Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRDOS #5: Jolie Toomajan

Alex and I both have mad crushes on Jolie Toomajan (her writing, you heathens; get yer minds outta the gutter), but she’s too busy pursuing her la-di-da higher education than rolling around in the grime with us on a regular basis.

That’s OK, we take what we can get from her. In this case, it’s one of the Bravest, Newest, Weirdest stories of the year in “Water Goes, Sand Remains,” which first appeared in the anthology, Death in the Mouth: Original Horror from People of Color. But bonus: we managed to snag Jolie and Carson Winter’s composite novel Posthaste Manor for publication next Halloween!

Carson told us his version of events last week, but today we’ll talk to the highly educated end of the horse; the one that holds up her pinkies while sipping some kind of fancy tea out of…whatever the elite drink tea out of. A flagon, maybe? Whatever. Take it away, Professor…

These responses have been edited for clarity.

***

What does your writing routine/setup look like? Do you have an office? A preferred coffee shop? The back of the bus? Standing under your neighbor’s eaves, avoiding the rain?

My secret is out now: I mostly write on my phone. I have a really intense schedule and tend to get inspiration at any time like I'm possessed, so I just blurt thoughts into my phone while cooking dinner or out running with the dog. 90% of my first drafts are completed this way. Though it helps to have a scene list to help me organize it later, I don't pay any attention to whether I've already said or written something, whether I'm writing things in the right order, even whether these two sentences actually go together. I have a very, "We'll fix it in post" attitude about my writing. 

Taking all that and turning it into a story is a little more traditional. I have an office, I make coffee, I put on the playlist I want. Then I spend 80% of my writing time picking my cat up off the keyboard. The remaining 20% of the time is spent organizing what I have. 

Once I have something more organized, I tend to go back to working on it on my phone, changing things on the sentence level, making notes to move things around. I also always print and read things after major revisions, too. 

Yeah so over here it's just pure fucking chaos.

You’re the second person that I really, really like who’s told me this year that they write on their phone. It’s a practice I’d never fathomed before, which probably just says something about my fine motor skills more than anything. Maybe there are scads of you?!

Anyway. A couple more canned questions before we move on to the custom jobs. What does “Weird” mean to you, in the context of storytelling? And what creators/experiences helped sculpt this definition?

This is a hard question for me to answer, because there are a ton of academic answers as to what "Weird" is, but I still feel like I just know it when I see it. I think at its core, Weird fiction knows that something isn't quite right with the world to begin with, and it settles itself in those places of wrongness and explores them, exaggerates them, and pushes them into view.  

On the Tenebrous Discord, we ask everyone to introduce themselves as a Film-meets-Music Artist. It doesn’t have to be your favorite, and don’t spend too much time overthinking it; now GO.

Bikini Kill x Pink Flamingos

I sense a theme there.

So, we’re waiting for you to start cranking out books for Tenebrous; but noooo, you’re much more concerned with your education *eyeroll*. So tell us, what the hell is this doctorate all about that you’re pursuing, and why do you think you’re so much better than me?!

I love this question because I don't usually get to nerd out about what I study outside of this very strict, how-does-this-interact-with-this-theory academic context, and I want to all the time. 

I'm writing a dissertation about the women who wrote for Weird Tales. Like, I have this theoretical lens that I developed, but that's only interesting to other academics, and honestly these women were powerhouses who have not gotten nearly enough recognition. Margaret St. Clair, Dorothy Quick, Mary Elizabeth Counselman, just to name a few, were just absolute beasts of writers, way ahead of their time. And so many of them were using their work to speak truth to power. They really deserve the kind of attention that some other authors from Weird Tales have already gotten. I will talk about this all day. Seriously, my DMs are open.

Trust me: Alex and I have already been plotting ways to exploit you.

The good news is that I have no interest in going into the academy as a profession (I'm basically getting a PhD for fun at this point; that says a lot of things about me, none of them good), so I can get right into cranking out the collections for Tenebrous as soon as I graduate in a year! 

Damn straight. Get crackin’. 

