Kitchens, meals, and digestion are often used as backdrops and battlegrounds in horror—and the Final Girl is often a set piece. Academic Carol J. Clover describes our girl in “Men, Women, and Chainsaws” (1992) as the saint who abstains from sex, drugs, or reckless behavior until she finally turns the killer’s weapon against him. Not that this has anything to do with gastrohorror, but I loved the way “The Cabin in the Woods” (2011) set up the Final Girl trope for what it really is: less male gaze-y virgin goody-goody deserving of being saved for her purity, and more societal sacrificial lamb that doesn’t do women any good in the end. Granted, we all become the meal in that film, so maybe it has more to do with gastrohorror than it seems, no?

I have to tell you–doing this column has been an incredible amount of fun! I’ve been really enjoying delving into horror in more of an academic way, and not just because I’m in the midst of a masters of philosophy program, concentrating in gastrohorror. I recently did a tiktok about the idea of taking stock of what brings me joy in publishing. Not in writing, because there’s a big difference between writing and publishing–and I enjoy writing. It’s all the other stuff that goes with it that can be really infuriating and frustrating. Right around my birthday I decided to log every day for the next year about how I feel about publishing… and then at the end of my 365 days, if I discover I’ve been negative about it more often than not, maybe I’ll… change tactics.

I’m not really sure what that looks like, but writing academically just seems fun and new to me, in a way that writing fiction seems… not as fun (entirely because of all the stress around publishing). But it’s more than that: I don’t think a lot about publishing when it comes to academic writing. Maybe if I do start to think about it, it’ll become more stressful. I dunno. There’s also the fact that I’m in my mid-50s, though. Would it make me happier to be traveling more or being lazy more?

Maybe I’ll just keep writing about gastrohorror!

Every time I open the refrigerator door, I fully expect to see a severed head. I blame “Friday the 13th Part 2” (1981). Seeing Mrs. Voorhees’ lifeless noggin nestled between the milk and a leftover casserole sticks with you when you’re 9 years old. The link between what we eat and what scares us was set for me quite early.

That does explain my obsession with gastrohorror. And, I hope, the beginning of yours (if you’re not already a superfan of food, horror, and disgust). There’s something delightful about using food as a vehicle for fear. Certainly, you’ve heard of the Rule of Three, yes? Three hours without air, three days without water, three weeks without food. If you prick us, do we not bleed, for sure—but refuse to feed us, and do we not starve to death in a reinforced steel cage?

If you’re curious, or if food, horror, and disgust are your jam, please head over to read it and let me know what you think!

But whatever. Consider this an update on what’s going on, as well as a pledge to do better.

You already know that I have a new young adult horror novel coming out in August 2026 (Meat Sweats), and you might know that the paperback version of A Misfortune of Lake Monsters was released last month, but I’m also delighted to say that a new short story of mine was just unleashed on the world! “In The Blood We Live” can be found in the anthology Pretend You Don’t See Her from Kandisha Press. I always love Kandisha Press anthologies–and so having a short story accepted has been goal for a while. I’m particularly happy that they grabbed “In The Blood We Live.” It’s a weird little story that was inspired by the submissions we received for the Bodies Full of Burning anthology a few years ago. Or, rather, submissions I didn’t receive. There were a few types of menopause-related stories I wanted but didn’t get–so you know how it is: if you need a story that doesn’t exist, write it yourself! Anyway, the story is a love letter to Philadelphia women and, of course, all my fellow menopausal ladies.

In a neat twist, Meat Sweats might not be the next bit of fiction you see from me! I was recently commissioned by Ethereal Visions Publishing to write a novella to go along with one of their absolutely gorgeous oracle card decks. Right now the project is in its infancy–I’m going back and forth with the publisher on the characters and the outline. I’m not a hundred percent sure when the deck will be out, though. There may be some additional, similar projects coming down the pike, and that’s exciting. As I said, the decks are gorgeous, but it’s also a really fun way to do something different creatively.

