Ally Malinenko is the author of Ghost Girl and the Bram Stoker Award-nominated This Appearing House (in the inaugural Superior Achievement in a Middle Grade Novel category!), and the co-author of the forthcoming The Other March Sisters. She’ll also be contributing a new short story to Atomic Carnival’s upcoming anthologies.
Let’s get to know her a little better, shall we?
What drew you to writing horror? What was the first horror story you read?
I was a Halloween kid. Most of my friends liked Christmas the best, but for me, I loved all the spooky things. I sometimes wonder if it stems from my mother not allowing me to watch horror movies as a kid but I don’t know. It’s always hard to say if you’re drawn to something because you were denied it or because that’s just who you are.
The first horror story I read was in Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. I don’t remember the title but it was about a man who keeps seeing these two shining eyes at the end of his bed each night. One night he fires at them with a shotgun and it turns out it was the reflection off his toenails. So, yeah, he shot his toe off. I remember thinking that was hilarious.
Do you feel that horror – and “genre” writing more broadly – allow an author to examine difficult subjects more thoroughly than traditional “literary” writing?
Emphatically yes. I don’t know if I know exactly why that is, but I do think that genre – and especially horror – allows for a deep dive into one of the things that makes us human: Our fears. All storytelling is about empathy – you put something into the world in the hopes that someone somewhere will understand and say, yes, I know that feeling. Then there’s a connection. You get a little better at being a human each time it happens. And with horror the empathy is dialed all the way up because it connects with you on such a primal level. People always think I’m crazy when I say that horror and comedy are two sides of the same coin. They both reach deep and elicit a physical reaction. That’s powerful. That’s what genre does.
This Appearing House is very much a book about your cancer diagnosis, and, specifically, the looming threat of illness returning even when you’re NED. Can you speak at all about writing as a mechanism for personal catharsis?
Ah, yes, This Appearing House, the book that wasn’t supposed to be a book. It was something that I thought I was writing just for me – a chronicle or a reckoning if you will, with my diagnosis. But as time went on and as more people read it I started to understand what it was I was trying to do with this book. I wasn’t trying to talk about cancer or even illness. I was trying to talk about trauma, and especially the elasticity of trauma. The way it can snap back on you without warning.
The word “cancer” is only in the manuscript one time. So while it was a personal catharsis – like much of writing is – it was also that connection I was talking about. It was a way for me to say “I got myself trapped in a haunted house that I created and this is how I got out. Do you know how that feels?” And the number of people who do know, who have built their own haunted houses, was amazing. We didn’t share the same reason, per say, but we shared the same experience. That’s the magic of books, though, isn’t it? They remind you you’re not alone.
You wrote: “I don’t write horror to scare kids. I write it to show them how brave they are.” Can you elaborate? Why do you think there’s a boom in middle-grade horror? What drew you to that age range as an author?
I think publishing likes to use the term “spooky” because the idea of saying “horror” when you are talking about books geared towards 8-12 year olds gives folks pause. And I get it. But I still call them horror. And I do that ’cause I respect the kids that look for and want horror. When I say that I’m showing them how brave they are it’s because of that. I respect that they can handle it. I trust them. And it’s a two-way deal because they need to trust me. I am often asked what is “off limits” when writing horror for kids to which I often reply, nothing is off-limits. You can go as dark and as scary as you want. But, and this is the important part, at the end of the day you bring them back to the light. You end with hope. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect or even good, but you always have a little bit of hope at the end.
As for a boom in middle-grade horror, yeah, I think there is. I don’t know why but I hope it’s because the gatekeepers are realizing that the world is scary and that scary books are a place to play out being brave. Kids need that. Middle-grade books for me were the ones that made me fall in love with stories when I was a kid. Horror were my favorite ones. It just made sense to me that middle-grade horror would be my sandbox.
Ghost Girl’s Principal Scratch was clearly influenced by Nick Cave, and there were David Bowie references scattered throughout This Appearing House. Do you listen to music while you write? How much is conscious inspiration and how much comes from just having internalized the songs?
Yes, Principal Scratch is very much influenced by Nick Cave. I had Zee as a character for a long time but it wasn’t until I heard the song “Tupelo” that I found my story. Music is magic, isn’t it? When I’m writing I listen to the classical station in New York City – WQXR. I can’t listen to anything with words. I’m far too easily distracted. But I do make playlists for my books and often listen to them when plotting. I think for me, a lot of it comes from having internalized songs. After books, music is the art form that hits me the hardest. A well-timed lyric against a plucked guitar and I can be reduced to a puddle of tears in an instant. Like I said, music is magic.
Can we talk about the teeth? Where did that come from? And why are teeth so unsettling?
I love that you asked me this ’cause I’m working really hard to make teeth my brand! So the scene in This Appearing House (which is sometimes referred to as that scene, which always makes me laugh) was born out of a conversation I had with a friend about a dream they had in which there were tons of teeth. So I just took it and ran with it. The initial scene was worse than the one in the book. Initially Hazel winds up really choking on the teeth instead of just spitting them out and my editor was like, Ally, can we just dial this back a little? Which I think was the right call. As to why they are so unsettling – that’s easy: It’s the only part of your skeleton you see on a regular basis and when you do you’re forced to consider the bone creature living inside of you. All day. Every day.
Thanks so much for talking with us, Ally! You can find out more about Ally and her books here, and, if you want to read the new short story she’s writing for us, be sure to pre-order our anthologies today!