You are working on one big upcoming project for us, though. We managed to trick you into that…or maybe you tricked us. One or the other. Trickery was involved, I’m sure of it. Anyway, tell us more about Posthaste Manor! 

I don't even know how it happened. One day Carson and I were like, "We should work on something together. What if we took on the haunted house?" and I looked up and we had…a composite novel? A collection of interconnected short stories? A book. It's for sure a book! 

And working with Carson, who is a massive talent with such an incredible eye for all the little perversions we deal with day to day and are forced to accept as normal, was so easy. Plus he's phenomenal at coming up with fantastically original concepts; he really made sure this wasn't going to be just another haunted house story. We worked well together and basically spent 6 months going "Yes, and…" at each other. I have never had so much fun writing before. We have different styles, but he approached what I was doing with a tremendous level of respect, and we play well off each other; we have very similar underlying interests. 

Posthaste Manor is a little different in terms of my own writing, too. It's more explicitly Horror than a lot of the other stuff I write, which tends to be quieter; the emotion I explore more often is grief, not fear. I went into Posthaste instead aiming to have some really gruesome fun; I think I did that while keeping the main parts of what makes my writing my writing.

And you’ve also spearheaded a project that will be releasing in the next couple months.

Aseptic and Faintly Sadistic is a charity anthology of speculative fiction on the theme of Hysteria. AaFS was birthed from fury and frustration and terror in the immediate aftermath of Roe v. Wade falling. It is tentatively scheduled for release in March 2023, and proceeds will be going to the Chicago Abortion Fund. 

Because abortion access is a human right. 

The stories in it are phenomenal—and the quality of the slush pile was humbling. These authors have all been joys to work with. I can't wait for [it] to see the light of day. 

I'm editing; Cosmic Horror Monthly is publishing; but like all art, this is really a community project with a lot of hands in it.

The day after Roe v. Wade was overturned, Carson [Winter, again] said that he and Charles [Tyra, publisher of CHM] couldn't just sit on their hands. CHM handled all of the boring work of contracts and formatting; Jenny Kiefer suggested "hysteria" as a theme; and several of our friends volunteered to slush read. The cover artist is Mary Esther Munoz, who killed it. We also emailed you for some help, since Your Body Is Not Your Body was both an amazing anthology and made bank for your charity (ed. Note; it’s true: they did, it is, and we did), and Alex [Woodroe, duh, you know this] was so willing to advise me when I had questions as a first time anthology editor. 

AaFS is amazing, the work in it is incredible and I can't wait for everyone to read it; but it's also a testament to the fact that the horror community is filled with good people who want to help.

What’s the Weirdest thing—capital W—that’s ever happened to you?

I am reasonably certain I accidentally slipped into another timeline on a train when I was ten (it's like a whole big story). I have no proof of this, I just have no other explanation for what happened. 

***

Posthaste Manor will be out in time for Halloween 2023. 

Aseptic and Faintly Sadistic is out in March, 2023. Check in at Cosmic Horror Monthly for details.

Brave New Weird is out February 6, 2023; preorder info coming soon.

Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRDOS #4: Jennifer Jeanne McArdle

Jennifer Jeanne McArdle’s lifelong fascination, and eventual work, with animal conservation greatly informs her Brave New Weird-featured story, “The Mules”.

“The Mules” explores a post-apocalyptic reality where a pandemic-ravaged earth—I know, far-fetched, right?—might only be set to rights thanks to one of humanity’s earlier technological innovations.

I chatted with Jennifer about her budding clairvoyance; the exploitation of military veterans; and the humble mule: mankind’s greatest invention?

These responses have been edited for clarity.

***

What does Weird mean to you, in the context of storytelling?

I try to think of the emotions encompassed in that word: disgust, curiosity, surprise. If something is truly Weird, I guess it should evoke those feelings in most of its audience. It should ask the audience why they perceive something as Weird and less worthy of acceptance. What makes it transgressive? Would accepting this Weird thing really hurt society?

I spent a lot of my childhood being called "weird" by peers (and sometimes teachers) for many reasons. I had a hard time expressing my feelings and socializing in ways other kids understood. I was forgetful and disorganized. When I was growing up, girls, more than boys, were expected to be neat and competent.

