Alex Woodroe was raised—possibly by wolves—in Romania, on the outskirts of Transylvania. She found her way into Weird, transgressive fiction through a gateway in the woods and made a career out of doing terrible things to words in multiple languages. Her favourite Horror story is Alice in Wonderland. She is a member of the Horror Writers Association; you can chat with her on Twitter or at woodroewriting.com.
In Alex’s story, Depth of the Water, our world has had enough of humanity and takes a proactive approach to ridding itself of them. Of course, humanity isn’t very good at reading the signs...
GI: There’s an “Earth fights back” theme running through much of Green Inferno;
Your piece is no exception. Did any particular event(s) in your life inspire it?
AW: It’s hard not to give credit to what’s going on now. The way we live here in
Italy, it may as well be the end of the world outside. All we know is the inside of
our houses and the tolling of our sanity bells.
I was able to sneak out for a week this summer, go to rural Tuscany--where there
was hardly anyone in sight--and breathe nature in. It felt painfully normal; like
nothing was wrong in the world at all. Everything was green and alive and full of
movement. A stark reminder of what George Carlin used to say: “The planet is
fine. The people are fucked.”
GI: You’re a self-described “Romanian folklore nut”. What’s something unique to
Romania that doesn’t get enough attention in popular culture?
AW: I spent most of my childhood around my grandmother, watching her cook or
work the garden. The Romanian folk stories she’d entertain me with tended
toward the darker side, to put it mildly. I’m sure that’s why dark, rural horror is still
my happy place.
Sometimes the stories are real… we lived with folk remedies and curses and
un-songs daily. Seeresses advertised in the papers. They still performed rituals to
prevent the dead from rising--at least they did as of twenty years ago--and there
are probably places where they still do; digging up graves they suspect contain
troublesome Strigoi, driving nails through their skulls.
I learned all of these things; how to tell if the dead were restless, what to do. They
were a part of my ‘normal’. I’m not saying it’s a part of every Romanian’s
upbringing, but it was mine.
But it’s not all about spooky castles and immortal, bloodsucking barons. It’s
about daily life, embracing nature, and shining a light into the darkness. It’s
about roots and heritage. That’s the other thing I wish for the future: that my
people take back our culture and show everyone that our stories have far more
nuance and depth than anyone realises.
GI: Sorry, could you clarify un-song for me?
AW: The opposite of a curse. There's no real term for descântec: the prefix "des"
relates to undoing things, and "cântec" means song. In Romanian folklore, we
use them to undo curses, heal injuries, bring good fortune. They're considered
forces of good.
Some people have no trouble blending Christian religion with these folk remedies
and practices. Even my grandmother, a devout Orthodox, still fully used and
believed them. Every spring she'd take the first crocus to bud, bring it to my bed
in the morning, and (while I was still half-asleep and grumbling) circle my face
with it three times while singing an un-song. It was something about how the
flower would age and wilt in my place, and I'd always stay young and beautiful. I
thought it was the silliest thing at the time; now I sort of miss it.
They range from silly and innocent to serious, too. Un-songs are performed during
funerals to prevent the dead from rising; or to bless houses and keep evil out.
Sometimes they'd think a curse was afflicting the cattle, and they'd bring a
specialist out to perform an un-song. Some were complex and required
sacrifices.
GI: You were also telling me about the “haunted forest” of Romania…
AW: The Hoia-Baciu Forest. The trees grow all weird and people go missing.
GI: Have you ever been there?
AW: I have! I plan on moving to the area as soon as I get vaccinated. The largest
ethnographic museum of Transylvania is there, backing up on the forest.
Unfortunately, when I went, I got massively lost. I felt like I'd walked for an entire
day, and then I found a whole washing machine just... sitting in the middle of
nowhere in the woods. I haven't the faintest how it got there or where I really
was. Sometimes things are surprising in surprising ways, I guess? :)) I never made it
to the area with all the strange curved trees. I resolve to return with a
vengeance... and GPS.
GI: You made a living ghostwriting and copywriting, before you began editing
professionally; any out-of-left-field experiences with clients that you’re at liberty
to talk about?
AW: Some clients are a dream to work with; others have a hard time
communicating. Some make detailed outlines for you; as long as the piece itself.
Others say, “write me a book about beekeeping; see you in two months.”
For the most part, it’s a service like any other. The out-of-left-field experience was
the realisation that people were happy to pay me to write at all! Topics ranged
from relationship advice to travel stories; every time I got a good review it was
like a little lightbulb in my skull went “Ding! You can actually do this. This is for
real.” I carry that faith with me into fiction writing and editing, which is by far a
tougher market.
GI: How have you been coping with the shitstorm that is 2020/early 2021?
AW: I’ve been living in north Italy for the last couple of years, so it’s really caught me
in the worst place at the worst time. The death toll has been astounding.
Sheltering in place since February is awful for a nomad. That’s part of the reason
why I’ve decided to return to Transylvania next year, if I can. Plus, I have
ethnographic research I intend to do there.
GI: Green Inferno is sub-titled, The World Celebrates Your Demise. How do you feel
your piece relates to this sentiment?
AW: “That dog has gills.” It’s probably going to be my best story intro for a long time.
It’s a line I wrote while staring at an unreasonably green river, suffering from
severe isolation sickness, and terrified of the news. That’s how Depth of the
Water started.
It ended up turning into a story where the struggle between man and nature isn’t
at all straightforward… the world celebrates our demise not because it wants us
gone, but because it tried so hard to save us and we did our very best to get in
its way.
Looking at the [current] global situation, I’ve no idea why a theme like that might
come out in fiction. None at all. No siree.
Depth of the Water will appear in GREEN INFERNO: THE WORLD CELEBRATES YOUR DEMISE. Follow the Kickstarter here!