Speaking of doing something different, I somehow schnookered Macabre Daily into giving me my own monthly column about gastrohorror! That makes sense given that Meat Sweats is most certainly gastrohorror, and–of course–I’m also back in school, planning to pursue a second masters degree related to food and horror. I continue to be amazed that my first masters (that concentrated on how and why consuming horror media is psychologically good for people) allowed me so many opportunities over the last year to present on the topic, and whether my second one will offer similar opportunities or not is still up in the air, but that’s not why I’ve returned to school. There’s something really amazing about being able to pursue a degree simply for the love of knowledge. Everything else is just secondary.

Lastly, I’m wrapping up a pretty solid run of book events (pictured is an event I did with Diana Rodriguez Wallach a week or two ago at Children’s Book World–I led a book discussion for the release of her excellent book The Silenced)! October is typically a big honking deal for horror writers. I ended up turning down about half a dozen events for this month for various reasons (not least of all that I’ll be on vacation at some point this month)–but you can catch me October 19 at the Easton Book Festival and on October 20 at Char & Stave, organized by Mavey Books. Do take a look at the events page for more details. I’ve also got a few things next month, maybe an event in December–and then an event here and there in the new year. I’m mostly taking a break, though, until Meat Sweats comes out in August. I genuinely don’t know how writers who are on the road all the time do it. Between July 2024 and the end of this year, I will have done somewhere around the neighborhood of 40 events–and I’m absolutely wiped out. Don’t get me wrong: I’ve had fun! But I’m also a giant, cave-dwelling introvert who needs a lot of alone time to recharge.

I was talking to a friend recently after I signed the contract with Horrorsmith Publishing. She laughed when I told her about the book and said, “PETA is going to come after you hard.” I don’t know. I think maybe they will be on board by the ending, but what do I know? I’m often caught off-guard by what people find offensive about my ideas and how they play out in my books. I mean, I read a review of A Misfortune of Lake Monsters once where someone was convinced I was making light of sexual harassment and school shootings. Certainly not my intention (in fact, the opposite)–but if there’s one thing I’ve learned since A Misfortune of Lake Monsters came out it’s that once your book is out in the world, it (and it’s meaning) cease belonging entirely to you.

The other day I was a conversation partner to Emma Copley Eisenberg for an event to mark the release of the paperback version of her book Housemates (I know, I know: what was a young adult horror writer doing leading a conversation with someone who writes adult literary fiction? It does make sense when you know that both our books are set, at least partially, in rural Pennsylvania). She said the same–every interpretation is valid once your book is out in the wild.

Speaking of being out in the wild, I’ve got a busy month in June. Next week I’ll be presenting on the Horror As Therapy panel at StokerCon in Stamford, Connecticut, as well as doing a reading there on Friday the 13th! And I’ve got another panel at the American Library Association annual conferences–this time one called Bright Minds, Dark Reads about why YA horror is good for the teenaged soul, and why librarians should be expanding their YA horror collections. I’ll also be doing two signings of A Misfortune of Lake Monsters at the ALA conference, once on a Saturday at the Baker & Taylor booth, and one on Monday at the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators table.

It’s not just that I sold a bunch of books yesterday–and it’s not just that the book fair was well-attended. It’s that the folks who came were just so excited to talk horror. I often say that horror people are the best people. You put horror writers in a room together, and you’re going to have a good time. Yesterday was a total joy because the people who came are so clearly fans of the genre, and they are fun!

I was also reminded how small the world really is. While talking to someone about A Misfortune of Lake Monsters, I mentioned that it’s set in my hometown (a version of, anyway–but definitely geographically set there)–and included the name of a slightly larger town that’s nearby as a point of reference. Two women passing my table immediately stopped… and it turns out they are both from my hometown. One still lives there! And, I mean, it’s not like my hometown is across the country, but it’s small and rural and a good three-hour drive from where I live now. It’s not super likely that I’ll run into anyone who knows my town, let alone grew up there. Oh, and even weirder: one of the women is a distant relative of mine. I confirmed it with my mother on the way home from the fair, just to be sure. I’m still gobsmacked.

I also had an opportunity to read at Ghoultastic, which is always fun (and often funny). Before I went out to read, a writerly friend warned me that it was a little loud (the readers were held outside) and I might need to yell. It took all of my willpower not to laugh–my voice does tend to carry; just ask my teammates on the dragon boat team. I always get very nervous when there’s a microphone involved because I’m naturally loud, at least in public speaking situations. Luckily, there were no microphones involved in this one! I’ve been thinking about prepping a new reading other than from A Misfortune of Lake Monsters, but that gets tough–I mean, you want to read something that might spark someone to visit your author table later, but I don’t have copies of most of the anthologies or magazine in which my work has appeared to sell.