I deviated from gender norms of 90s American kids—in behavior, interests, clothing—so my perceived sexuality and gender were often commented on or mocked; sometimes pretty viciously. New friends [would] admit they didn't know if I was a boy or a girl. Sometimes this was frustrating; but sometimes it was freeing because it meant that I could explore my interests, like aliens, biology, superhero cartoons, etc., with less fear of judgment. So gender and gender expression has always interested me. Recently, I've been trying to read more work by trans, intersex, and gender fluid creators and thinkers (including Tenebrous Press's anthology, Your Body is Not Your Body.)

Jordan, my character in “The Mules”,  is treated as "weird" by her society over things she can’t control: the fact that she was born without a biological sex in a society where fertility is a struggle. She's totally removed from the game of even trying to be fertile. At the same time, the things that make her Weird also make her uniquely useful for her society. It's a very Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer-type situation (sorry, I have Christmas on the brain, and someone pointed out how very capitalist American Santa mythology is).

Fungus, too, is Weird. It's not really a plant or an animal, and we're always discovering more about it. I've always [found] it fascinating. And mules are Weird animals for many reasons. They don't have the prestige of horses. They're not quite as attractive. 

You’ve made a great segue to your BRAVE NEW WEIRD story, “The Mules”, which seems informed by your work in animal conservation. Can you elaborate on that experience?

When I wrote it in late 2019, I was [not yet] actually working in animal conservation. I was working as a grants officer for a nonprofit that did legal work. However, I've always loved animals. As a kid, I was in 4-H and raised ducks and had a cat, a dog, parakeets, and cockatiels.

Thinking about how animals become domesticated; animal intelligence and consciousness; and the history of human interactions with animals, was always something I found fascinating. I have always been [interested in] biology and zoology as a hobby; and in summer 2021, I got a new job as a grants officer for an animal conservation organization.

Related to this story: while I'm glad that we might be moving into a future where we have alternative meat sources and real animals may not have to suffer anymore, what does that mean for all the animals we've spent hundreds or thousands of years breeding and raising? Cattle farming is awful for the environment, but is that the fault of the cows? What happens to them if we phase that out? I don't know. I'm a hypocrite because I eat meat, but I get very sentimental towards animals.

I lived in Indonesia while serving in the Peace Corps from 2014-2016, [and] I took part in some of the Muslim holidays where animals were sacrificed. I felt it was respectful to the animal to watch it be killed, but I couldn't bring myself to pet the goats or cows before they were killed—I knew I'd be too sad. Some of my fellow Peace Corps volunteers in Indonesia complained they didn't like how animals might be sacrificed or transported in small cages on motor bikes, etc., but I've visited commercial farms in the US during my 4-H days. Honestly, most of the animals I saw on small farms in Indonesia probably had much better lives than most of our domestic farm animals in the US.

Although the origin of the virus in “The Mules” is cosmic, the parallels between it and our own terra-bound situation are pretty evident. How much did the pandemic influence its genesis? Or did it at all?

The initial draft and idea was not influenced by the pandemic, though probably some of my revisions were. I also have another story [that was] written in late 2018 about a plague that killed off the dragons, so maybe I have some latent precognitive abilities! 

But people have been talking about the prospect of a global pandemic for years. I don't think the fact that we have a pandemic now is a huge surprise, exactly, even if how it went was not how people might have predicted.

The idea came [during] an anthology call for stories about a piece of technology that used to be vitally important suddenly becoming useful again. Shortly after, I watched a YouTube video about the importance of mules in medieval society. So I wanted to look at mules, an early example of human genetic engineering, as the "technology" and imagine a situation where they would be vitally important. My interest in biology and gender probably fueled the rest.

It went through about 23 rejections before Bear Creek Gazette accepted it in June 2022. During that time I made a lot of revisions: breaking up and cutting exposition, editing the second half to make it more impactful. Looking at it now, I can see parallels to how we treat our own healthcare and essential workers "after" the pandemic, and the contradictions of honoring them but not actually helping them, and continuing to ask for their sacrifice. 

