Interview With Author Jonathan Fortin

I have a real treat today with an interview with author dark fantasy and horror Jonathan Fortin. Enjoy!

Interview With Jonathan Fortin

Why don’t you begin by sharing a little about yourself.

My name is Jonathan Fortin, and I’ve just come out with my first published novel: Lilitu: The Memoirs Of A Succubus. I won HorrorAddicts.net’s Next Great Horror Writer Contest in 2017, attended Clarion Writing Program in 2012, and graduated summa cum laude from San Francisco State University in 2011. I’m a native of the San Francisco Bay Area, California, and love all things dark and Gothic.

Could you tell us a bit about your latest book?

Lilitu: The Memoirs Of A Succubus is a Dark Fantasy novel about a woman in Victorian England who becomes a succubus, and must battle both a devilish new monarchy and her own repressed upbringing. It’s the first chapter in an epic Gothic saga, being published by Crystal Lake Publishing.

How long have you been writing, and how many books have you published to date?

I’ve been writing more or less all my life. I wrote children’s books in elementary school and completed my first (embarrassing) novel trilogy in middle school. Lilitu is my first published novel. I have about a dozen short stories published prior to this, some of which are available as ebooks, such as Requiem in Frost (HorrorAddicts.net) and Nightmarescape (Mocha Memoirs Press).

Do you have a favourite character? If so, why?

I’m very fond of Maraina Blackwood, the protagonist of Lilitu, because she’s extremely dynamic and has a very complicated arc. Maraina is a rebellious young Victorian woman who becomes a succubus in the wake of a demonic uprising, leaving her torn between the teachings of her youth and her desire to survive. Determined to make things right, Maraina seeks to end the demonic rule over England, but learns that doing so will mean seducing one of Hell's most wicked demons—and embracing a side of herself she was always forced to repress. Lilitu chronicles Maraina’s emotional transformation from a frightened Victorian girl into a powerful succubus warrior, hell-bent on overthrowing an empire. Through her, Lilitu fashions a heroine from an archetype long demonized: that of the seductress who takes control of her own sexuality.

What do you enjoy most about writing in the Dark Fantasy genre?

Fantasy and Horror have always been my two favorite genres, and Dark Fantasy combines elements of both—mixing the sprawling scale and magic of fantasy with the dark atmosphere and nihilistic tone of horror. Another thing I like, though, is that fantasy in general usually mixes together many different genres. You’ll probably have at least one epic battle in there, but there may very well also be a romantic sub-plot, ongoing mysteries, and horrifying monsters. My interest is in how these genres combine with each other. A streak of comedy or a compelling love story can do wonders to make you care about the characters because you’re laughing with them, falling in love with them, hoping that they can find happiness against all odds. So when things get dramatic later on, it hits harder. The horror is scarier. The tragedy is sadder. The battles are more emotionally intense.

That said, juggling so many genres is a very tough balancing act. Not only do you have to make sure the tone feels consistent, you also have to successfully pull off every single one of those genres on their own terms. If you have a romantic sub-plot, it can’t be boring. If the reader feels like their time (or the character’s time) is being wasted, it’s no good. Similarly, ongoing mysteries need enough development and seeding that their eventual reveals will carry weight, and not just feel like deus ex machinas. Dark Fantasy can also be particularly tricky to get right because Fantasy often features characters with some form of magical powers, and Horror focuses on disempowering the characters as much as possible. So you really need to make sure that your characters remain helpless and vulnerable no matter what magic they have on their side. So Dark Fantasy is a very tricky genre to do well, which makes it all the more rewarding when an author pulls it off.

Why did you write this book? What was your inspiration?

I wrote Lilitu: The Memoirs Of A Succubus because I was frustrated about the lack of serious succubus fiction out there. I felt that the world needed a book that used succubi and incubi to explore issues of gender/sexuality, a book where they actually had wings and entered dreams and generally possessed the dark mystique that they command in the folklore.

What advice would you give beginning writers?

Be persistent. Making it in this business is mostly about not giving up. You’re going to be rejected a lot, and that’s okay. The first draft is going to be garbage, and that’s okay, too. Workshop what you write with writer friends who you trust to be honest, and accept that it’s better for them to pull it apart now, so that you can fix it. Recognize that even when people complain about some things, there will still be other things in there that are wonderful and amazing—scenes and passages that move you and everyone else. Recognize that in later drafts you may have to cut those things out to fit with the bigger adjustments. Recognize that anytime anyone says “This isn’t good enough,” all it means is, “This isn’t ready yet.” Practice the bafflingly difficult art of self-compassion. Don’t listen to the critic on your shoulder telling you that you suck. Just put in the time to write, suck up your anxiety about showing it to anyone, and tell the stories you dream of telling.

