When we think of Lovecraftian horror, or the Lovecraft Mythos (as it exists in Lovecraft’s works alone), we need to differentiate those stories from what has come to be called the Cthulhu Mythos, a name invented by August Derleth. Lovecraftian horror incorporates aspects of the Cthulhu Mythos (which oozed forth from Lovecraft’s influence), but Lovecraft’s horror fiction is much more than cosmic entities that filter to our planet and corrupt our dreams and sanity. Indeed, Datlow and Joshi, in their anthologies, requested that Cthulhu Mythos tropes not be a feature of submitted stories. Black Wings, for this reason, has a carefully chosen subtitle: “New Tales of Lovecraftian Horror.” The word “new” is as significant as the word “Lovecraftian.” It seems astonishing to realize that this sub-genre came into being in the distant 1920s, around the time when radio was becoming a new entertainment medium. As he discovered himself as a writer, Lovecraft was touched by many influences. Poe was paramount; Dunsany and the Decadents tugged his interest for a moment; and the burgeoning new genre that has come to be known as science fiction began to color Lovecraft’s imagination, perhaps in part because he was beginning to contemplate writing for the new SF pulp magazines due to sudden and repeated rejections of tales submitted to his regular publication outlet, Weird Tales. Both “At the Mountains of Madness” and “The Shadow out of Time” were initially published in science fiction pulp zines (submitted to those zines not by HPL but by friends to whom he had loaned copies of his stories).
One of the fannish criticisms aimed at Datlow’s excellent Lovecraft Unbound is, “These stories ain’t Lovecraftian!” So what is Lovecraftian horror? Some of those who deride this sub-genre may evoke a sentiment voiced in “The Dunwich Horror”: “As a foulness shall ye know Them.” This was actually the opinion of Joshi until, as an editor hunting for new books to be published by Hippocampus Press and other houses, he discovered that Cthulhu Mythos books sell rather well. Joshi asks this very question in his introduction to Black Wings II: “What defines a ‘Lovecraftian’ story? This seemingly simple question is in fact full of ambiguities, perplexities, and paradoxes, for the term could encompass everything from the most slavish of pastiches that seek (usually unsuccessfully) to mimic Lovecraft’s dense and flamboyant prose . . .” The first and foremost acolyte to attempt this nameless replication of Lovecraft’s style was August Derleth, but he did it for a very specific reason. Derleth fell under the shadow of Lovecraft while the older writer still lived, and he sent HPL his early attempts at writing Lovecraftian horror. Whatever may be said about Derleth’s success as a Mythos writer, his initial keen sincerity cannot be doubted. He loved H. P. Lovecraft. He spent much of his own money establishing, with Donald Wandrei, Arkham House, publishers with the sole intent of preserving the weird fiction and poetry of Lovecraft in handsome hardcover editions. In 1943, Derleth and Wandrei published their second Lovecraft omnibus, Beyond the Wall of Sleep, in which they published “The Commonplace Book,” consisting of entries that Lovecraft recorded of dreams and suggestions for stories. These entries, plus the discovery of notes for a story that Derleth eventually wrote as “The Survivor,” and the two chunks of text that helped to formulate the novel The Lurker at the Threshold, inspired Derleth to begin writing what are called the “posthumous collaborations,” which were published under the dual byline of H. P. Lovecraft and August Derleth. Part of Derleth’s approach in the writing of these things was to try and mimic absolutely the prose style of Lovecraft, which he proclaimed wasn’t easy, adding, “I should know,” as a way of suggesting that he thought he had succeeded, which in fact he had not. Many reviewers of Lurker found that it was far less successful than anything else they had read from the pen of Lovecraft. One gent wrote that it was obvious that the first two-thirds of the novel were the work of Lovecraft and the final third the writing of Derleth. The novel is often published in paperback with just Lovecraft’s name on the cover, when in fact he had nothing to do with this book that was written after his death. These posthumous collaborations have long been abused by Lovecraft scholars who see them, for various reasons, as a criminal act. I decided to read the first collection of these stories, The Survivor and Others, and do a story-by-story commentary on YouTube; and what I found was that these stories, although not in any way as fine or as original as Lovecraft’s own work, weren’t bad at all, and that some few of them (especially “The Survivor”) were genuinely Lovecraftian in tone and substance.