I am not sure what initially inspired me to focus the second half of the story on a forgotten hero narrative. My dad is a veteran of the Iraq conflict. He was an electrician at the veterans hospital for years and still volunteers with the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post. I have complex feelings about the military and that conflict that I won't get into here. 

As someone with family members past and present involved in the US military: so do I.

“Honoring our veterans" is a term people use for political clout, and veterans issues sometimes get more attention than other causes. But often, actual help for veterans is symbolic more than concrete and lacks real funding or initiative. Perhaps that inspired me.

Maybe it was my own frustration coming out. Not that I'm any kind of hero like my MC [is], but after I returned from the Peace Corps, I struggled to find a job. A lot of people kept telling me outside job interviews that my Peace Corps service was impressive or even "noble", but during actual interviews my experience was often dismissed as silly, unimportant, or unprofessional.

Maybe I was just wondering—in our society that focuses so much on proving your worth through production—what happens to our weird Rudolphs after they're done being useful?

What does your writing setup look like? Do you have an office? A preferred coffee shop? The back of the bus? Standing under your neighbor’s eaves, avoiding the rain?

I live in the first floor apartment of a shared house and have a small back room where I work and write. Since the start of the pandemic, I’m rarely required to go into the office and I don't have children (at least for now). So, I’m lucky to have extra time to focus on writing; I’m taking advantage while it lasts.

When I lived in South Korea in my early 20s, I used to love going to little cafes to write or do grad school work, etc. Korean cities, especially Seoul, have cafes nearly everywhere, and each one tries to [have] a unique schtick and design. I liked that. Where I live now, in suburban New York, there aren't many cafes that feel conducive to writing. Maybe I haven't found the right one yet. 

In my old apartment, I didn't have a special space for me; I was just at the kitchen table most of the time. My partner's car parts somehow ended up in there, too, in an ever-growing pile—a House of Leaves-type situation, except with car parts and not house rooms—so I'm glad we have a little more space now.

On the Tenebrous Discord, we ask everyone to introduce themselves as a Film-meets-Music Artist (Citizen Kane x Metallica, f’rinstance). It doesn’t have to be your favorite, and don’t spend too much time overthinking it; now GO.

Oh, I'm always bad at this kind of thing. The Wizard of Oz x Flogging Molly, I guess?

What’s next for 2023?

I have one more story coming out in 2022 in All Worlds Wayfarer issue 13 on December 21st. I also have quite a few stories in anthologies or magazine issues slated to come out next year. I guess I will keep writing and creating and submitting! Keep hoping that people find some kind of meaning in my work. I want to continue to support other indie writers and hope to visit more in-person conventions. This year I went to Necronomicon in Rhode Island and Phil Con outside Philadelphia.

I have a rudimentary website, nothing very fancy, but please visit if you want to see a list of my published and upcoming work, and feel free to contact me through the contact form there or via Twitter (for now), if you want to ask me anything. Obviously I love blabbering on.

Website 

Twitter

Brave New Weird: The Best New Weird Horror Vol. One, is out February 6, 2023. Preorder information coming soon.

Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRDOS #3: Bitter Karella

If you’re on Twitter and have at least a passing interest in Horror Fiction, you’ve undoubtedly crossed paths with Midnight Pals, Bitter Karella’s wildly popular, hilarious, sacred cow-skewering reimagining of the Greats—and not-so-Greats—of Horror Fiction gathered ‘round the campfire swapping stories and antagonizing one another.

But Bitter is much more than an outlet for Poe, King and Edward Lee to regularly pile on JK Rowling. We first worked with her in our anthology YOUR BODY IS NOT YOUR BODY, where his delightfully blasphemous story, “The Divine Carcass,” was a show-stealer. Below, we talk with Bitter about some of their other projects; the setting for her Brave New Weird-chosen story, “Low Tide Jenny”; and that one time he fucked a demon.

These responses have been edited for clarity.

***

Goddamn, the setting of Santa Carcossa in your BRAVE NEW WEIRD story “Low Tide Jenny” is evocative! Of what, precisely, I can’t say. It feels like a mash of both West coast post-apocalyptic wasteland and decaying East Coast Coney Island. Is there a particular setting that inspired it? 

