Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRD-o's: Daniel DeRock

Daniel DeRock is a writer from the U.S. living in the Netherlands. His work has appeared, among other outlets, in Pithead Chapel, Gone Lawn, MoonPark Review, and Ligeia Magazine. He is the co-author of Spark Bird, a collaborative novel (Thirty West Publishing House, 2024).

His story “Guest Opinion: We must take action regarding the [REDACTED] High School janitor” originally appeared in Body Fluids and will appear in BRAVE NEW WEIRD: The Best New Weird Horror Volume Two, available to preorder now.

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Give us the elevator pitch of your BNW-nommed story, please.

A high school history teacher pleads for the community to deal with a janitor that is very much not a janitor and very much not human. 

What does your writing routine 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? Are you one of those true modern Weirdos who write your entire novel on your phone?

I tend to write on my laptop, either on the couch or the kitchen table, always with dogs nearby. 

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

“Weird,” to me, is unsettling. Something is off. You try to ignore it—the smudge at the edge of your vision—but it’s already too late. Some stories dunk you straight into the Weird, but I tend to write and read the kind of Weird that seeps in. Unexpected syntax and word choice is a great way to induce vertigo, and Brian Evenson is a master of this. The Weird can also be a bad trip. My Weirdest stories are often inspired by extremely stressful, mind-bending, psychedelic dreams. Sometimes I can rush to my laptop or notebook and frantically record the dream. Other dreams take years to process, and there’s unfortunately zero risk of forgetting the details. One, for example, involves a device similar to a water mill which, upon closer inspection, is in fact a film reel comprised of stills of every moment of your life, but something has been knocked loose and its essence leaks downhill, transforming everything it touches into something utterly alien, and the transformation will be total and unending. How can I put this on the page? That’s the challenge.

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.

Princess Mononoke x Alkaline Trio

The perfect opportunity to once again remind everyone that the black heart/skull combo that I sign off with on social media is a shout-out to Alkaline Trio. So you’re clearly a human of outstanding taste.

What’s the Weirdest thing—capital W—that’s ever happened to you (that you’re comfortable sharing)?

The absolute weirdest things are probably sealed off in a corner of my mind for my own safety. But here’s one thing I’m pretty sure actually happened, although I’m not sure how Weird it is. Maybe ten or fifteen years ago, I got an email from an unknown sender. It was in Portuguese. Somehow, I don’t remember whether or not I translated it, but I vaguely remember the message being brief and pleading in tone. There was a Zip file attached. Inside were countless photographs, all seemingly of the same unfamiliar person from different angles and at different ages, most in black and white; scanned newspaper clippings; handwritten letters, etc. It was inexplicably unsettling. I tried to ignore it, but kept dwelling on it. When I decided to look again, there was no trace of the email. 

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BRAVE NEW WEIRD: The Best New Weird Horror, Volume Two, is out June 26th.

You can preorder it here.

Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRD-o's: Michael Bettendorf

Michael Bettendorf (he/him) is a writer from the US Midwest. His short fiction has appeared/is forthcoming at Drabblecast, Sley House Press, and elsewhere. Michael's debut experimental novel/gamebook TRVE CVLT is forthcoming from Tenebrous Press (out this September!). He works in a high school library in Lincoln, Nebraska—a place he tries to convince the world is too strange to be a flyover state.

His story “As the Music Plays Groovy” originally appeared in His Soul’s Still Dancing: A Nicolas Cage Inspired Fiction Anthology and will appear in BRAVE NEW WEIRD: The Best New Weird Horror Volume Two, available to preorder now.

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Give us the elevator pitch of your BNW-nommed story, please.

Nicolas Cage starts speaking to the unnamed character through an Amazon Dot, seeking help as Nic has spun into an existential crisis, fueled by rampant consumerism and his tendency to go full Cage. Is there any other way?

What does your writing routine 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? Are you one of those true modern Weirdos who write your entire novel on your phone?

