Writing as “Michael Marshall” he has published a string of international best-selling novels of suspense, including the Straw Men series, Killer Move, We Are Here and The Intruders, the latter adapted into an eight-part mini-series for television by BBC America.
Everything You Need was a recent collection of short stories from Earthling Publications, and forthcoming are a tenth anniversary edition of The Straw Men and his next novel.
“My wife and I have been dropping into Carmel once in a while for nearly twenty years,” Smith explains about the setting for his story ‘The Chain’. “Our first visit was on the vacation when we got engaged—back when there were no mobile phones and you couldn’t Google for restaurant or hotel advice—and we have always enjoyed the experience.
“It’s a lovely little place, of course, with an interesting history and a stunning cove and tons of nice shops and galleries and a unique mishmash of cottages from modernist to Storybook. There’s also a restaurant in town that serves the very best Reuben sandwich I’ve ever encountered (rest assured that I have not stinted in my research over the years, and so this is no idle statement).
“However, the town’s always struck me as… odd, and I know I’m not alone. It’s artificial at some very deep level, too perfect to be true, somehow both the logical extension but also the antithesis of what its arty founding fathers dreamed of. Since I came to live in Santa Cruz—only an hour’s drive north—this impression has been further complicated. I’ve heard from more than one source that any misfit or homeless person who happens to wander into Carmel is quietly encouraged (with the assistance of a bus ticket) to go live in my town instead.
“This alleged practice, like the atmosphere of the town itself, cannot but help make you wonder what lies beneath the surface… and for how long it’s been there.
“And, of course, what happens next.”
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SIMON KURT UNSWORTH was born in Manchester in 1972 on a night when, despite increasingly desperate research, he can find no evidence of mysterious signs or portents. He currently lives on a hill in the north of England awaiting the coming flood, where he writes essentially grumpy fiction (for which pursuit he was nominated for a 2008 World Fantasy Award for Best Short Story), whilst being tall, grouchier than he should be, and owning a wide selection of garish shirts and a rather magnificent leather waistcoat. He has a cheerfully full beard and spends most of his life in need of a haircut.
His collection, Strange Gateways, recently appeared from PS Publishing, following the critically acclaimed Quiet Houses from Dark Continents Publishing (2011) and Lost Places from Ash-Tree Press (2010), which was Peter Tennant from Black Static magazine’s joint favourite collection of the year (along with Angela Slatter’s Sourdough and Other Stories). His fiction has been published in a large number of anthologies including the World Fantasy Award-winning Exotic Gothic 4, Terror Tales of the Cotswolds, Terror Tales of the Seaside, Where the Heart Is, At Ease with the Dead, Shades of Darkness, Exotic Gothic 3, Haunts: Reliquaries of the Dead, Hauntings, Lovecraft Unbound and Year’s Best Fantasy 2013. He has been represented in The Mammoth Book of Best New Horror six times, and he was also in The Very Best of Best New Horror.
The author has a further collection due—the as-yet-unnamed collection that will launch the Spectral Press Spectral Signature Editions imprint. His novel The Devil’s Detective is due out from Doubleday in the US and Del Rey in the UK in early 2015.
You can find him on Twitter or Facebook, or in various cafés in Lancaster staring at his MacBook and muttering to himself.
“I’m not a big Lovecraft fan,” admits Unsworth. “Don’t get me wrong—I like the stories (some a great deal), but his stuff isn’t particularly what I have in my mind when I write. The stories are sometimes stuffy, a little claustrophobic (and not in a good way) and hysterical, despite a certain elemental power that the best of them contain. They’re rarely subtle, and sometimes veer dangerously close to cliché or stereotype.
“Where he comes into his own, I think, is in creating this huge world, and worlds beyond the world, in which we can play. Whether it’s the audio dramatisations of the marvellous H. P. Lovecraft Historical Society or the blood-spattered glories of Stuart Gordon’s Re-animator, there seems to be lots of space to expand on HPL’s original works, and twist and flex the things he wrote about into new and (hopefully) interesting shapes. I’ve done it, sometimes deliberately (as in ‘Into the Water’), and sometimes without really realising it until after, when I suddenly understand that I might not have actually said ‘Hey, this is one of Cthulhu’s children!’ in the text but that’s what I’ve intimated.
“The reason we can do this, that Lovecraft’s stuff lends itself to this kind of expansion is, I think, that his horrors are emphatically external, clamouring from the Outside and trying to get in. And the Outside is huge, unbelievably massive, which means we can put whatever we want into it and it never gets full.
“For an author, that kind of freedom—a framework with unlimited playground space—is too big a thing to ignore. Besides, tentacles and things moving in the abyssal blackness below us and above us and behind us seem like such good things to write about…”
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CONRAD WILLIAMS was born in 1969 and currently lives in Manchester, England, with his wife, three sons and a monster Maine Coon. He is an associate lecturer at Edge Hill University.
He is the author of seven novels (Head Injuries, London Revenant, the International Horror Guild Award-winning The Unblemished, the British Fantasy Award-winning One, Decay Inevitable, Blonde on a Stick and Loss of Separation), four novellas (Nearly People, Game, the British Fantasy Award-winning The Scalding Rooms and Rain) and two collections of short stories (Use Once Then Destroy and Born with Teeth). His debut anthology, Gutshot, was short-listed for both the British Fantasy and World Fantasy Awards.
As the author recalls: “I’d found a hag stone—a pebble with a hole bored through it by the force of water over countless years—a long time ago on a forgotten beach, but the actual story came about after a visit to Alderney last summer.
“I spent three days with my family in Fort Clonque, which has been a Landmark Trust holiday destination since 1966. It was once a naval base guarding against attack from the French and then, in 1940, it was appropriated by Nazi Germany—Hitler thought it strategically valuable—and it was re-fortified and manned in preparation for an invasion of the mainland which, of course, never came.
“The hag stone and the fort were two complementary elements that provided one of those pleasing convergences that sometimes happen for a writer from time to time. Much of what happens in the narrative is true: the outpost mentioned in the story exists, as did the poor hare, reduced to desiccated fibres on the causeway. The unfortunate incident at the beach that takes place while Adrian Stafford is trying to eat his lunch also happened (up to a point).