Between. Here’s the publisher’s description:

This stirring coming-of-age novel presents issues such as domestic violence and emotional abuse, as well as cultural and sexual identity.

Adoni is a teenaged girl who lives in a downtown apartment with her mother, an emotionally and physically abusive woman who drinks too much. One evening, Adoni finds herself drawn to the enchanting voice of a man singing in the alley beneath her bedroom window. The man, Ritter, brings Adoni to the Welcome, a northern colony of the In-Between world, where young people who have been rescued from harm are kept safe by their sworn immortal protectors, the pipers. But when the Welcome is attacked by changelings–led by the vicious and charismatic Sylvester–and a centuries-old grudge spills over the edge and threatens to destroy the colony and everyone who lives there, Adoni must find the strength and courage within to stop the oncoming war.

And now, let’s hear what the scariest part was for Charlene Challenger:

I don’t usually resort to glib one-liners about the writing process for inspiration, but I’ve always resonated with the concept of writing what scares me, so I’m happy to be featured as this week’s guest blog post for The Scariest Part.

The Voices In Between was an extremely difficult book for me to write. The story came to me while I was working in children and youth services in downtown Toronto, and the subject matter (trauma/abuse, cultural and sexual identity) hits home for me in a lot of ways. As someone who was mercilessly bullied (read: systematically and relentlessly harassed and devalued) as a kid, I deal with cripplingly low self-esteem and occasionally suffer from panic attacks and insomnia. So the first Scary Thing I had to overcome was actually hammering the story out on my laptop after work and into the early morning hours of the next day.

I’ve written novel-length works in the past, none of which were really any good, but Voices is the first work I’ve ever had published, and the stakes are high for me. This is the first time I’ve put my name on something that I’ll no longer be able to control — no fiddling with the language, no tweaking the plot, no finessing the dialogue. The second Scary Thing is offering my book up to others knowing that not everyone is going to love it or relate to it as much as I do. Reviews aren’t beta-reads from encouraging friends and loved ones; they’re criticisms of a novel a writer has spent years working on. The best of them will hopefully help the book find its audience. The worst of them? I don’t even want to think about it.

This leads me to the third Scary Thing, which is, in fact, the scariest part: owning up to everything I’ve committed to the pages, which carry, in essence, little glimpses into the truth of my experience. While every character in Voices is a reflection of who I am, there is no character I identify with more than Sylvester, the changeling antagonist. Sylvester has been through a lot in his life and (without getting too spoilery) carries an intense rage in his heart as a result. He’s very much like Steppe, the piper leader of the northern colony of the In-Between, whose anger runs just as deep. Unlike Steppe, however, Sylvester acts on his fury with devastating results. Sylvester is so resentful of the cards he’s been dealt in life, so uncompromising in his hatred for those whom he thinks have wronged him, he no longer cares who he hurts, or how.

So help me, I can be that angry. I can get so angry I can hold a grudge for years. I’m not proud of that. I’m afraid there will come a time in my life when my anger will be so indiscriminate, I’ll end up hurting someone I love. Beyond repair.

Put it all together and what do you have? An author with first-time jitters and commitment issues who’s terrified of letting everybody down, including herself. But I’m fortunate in that, very often, what terrifies me also exhilarates me, and I’m ready to bid farewell to these particular fears and to welcome a set of new ones (such as — GASP! — writing the SOPHMORE NOVEL).

Charlene Challenger: Website / Goodreads / Twitter / Facebook

The Voices In Between: Amazon / Goodreads / Tightrope

Charlene Challenger is a writer and graduate of Ryerson Theatre School. Her first novel, the young adult fantasy The Voices In Between, is published by Tightrope Books. Her work is also featured in Stone Skin Press’s A 21st Century Bestiary and Exile Editions’ Start a Revolution: QUILTBAG Fiction Vying for Change. Charlene is currently working on the sequel to Voices. She lives in Toronto.

Welcome to this week’s installment of The Scariest Part, a recurring feature in which authors, comic book writers, filmmakers, and game creators tell us what scares them in their latest works of horror, dark fantasy, dark science fiction, and suspense. (If you’d like to be featured on The Scariest Part, check out the guidelines here.)

My guest is A.J. Colucci, whose latest novel is Seeders. Here is the publisher’s description:

George Brookes is a brilliant but reclusive plant biologist living on a remote Canadian island. After his mysterious death, the heirs to his estate arrive on the island, including his daughter Isabelle, her teenage children, and Jules Beecher, a friend and pioneer in plant neurobiology. They will be isolated on the frigid island for two weeks, until the next supply boat arrives.

