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Halloween Haunts 2013: Stoker Spotlight on L.L. Soares

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Soares_cover_LifeRageL.L. Soares is the recipient of the Bram Stoker Award® for Superior Achievement in a First Novel for Life Rage.

1. How would you describe Life Rage?

Life Rage is, at its core, the story of psychologist who specializes in anger management, who learns that he himself is a rage demon that feeds on anger.  But it is also about so much more than that. There are several main characters, whose lives eventually interconnect, some human, some possibly demonic.

2. Tell us about what inspired you to write Life Rage.

I remember I came up with the title first. At the time I wrote it (late 1990s) the phrase “road rage” had suddenly started popping up and was becoming part of our language. And that wasn’t all, there were plenty of other “rages” – there seemed to be one for just about anything. On one level, I thought it was a cop-out to make excuses for bad behavior by putting a “rage” in its name. On another level, I found the whole thing very interesting. Where was all this rage coming from? And what if someone had all of the various kinds of rage at the same time, and was enraged just to be alive?

3. What most attracts you to writing dark fiction?

Horror, and dark fiction of all kinds, has always appealed to me. I’m not sure why. It’s a basic part of my makeup to be attracted to these things. Perhaps I was born with a gene that drew me to dark and horrific things. But the darkness has always drawn me in.

4. What are you writing now?

I have written a few short stories over the years that take place in a fictional city called Blue Clay, Massachusetts, and I am about half-way through a novel that also takes place there, and which ties up all of the little clues and tidbits of mythology that have been popping up in the stories. However, the novel is completely self-contained. It’s called Buried in Blue Clay.

I have also recently finished edits on two other novels, one is called HARD and will be coming out around Halloween time this year, and the other is called BINGE.

Soares_cover_Hard 5. What advice would you share with new horror writers? What do you think are the biggest challenges they face?

It’s just so hard to get published when you’re starting out, especially novels. My main advice would be to stick with it. I finished writing Life Rage in 2000 and sent it several places. It got a couple of rejections and also got some interest from places that have since folded, and thus could not put the book out. When Nightscape Press finally accepted it and put it out, it was incredibly gratifying, but it had taken me 13 years to reach that point! When it won the Stoker, that just made it all the sweeter. But if I had given up, none of it would have happened. A writer has to have a thick skin and incredible endurance. No one is going to make it easy for you. You have to write because you have to, because you have no choice, and you have to keep at it.

Also, read outside the genre as much as possible. Just because you write horror doesn’t mean that’s the only thing you can read. The wider the net you put out there, the more chances you have to be subjected to things and ideas you never would have discovered otherwise.

6. Name three of your favorite horror stories.

By stories, I’m guessing you mean both short stories and novels?  Three of my favorites would be:

  1. The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson. Jackson was just a wonderful writer, and anyone who stopped reading her after coming upon The Lottery in school has cheated themselves of one of the greats. Her novels were especially terrific. We Have Always Lived in the Castle is probably equally good. Jackson is one of the best writers of quiet horror we’ve ever had.
  2. The Girl Next Door by Jack Ketchum. On the other end of the spectrum, Ketchum’s book is brutal and disturbing and pushes the reader to the limits emotionally. When I read it, I had never come across a book that made me feel so strongly before, and I think that’s a rare accomplishment.
  3. Our Lady of Darkness by Fritz Leiber. I was a huge fan of Leiber’s and even corresponded with him briefly when I was in high school. Our Lady of Darkness was his last horror novel, and it’s a pretty powerful piece of atmospheric dread. Each time I re-read it, I love it more. Leiber was one of those few writers who made a name for himself in several fields- science fiction, fantasy and horror –with very different kinds of stories. While I like most of his output, it’s the horror stuff I like best.

If you literally mean “stories” as in short stories, three of my favorites would be:

  • The Events at Poroth Farm by T.E.D. Klein
  • The Girl with the Hungry Eyes by Fritz Leiber
  • The Deathbird by Harlan Ellison

 7. What’s your favorite Halloween memory or tradition?

I used to draw my own comic books in grammar school, and one of the superheroes I created was an alien called Lago, who had various powers. One year, my mother sewed me a costume so I could be Lago. It was very funny in retrospect, because obviously no one knew who I was supposed to be. It was a character I created, one that only I knew about. So people would ask “What are you supposed to be, some kind of ghost?” And I remember getting angry and saying “I’m Lago!” like they were supposed to know who that was. Looking back, that was one of my favorite Halloweens as a kid.