A big inspiration was George R.R. Martin's Asshai by the Shadow; [he described] this massive city that only had the population of a good-sized market town, so that "By night only one building in ten shows a light."

That image reminded me of so many small California beach towns I'd lived in when I was a kid; towns that emptied out in the off-season, so that you could stand on the beach at night and turn toward the city and it would appear just as dark and empty as the ocean. The specifics of Santa Carcossa are mostly drawn from the Santa Cruz boardwalk, although I hear it's been renovated in recent years and doesn't have that same grody run-down charm anymore. 

What does your writing routine/setup look like? Do you have an office? A preferred coffee shop? The back of the bus? Standing under your neighbor’s eaves, avoiding the rain?

I mostly write at work; I just hide my laptop under the cash register so I can write when no one's watching. That way, even if I never sell a single story, I'm still technically getting paid to write!

What does “Weird” mean to you, in the context of storytelling? And what creators/experiences helped sculpt this definition?

"Weird" for me is very much about capturing the numinous experience, that terrifying but also thrilling (and sometimes deeply spiritual) feeling of confronting the universe in all its vastness and strangeness. 

As humans, we're drawn to seek out these experiences because they can be very profound and very telling about our place in the cosmos, but we also want to go back to our ordinary, profane lives afterwards. And you just can't do that. Weird storytelling tells us that you can't look into the face of the Great God Pan and expect to remain unchanged afterwards.  

In “Low Tide Jenny”, I really wanted to capture that hazy feeling of being on the precipice of a huge spiritual change but unable to drop over, a dream right before it tips over into nightmare. 

The writers that I most think of when writing are probably Fitz James O'Brien, E.T.A. Hoffman, and Thomas Ligotti.

Those are some seriously old school influences, barring Ligotti; and far deeper cuts than the standard Lovecraft/Robert E. Howard. Considering how contemporary your work reads, what lessons do you still glean from writers published two hundred years ago?

I love when older authors try to describe something that doesn't exist yet. It's like the Allegory of the Cave, where Plato is struggling through a really convoluted analogy to describe something that today we could much more succinctly explain in a single sentence: "Oh, it's like watching a movie."

In some ways, I think not having an easy analogy frees up an author to really explore the fantastic. Like old sci fi authors who didn't yet know enough about the atmosphere of Mars or the vacuum of space to realize how implausible their stories really were—to them and to their readers, these wild speculations could have been real.

In one story, Fitz James O'Brien describes an attack by a strangely corporeal ghost in terms that any modern reader would immediately recognize as a sleep paralysis episode. But O'Brien obviously didn't know what that was. The fact that he's forced to try to explain this to us—normal phenomenon using only the terminology of the time—creates a bizarre distancing effect that makes the whole encounter all the stranger.

On the Tenebrous Discord, we ask everyone to introduce themselves as a Film-meets-Music Artist (Citizen Kane x Metallica, f’rinstance). It doesn’t have to be your favorite, and don’t spend too much time overthinking it; now GO.

Ravenous x Wall of Voodoo

What’s the Weirdest thing—capital W—that’s ever happened to you?

Once, after eating a half sheet of pot brownies, I had sex with an incubus (These two things might be related). I was lying in bed that night and...of course it was just sleep paralysis, but also, [there was] an invisible demon riding on top of me. The whole affair was so noisy that it eventually woke up my wife, who rolled me over onto my side in hopes that would solve the situation. It didn't really do much, since then the incubus just started spooning me instead.

I won’t flog you with Midnight Society questions, as I’m sure that already consumes a lot of your time. But I do want to know: are there any authors that are off limits, either to lionize or pillory?

One "author" that people keep requesting but I will never include is Garth Marenghi. First of all, he's not a real person! And secondly, he's already a satire of horror writers so I don't know what I could even say about him that would be funnier than his actual dialogue!

I wasn’t even familiar with the whole Garth Marenghi thing; thanks for giving me a new fandom tree to bark up!

So Bitter, you clearly have your fingers in lots of creative outlets: Midnight Society, cartooning, gaming, fiction. What have you not yet explored in the Weird realms that you have an itch for?