As Jules begins investigating the laboratory and scientific papers left by George, he comes to realize that his mentor may have achieved a monumental scientific breakthrough: communication between plants and humans. Within days, the island begins to have strange and violent effects on the group, especially Jules who becomes obsessed with George’s journal, the strange fungus growing on every plant and tree, and horrible secrets that lay buried in the woods. It doesn’t take long for Isabelle to realize that her father may have unleashed something sinister on the island, a malignant force that’s far more deadly than any human. As a fierce storm hits and the power goes out, she knows they’ll be lucky to make it out alive.

A.J. Colucci masterfully weaves real science with horror to create a truly terrifying thriller, drawing from astonishing new discoveries about plants and exploring their eerie implications. Seeders is a feast of horror and suspense.

And now, let’s hear what the scariest part was for A.J. Colucci:

The scariest part of Seeders. That’s a tough one. It could be how six people are stranded on a cold, desolate island and start losing their minds. Or the decomposing body they find in the woods. Perhaps it’s the premise of the book — communication between plants and people, based on actual science — because in my book plants don’t just feel pain and emotion; they fight back.

However, for me, the scariest part of the story is what happened while writing the novel. I’d been working on Seeders during the winter months when the towering trees in my neighborhood were bare and loomed like angry giants, staring down at me with thousands of claw branches as I took my morning walks. Lost in my story, the trees seemed eager to attack, and frustrated by the roots that kept them anchored to the ground. I learned from my research that rootedness is their curse. And I did hours of research, every day, getting daily doses of plant facts. Trees and plants feel pain. They can learn and remember. They can signal insects and send chemical warnings to each other. Did you know the lovely smell of fresh cut grass is actually your lawn screaming?

However, as spring approached and their leaves began to bud, the trees didn’t look so frightening. I remember thinking the mighty oak seemed more content, less hostile in the warmth of a sunny day. It came time to tend to my garden, and I got the old snipping shears out of the shed to trim my four foot Japanese Red Maple. It has those droopy branches and its feathery leaves were beginning to touch the ground.

But before making the first snip, I hesitated. After all my research, was I really going to cut this tree? I knew plants, in their own way, felt pain. They reacted to trauma by becoming depressed. Simply cutting one branch would affect the entire plant for hours. Yet, not cutting the droopy branch was an invitation to bugs crawling on the ground. So I snipped it. All seemed fine until a couple seconds after the snip and I heard a squeal. I kid you not. It was a small squeal of pain. Of course, I thought it must be my imagination, but my heart kicked up and I stared bug-eyed at the tree. I held my breath. I tried it again. A second after the snip, I heard the squeal. Now my blood ran cold and my hand was shaking. I looked around to see if anyone was around, even though I was positive the noise came from the tree. I snipped once more, and two seconds later it cried out. I recalled the sound, sort of a high pitch whine and the release of a tiny breath. Like what you’d hear from a baby in a moment of discomfort.

With a tight fist I stood up, and then loosened my grip. There was that sound again. I looked closely at the shears, pinching them closed and letting them snap open. It was the shears, the stupid shears! They were slightly rusted and squeaked when they sprang open. Still, rusty shears or not, I cannot forget that feeling of horror. Thinking, knowing, the tree had shrieked. After everything I learned while researching Seeders, I know we can never be quite sure of what a plant is really feeling, or thinking.

A.J. Colucci: Website

Seeders: Amazon / Other sellers

A.J. Colucci is an author of science thrillers, stories that combine true, cutting-edge science with the adrenaline-rush of a thriller. Her latest novel, Seeders, was described by #1 New York Times bestselling author Douglas Preston as “Gripping and brilliantly original.” Her debut novel, The Colony, was given a starred review by Publishers Weekly, and Booklist called it “a frightening combination of well-researched science and scenes of pure horror.” A.J. spent 15 years as a newspaper reporter, magazine editor and writer for corporate America. Today she is a full-time author who lives in New Jersey with her husband, two daughters and a couple of adorable cats. A.J. is a member of International Thriller Writers.

Welcome to this week’s installment of The Scariest Part, a recurring feature in which authors, comic book writers, filmmakers, and game creators tell us what scares them in their latest works of horror, dark fantasy, dark science fiction, and suspense. (If you’d like to be featured on The Scariest Part, check out the guidelines here.)