 Soares_cover_RockRoll8. Given a choice, trick? Or treat?

Probably treat. There are already way too many tricks in the world already.

L.L. SOARES is the Bram Stoker Award-winning author of the novel Life Rage, which was published by Nightscape Books in the fall of 2012. His other books include the short story collection In Sickness (with Laura Cooney), published by Skullvines Press in 2010, and the novels Rock ‘N’ Roll (from Gallows Press, early 2013) and the upcoming novel Hard, to be published by Novello-Blue in the fall of 2013.

His fiction has appeared in such magazines as Cemetery Dance, Horror Garage, Bare Bone, Shroud, and Gothic.Net, as well as the anthologies The Best of Horrorfind 2, Zippered Flesh: Tales of Body Enhancements Gone Bad! Volumes 1 & 2 and Traps. He also co-writes the Bram Stoker-nominated horror movie review column Cinema Knife Fight, which has a whole site built around it at cinemaknifefight.com.

To keep up on his endeavors, go to www.llsoares.com.

Read an excerpt from Life Rage by L.L. Soares:

Chapter One

Back when she was fourteen years old, Colleen used to carve words into her arms with razor blades.

Funny she should think about that now, riding the subway.

It wasn’t something she did all the time, but it occurred often enough for her mother to get very concerned and make her see a psychiatrist. An odd, mostly emotionless woman with her hair tied in a severe bun behind her head.

Colleen had tried to make it very clear that she was not suicidal. That the razor was her way of dealing with being alive. It wasn’t always clear what she was feeling, or what she was trying to say, and the razor helped her to focus sometimes.

The psychiatrist had promptly put her on anti-depressant drugs, and urged her to express what she was feeling.

Colleen decided she would rather not talk, and the sessions consisted of hours of silence. Her mother did not seem to mind that she was wasting her money. Colleen had stopped cutting herself. She eventually stopped going to the psychiatrist’s office and stopped taking the drugs.

That was because Colleen had found boys. They focused her in ways that the razor just couldn’t compete with.

But that didn’t mean that sometimes she didn’t miss the feel of the razor cutting into her flesh. Spelling out feelings she just couldn’t articulate.

Maybe I’ll take this stop, she wondered as the train slowed down. Then again, maybe not. I have a lot of time to kill.

On the days when she didn’t sleep late, she often rode the subway for hours at a time. Today, she wasn’t sure if there was anywhere she really wanted to go. But she didn’t want to spend time in her claustrophobic apartment, either.

Maybe I should look for a job, she thought. Areal job.

But she knew she wouldn’t. Not today, at least. She wondered if she would ever get motivated enough to try. How much longer would she just scrape along?

She thought about the man who had been staring at her earlier, on that other train. He was attractive enough, but something about the way he looked at her scared her. In different circumstances, she might have tried to talk to him, and see where things led.

Then again, maybe not. She did follow her instincts after all. That’s how she was able to survive this long. By her wits.

She felt a tickle at the back of her throat. She hoped she wouldn’t start coughing again.

Maybe I should quit smoking, she thought.

*  *  *

“Calm down,” Sam found himself shouting.

Richard Croix was standing up now, waving his arms, and shouting as well. In fact, he had started it all. His anger filled the room, and Sam was afraid that Carla would call the police this time. But he’d told her not to do that, ever. He could handle it.

“Sit down!” Sam said, getting up from his own chair.

“The fucking asshole,” Croix was saying. “He just sat there in his car, grinning at me, like it was some kind of a fucking joke.  He sped away before I could pull him out of his car and tear his fucking head right off.”

“Richard,” Sam said, loud enough to get through to him, but trying to stay calm. “Richard, get a hold of yourself.”

Croix was practically foaming at the mouth. He wasn’t just telling the story, he was clearly reliving it, as angry now as when the incident originally occurred.

“Smirking at me, like some fucking retard, daring me to do something!  I wanted to just rip his car door off and cut him in half with it.”

Sam put his hands on Richard Croix’s shoulders, like some kind of healing priest, and stared right into Croix’s eyes. Trying to take control of the situation, trying to exert some kind of dominance over Croix’s anger. Something a lot like electricity tingled in Sam’s hands and arms. It traveled. He could feel it in the back of his neck, and then reaching the circumference of his skull.