I have become an obsessed writer of Lovecraft horror; it has become my chosen profession. Part of the method of writing this kind of story is going back and reading Lovecraft’s original tales, becoming intimate with his work, and letting those stories and poems sink into one’s being. Doing this has shewn me that the Works of H. P. Lovecraft have depths of originality and power that may constantly be culled for inspiration in writing one’s own fiction. It is fruitless to try and “write like Lovecraft,” and why would anyone want to do something so boring anyway? We pay homage to the Gentleman from Providence by writing stories that evoke his genius without ripping off his ideas, however keenly our tales may conjoined to HPL’s originals. We can, while “being Lovecraftian,” write horror fiction that remains audaciously our own. It’s fucking rad.
We at Nightmare Magazine like discussions. Please use the comments feature to give us your thoughts on whether the H brand is an albatross or worth holding on to. Print may be dead, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be old school and have a good, old-fashioned letters page.
W. H. Pugmire has been writing Lovecraftian weird fiction since the early 1970s, determined to shew that one can write in the Lovecraft tradition and still remain original and audacious. His many books include The Tangled Muse, Some Unknown Gulf of Night, The Fungal Stain and Other Dreams, and Gathered Dust and Others. 2013 will see the publication of two new hardcover collections, Encounters with Enoch Coffin (Dark Regions Press, written in collaboration with Jeffrey Thomas) and Bohemians of Sesqua Valley (Arcane Wisdom Press). Willy also has many tales in numerous forthcoming anthologies.
Artist Gallery: Soufiane Idrassi
Artist Spotlight: Soufiane Idrassi
Julia Sevin
Soufiane Idrassi is a twenty-two-year-old freelance digital artist from Meknes, Morocco. Four years ago, Soufiane began teaching himself Adobe Photoshop—still his weapon of choice for his creations—and has become expert enough that his technique was explored in the January 2013 issue of Advanced Photoshop Magazine. He is currently expanding into 3D character creation and 2D concept art with his startup company, CG Pro Technology.
Can you tell us a little about the attitude toward horror and horror art in your area of Morocco? Is your community conservative or progressive about it? Has your work been well-received locally or has the Internet made this a private endeavor?
Design in general is not advanced in my country. As for horror art, it’s not something that attracts people, mainly because this is an Islamic country. Most of the new generation likes this kind of art but it’s preferable to share it with other artists through online portfolios and social networks for more professional feedback.
You’re a freelance artist. How did you get your start? In what medium?
Before I heard of freelancing or Photoshop, I did a lot of things. First I started with just traditional mediums; then I started learning pencil techniques and all that fine art stuff. When I became good at that I wanted to do my own drawing, not just copying, so I started drawing anime characters. But then people started criticizing. “This is childish,” “why draw cartoons at your age,” etc. Anyway, I didn’t care so I continued learning how to draw anime characters.
In my senior year of high school, I met my best friend Issam Er-Raya. He exposed me to a lot of thing that I didn’t know about, like graffiti and street art, and then he showed me Photoshop and I was like, what the hell? You can do anything with this! So I started learning from him the basics and tools. I graduated high school and continued learning and practicing for four years, and then I
decided that this was what I want to do for living. I started posting my work on different websites and next thing you know I’m on the cover of Advanced Photoshop Magazine.
Why do you create? And why create this sort of work?
I create because this is my passion. I love digital art. It’s like a drug to me. Why this sort of work? Well, I’m a positive guy, always got a smile on my face, so all the negativity I have goes through my art.
