Posts tagged "suspense"

What Scares You, K.T. Nguyen?

Today I welcome K.T. Nguyen to What Scares You. K.T.’s debut psychological thriller novel, You Know What You Did, will be released on Tuesday, April 16, and is already getting so so much buzz. I can’t wait to read it.

K.T. is a former magazine editor whose features have appeared in Glamour, Shape, and Fitness. After graduating from Brown University, she spent her 20s and 30s bouncing from New York City to San Francisco, Shanghai, Beijing and Taipei, and has now settled just outside Washington, D.C., with her family. K.T. enjoys native plant gardening, playing with her rescue terrier Alice, and rooting for the Mets.

And now we’ll find out what scares her…


What is your earliest childhood memory of fear? Or the scariest thing you remember from childhood?

When I was three years old, my family moved into a house on a street that ended in a ravine. My sister, six years older than me, told me disembodied feet walked the ravine in tall boots. She was the one who informed me Santa isn’t real, so I knew she was a straight shooter. I was terrified of the ravine for years. 

Is there any fear you’ve overcome in your life? How has that changed you?

I used to be afraid of heights. Growing up, I couldn’t walk near the railing and glass on the upper floor of malls without feeling dizzy. I would have nightmares of sliding towards the edge, as if pulled by unseen hands, then plummeting. (Yes, I would wake up before contact.) As an adult, I’ve been able to stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon, traverse a long, skinny suspension bridge in Taiwan, and zipline in the Costa Rican rainforest (I did get stuck and needed the guide to rescue me).

What are your phobias?

Trypophobia. Irregular patterns of raised bumps or clustered holes trigger intense feelings of disgust in me and set off obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors. In recent years, researchers have examined brain activity and found that many phobias, like trypophobia, trigger disgust, not fear, in subjects. In my debut thriller You Know What You Did, the main character Annie battles disgust-driven OCD. 

What’s the scariest place you’ve ever been?

A “resort casino” in Henderson, Nevada. Because of my contamination-based OCD, which I manage beautifully with medication, I dislike hotels, even the finest five-star luxury boutique accommodations. This particular Sin City-adjacent hotel did not fall into that category. I was there for work, and my boss told us, “Sleep with your coats on girls!” It wasn’t particularly dirty, but an invisible layer of misery coated everything. Long, skinny hallways poorly lit; a sad smoky casino in the basement; a subterranean gift shop that sold paintings of big-eyed girls.


“Long, skinny hallways poorly lit; a sad smoky casino in the basement; a subterranean gift shop that sold paintings of big-eyed girls.”


Do you enjoy scaring other people?

Not without consent, i.e. not in real life. However, if a reader opens my book, a psychological thriller tinged with horror, then they expect to experience disquiet, surprise, electric thrills. I want to deliver that!

What’s your favorite horror movie or television series?

My favorite horror movies are Jordan Peele’s. His form of social horror and his images of distorted reality make my blood run cold. In terms of television, the imagery in Twin Peaks terrified me for years. Nothing scares me more than distortion, disproportion, wrongness in everyday surroundings. 

What animal scares you the most?

Only recently have I overcome my fear of opossums. Despite their beady eyes, sharp snouts, and bald scaly tails, opossums are shy creatures who are key to keeping suburban rodent populations in check. While I’ve made my peace with the possum, I am still not a fan of the maned wolf. Their disproportionately long legs frighten me. There is one in the National Zoo in Washington, D.C., that my daughter made us visit. We didn’t see the animal, but our noses were filled with the pungent odor of maned wolf urine, which is known to smell like cheap cannabis.

What’s creepier: clowns, dolls, or wax figures?

Clowns, because there is a human under that makeup. See: John Wayne Gacy.

What Scares You, Lauri Schoenfeld?

It’s a rainy, gloomy day as I post this interview with the wonderful Lauri Schoenfeld. This weather seems fitting, however, since we’re discussing dark and gloomy subjects like possession and revenge!

Lauri resides in Utah, overlooking the mountains from her front yard. She’s the host of The Enlightenment Show, an editorial manager at Twisted Whisperings Press, and the author of the psychological thriller, Little Owl.

Read on to discover her greatest fears, writing worries…and the time she died.


What is your greatest fear?

My greatest fear is my kids getting kidnapped or being possessed.

What is your favorite urban legend?

Homey the Clown. As a kid, I was convinced the killer clown was on the loose. It didn’t help that “IT” by Stephen King came out shortly after that. I also found Bloody Mary pretty terrifying. In sixth grade, I struggled to look in the mirror, afraid that she’d see me.

