Does the R stand for “Rocker”?
Perhaps at one point it did? I think it probably stands for “Raunch” now. That, or “Random”, because I feel both these days. Randomly raunchy? Yup. Oh wait, no, neither. It stands for “Really Tired All the Time Because Toddlers”.
Dogs or cats?
Man! The hardball questions right outta the gate! Lessee. I’m gonna go with neither. As mentioned, I’ve got two kids ages 4 and 2 and the idea of cleaning up the feces of a third thing, and one not directly related to me, or even my species, is just… just no. No. Also (and I don’t know if they have this in the US) here we are required by law and, I dunno, civic duty or something, to pick up the dog’s waste while out on walkies. With the little plastic bag on your hand, sure, but friends. Friends, that’s still warm canine dookie you’re wrapping your digits around, and I am not down with that. I guess if this writing thing begins to ever pay and we end up living on a ranch, I might think about having a dog. That way it can run around in the woods and poop where it likes, as the Elder Things (and Nature!) intended. Ditto for the cat.
Hoooo, I tend to wander all over the board for this one. But one phrase I’ve become recently enamored of is “Go die in a fire” or “Die in a fire”. My wife introduced it to me, and it’s just really special. Succinct, punchy. It’s got a nice element of horrible torture in it, and the possibility of surviving it (by having someone put out said fire) is introduced, kinda? But also removed. Hope is offered, between the lines, and then taken away. Which I like. It’s certainly not a general purpose insult, but we’re using it more and more.
What’s the most annoying thing you encounter when people found out you’re a Canadian?
Oh, we’re not allowed to be annoyed up here. I do nod my head and put on a thin-lipped smile when I get the “say, do you know Dave Whatsisface from Canada?”
What do you think the role of genre is in fiction?
Y’know, genre is a basic template. It’s a skeleton. Writers get to slap wads of flesh on the thing, and make it live and move and, hopefully, breathe. I think (and this is just my take, personally) that if your genre piece comes outta the other end of that process just looking like a fleshy skeleton, then you’ve done it wrong. Or wrongish. Because then all you’ve done is, like, a facial reconstruction? When it comes to the horror genre, or weird fiction specifically, I think it should be difficult to tell what the bones of the thing are.
If you could be any kind of monster, what kind would you be?
Oh, I think anything that could fold in and out of dimensions would be just super-keen! Go anywhere. Live in the walls. The FX budget would be a killer, though. So, I guess a Dimensional Shambler? You could call me “Shambles: The Intersectional Man”! I wouldn’t fight crime, though. So don’t ask me to.
What’s the grossest Lovecraftian sex scene you’ve ever read? Have you ever written a really gross Lovecraftian sex scene?
Well, I did help Justine Geoffrey put together and edit the climactic chapter in her first BLACKSTONE Erotica book, Red Monolith Frenzy, in which a small eastern European town’s worth of rabid sex-mutants, at the urging of their high priestess and under the influence of a dread worm-deity straight outta Robert E. Howard, merge into a vast pulsating column of flesh before disappearing into a vagina-portal. Not your momma’s orgy, lemme tell ya. The weird thing is, it turns out that kind of scene is actually hot? I mean, after a fashion. I think we’re going to see a lot of much weirder stuff in the coming years, as transhumanism becomes the norm. Come, Armageddon! Come!
You told me you sculpt a bust of Cthulhu about once a year? Have you ever thought about doing one where Cthulhu has a sign that says “R’lyeh or bust!”?
I HAVE NOW.
But can I put it on a t-shirt for the Big C to wear, instead? I can? YAY! Thanks Sean!
Would you ever go full Alan Moore and live in the middle of nowhere and grow a huge beard, and generally look like a crazy homeless man?
I thought he lived in Highbury. There was that album he did up as a séance. Or Northampton? Anyway, smack dab in the middle of Old England. Is that Nowhere? Maybe? Anyway, no to the nowhere and yes to the beard, though I doubt it will ever get to epic proportions on my face because a) the wife wouldn’t allow it and b) I have, I dunno, a depletion in testosterone or something that makes it ridiculously hard to grow facial hair (what I have now took me literally months to build and it is scraggly as eff, son!) and maybe to the crazy homeless man thing, on all three counts. Crazy is as crazy does, for one thing, and I’ve always felt kinda homeless everywhere I’ve lived for another, and if I perform the rituals correctly, I may not be A MAN at all by the time I kick it, so… SUCK IT, MOORE! #THUGWIZBIZ4LIFE
If using a stapler is stapling, why is putting a paper clip on something not called paper-clipping? Or is it?
It is in Canada. But only because we’re so progressive and right-thinking.
Follow up, if you have a a paper clip in your pocket, would it make sense to say you had a “full clip”?
Ummm… is this question to do with the NRA, or the like? I’ve only ever fired a gun once, at a shooting range in Las Vegas. It was weird and uncomfortable, and not at all like playing Halo. Horrible way to end the honeymoon, too.
You ever had a root canal?
I seem to recall some kind of dental work in the deep past. But I was seriously drugged. Surgery is always disturbing.
You ever had a route on a canal?
Paper route? Mail route? I guess you could ask me again in a couple months, as I live around major waterways and tributaries and I’ve just started a day-job with Canada Post as a new-fangled “Delivery Agent”. I can now go postal and have an excuse!
What do you think of root vegetables?
I don’t think of them at all. They certainly don’t think of me, so.
You ever gotten really lost before?
Oh, sure! We have this coming-of-age thing in Canada where they just leave kids on the tundra, blindfolded, with a Trapper Nelson packed full of bannock, pemmican, and a beat-up Walkman with the greatest hits of The Guess Who on tape. Took me five months, but I returned to my village a man. I think it’s the same thing in Alaska, but I don’t know, maybe ask Laird Barron about the American version. Seriously, though, yes. Yes, I’ve spent one-too-many nights in the woods. Never again, it’s super-gross and distressing.
Who do you think would win in a fight, Ramsey Campbell, or Clive Barker?
You’re not asking for details for this, so I’ll just say Ramsey Campbell. I think he’s just more robust. And I’m not just saying that because Ramsey liked that story of mine that one time very recently.
Favorite type of pie?
Key Lime. No contest.
Got any plugs to plug, then plug ‘em?!
Oh yeah?! Why I oughta… I’ll plug you! (Oh wait, you mean promo stuff…) Well, I’m fairly proud of the work we’ve done at Martian Migraine Press with our 2015 anthology, RESONATOR: New Lovecraftian Tales From Beyond (available direct from MMP in both electronic and RealBook™ formats, or on order from most fine retailers) and of course I’d be remiss if I didn’t direct your readers to my own auto-ethnographical work of Cthulhu Mythos-based spirituality/self-help, When The Stars Are Right: Towards An Authentic R’lyehian Spirituality. I won’t stop with that biz until there are at least 23 Cthulhusattva’s walkin’ around out there. Kinda like the Hebrew’s 36 Tzadikim but y’know, with more eldritch chutzpah! We could all use a little more #KeepingItRlyeh in our lives, anyway. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Thanks, Sean!