I'm currently working on adapting Midnight Society into an audio drama. I co-host the podcast A Special Presentation, or Alf will Not be Seen Tonight, all about comic strips adapted into animated specials, but [Midnight Society] will be the first time actually doing a narrative in audio form. It should be a fun new way to experience it, especially if Twitter finally goes belly up as we keep expecting!

Brave New Weird: The Best New Weird Horror, Vol. One, is out February 6, 2023; preorder information coming soon!

Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRDOS #2: Carson Winter

Carson Winter is about to blow up in a big way.

And yeah, sure, we’re biased, for reasons you’ll read below; but also, the proof is pretty undeniable. Carson has popped up seemingly everywhere the last couple years.

From his novelette, “The Guts of Myth”, which shared space with the equally-going-places Scott J. Moses in Dread Stone Press’ Split Scream Vol. One ; to appearances in Vastarien, the No Sleep Podcast, and Apex Magazine—where his Brave New Weird story, “In Haskins”, originally appeared—if you read contemporary Weird fiction, odds are good you’ve read Carson Winter.

We live about fifteen minutes away from each other, so Carson is the rare collaborator I’ve actually met in person. It might give him an advantage in terms of accessibility, but his devotion to, and zealotry of, all things Weird, is 100% on him.

These responses have been edited for clarity.

***

On the Tenebrous Discord, we ask everyone to introduce themselves as a Film-meets-Music Artist. It doesn’t have to be your favorite, and don’t spend too much time overthinking it; now GO.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer x Against Me!

Transgressive, funny Weird Horror meets scream-till-your-throat-bleeds punk rock. Fuck yeah. 

That segues nicely into what I wanted to ask next. In addition to your fiction writing, you’ve been a punk journalist on and off over the years, chronicling the scene. What was your most impactful interaction there? Whether it’s an amazing show, the biggest asshole you’ve interviewed, or both?

I think what left the most impact on me was seeing the realities of working artists. You spend all this time on the internet—listening, reading, writing about your favorite new indie punk band—and you get hyped to see them and have that “[Henry] ROLLINS TALKING HEAD IN 80s HARDCORE DOCUMENTARY” experience; and then you go and realize that your favorite band in the world is playing to twelve people on a Tuesday night. 

It’s not glamorous, but that’s punk to me. Seeing the DIY nature of bands truly doing it without any hope for anything resembling a profit is a bummer, but it’s also inspiring. 

There’s a joke in punk circles that metal bands go on tour to make money and punk bands save up money to go on tour—from what I’ve seen, it certainly rings true. 

One of the coolest experiences I’ve had was seeing Bomb the Music Industry!, which is a really cool anti-capitalist maximalist ska-punk band, spray painting fan’s blank T-shirts outside the venue with a stencil for free. I love that attitude. DIY and punk rock continues to inform how I think and feel about the arts, and it provides an undying motor for me to continue creating—even when no one gives a shit. 

“In Haskins”, your contribution to Brave New Weird, deals with themes of identity, and the public-facing persona we sculpt over time, vs the one we show to ourselves and maybe our loved ones. How much of a struggle do you face reconciling the different aspects of your own personality: public writer, punk journalist, day job?

When I wrote “In Haskins,” I was feeling the burden of identity pretty heavily. I was working at a grocery store during the pandemic and couldn’t help but internalize a sense of self-loathing about myself projected from others. 

I remember introducing myself to cool, hip folks in Portland and feeling like they were swallowing their bile when I told them what I did for a living. Being working class—in a city of educated, urbane people—is simply not cool; that feeling definitely informed the story. It made me think a lot about who I was and how I appeared to others. Was I just some loser to everyone? Was that the mask I was forced to wear?

Of course, everyone who thought I was less-than is a total dipshit, but the seeds of “In Haskins" were planted amidst that identity crisis. And these days, I still struggle! I think the weight capitalism puts on [us] is more than enough to crush us. I went to school since then; now I work as a marketer. Have I given up my punk roots? Am I white collar? Why do I have worse insurance than when I worked at a grocery store while doing half the work? Why do I live in the same ancient two-bedroom? Why am I afraid to tell people I’m a writer? 