 How do you deal with fear?

I have a fear journal. When something comes up for me, I write down my thoughts and feelings about it so I can begin to investigate where it came from and why. It helps me to think I’m partnering up with Nancy Drew as I solve this mystery within myself.

What is your greatest fear as a writer? 

Not having my writing received well is a hard one for me. It’s something I’m continuing to learn along the journey to remember that I don’t have control over how people choose to receive things, but it’s still this itch of fear in the back of my mind that sticks around.

What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever written?

I have a few hidden stories about possession. The idea of being possessed and no longer being yourself feels so real and terrifying. It’s my way of trying to understand the paranormal experiences I’ve had throughout my life.

People often say death is their greatest fear. What are your feelings about death/dying?  

When I was thirteen, I died from a morphine overdose for six minutes. I’ve lived with this interesting survivor guilt about it, and also some panic that I already died once, so I don’t get a second chance. The past year, I’ve been really working on using meditation and breathing techniques when that fear comes up.


“When I was thirteen, I died from a morphine overdose for six minutes.”


What’s creepier: clowns, dolls, or wax figures? 

This question has me rolling. All the above. Oh my gosh. These are all nightmare-filled items for me, but clowns are probably the worst. 

Which evil, murderous persona most matches your personality and why: slow-walking psychotic serial killer; vampire stalking victims in the wee hours of the night; rich megalomaniac with grand plans to take over the world; centuries-old demon witch looking for revenge; or Hyde-like, fueled with rage and no impulse control?

This question is amazing! I’d be closest to the centuries-old demon witch looking for revenge. I mostly get this with the mama bear part of me. I’m super fierce and protective of the ones I love, specifically with my kids. 

What Scares You, Alice Slater?

A self-proclaimed Scream girlie, Alice Slater’s debut novel Death of a Bookseller published just last month and is a “darkly funny suspense” about true crime, bookstores, and the limits of friendship. You can get your copy right here. And then read on to find out her favorite horror movies, big fears, all the other things that terrify Alice…dum dum dum.


What is your earliest childhood memory of fear? Or the scariest thing you remember from childhood?

My first brush with fear—real, gut-wrenching, blood-to-ice fear—was the Honey Monster, the yellow yeti-style mascot of the cereal brand Sugar Puffs. My small brain understood that danger lay within that cheerful exterior, and I went into fight-or-flight mode every time his guffawing mug appeared on our television screen. 

What are your phobias?

I’m quite frightened of the dark, although I’m not sure why. Somewhere between a real-world fear of who and an irrational fear of what could be lurking in the shadows, I suppose. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in the way they make me feel. I don’t believe it’s likely I’ll come across a stranger in my home, or in my garden late at night, but it isn’t impossible. I use a lot of my own fears and paranoia in my writing, and I hope that shines through in my debut novel, Death of a Bookseller

What is your favorite urban legend?

Do you know the one about the babysitter and the clown statue? A young babysitter, a suburban home full of weird art. Every time she checks on the sleeping children, she finds herself creeped out by this horrible clown statue standing in the corner of the room. Freaked out by its cold dead eyes, she throws a blanket over it so she doesn’t have to look at it. When the parents finally get home, they ask how her evening was and she says it was fine, but she has to apologise for covering the children’s clown statue with a blanket. The parents look confused, and the mother says, “I’m sorry but I’m not sure what you mean—what clown statue?” [Editor’s note: You can listen to a super creepy homage to this story over at The Strange and Unusual podcast.]

It’s so silly, but I remember the first time I heard it, a real curl of fear unfurled within me. My brother also found it deeply disturbing, which lead my mother to wonder what shared childhood experience we might have had for us to both find it so upsetting. As far as I’m aware, we have never encountered a clown anywhere it shouldn’t be. 

How do you deal with fear?

I’m an incredibly fragile little baby, so I either refuse to face my fears entirely (I’m queen of covering my eyes in the cinema) or I demand mollycoddling. If I was a dog, I’d be a shivering chihuahua that requires human contact at all times. 

What’s your favorite horror movie or television series?

I’m a Scream girlie, and my order of preference is 1 > 4 > 2 > 3 > 5 (I haven’t seen 6 yet as I’m on a deadline for book two, and it’s killing me). Aside from Scream, I love 90s slashers, 70s Hollywood, big sharks, and smart, strange movies with a really incredible female lead: Carrie, Midsommar, Ginger Snaps, May, Excision, It Follows, St Maud, Us. You get the vibe. The only thing I really don’t like is extreme violence: 00s splat pack—Hostel, Saw, House of 1000 Corpses and the like.