I do the bulk of my writing at home, in an office full of distractions. I tend to work best in the morning, so curse the need for a full time job. Weekend mornings are best for me to focus, but the weeknights hold me hostage.

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

This is probably a non-answer, but I have a really hard time defining Weird. It's one of those things I know when I see it, read it, listen to it. A lot of it comes down to subversion for me. Traditionally, a lot of speculative fiction has rigid guidelines as to what makes them fit whatever molds of crime, horror, SF, Fantasy, etc. people want/need them to have, but Weird blurs those lines. I think that's why we have a lot of genre-blending in Weird fiction. It's like hearing a song without the bass track. You often don't notice it until it isn't there and I think Weird elements are similar. It's sort of defining the sub-genre by not defining it -- or in the very least, being open to interpretation and constant evolution. Weird is growth. Weird is always squiggling and shifting. The folks who have helped sculpt this definition have been Vonnegut (please don't roll your eyes with this one), Jonathan Lethem, Paul Auster, a bunch of visual artists, comics, music. I tend to cast a wide net with the sorts of media I spend my time with.

Vonnegut is amazing and timeless, no eye-rolling here.

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.

Yikes. Okay, let's roll with Between the Buried and Me + In Bruges

What’s the Weirdest thing—capital W—that’s ever happened to you (that you’re comfortable sharing)?

Probably my sleep paralysis.

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BRAVE NEW WEIRD: The Best New Weird Horror, Volume Two, is out June 26th.

You can preorder it here.

Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRD-o's: Karlo Yeager Rodriguez

Karlo Yeager Rodríguez is originally from the enchanted isle of Puerto Rico, but moved to Baltimore some years ago where he lives happily with his wife and one odd dog.

His story, “Up In the Hills, She Dreams of Her Daughter Deep In the Ground,” was originally published in Strange Horizons and will appear in BRAVE NEW WEIRD: The Best New Weird Horror Volume Two, available to preorder now.

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Give us the elevator pitch of your BNW-nommed story, please.

A horror-magical realism hybrid, inspired by The Juniper Tree and the decades-long sterilization campaign in Puerto Rico euphemized as la operación.

What does your writing routine 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? Are you one of those true modern Weirdos who write your entire novel on your phone?

Pure chaos, really. A singular place is not precisely part of my routine - I've had writing sessions on the couch as well as standing at the kitchen counter getting the words in ever-so-slowly. Oh, and I've definitely jotted down paragraphs on my phone's notes app - but never an entire novel. I also tend to write S-L-O-W. Usually 250 new words per session, often going back over what I wrote last to revise a bit as I go. On very good days I may get 500 or even 750 words down, but it's not often.

We’re gonna call that 1.5 on the phone-writers tally! And you’re also my new favorite person who answered these questions, because I’m lucky if I pull off 750 words a month.

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

In my opinion, "Weird" is more of an observation of how the unknown and the unknowable - and oh, how our minds squirm at not knowing! - often intrude upon the mundanity of our lives, reminding us of how small we are compared to it. The beauty is that immense and remote forces that consider humanity as insignificant as ants need not only be Lovecraftian horrors, but could also be anthropocentric in nature.

Please understand that when I first read the question regarding creators/experiences/influences, I blanched because I couldn't think of one. Then, I remembered my 9th grade English teacher gifting me her copy of a Kafka collection, and later reading Moby Dick. Much more recently, Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson explores how even a mundane place can feel odd and numinous once you've become unmoored from your community.

I think you’re the second person to cite Moby Dick as a Weird influence, which makes me want to revisit that one. It’s been a couple decades.

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.

Big Trouble In Little China meets Nine Inch Nails. Simple!

What’s the Weirdest thing—capital W—that’s ever happened to you (that you’re comfortable sharing)?

Okay, maybe this is more Gothic than Weird, but here goes.