“Sit down,” Sam said, quietly. “Sit down and get a hold of yourself. It’s over now. It’s not happening anymore. It’s all in the past.”

Croix stopped shouting. The silence happened so quickly that Sam swore he could hear a faint hiss and crackle of electricity in the air around them, in place of the shouting. Filling the void.

“You’re losing it, Richard,” Sam said. “You’re letting it run away with you. Don’t let that happen. Don’t let it control you. Control it. You’re the master here.”

He pressed down on Croix’s shoulders, and the larger man did not resist as he dropped back into his seat, staring up into Sam’s eyes.

“That’s better,” Sam said. “You’re yourself again.”

“I was shouting again,” Croix said after a few minutes.

“Yes, you were,” Sam said. “And I had to stop you.”

“Thank you,” Croix said softly, noticeably shamed by this news. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s over now, Richard. You’re back in control again.”

“It’s just that the whole thing got me so angry.”

“And isn’t that why you’re here, Richard?  The anger?  You can’t let go of the anger, even days after it’s ignited. You can’t break its hold on you. Even talking about it makes you lose control.”

“I’m sorry,” Croix said, fumbling for words. He seemed so helpless, so child-like now. So unlike the roaring Vesuvius of a man who had just been shouting at the top of his lungs. “I can’t help myself.”

“No, you can’t. Not yet. But you will, Richard. That’s why you’re here. That’s why I’m here. To help you.”

“Help me,” Croix said, not so much pleading as repeating Sam’s words. His head wasn’t clear enough yet to plead.

“You’ve come to the right place, Richard. You know you have. This is my specialty, after all. I am a rage specialist.”

“It was so real,” Croix said. “Just telling you what happened, made it so real again.”

“Sounds to me like it was lucky that guy drove away before you could reach him. Who knows what you would have done if you had gotten your hands on him.”

“I would have killed him,” Croix said, softly but confidently. There was no question in it.

“Yes, you probably would have. I find it remarkable that you haven’t killed anyone yet, Richard. It’s amazing that you have any control at all.”

“It wasn’t always this bad,” Croix said, then thought about it. “But it’s always been bad. I don’t know how I haven’t killed anyone, either. I came close a few times.”

“I bet you have,” Sam said.

“Are you going to prescribe something for me?” Croix asked. “Like the other doctors?”

“No, Richard. That’s why you came to me. Because you need a different kind of treatment. Drugs don’t change anything, they just mask the anger. The behavior. And that doesn’t solve anything. You came to me because you really wanted to change. You wanted to alter your behavior.”

“The drugs I’ve taken before, they affected me badly. Made it hard to think. I couldn’t do my job right.”

“I know. You’ve had bad side effects from all of the medications you’ve been prescribed. That’s why I can help you. There will be no medication in this therapy.”

Croix looked at him, holding his hands out. He didn’t even realize he was doing it. “I’ve been like this for so long. I almost can’t imagine it any other way.”

“I know,” Sam told him. “But don’t lose hope.”

Richard Croix sat there, quietly, seeming lost and alone.

Sam Wayne glanced at his watch and then looked into Croix’s eyes. And smiled.

“Our session is done for today,” he said. “I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

Croix got to his feet. For a moment, he almost stumbled, as if the act of getting up had made him light-headed. A sudden light-headedness almost overcoming him.

“Tomorrow is fine,” Croix said. “If you can fit me in.”

“I insist on it,” Sam said. “Tomorrow, same time. I look forward to seeing you again, Richard.”

“Thank you,” Croix said, and left the room.

Sam watched the door close. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead.

The air in the room was oppressive. He found he was having a hard time breathing.

What the fuck am I doing here?  Sam wondered.

And then, as if in answer, an adrenaline rush washed over him. It was then that he felt the most alive. He felt like he could do anything, heal anyone. This sensation filled up something inside him that remained empty most of the time. Unfortunately, he knew this quickening would be fleeting. It never lasted long enough, and always left him wanting more.

 

8 comments on “Halloween Haunts 2013: Stoker Spotlight on L.L. Soares

  1. Pingback: New Interview up at the HWA Halloween Haunts Site | L.L. Soares

  2. Excellent interview and questions. WE HAVE ALWAYS LIVED IN THE CASTLE is one of my favorite stories. Great novel excerpt, too.

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