What’s creepier: clowns or dolls?

I’m very fond of both, actually, but I think clowns have the edge. I love the uncanny fear that clowns strike into the hearts of adults, and I find it really difficult to imagine a pre-Pennywise world in which clowns weren’t intrinsically linked to murder. Dolls I don’t consider a particular threat to my peace. Chucky, Annabel, and Brahms aren’t anywhere near as scary as Art, Captain Spaulding, or Twisty. I do think there’s space within this question to raise a possible third option though: how do we feel about waxworks? I’d rather be trapped in a lift with M3gan than the Peru waxwork of Lady Gaga. Google her. Vile. 


Alice Slater is a writer, podcaster and ex-bookseller from London. She studied creative writing at MMU and UEA. She lives in London with her husband and a lot of books.

What Scares You, Carol Goodman?

I’m very excited to chat with Carol Goodman for this installment of What Scares You. Carol’s books are among my favorites of all time. They are filled with spooky houses, buried secrets, myth, Gothic imagery, writers and artists, and ghosts. With all that swirling around in her mind, how could this interview not be interesting? Read on to find out what scares Carol.

What is your greatest fear?

That something will happen to my daughter. 

What is your earliest childhood memory of fear? Or the scariest thing you remember from childhood?

I remember when I realized that people died, specifically that my parents would die someday and that I would die someday. I would like awake at night obsessing over that, and finally the only way I could overcome my fear was to make up a story where my family and I were transported to a planet where we would all be immortal—at least, I think I included my family in this fantasy at first. Eventually it was just me who got to go live on the planet and be immortal. This fantasy was really comforting until I became a parent, and then I couldn’t resort to it because I somehow knew I wouldn’t be able to bring my child with me. What self-respecting child wants to go live on a planet with their mom?

Is there any fear you’ve overcome in your life? How has that changed you?

See above: Mortality conquered by fantasy. Also, I used to be frightened of being alone in a house, but mostly I’m not anymore.

What is your weirdest fear?

None of my fears seem weird. 

Do you believe in ghosts?

My daughter recently answered this question with: “I don’t believe in ghosts, but I am afraid of them.” I love ghost stories, but if I actually saw a ghost, I’d completely lose it.

What is your favorite urban legend?

I remember hearing “The Claw” when I was a teenager and being terrified that I’d be out parking with my date and hear that scritch-scritch-scritch on the roof.  There was a version of it, too, where the woman is driving and people are pointing at her car with horrified faces and when she gets home she realizes there’s a madman on her roof—or maybe a corpse? That terrified me because of the idea that other people could see the danger you were in but you couldn’t.

Do you have a recurring nightmare?

For years I had the classic school anxiety nightmare in which you are sitting down for an exam and realize you’ve forgotten to come to the class all semester, only in my version the exam would be in my Greek class (I took Greek for two years in college) and my Greek teacher Mr. Day would be towering over me like Zeus, brandishing a lightning bolt, and the exam would be in Sanskrit.

How do you deal with fear?

I make up a story that’s even worse than the thing I’m afraid of, and then I write that story. For example, when I was in my early thirties I’d separated from my husband and gone to live at my parents’ house with my two-year-old daughter. I was afraid that my life was over, that I’d have to live with my parents forever, and that my soon-to-be-ex-husband would kidnap my daughter. So I thought: this could be worse; what if I hadn’t had my parents to come home to? So I made up a story about a woman in similar circumstances who takes a job at her former boarding school so that she’ll have housing and childcare. The only thing she has to worry about is the vengeful figure from her past wielding an ice-pike. Somehow I found this comforting, and it was the origin of my first novel, The Lake of Dead Languages. 

What scares you most about the writing process?

Every morning when I sit down to write I feel a little frisson of dread. I’m not sure why. I think it has to do with exposure—the sense that I’ll have to peel away the protective layer between my inner self and the world—and, worse, that there won’t be anything there when I do.

What is your greatest fear as a writer?

That I won’t have anything left to write.

What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever written?

I recently wrote a scene in which a man saws his own hand off. That was scary.

Do you have any horror movie deal-breakers?

I hate whenever anything happens to a character’s hands.  And yes, I know that contradicts the answer above.

“I recently wrote a scene in which a man saws his own hand off.”

What’s the scariest book you’ve ever read? Is there a particular scene that really haunts you still?