What do you like to do when you're not writing? Any hobbies?

In addition to writing, I am a trained, working voice actor. I’ve been studying at Voicetrax, a school in Sausalito, for the past four years, and have a few small credits under my belt.

Are you working on another book?

Yes, several. I am currently working on the next books in the Lilitu saga, as well as a horror novel with a protagonist who is on the autistic spectrum, and a Lovecraftian epic that is mostly done but needs serious editing. You can follow my endeavours at www.jonathanfortin.com/ or on Twitter @Jonathan_Fortin.

Lilitu: The Memoirs Of A Succubus is available at Amazon

The Bloody Valentine Horror Event: Wedding Day

It's that time of year again, the time to embrace the bad side of love: the rejected lovers, the spurned spouses, and the generally lovelorn. It is a celebration of everything anti-valentine and down with romance. It's time for...

The Bloody Valentine Horror Event!

This is my annual Facebook/Blog Event for everything anti-valentine. This is an open posting extravaganza so anyone can join in on the macabre fun. And today's blog portion is a horror tale of the wedding from Hell...

Wedding Day

Noah remembered the nightmare. The stone room. The monstrous creatures.

The pain.

He remembered screaming.

And now... the soft comfort of his bed.

I’m awake. I’m awake. It’s over.

He lay in his bed, his heart racing, and stared at his bedroom ceiling. He counted the grooves in the cornices and the decorative plaster roses until his breathing eased and the fright subsided. Then he turned his head, and glanced at the window; slivers of the morning sun crept past the half-open drapes. His new wedding attire hung carefully on a rack beside the casement. Ready. Waiting.

I’m getting married today.

He smiled. Becky.

He sat upright, and then climbed out of bed. As his feet touched the ornate rug, pain stabbed into his back and he tumbled to the floor. Agony sliced through his body and he shrieked, his eyes shutting tight. His body spasmed, and then curled into a ball. He felt a cold hand stroking his cheek, and Becky’s voice whispered, “Don’t fight it. Let the pain take you. Let go...”

The words chased him into oblivion.

Noah heard voices.

“Get him up. It’s time.”

“He’s ready?”

“He’s been prepared. Anymore and he might die.”

“You’re right. These humans are so fragile.”

Humans? Who’s talking? What’s happening to me?

Noah didn’t want to open his eyes, but he did.

Fangs, horns and red eyes stared at him. Clawed hands held his limp body upright. His noticed his shirt was missing, and his skin... what he could see of his body was covered in arcane tattoos.

What have they done to me!  

Noah screamed. He thrashed in the strong grip of his captors.

“Hold him still! Pin his arms! We need to deliver him on time!”

Noah fought, but he had no strength. He could not prevent them from dragging him from his cell.

“Please let me wake up,” he mumbled as unconscious darkness claimed him.

Noah heard music. He opened his eyes.

He stood in front of an altar in his wedding suit. Becky walked down the aisle towards him.

It was just a nightmare. I’m getting married. To my sweet, adoring Becky.

He smiled as his bride stopped in front of him. She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

Noah heard a voice say, “Do you take this female to be your wedded wife?”

“I do.” he replied.

“And do you take this male human to be your wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Noah’s heart raced.

“Then I pronounce you bonded in unholy matrimony! One in blood and in fire for eternity!”

Wait that’s not right. Why would he say that? Noah’s hands trembled, his body shook.

Becky stroked his cheek once more. “Shut your eyes, Noah. And remember.”

Noah dutifully closed his eyes.

Pain shuddered through his body.

Becky’s voice commanded, “Open your eyes, Noah!

His eyelids snapped open. The church, the music, the beautiful wedding, disappeared. Replaced by him tied spread-eagled to iron spikes, encircled by fire and monsters.

But Becky, his beautiful Becky, still stood in front of him.

Still dressed in her wedding... the light shifted, her face changed. Became— Noah gasped.

No, no! That’s not Becky! Red skin, horns, fangs... That thing can’t be... but it has her eyes, her beautiful green eyes.

“You can’t be Becky!”

“Oh, but I am. The very one you fell in love with. And married, only moments ago.” The thing that was Becky stepped closer, and stroked his cheek, her claws scratching his skin. “But it is nice to finally show you my true self.” She smiled, her rows of razor-sharp teeth glistening in the firelight. “Hello, husband. Time to kiss the bride.” Noah nearly gagged as she kissed him, her forked tongue flicking down his throat. As she withdrew, the same tongue licked across his lips. Noah shuddered. “No, no, it can’t be.” The whisper resonated in the air, like a mocking chuckle. “We were—this isn’t—the church—our wedding...”