For these compositions, do you do any of your own photography?
I wish! For now I only download stocks. However, I have a couple of friends who are photographers, so they supply me with photos once in a while, but I hope in the future I’ll get the materials to make my own component images.
What are you working on now?
I’m currently working with my teammate Salim Ljabli, a talented freelance automotive artist, on some projects to build our portfolio. Our team is called CG Pro Technology and we will be specialized in high resolution modeling for films, cinematic, and videogames; rendering; texturing; lighting; shading; and concept art. Our main goal is to produce digital assets to the highest possible standards required by the game industry.
Originally hailing from Northern California, Julia Sevin is a transplant flourishing in the fecund delta silts of New Orleans. Together with husband RJ Sevin, she owns and edits Creeping Hemlock Press, specializing in limited special editions of genre literature and, most recently, zombie novels. She is an autodidact pixelpusher who spends her days as the art director for a print brokerage, designing branding and print pieces for assorted political bigwigs, which makes her feel like an accomplice in the calculated plunder of America. Under the cover of darkness (like Batman in more ways than she can enumerate), she redeems herself through pro bono design, sordid illustration, and baking the world’s best pies. She is available for contract design/illustration, including book layouts and websites. See more of her work at juliasevin.com or follow her at facebook.com/juliasevindesign.
Interview: Robert McCammon
Lisa Morton
In the 1980s, as horror exploded in popularity and supermarket paperback racks were crammed with books that featured glowing eyes and demonic children, critics and fans alike often talked about the genre’s three primary practitioners: Stephen King, Peter Straub, and Robert McCammon. A one-time journalist who grew up in the south during the era of civil rights activism, McCammon produced a string of popular novels beginning with Baal in 1978; he explored ancient cults next with Bethany’s Sin (1980), vampires with They Thirst (1981), the legacy of Poe’s most famous family with Usher’s Passing (1984), a post-apocalyptic world in Swan Song, and werewolves in The Wolf’s Hour (1989). He took horror seriously enough that in 1985 he co-founded (with Joe and Karen Lansdale) the Horror Writers of America (later the Horror Writers Association), and he was one of the first recipients of the organization’s Bram Stoker Award (he won both the first short fiction award for his story “The Deep End” and the first novel trophy for Swan Song); later, he edited HWA’s first anthology, Under the Fang. In 1991, he released what many consider his best book—the coming-of-age tale A Boy’s Life—and yet that book almost became (ironically) his own swan song to horror fiction. That same year, McCammon wrote a letter to his fans (it appeared in his newsletter) in which he expressed his disillusionment with horror (“a sense of wonder and beauty has been drained from our field”), and he left the genre behind to focus on historical fiction. In 2002, he published Speaks the Nightbird, the first of his historical detective novels focusing on the character Matthew Corbett; he has since published three more Matthew Corbett books, and one stand-alone rock-and-roll novel, The Five. However, McCammon’s next release, I Travel by Night (released in May by Subterranean) seemed to promise a return to horror, as it follows a vampire protagonist. McCammon was recently awarded the HWA’s Lifetime Achievement Award, and he currently lives in Birmingham, Alabama.
As a kid, you wrote ghost stories on an old Royal typewriter. What were your inspirations?
My inspirations were books about supposedly true hauntings and the fact that there was a “haunted house” in my neighborhood . . . right next door, as a matter of fact. But I actually was a big fan of science fiction, and I was doing those kind of stories too, as well as “war stories” starring kids in my classes. Those made me fairly popular because everybody either wanted to survive or die as heroes, and I had their fates in my hands.
You’ve written several short stories about Halloween, your novels have referenced characters with names like “The Pumpkin Man” (Usher’s Passing), and academic Marian Carcache has remarked on the use of masks in your work. Was Halloween a major day for you as a child?
Absolutely it was. It was a great day. I always enjoyed wearing masks and “changing my identity,” so to speak. It was a sad day when my daughter decided she was too old for Halloween and wanted to hang out with her friends instead of going trick-or-treating.