The Shining was for a long time the scariest book. The Kubrick film absolutely terrified me the first time I saw it (in the movie theaters when it first came out) and haunted me for years. Probably when the twins appear and say “Come play with us.”  When I read the book years later I was amazed that the book was AS scary. I also remember being really creeped out by Superstition by David Ambrose. Billy O’Callaghan’s The Dead House scared me, so then I read it a second time.

In which post-apocalyptic scenario are you most likely to survive and thrive: 28 Days Later (zombies), The Stand (sickness kills all but a few), or The Last Policeman (asteroid hits Earth)?

Well, given our present situation, let’s hope it’s The Stand. I really wouldn’t do well with zombies, and I haven’t read The Last Policeman.

What’s worse: being haunted by a demon or having a stalker?

I’ll take the human stalker.  Demons are definitely scarier.

You are renting a remote house with a few close friends when all the electricity cuts out. Are you the friend who goes down to the basement to check on the situation? If not, what do you do when someone else does, and you hear them calling your name from that dark basement? (Assume your cell phones don’t work out there in the remote wilderness.)

Since I am the Mom in my house, I am ALWAYS the one who goes down to the basement to fiddle with the circuit switches even though I LOATHE the basement. So yeah, I’m the one who goes down. I’m calling for you now. Taaarrraaa …. Come play with me … foreverrrrr ….

Carol Goodman is the author of twenty-one novels, including The Lake of Dead Languages and The Seduction of Water, which won the 2003 Hammett Prize, The Widow’s House, which won the 2018 Mary Higgins Clark Award, and The Night Visitors, which won the 2020 Mary Higgins Clark Award. Her books have been translated into sixteen languages. She lives in the Hudson Valley with her family, and teaches literature and writing at The New School and SUNY New Paltz.

What scares you, Ed Aymar?

I can’t remember when Ed Aymar and I became friends. One day, he was just suddenly there, like a fungus. However, if you’re going to get a fungus, Ed’s probably the best one out there.

In addition to being such a good friend that I have no problems comparing him to a spore-producing organism, Ed’s also a great writer. His latest book, The Unrepentant, is the kind of thriller I wish I could write. It’s non-stop, gasp-worthy, and keeps you turning the pages until the very end.

Ed’s also terrified of EVERYTHING. Want to know more? Read all about what scares him….

What is your earliest childhood memory of fear? Or the scariest thing you remember from childhood?

I had a dream, when I was very little, of three women’s heads sitting on a table in our living room. I don’t know how young I was, but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t have been older than five or six. I remember walking past the heads, and they stayed still. But when I went outside, the heads had turned to watch me.

I’ve since had scarier dreams and experiences, but that’s my first memory of a nightmare.

Do you believe in ghosts? Why or why not?

I mean, I’d kind of like to? The idea that our loved ones are nearby, and that there’s something mystical and maybe wonderful after our lives end, is powerful.

And I never want to say that I don’t believe in ghosts because I’m always afraid a ghost will read that and decide to scare me. Like, the ghost is saying, “Believe in me now, motherfucker!”

So maybe I do. I dunno. But this question reminds me of a poem by Marie Howe (“Buying the Baby”) that has remained with me for years, and seems the perfect answer to your question:

Sometimes I prayed so hard for God to materialize at the foot of my bed
it would start to happen;
then I’d beg it to stop, and it would.

So I guess I do believe.

(I bet you didn’t think I read poetry but I do. It’s one of my layers.)

“I had a dream, when I was very little, of three women’s heads sitting on a table in our living room.”

Do you have a recurring nightmare?

I had terrible sleep paralysis growing up. I would lie in bed as a child, believing I was awake, but then realize I was still asleep. I’d hear (actually, dream I heard) people around me, sitting next to the bed and talking, but I couldn’t move. I would strain to lift my arm or pull the covers over my face, as some sort of meek protection, and then discover, in fact, I was still asleep. But discovering I was asleep made me believe I was actually awake, and the process would begin again. It was exhausting and frightening.

Sometimes the people talking were my parents, sometimes they were strangers. Sometimes it was a figure standing at the foot of my bed, watching me. And I would try with all my might to wake up, to pry one eye open. I remember groaning, hoping that my parents would hear me and come wake me…but even those groans were part of the dream. In reality, I was lying in bed, entirely still. And the room was empty. And I was fighting and screaming in silence.

I still get hit by sleep paralysis – not frequently, usually when I’m exhausted. And it does worry me. Not so much for me, but for my son. I hope he doesn’t have to go through that as he grows up, at least not as frequently as I did. I hope he’s not scared that same way, calling for me to help him, and I don’t come.

How do you deal with fear?

This sounds like a brave answer, but it’s not because I’m not: I have to face it.