“Sorry, love. All illusions conjured by your mind. You’ve been here for months, my dear."

“Here?”

“Hell, of course. Since the day you asked me to marry you. Or rather asked that human skin I fabricated.” She traced a claw over his tattooed skin. “It takes time to make a human ready.”

“Ready?” Noah’s voice trembled. “Ready for what?”

“To wed a demon.” She smiled, her tongue licking his neck, her claws scraping across his chest. “These symbols bind you to me, bind you to Hell.” She pressed her face next to his; he felt her hot breath wash over his skin. “You are mine, Noah. Our little ritual will bring me great power, and you great pain. Welcome to married life, my love. Welcome to unholy wedded bliss!”
Noah felt something sharp stab into his abdomen, his agony ripping a shriek from his throat. He glanced down to see his wife's claws piercing his body.
"Does that hurt, husband? Too bad, for what wedding would be complete without a feast? Shall we start with your spleen?" She sliced open his stomach and extracted his organ. She took a bite and ate it slowly while he watched. "Very tasty. Perhaps the liver next?"
"Please, please, no!" He moaned, pleading for mercy.
"Shh, shh, Noah." She stroked his cheek and he shied at her touch. "Don't worry, my love. Nothing I do here will kill you. That's what the binding is for. I will eat your insides piece by piece and fill your hollow shell with Hellfire. Then you will be one of us. Won't that be fun?" With a smile, she reached back inside of his abdomen. "Yes, I definitely think the liver, next."

Noah’s unending scream echoed on the trail of her laughter.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 

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The Bloody Valentine Horror Event 

Drabble Wednesday: Exploration

Today, on Drabble Wednesday we go exploring... into space, through dimensions and below the ocean’s surface.

To Boldly Go...

A voice reverberated through the crowd of eager scientists at NASA Mission Control.

“Discovery One has passed out of the solar system. The exploration probe is transmitting. We are receiving video communication. We will soon see what is beyond...” Abruptly the screen filled with static as the probe’s transmission ended.

“Communication is down! I repeat communication is down! We’ve lost Discovery One!”

Outside the solar system, charred pieces of metal, the remains of the ill-fated Discovery One, floated past a black, cylindrical security drone. Just one of millions patrolling the galactic quarantine perimeter of hazardous species 4BZ112~THX, native designation: human.

~*~

Quantum Phenomenon

Curiosity.

A strange, essential human trait, but a dangerous one. At least I’ve found it so, for it led me here to a rather sizable predicament.

I’m a scientist, and you may imagine curiosity is my stock in trade. My field of study is quantum mechanics, and recently I made a breakthrough.

I found a method to generate interdimensional doorways.

Hence my current problem.

It was that last one, you see, the last door I opened. The one that led to Hell. Now I have demons trapped in the closet, and I don’t think the lock will hold much longer.

~*~

Under the Sea

They said I was mad!

They were probably right. I may indeed be quite insane. If my colleagues had been smarter, they would’ve locked me away in some deep hole and thrown away the key.

For, I found it.

Years of painstaking research, of ridicule, laughter, but I located the coordinates. I discovered the position where the city lies beneath the waves. Where He waits dreaming.

But today He shall awake.

I will pierce the black seas of infinity and rouse the beast.

He shall rise and return to this world.

The Old Gods will walk the earth once more.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Undead Things

Today on Drabble Wednesday, come spend a day among the undead...

Fading Memories

A tangerine and cherry red sunset. The clouds seem to dance with the colours. My mother used to say the sky gave us fireworks to welcome the night.

I wonder if I’ll remember her, or sunsets. When it happens. When this me is gone.

I breathe the smell of the dewy grass, and the stink of rotting corpse. You can’t escape that smell anymore.

Damn. Why wasn’t I more careful?

What’s careful anymore? You live until your luck runs out. Like mine did.

I glance at the remains of mutilated zombie, and then at its bite mark on my arm.

~*~

Eulogy

I can still hear the screams.

That’s what happens when you crash your own funeral as a walking corpse. Not that I wanted to attend as the risen undead, or even die for that matter, but I didn’t get a choice. A car accident cut short my life and for the other thing...

Never have an affair with a woman who dabbles in the occult.

Break ups get unnaturally messy.

But I did have the last say, because she screwed up whatever the hell she did.

Now she’s dead with the rest of the funeral party.

She was tasty though.

~*~

Return

The stench of brimstone clings to me. Even inhabiting this corpse I can smell it. In these clothes, the hair, on the skin. I wanted to escape Hell, not bring it with me.

I sigh. Best ignore and keep moving.

I scurry forward, staying to the shadows. I’ve slipped into the body of a woman, that much I know. Someone knifed in an alley, guessing from the blood and where I woke up. At least the wound is healing.