You were growing up in Birmingham at a time when it was one of the centers of the civil rights movement. That plays an obvious part in Boy’s Life, but did it affect your writing in other ways?
Well, I saw a lot of the actual violence of the civil rights movement on TV, and I suppose that sank in. There was a feeling of violence and danger in those days in Birmingham . . . I know that has affected my writing, for sure.
In their review of the 2011 re-release of your first novel Baal, Publisher’s Weekly complimented the book’s “fluid prose and vivid descriptions.” Before Baal, you’d worked mainly as a journalist—was writing a novel difficult, or liberating?
It was a necessity. I had a dead end job at a newspaper and I knew if I didn’t at least try to write a novel, I might be stuck on the copy desk for the rest of my life. It’s interesting to me that when the book first came out, it didn’t get such a good review. But yes . . . it was liberating because it freed me from that dead end job at the newspaper . . . which now is gone, and the job of copy editor is pretty much a thing of the past, as well.
In the past, you’ve noted that you were unhappy with the quality of the writing in your first four (Baal, Bethany’s Sin, The Night Boat, and They Thirst), but you’ve recently allowed Subterranean to reissue them. What changed your mind? And were you tempted to indulge in any rewriting?
I was convinced that some readers wanted a complete collection of my work. I was not tempted to indulge in rewriting, because I might have rewritten the entire books. It’s just that I feel like my ability has moved on so far from where I began . . . but I do believe that some readers want to complete their collection of my work, and reading back over those books I find they’re not as poorly written as I recall them to be, so . . . there you go.
Your 1984 novel Usher’s Passing followed up the Usher family created by Edgar Allan Poe, and even briefly included Poe as a character, but the style and many of the novel’s plot points—urban legends, greed—were distinctly your own. How did the idea for that book come about—did it begin as homage?
No, I just had the idea and the curiosity about what had happened to the Usher family over the years. I wanted to complete the family history. That began as every book I write begins . . . as a book I want to read, and I’m going to have to write it to be able to read it.
Your short story “Nightcrawlers” was adapted for the New Twilight Zone in 1985, directed by William Friedkin, and is now generally considered to be that series’ finest episode. Were you pleased with the adaptation?
Yes, Friedkin did a great job. I was very proud of that episode.
Your work is full of memorable characters—Swan in Swan Song, Cory in Boy’s Life, and of course Matthew Corbett in the recent historical detective novels, just to name a few. When you plan a book, do you start with the characters?
No, I start with a basic idea and go from there. Again, it has to be a book I want to read. I don’t work with an outline, so the characters define themselves as the story goes on. The only time I tried to work with an outline I got bo
red and gave the project up because I’d already read the book! It was like the Cliff’s Notes version . . . so I just write on faith that everything will work out, though I do have what I call “signpost scenes” that keep me going in what I believe—or hope—is the right direction.
You’ve published about thirty short stories, many of which were collected in Blue World (1990). Do you enjoy writing short fiction as much as novels?
I do, I just have more ideas for novels than I do for short fiction.
In 1991, you wrote, “The field of horror writing has changed dramatically since the mid-to-late-‘70s. At that time, horror writing was still influenced by the classics of the literature. I don’t find that to be true anymore.” Do you think the genre has changed in the twenty years since you wrote that? Do you still read horror?
As an answer to both questions above, I do still read horror fiction but not as much as I used to, and my comment from 1991 was based on my belief at the time that horror fiction was becoming too gory and sadistic for my taste.
“The Enigmatic Emperors of Crime” is a short article you recently wrote about your affection for villains, including Fu Manchu and Fantômas. Do you read a lot of pulp fiction?
I read a lot of what intrigues me and what I think I will enjoy, but I don’t limit that to one area. My “Enigmatic Emperors of Crime” article basically talked about the power of the villain in all fiction.
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