Ah, well.

Still, Ghoultastic was a blast–it’s always good to be reminded of how fun these events can really be!

Specifically, we were talking about Paris. My husband and I are flying there in the near future, and this isn’t our first time in the city (I think this will be our fifth stop in Paris). Meredith mentioned that she enjoyed Paris but didn’t think she had a reason to return because she’d done everything she wanted to there–and I know what she means. Before I had access to cheap/free air travel, my vacations were similar. Travel to Canada and Mexico is fairly accessible for Americans because they’re on the same continent, so it doesn’t seem like it’s out of the question to visit again… but beyond that, oftentimes it feels like maybe you’ll never have an opportunity to travel to the same city twice because of cost and distance. When you travel to a place with that mindset, you feel compelled to see the highlights and cram in as much as you can, leaving nothing left to do or see.

My first trip to Paris (before my husband’s flight benefits) was absolutely like that. You know, you see the Eiffel Tower, you see the Louvre, you take a bateaux mouche ride on the Seine, you go to Notre Dame cathedral and maybe Sainte-Chapelle, etc. And clearly, there’s nothing wrong with that. Like at all. The way I travel now is different because I tend to concentrate on a single neighborhood (or two).

It’s probably my regularly visits to Venice made me morph into this kind of traveler. That’s interesting all on its own–Paris and Venice are two cities that people either tend to love or hate; there doesn’t seem to be anywhere in between. I definitely never visit in the summer (crowds make me cranky), but that’s beside the point. What is the point is Venice is a city of tiny islands and neighborhoods that have a very specific feel to them–and the vaporetti (vaporetto boats are sort of like water buses that travel the Grand Canal and, in some cases, into a smaller canal) are terribly slow, and the points between where you are and where you want to go are winding and often confusing. To really enjoy Venice, I started staying each time in a different neighborhood or on a different island, and then planning what I want to do by what’s nearby (for the most part, anyway–it’s not like I don’t take the vaporetti or leave the neighborhood ever. There’s always an outlying event or place I want to revisit).

Again, this isn’t the superior way to travel, but it makes sense for me–there’s always something I haven’t seen or done, so there’s always a reason to return to a place.

Granted, the reason we’re heading back to Paris is more about fleeting events. The Louvre is having its first-ever contemporary fashion exhibit, and the Philharmonie de Paris is having a disco exhibit. Plus, Notre Dame just reopened to the public at the end of last year after the fire decimated it–and my last trip to Paris was only a few weeks before that fire. We’ll be staying in Le Marais, a neighborhood I’ve never stayed in before. The Louvre, the Philharmonie, and Notre Dame aren’t in the Marais, of course, but the bulk of our time will be spent futzing around that area. That leaves quite a few arrondissements where I’ve never stayed and explored–and a zillion reasons to return.

There’s something weirdly comforting to me about really getting to know a place. Venice feels like a second home to me because of it. My Italian has certainly improved with each visit, and there are places I keep going back to–my favorite gelato shop, my favorite restaurant. I can find my way around sometimes without a map. The airport, the vaporetti, the water taxis, the airport ferry aren’t mysteries anymore. It’s nice. Reykjavik is another city where I have history. Maybe one day I’ll feel that way about Paris, too.

One of the things I remember vividly about the run up to this year is that one of the 2023 debut authors encouraged us all to pre-define what success was going to look like for each of us in the 2024 debut group. What I consider “success” for me would certainly not look the same for anyone else… and pre-defining would mean finishing the year realistically and not letting myself get sucked into comparisons and feeling like a failure because of it. As it turns out, that was some wise advice. I remember that at the time, I was thinking I’d be happy with very little–a couple of events that were well attended, X number of copies of A Misfortune of Lake Monsters sold, a few good trade reviews, and a few people finding the book who really understood it and loved it. I knew AMOLM wouldn’t be a best-seller, nor would it get much if any media love (small press YA horror books so rarely get noticed–and considering the press who published AMOLM was sold off and let go of their marketing/publicity folks toward the end of the year, that made it less likely), and so I didn’t set crazy expectations.

