- Interview by Desi D.
- What author do you admire? And explain how they helped you become a better writer.
Ellen Hopkins. I read her books as a preteen, and I will never lose the feeling her stories gave me. The way her verse stripped everything down to raw emotion, the way I could feel every fracture in her characters’ lives, how the words on the page seemed to pulse with their pain and desperation. I wasn’t just reading a story. I was inside it, living it, feeling it in my chest.
That’s what I want for my readers. Every single time I write, my goal is to make them feel what I felt reading Hopkins. Not just entertained or intrigued, but completely consumed. I want them to close the book and still feel the story reverberating through them. Hopkins taught me that the highest achievement in storytelling isn’t a clever plot or a shocking twist. It’s making someone feel something so deeply they carry it with them long after the last page.
- What is it about horror and thrillers that fascinate you? How do they influence your writing?
I’m fascinated by human nature, and horror and thrillers strip us down to our rawest selves. They reveal who we really are when we’re terrified, desperate, cornered. But honestly? I also just love scary shit. I love that tingle you get, the way your breath catches at the height of the story, when the tension is so tight you feel like you can’t breathe.
That’s the feeling I chase in my writing, and I’m not afraid to go dark and gory to get there. The visceral, physical horror amplifies that emotional intensity. I want my readers to experience that full-body reaction, that moment where the story has such a grip on them that their body responds. Horror gives me permission to push readers to that edge, to make them squirm, to make them feel in the most primal way. It’s not just about shocking people. It’s about using that raw, unflinching darkness to create a connection where story becomes experience.
- What is your favorite story? And why?
It’s a story my grandma told me as a child about the one-eyed boogeyman. The details changed a little each time, but no matter how many times she told it, we (my sister and cousins) would jump and scream at the scary bits.
I think it’s my favorite because it’s a fond memory, but also because it made scary stories fun for me. It taught me that fear and joy can exist in the same moment, that being scared can be thrilling instead of traumatic. My grandma showed me that storytelling is about connection, about gathering people together and making them feel something powerful.
- What about the art of storytelling excites you? And of course, what is the next story we can look forward to reading from you?
I love writing feelings. When I get a dialogue exchange just right and it hits, there’s nothing better. I love creating the unexpected, those moments where readers think they know what’s coming and then I pull the rug out from under them.
What excites me most about storytelling is that power to manipulate emotion through the smallest details. A single line of dialogue can make someone’s stomach drop. An unexpected choice by a character can reframe everything they thought they understood.
Right now I’m working on something that’s my personal challenge to make as creepy as possible. I want readers to feel like something’s crawling under their skin. I want them unsettled in a way they can’t quite name.
Bonus question: What is it about the gray areas of life that fascinate you? How does this seep into your writing and your characters?
I love morally gray characters. People who do terrible things for understandable reasons. What fascinates me is how they make you question your own morals. You believe murder is wrong, but suddenly you’re cheering them on. You’re conflicted, caught between what you know is right and what you feel is justified.
That’s the gray area I live in as a writer. My characters aren’t monsters for the sake of being monsters. They’re people pushed to extremes, making choices that should horrify you but somehow don’t. Or they do horrify you, but you understand why they made them anyway. That conflict, that discomfort readers feel when they realize they’re rooting for someone doing something unforgivable, that’s where the real horror lives. It’s not just about the gore or the scares. It’s about holding up a mirror and making readers see the darkness they’re capable of sympathizing with.
Denver Horror Collective 