Now I just need to avoid the bounty hunters and kill my back-stabbing husband.

Then we can be in Hell together.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

Drabble Wednesday: Disappeared

Today Drabble Wednesday does a vanishing act…

Ghosts

Have you ever been so afraid that you didn’t want to open your eyes?

That you wanted to stay in the dark?

Because there was nothing you could do to stop what's coming?

Every night since we moved into this house I’ve felt that afraid.

Whenever they came into my room.

They simply appeared at the foot of my bed, mouthing silent words, before vanishing.

The dead ones.

No one believed me. They sent me to doctors. Told me I was hallucinating.

Oh, why didn’t they believe me?

They’ll believe now.

Now that I’m missing.

Now that they’ve taken me.

~*~

Magic

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I mean who wouldn’t want to dabble in magic? Real, honest-to-goodness, change reality magic. And I was good at it. Sure there were a few missteps, but nothing major.

Until that one big mistake.

Just one bad pronunciation, and boom! Mystical backlash and the guy teaching me the spell is dead.

And that wasn’t the worst of it.

Despite everything the spell worked.

Problem is, I can’t turn it off. And the only person who knew how is, well, deceased.

And let me tell you, being invisible gets old quick.

~*~

Hell

What if hell isn’t what we thought?

No fire, no brimstone, no devil.

Torment, yes, but the rest… I don’t think it exists.

I died you see, I’m not sure when, but it’s been a while, and I didn’t go to heaven.

I didn’t expect to go there—I’ve never been a good person—but I didn’t expect this.

Hell is some kind of limbo.

Eternally drifting outside the living world. Watching everything you used to be pass you by. Never touching, never interacting. No one can see or hear you. Ever. It’s a totality of in-between.

An invisible hell.

© A. F. Stewart 2016 All Rights Reserved

You may have notice Drabble Wednesday posted earlier today. That’s because it’s a double act today on the blog, with another #B2BCYCON author feature also posting.

Drabble Wednesday: Echoes

Today on this fine Drabble Wednesday, I spin tales of things lost, but still lingering, of echoes past…

Train Station

Anya saw the little girl sitting alone on the bench. The child seemed out of place, with odd clothes, and a quiet demeanor. The expression etched on the girl’s face stirred sadness in Anya; the child held the weight of a hundred souls under her skin. Anya settled on the bench beside her.

“What’s wrong, little one.”

“You don’t know, do you?”

Anya smiled. “How would I know what’s wrong with you, little one?”

“No. I mean, you. You don’t know you’re dead. A ghost.” The child gave a look filled with countless heartache. “You don't know yet, do you?”

~*~

Normal

People shout at me sometimes. They say, “Sylvie, why can’t you be normal?”

But what’s normal? Bits and bobs, in floating flotsam of happy things and timeless strings. Pull a string and it all unravels. That’s me, unravelling.

I’ve always been a strange creature, not quite right, but it’s really showed lately. Ever since I died and came back. A little heart attack, from a tiny, tiny defect. It all worked out, though. I was revived and fixed. Well, as fixed as they could make me.

You see, even a few minutes in Hell can truly screw with your head.

~*~

  

Shade of War

He kept vigil on the hill, as insubstantial as the morning mist, or a lie whispered on the wind. Beneath his gaze, the modern city sprawled, as had the town before the metropolis, and the village before the town. He had stood his ghostly watch for a very long time.

In his ears, the battle sounds still raged, the cries of the village children still pierced his heart. He still smelled the burning wood, saw flames lick at the houses. He smelled the blood, watched the red stain the ground.

He stayed because his guilt refused to let him leave.

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved

Book Spotlight: Coffin Riders

Today we shine the spotlight on the intriguing fantasy horror novel, Coffin Riders by James W. Bodden. It looks like a great book, and a treat for horror fans, so enjoy...

Coffin Riders by James W. Bodden

The worst part about hell? There aren't enough towels. 

Bloom deep-throats the barrel, and pulls the trigger. He waits for Lorraine to follow him into the afterlife, just like they planned, but she never shows. Death has no payoff. 

He drops down to the underworld, a place called Paradise Cove, an assisted afterlife facility masquerading as a cheap hotel deep in the bowels of the earth. A modern day Dante, Bloom searches desperately for a way out of hell. He journeys through the nine known underworlds in a mad search for his lady love to take the revenge he thinks he is owed.

Death is a spiral: the deeper you go the worse it gets.

You can find Coffin Riders at:

Amazon

Goodreads

Author Bio:

James W. Bodden’s the writer of the Red Light Princess, and Coffin Riders. He lives in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and has hunted UFOs for a late night radio show, and after fresh corpses as a crime beat reporter.