My guest is Kate Jonez, whose latest book is the novella Ceremony of Flies. Here’s the publisher’s description:

Two petty criminals find themselves inextricably linked when a stop at a roadside bar leads to murder.

On the run and out of options, they reluctantly rescue a stranded boy and his dog from a lonely crossroads in the Mojave desert and decide for the first time in their lives to do the right thing.

But this one selfless act unleashes a terrifying onslaught of demonic trouble as they struggle to save the boy — and themselves — from an evil far greater than they ever imagined.

And now, let’s hear what the scariest part was for Kate Jonez:

Ceremony of Flies is the story of two petty criminals who are on the run because petty criminals tend to make bad decisions. When they find a little boy and his dog at a crossroads in the Mojave Desert, they decide, for once, to do the right thing. Turns out, a weird kids found in the middle of nowhere aren’t always what they seem.

There are several scenes in this book set in places that creep me out. Rough looking roadside bars in dusty desert towns are scary. When you walk in, you can never be sure if you’ll find charming country folk or meth addled psychopaths. The Mojave Desert is, itself, a terrifying place. It’s huge and desolate and inhospitable to human life. The nighttime desert soundscape is lonely and haunting. Anyone not afraid to be alone in the desert at night doesn’t have any sense. The freeways of Los Angeles are fast and furious. For imaginative people, it’s easy to visualize being smeared on the pavement each time a car whizzes by at ninety miles an hour.

For me, the scariest part of Ceremony of Flies is when Emily finds the little boy she’s rescued and fallen in love with drowning in the Salton Sea. For those unfamiliar with the nastiest pus hole on earth, the Salton Sea is the largest accidentally created salt water sea on the planet. It is unnatural in every way. Because it’s in the desert, temperatures in summer often rise to more than 120 degrees. Extremely high salinity gives it the consistency of watery Jell-O. Fish and water birds die in large numbers, which give the sea the aroma sometimes noticed as far away as San Diego. Somehow these creatures manage to reproduce enough to supply the shore with a constant stock of rotten maggot infested corpses. The thought of diving into something this disgusting is scary enough, but to have a child you love in danger of drowning in it magnifies the terror even more. To write this scene, I called upon a memory of the day my son, when he was three or so, managed to open the gate to our back yard. When I looked out the window he was toddling at full speed across the apartment complex toward the pool. Time moves in a crazy way when that kind of fear takes over. I ran as fast as I ever had. It felt slow, like slow motion. When I’d covered half the distance between us, his bobbing head disappeared. The absolute worst thing was no longer going to happen. It had happened. And I had to contain the panic to achieve the best possible outcome. Think — breathe — RUN!

Ceremony of Flies, published by DarkFuse, is available July 8^th in ebook and limited edition hard cover. I hope you’ll read it and let me know what you think the scariest part is.

Oh, and my son was fine. A neighbor caught him as he jumped in and sat with him at the edge of the pool until I got there. Kids are freaking scary.

Kate Jonez: Website / Twitter / Facebook / Goodreads

Ceremony of Flies: Amazon / DarkFuse / Goodreads

Kate Jonez writes dark fantasy fiction. Her Bram Stoker Award ® nominated novel Candy House is available at Amazon in print and ebook. Ceremony of Flies is forthcoming from DarkFuse in July 2014. She is also chief editor at Omnium Gatherum, a small press dedicated to providing unique dark fantasy, weird fiction or literary dark fiction in print and ebook. Three Omnium Gatherum books have been nominated for Shirley Jackson Awards. Kate is a student of all things scary and when she isn’t writing she loves to collect objects for her cabinet of curiosities, research obscure and strange historical figures and photograph weirdness in Southern California, where she lives with a very nice man and a little dog who is also very nice but could behave a little bit better.

Welcome to this week’s installment of The Scariest Part, a recurring feature in which authors, comic book writers, filmmakers, and game creators tell us what scares them in their latest works of horror, dark fantasy, dark science fiction, and suspense. (If you’d like to be featured on The Scariest Part, check out the guidelines here.)