That’s not to say I’d be the type to charge headfirst into battle or walk down the stairs to confront a killer. But the idea of not knowing a danger, and have it out there and waiting, isn’t something I can distance myself from. That type of haunting will remain with me.

So a fear has to be confronted, but that doesn’t mean I’m charging into a dark room, biceps flexed, roaring “BRING IT ON!” I’d have the cops go first, then peek over their shoulders.

“Twitter is a long field of people being loudly tortured for their sins…”

What is your greatest fear as a writer?

This time in social media is so threatening to people. Every day someone makes a mistake, and social media is relentless in its reprisal. Twitter is a long field of people being loudly tortured for their sins, and I would hate to be one of those people. Some are made for it, and they navigate that ground easily, casting insults and proclamations and brushing off comebacks. I’m not one of those people. The minute someone yelled at me, I’d probably just delete my account and join MySpace or something.

Strangers yelling at you, often stupidly, isn’t really the fear, of course. The fear is that it’s deserved, that you do something wrong worth exposing, and that every element of nuance is brushed aside. That your life is suddenly and irrevocably yanked from your control.

All of my answers in this interview, I now see, touch on something that’s imperative to my happiness – a sense of control. Most of us have fashioned our lives to our liking, or we’re attempting to. We can prepare to have that taken from us but, when it does happen, it’s violent and unexpected and, often, not what we anticipated. I think that’s where fear preys. It’s what we can’t imagine, but is often inevitable. Like the end of a good story. Or the end of a life.

Of E.A. Aymar’s The Unrepentant, Publisher’s Weekly wrote, “Readers who appreciate depth of character alongside gritty nonstop action will be rewarded.” His newest thriller is the novel-in-stories anthology The Swamp Killers (in which he served as co-editor and contributor with Sarah M. Chen). He has a monthly column in the Washington Independent Review of Books, and he is also the managing editor of The Thrill Begins on behalf of ITW; he also serves on the national board of that organization. He was born in Panama and now lives and writes in the D.C./MD/VA triangle.

Best book launch week ever.

One Night Gone launched last Tuesday, October 1, and what a wonderful week it’s been. I’ve been so overwhelmed with all the enthusiasm and excitement from friends and readers–you all are the best! Thank you!

I kicked off my first month of events with a book launch party at One More Page Books and More in Arlington, Virginia. I love OMP–they hosted my very first launch party for Modern Manners For Your Inner Demons so many years ago, and I’m still grateful to them for taking a chance on my little chapbook. Eileen and crew are so supportive of local authors. We are blessed to have them here in the D.C. area.

I also had a bunch of other writings, interviews, and reviews published around the Internets. My essay about my mom’s death, ghosts, grief, and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark was published in CrimeReads. The best part of this was hearing all the amazing stories from people who have also lost a loved one. I feel very seen.

I also had a Very Important Scientific Study over at Criminal Element. Meaning, my son and I watched A LOT of Scooby Doo episodes and ranked our top 10 monsters. Read it. Then fight us.

The Beast of Bottomless Lake

Bookish featured my essay about the three things that creep me out the most (hint: KRAKEN) and why I chose to write about them.

I chatted with Elena Hartwell on her web site, and also with Leslie Pietrzyk over at Work in Progress. Marni Graff allowed me to blab on about the challenges of switching from writing novels to writing short stories and back again. My husband Art Taylor invited me to discuss the beginning of One Night Gone on his popular blog series The First Two Pages. And I had a really wonderful chat with Meredith Cole and Kristin Swenson on the podcast The Writer’s Story.

The cocktails I paired with my characters were featured in “Drinks with Reads” at Mystery Playground.

And Washington Independent Review of Books featured a really great review of the book, in which I finally unlocked the ultimate level of achievement: a book that’s dubbed “unputdownable.”

WHEW! What a whirlwind. And the fun continues tonight when I get to chat with the always amazing Bethanne Patrick at another favorite D.C. bookstore: Politics and Prose at the Wharf. Hope to see you there–or at another event soon.

Main photo credit by David McDonald

Cover RE-REVEAL: One Night Gone

Surprise! Just when you thought I had a cover….I have a new cover.

The smart, lovely team at Graydon House/Harlequin decided that my original cover didn’t quite speak enough to the suspense/thriller genre that my book really fits in. So they gave it a facelift! And a beautiful one at that.

For those of you who were fans of the creepy house in the original–good news! It’s still there. But we’ve shifted focus slightly to the stormy night sky instead of the sandy beach, giving the overall look one with more menace and intrigue. Check it out!

Same house, added creepiness!