Studying at the kitchen table at my parents' old house, I caught a glimpse of my sister going to the kitchen. I was concentrating so hard, it took several minutes to realize she was not in the kitchen. I went to the other room, where my folks had been watching TV, I noticed my sister dead asleep on the sofa next to them. No, she hadn't gone to the kitchen, they told me. Yes, she had been asleep all this time. Creepy, but I chalked it up to me seeing things. Easy, peasy, right? 

The next day, we learned our neighbors' live-in grandfather had passed away in the night.

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BRAVE NEW WEIRD: The Best New Weird Horror, Volume Two, is out June 26th.

You can preorder it here.

Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRD-o's: Geneve Flynn

Geneve Flynn is a speculative fiction editor, author, and poet; and the winner of two Bram Stoker

Awards, a Shirley Jackson Award, an Aurealis Award, and recipient of the 2022 Queensland

Writers Fellowship. Her work has been nominated and short/longlisted for the British

Fantasy, Locus, Ditmar, Australian Shadows, Elgin, and Rhysling Awards, and the Pushcart

Prize. She is the co-editor of Black Cranes: Tales of Unquiet Women.

Her story, “A Box of Hair and Nail,” was originally published at Pseudopod and will appear in BRAVE NEW WEIRD: The Best New Weird Horror Volume Two, available to preorder now

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Give us the elevator pitch of your BNW-nommed story, please.

“A Box of Hair and Nail” is inspired by a Malaysian urban legend my mum once told me,

and involves two sisters, an odious shaman, and very black magic.

What does your writing routine 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?

Are you one of those true modern Weirdos who write your entire novel on your

phone?

My writing space is essentially a walk-in closet with a sit-stand desk so I remember to move

and be human once in a while. I spend a lot of time thinking, going down rabbit holes, and

plotting. Then I write, write, and write, and emerge like a mole blinking in sunlight when I’ve

finished. Not terribly glamorous, but it seems to work.

What does “Weird” mean to you, in the context of storytelling? And what

creators/experiences/influences helped sculpt this definition for you in your creative

journey?

“Weird” fiction feels a lot like the stories that I heard, read, and watched as a Chinese kid

growing up in Malaysia. The supernatural was threaded through everyday life, and there was

always a sense that it would only take one wrong turn or the crossing of some unseen

threshold to come face-to-face with something that would shake your understanding of reality

and remind you with a damp, trailing caress in the dark that the world is stranger, bigger, and

more dangerous than you think—and there isn’t a lot you can do about it except try to avoid

notice and allow the strange narrative to play out. There were folktales of rajahs (kings) who

turned into tigers, one-legged dokkaebi (monstrous Korean tricksters), and unstoppable

hopping vampires that fed on your qi. Being exposed to these tales of the Weird—much like

zhiguai, accounts of anomalies in Chinese literature—created an openness to a porous,

unstable reality woven with myth and urban legend, one I can play with to create stories that I

hope evoke the sense of unease and dark awe characteristic of Weird fiction.

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.

I’m not on Discord, sorry. If I was, I guess I’d be The Wailing x The Kiffness?

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

comfortable sharing)?

My son (who is now an adult) was about three. It was just the two of us alone at home and

going about our morning routine as usual. I knelt in front of him to help him get dressed. He

was normally a chatty little guy, full of bright conversation and very alert and engaged. I

listened with half an ear, concentrating on getting one chubby leg into his pants at a time,

when he suddenly went quiet. In a distant, solemn voice, he asked me “Mummy, can you

keep me safe to monsters?” I drew back to look at him—to really look. He stood with his

arms lax by his side, not wriggling for once, his face vacant and dreamy, staring at a spot

above my shoulder, as if looking up at someone or something very tall, right behind me. A

swift, cold current ran down my arms and back and legs and it took a second before I could

force myself to swivel around. The hallway was empty. I told my little boy that of course, I

would keep him safe, and besides, there’s no such thing as monsters. But I have a feeling I

was wrong that day.

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BRAVE NEW WEIRD: The Best New Weird Horror, Volume Two, is out June 26th.

You can preorder it here.