My guest is Matthew Johnson, whose latest book is the short story collection Irregular Verbs and Other Stories. Here’s the publisher’s description:

keluarga: to move to a new village

lunak: to search for something without finding it

mencintai: to love for the last time

Meet a guilt-ridden nurse who atones for her sins by joining her zombified patients in exile; a lone soldier standing guard on a desolate Arctic island against an invasion that may be all in his mind; a folksinger who tries to unionize Hell; and a private eye who only takes your case after you die. Visit a resettlement centre for refugees from ancient Rome; a lost country recreated by its last citizen on the Internet; and a restaurant where the owner’s ghost lingers for one final party. Discover the inflationary effects of a dragon’s hoard, the secret connection between Mark Twain and Frankenstein, and the magic power of blackberry jam — all in this debut collection of strange, funny, and bittersweet tales.

And now, let’s hear what the scariest part was for Matthew Johnson:

When I first thought of doing a short story collection with CZP it seemed like a bit of an odd fit. After all, ChiZine is known mostly for dark fiction and horror, and my work tends more towards science fiction and fantasy; when I write horror it’s usually by accident — something that seems straightforward or even funny to me but which turns out to terrify other people. But the fact that the collection exists at all is because of a time when I scared myself: for me, in fact, the scariest part of Irregular Verbs was wondering whether I would ever write it.

Let me explain. There was a long period when, as a high school teacher with no kids, I had oodles of time to write. From September to June I was a teacher, not a writer, but for two months of the year I wrote full-time, eight hours or more a day at the keyboard. In just over five years of that schedule I wrote a lot of stuff, and some of it got a bit of attention: stories that got good reviews, or were included in Best Of collections, and even got translated into a few other languages.

Then, in the space of a few years, I left teaching and started a new job (the one I still have now.) Now I was working twelve months a year, facing a fearsome learning curve and — most importantly — doing work that I couldn’t compartmentalize off from my writing: designing lessons, creating educational computer games, and writing blogs, things that used the same part of my brain as writing fiction did.

And then my son Leo was born.

Don’t get me wrong: I love all my children more dearly than life itself. But Leo was not an easy baby. For the first five months of his life he was a colicky monster that could only be soothed by constant rocking and singing. For a long time, writing was completely off the table: I spent hours every night with Leo in my arms, sitting in an old rocking chair that had belonged to my wife’s grandfather. (He had been famous for his ability to calm babies, though by the time I knew him he only ever shared the chair with George, a reformed barn cat with demon eyes and needle-sharp claws.) What little energy I had left at the end of these nights was completely taken up by my day job, and as the months crawled by I began to wonder if I would ever write anything again.

Then, one night, something appeared in my mind that terrified me. The day before I had read Leo “The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy Winkle,” and now I had a thought that wouldn’t let me go: what if all of those portal fantasies, all of those stories about boys and girls being taken off for adventures in strange worlds — what if those stories were traps? What if they were lures, designed to trick children into following elves and talking animals to a very different, much darker destiny? Now that I had a child of my own to protect, held tight in my arms, the idea scared me so much it wouldn’t let go.

I spent the night working out who was luring these children, why they were doing it and where they were taking them. By morning I had the outlines of a story, “Beyond the Fields You Know,” that begins like this:

The boy was called Calx. He did not remember his real name.

He was not sure how long he had been at the House. He did not know how long it had been since he had seen his parents; their names, too were long gone, scraped away by toil and hunger. But he remembered their faces, and his bedroom with the biplane wallpaper and the Elmo sheets — and he remembered the Gnome with the Silver Key.

In the end it took me about six months to write it, stealing time while on planes and in hotels during business trips, but that didn’t matter: what mattered was that I was still writing, was still a writer. That gave me the will to put together a collection of my work and shop it around, and finally find a home for it at ChiZine.

I still write a lot more slowly than I used to, and — like most writers — I’m still working to find time and energy to write. (I am, in fact, writing this in an airport.) But ever since that night, I don’t doubt anymore that I will keep writing, and some of my favourite stories in Irregular Verbs are the ones that I’ve written since my kids were born. Because of the way that story scared me, the way it forced me to write it and wouldn’t let me go, I’m not scared anymore.

Matthew Johnson: Website / Twitter

Irregular Verbs and Other Stories: Amazon / Barnes and Noble / Powells / ChiZine / Goodreads

Matthew Johnson has published stories in places such as Asimov’s Science Fiction, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction and Strange Horizons and has published one novel, Fall From Earth, from Bundoran Press. His work has been collected in several Year’s Best anthologies and has been translated into Danish, Czech and Russian. While not writing or engaged in full-contact parenting he works as the Director of Education for MediaSmarts, an internationally known non-profit source of digital and media literacy resources where he writes lessons and blogs, designs award-winning educational games and occasionally does pirate voices in both English and French.