Based on my initial goals, my year has been wildly successfully as a writer. AMOLM has sold pretty well–in some cases, selling more copies than the Big 5/big advance books of my peers. It held its own on the Amazon rankings against other YA horror novels released around the same time. I managed to snare some excellent author blurbs, and there were some truly fantastic trade reviews–even though I worried there for a minute after my first trade review came from Kirkus, who absolutely savaged the book. Reader response has been very good, and there were definitely more than a few people who found and adored AMOLM. I ended up doing nineteen in-person book events this year: one standing-room-only book launch, ten signings, seven panel discussions or conversation events (one in Iceland!), and one flash fiction workshop (the vast majority of those were super well attended). Some really wonderful bookstores opted to carry my book, and you can borrow a copy in over a hundred libraries. I did a dozen-plus podcasts, virtual interviews, etc. AMOLM was even on a year-end best-of list!

Comparison really is the thief of joy. There have been a few times I’ve felt let down/disappointed by things this year (primarily by things that were WAY out of my control), but overall, my expectations and goals have been absolutely met.

One thing I do hope for is that more people check out the AMOLM audiobook. It’s absolutely brilliantly done–the narrators chosen are fantastic. And, of course, I wish for things that all authors wish for–more marketing and publicity support from my publisher, a new book deal, etc. Again, things that are out of my control. I did all the things I could do and knew how to do to set this book up for success. Another piece of advice I’d been given early on, which turned out to be very, very true–publisher support and advocacy is what really moves the needle (in terms of distribution, discoverability, attention, etc).

Interestingly, I find myself ending the year at a bit of a crossroads. As much as I enjoyed the events I did related to the book and meeting readers, nineteen events is too many. It was typically one each week since July 2. There were only a few breaks, and in October I sometimes did two or three events in a week. It kept me from traveling for fun, which is something I need for my sanity. Part of me thinks it also kept me from writing much, but the truth is that I’m very much NOT motivated to write right now… and I haven’t been for several years. I’m not entirely sure WHY. Sometimes I think it’s because I’m ultimately disillusioned by my experience with literary agents and traditional publishing writ large (and look, I know I’m not alone there–reading about Bethany Baptiste’s experiences and intention to self-publish moving forward are affirming). Other times I worry it’s because my long COVID insomnia has robbed me of something. Maybe it’s the depressing state of the world (including the use of AI in publishing) or general ennui, or it’s that I’ve grown bored with what I’m doing. I genuinely do not know right now–and I don’t know what’s next.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. My short story “Everything In Its Place” will be published next month the Hauntings & Hoarfrost anthology from Tyche Books. There’s at least one creative nonfiction piece that’s been acquired for publication but on hold, and one pop culture essay acquired (related to Star Trek DS9) that will eventually come out. I’ve been submitting a short story that I like very much and hoping it finds the perfect home. I’ve been toying with the idea of self-publishing my unpublished YA horror/suspense novels that are complete (there are four, all of which are completely edited and ready to go, and I like them all very much) and concentrating on writing either adult horror/suspense or maybe something in an entirely different genre.

I still have ideas that inspire me to write. In fact, I’m constantly researching things–perfume, incorruptible saints, food, and bone churches, for instance–that sync up with my ideas. I outline short stories and novels pretty often. I wake up in the middle of the night with excellent plot twists. But actually doing the writing beyond a few hundred words here and there is like pulling teeth. Some days I think about calling it a career and moving on. Publishing is an area where declaring that you don’t want to do anything that doesn’t bring you joy might mean walking away, or at least finding a way to do things differently. In the meantime, I’m taking a bit of break just to read, and that’s been nice. I have 18 zillion books on my to-be-read pile, both the physical pile in my office and the digital pile in Kobo reader. Maybe reading and finding joy in what other people are writing will lead me back to joy in my own writing. Who knows?

A Misfortune of Lake Monsters (July 2024, CamCat Books). A young women is unable to leave her rural PA hometown because her family expects her to take over the family business of secretly impersonating the town lake monster to keep the tourists coming–when she discovers a real monster in the lake intent on eating everyone, she must break the secret to her best friends. For information on reviews and endorsements, head here. Young adult horror.