So many of the questions revolve around work and money, and all of them inform our social identity. “In Haskins” is about chafing under the burden of appearances and pushing back. 

And yet, you manage to stay remarkably prolific despite life’s obvious obligations. What does your writing routine look like?

The writing routine is a personal thing and it means a lot of different things to different people. I always stress when talk about writing, that there’s no right way to do it—you just do what works for you. 

For me, what works is to always be moving forward. I have a home office where I write; and I do write most days, but I don’t aim for big word count goals or anything too extravagant. 

Sometimes I have those big days and I pat myself on the back—as one should—but I’m content to just have some sort of consistency. 

Also: I make failure part of the process. Sometimes, you just gotta miss a day—or a week or a month—and be able to accept that. I strive for consistency, but I don’t always make it. And that’s okay. 

What does “Weird” mean to you, in the context of storytelling? And what creators/experiences helped sculpt that definition?

To me, it is a specific mode of storytelling rooted in the likes of Kafka, Blackwood, Lovecraft, and others. For me, what defines it is characters bouncing off the unknowable. 

Think of fairy tales—which, in my opinion, have the same dream logic of the Weird. Little Red Riding Hood never gets bogged down in the specifics of a talking wolf. The wolf talks! It’s not about why the wolf talks—it’s about how our young traveler reacts and interacts with this unknowable force. 

Similarly, think of The Metamorphosis. Why does Samsa turn into a bug? No fucking clue. The story isn’t about that—it’s just the conceit that gets us to see the underlying absurdity of the world we already live in. 

My Big Weird Heroes are those that play in this absurd sandbox. Thomas Ligotti, Brian Evenson, Nicole Cushing, and Jon Padgett are all extremely inspiring figures for me. Each of them spins the absurdity inherent in the Weird into interesting and personal directions. As with any story, it’s about the author as much as the narrative. What truly fascinates me is how the author displays themselves on the page through their choices.

You’re in a rare position, in that you have multiple projects coming out with Tenebrous Press in the next year…and more after that. What can you tease about them, **knowing damn well I’ll edit the shit out of you if you give away too much**?

My excitement is immeasurable for all of these projects. Working with Tenebrous has been a legit dream so far and I am so stoked that I was able to throw out my chips and you guys decided to go all in (ed. note: we are pretty awesome). 

My first project is called Soft Targets (due March 2023), and if you like transgression and unlikable people—you will love this one. It’s a Weird Horror novella about two office drones that kill time by talking endlessly about mass shootings. When one of them discovers some days are more real than others, they suddenly have a playground to consummate their fantasies. This is a gnarly [book], I won’t lie. It’s about violence as escapism; power fantasies; toxic masculinity; capitalism; class; all that good stuff. Despite all that, it’s also pretty entertaining. Imagine something between Thomas Ligotti and J.G. Ballard’s Crash and you have the vibe. 

After that, we have Posthaste Manor (due October 2023)—a collaborative shared collection between Jolie Toomajan and myself. Jolie is a tremendous writer: Gothic, feminist, lyrical, and witty as hell. This project was literally borne out of me wanting to work with her. We ended up letting our hair down and [just] went wild! It was a blast from start to finish. A gonzo romp through the rise and fall of a very Weird haunted house. It’s a New Weird version of The Dozens, where Jolie and I go back and forth trying to one-up each other in the strange. We hope folks have as much fun reading this as we did writing it. 

Finally (and this is for sure where I’m going to get edited!), in 2024 I have a [redacted] coming out called [redacted]. This is without a doubt my [redacted] project—it’s about [redacted] running amok on a [redacted] filled with [redacted] (yes, I know—it’s a pet theme). It also is a story about [redacted] struggling to [redacted] from [redacted]—a theme I think a lot of us can relate to in the modern world. It’s [redacted], [redacted], and also features some [redacted]. What’s not to [redacted]?

All of these projects are super dear to me and I am so excited to work with a press that puts so much obvious [redacted] into their books.

[redacted] you for your time, Carson.

Brave New Weird: The Best New Weird Horror, Vol. One, is out February 6, 2023; preorder information coming soon!