Erinn L. Kemper

To me writing, writing horror, is  all about emotion. Usually the heavier, darker ones, things that make me uncomfortable. Grief, loss, hurt. Sometimes I get into things I regret, mistakes I made, what I’m ashamed of.

And I write about what scares me, gets me riled or upset, or is just plain gross. Not all my stories end up being horror stories. Some are scifi, some dark fantasy, weird, magic-realism, even a little literary. But they all dig around in that tickle trunk of my dark side.

Here are some of the things that freak me out:

Big Brother, group think, cultish behaviour of any kind, parasites, paralysis, pile worms (come on, they puke out their guts and suck ’em back in instead of wriggling), shit-crazy hillbillies, censorship, genocide, killing someone by accident, being swarmed by rabbits, being stuck deep underground, did I say hillbillies?, kids with soft creepy voices, people all dressed the same and acting the same (and pod people), oompa loompa’s, living without love, raw meat, killing someone on purpose, not being able to breath, pregnant women (sorry … only sometimes. One day I saw six or seven in a row and I got a little creeped out), rampage killers, guns, dictators, mob mentality, being massively burned, being taken over and knowing it and watching the ‘new me’ live my life … especially if they do a better job than me or go psychotic, hurting someone I love and not being able to make it better, the word phlegm (but only when type it, not when I say it), that when I am old I will look back and regret my entire life, when someone’s eyes turn totally black, things coming in too close to my eyes (especially sharp things), when my finger gets stuck in a wee teacup handle (will it ever come out? will I break the teacup trying to get it to let go?).

I’m sure there’s more, but that’s a start.

What scares/upsets/disturbs/gives you the heebies?

Went out guitar shopping with my partner today.

He bought one, with an amp and a ‘how to’ book. Maybe I’ll get more writing time out of this!

Whenever I read Lovecraft a strange thing happens. My internal monologue starts funny-talking.

There’s this market I want to write something for, Whispers from the Abyss.  Flash fiction a la Lovecraft. I have a few ideas, but for inspiration I’ve been reading and re-reading some HPL, and some stories from anthologies inspired by him.

Whenever I hit the Lovecraft the same thing happens … that voice that narrates my life, that observes my surroundings and stows away interesting tidbits, takes on a new accent. It’s a creepy, eldritch voice that dwells on the cracks and bubbles in the plaster wall, obsesses about that cut on my finger keeps breaking open like a sucking mouth. In fact the whole finger is rather sinister the way it crooks at the end with an oddly bulging knuckle from an old basketball-stuffing injury.

Man does HPL seep into your head and twist it all up!

Apparently my happy dance is weird.

Like a steam powered penguin doing the Harlem Shuffle and squealing ‘eeeeeeeee’.

But hey, when you submit a story and a few hours later an email comes in with three sweet words, what else can you do.

Those words: Wonderful. And sold.

Eeeeeeeeee!

This year is set to be great. 3 stories coming out. Working with a fabulous mentor. The World Horror Conference in New Orleans. Submissions gone or going to some of the markets I’m most keen to submit to. And it’s only February.

My critique partner, Usman, predicted 20 acceptances for me this year. Better get busy!