“The Physic Garden” (September 2024, issue 103, Mslexia magazine). Set in a post-Roe (and maybe a near-future) America, menopausal Naomi gets a visit from two women from the Bureau of Propagation when her period is late–but she is forewarned and prepared to set things right with the help of her garden and her community. Adult horror.

“In The Darkness, We Dig” (December 2024, The Horror That Represents You anthology, Brigids Gate Press). A newlywed discovers a tooth buried in a figurine in the backyard of her new home, setting off a string of discoveries–and revealing the untrustworthiness of her spouse and secret in the basement. Adult horror

“The Stories We Tell Ourselves” (November/December 2024, issue 25, The Vincent Brothers Review). The intersection of stigmatized houses and leftovers from past owners. Adult CNF.

This coming week will be my busiest ever, with a panel discussion on Tuesday and a two events on Saturday–a horror author book signing and then I’m teaching a flash fiction workshop. I do get a bit of a break after that–two events during election week and then a panel discussion in Iceland… and then I’m DONE for the year. There are a few things up in the air, so I’ve been avoiding making many plans for 2025 until I know more, but I definitely plan to do fewer events.

It might have been a busy couple of months, but it’s also been a learning experience. It’s interesting how much my experience with The Trajectory of Dreams a decade ago is completely different from the experience of A Misfortune of Lake Monsters. True, it’s different genres and categories, but even publishing has changed tremendously–and the level of marketing we’re all expected to do has expanded greatly as well. There’s so much to consider in terms of what I want to do next. A question that is paramount in A Misfortune of Lake Monsters–how much of our ourselves do we owe to others–is something I’ve been thinking about a lot in my personal and professional life. It has less to do with doing so many events and more to do with publishing itself. I’ve been fixated on one way of publishing for so long that I’m slow to consider other options… but it might be time to explore the options.

Let me start at the beginning, just for context. I started off with a panel discussion booked with my preorder partner store, A Novel Idea. The idea of doing a single author event or a launch event filled me with the kind of anxiety I usually reserve for Cheez Whiz. I’m not a total noob to book events. When The Trajectory of Dreams was published about a decade ago, I had a few events–and one of them was of the variety where hardly anyone comes to hear me blabber. It wasn’t fun. So this time around, I thought, hey, discussion panels. Festivals. Cons. But then an unexpected thing happened: bookstores started emailing me to ask if I’d do events there, too, some of whom didn’t really do discussion panels. AMOLM is out with a small press… so of course I’m not going to say no. And so that’s how I ended up at Big Blue Marble bookstore this past Friday, practically awash in hives that I had dragged the wonderful Stephanie Willing (voice of Lemon in the AMOLM audiobook edition) down from northern NJ to be my conversation partner, only for it to be us and my husband in a room, crickets chirping.

Okay, so there’s your context. And here’s what actually happened….

My stomach unclenched when the first couple of people arrived. And then it unclenched more. And more. And more. It was standing-room-only up in there. WHAT? I am going to blame the nearly full moon since we had a Buck Moon (also called the Thunder Moon or the Hay Moon, apparently) on Sunday night for driving people to this event. I’m NEVER lucky enough for something to go 100 percent right, but this event did. I wasn’t nervous to talk. Stephanie was lovely and wonderful (seriously–she’s so great. Go read her middle grade book, West Of The Sea. It’s super good). Everyone had a good time (I think). Even I had fun! I don’t think I even said anything too weird or off-putting. It’s a little bit of a miracle.

I will say that now that the first event is over, and that it did go well, it’s like a big weight has been lifted. There’s that whole trope about holding your breath… well, breath released, y’all! And now it’s time for the other fourteen events that are scheduled. Yeah, 14. Like I said, I hate to say no! Next up is a book signing this coming Sunday at Bethany Beach Books in Bethany Beach, Delaware. I’m pure delighted to say that I get to hang out with Jenny Adams for this one. Jenny is the author of the historical mystery A Deadly Endeavor, set in 1920s Philadelphia. It’s a really fun read! So if murder, mayhem, lake monsters, and Pennsylvania settings are your thing, I hope you’ll swing by on Sunday to see us, buy a book, and get your copies signed!

For the other events, do take a look at my Events page. I’m whirling around Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware… and Iceland. Weee!