Bark at the Moonsick, an interview with Tom O’Donnell

Zombies are overdone. Let’s be honest. They’re slow, they’re groany, and frankly, their pandemic etiquette is terrible.

But werewolves? What if getting bitten by a werewolf wasn’t a ticket to a cool secret club, but just…a really bad Tuesday? Like, a contagious, really bad Tuesday.

His book Moonsick asks the hard questions we all faced in 2020, but with more fur. Do you hoard silver bullets? Is there a black market for flea medication? And how do the rich still manage to make everything worse?

Read on if you’ve ever looked at your dog and thought, “Hmm, what’s in that rabies shot?”

Bark at the Moonsick, an interview with Tom O’Donnell

The premise of a werewolf virus really strikes me. It seems like a brilliant, twisted lens through which to examine the fear of the “other” and societal responses to a contagion. Was this parallel to our recent pandemic a starting point for you, or something that emerged as you were writing?

Strangely enough, I actually had the germ of the idea before the pandemic came about. I was thinking of how many zombie apocalypses there are in popular culture but how lycanthropy is totally perfect for an epidemic. It’s literally a disease that’s passed by a bite, like malaria or the bubonic plague. 

This led me, naturally, into considering the differences between zombies and werewolves. In zombie movies, nobody has moral qualms in blowing away a hundred walking dead. We all know they’re soulless abominations with no humanity left. 

Werewolves, on the other hand, are not soulless. On any other night than the full moon, they are just regular people. It was interesting to consider what the morality of killing monsters like that might be?

Then, of course, the pandemic happened, and that experience fundamentally reshaped how I imagined this whole werewolf pandemic. Mainly, I began to conceive of it as something totally crazy that everyone had somehow already gotten used to. 

Your protagonist, Heidi, begins in a world of privilege. Can you discuss crafting her arc from a sheltered existence into the “underbelly of a post-pandemic society”? What was the most challenging part of making that journey feel authentic?

In Moonsick ,as in the real world, the rich are far more insulated from the effects of global pandemics and other disasters than the rest of us. I wanted the main character to start from a place of privilege and (hopefully) understandable naivete. Her status as a member of the social class least affected by this pandemic makes her a good stand-in for the audience, so we sort of get to take the journey along with her from a world we might recognize to one of desperation and horror. 

The tagline is, “She’ll learn that not all monsters have fangs.” So, who are the real monsters in the world of Moonsick? Is it the infected who are hunted, the system that hunts them, or something else entirely?

In the world of Moonsick a somewhat monstrous police state has arisen as a response to the lycanthropy pandemic. The rich and powerful display what you might call a monstrous indifference to the plight of those infected with the disease. And, indeed, Heidi does encounter some monstrous individuals who would use the suffering of others to their own advantage. As in many monstrous tales: perhaps man is the real monster.  

How did you balance writing a propulsive, fun YA horror novel with delivering a thematic punch? Was that a tricky tightrope to walk?

I always try to write something I would want to read and I tend to gravitate toward fast-paced genre stuff. That’s just my sweet spot. I definitely some social commentary that I wanted to inject but I knew that first and foremost the book had to succeed as a horror story. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the “underbelly of a post-pandemic society” that Heidi stumbles into. So, what does that society actually look like in practice? I’m curious about the logistics. Is there a black market for the suppressant drugs? A network of safe houses? How did you build the rules and economy of this hidden world to feel lived-in and desperate, rather than just a plot device?

Without giving too much away, there are indeed black markets and safe houses. I very much tried to take the central far-fetched conceit—there is a communicable disease that turns you into a monster—and treat it as realistically as possible. The book definitely deals with over-policing, misinformation, the surveillance state and other dystopian aspects of our current reality. 

Heidi’s journey forces her to make some brutal choices. At first, I thought her primary struggle would be physical survival, but I’ve since realised it’s more about moral survival. Was there a specific decision she made in the book that you, as the author, found particularly difficult to write? One where there was no “good” option, only varying degrees of compromise, and how did that moment redefine who she is?

In the world of Moonsick there is (officially) no known cure for Rabies lupinovirus. Anyone who gets infected effectively has two options: lifetime imprisonment or getting shot with a silver bullet. Without giving too much away, this is the impossible position some characters find themselves in and the story completely grows from that no-win situation. 

The werewolf transformation is such a classic metaphor for puberty or loss of control, but in a “virus” context, it feels more like the body being weaponised itself. How did you approach writing the physicality of the change, not just the pain, but the terror and the alienation from one’s own skin? And does that tie into the larger idea of people being punished or hunted for something they literally caught, like a disease?

I wanted to honor the spirit of the werewolf with this book. If I may editorialize, in my opinion lycanthropy is too often treated like a super-power rather than a curse. To me, a good werewolf is a monstrous creature, so I tried to create a visceral transformation that showcased the disgust and the horror of one’s own body betraying them. The “infected” are (wrongly) loathed and dehumanized in the world of the book.

The werewolf genre is so well-trodden, from Teen Wolf to Hemlock Grove. What did you feel was the one “unturned stone” or fresh angle you absolutely wanted to bring to the lore with this book?

I think my claim innovation might be taking lycanthropy to its logical conclusion. If all werewolves have to do to make another werewolf is bite somebody, how come there aren’t a zillion werewolves?

OK, cool, there are.

You’ve written comedy for places like McSweeney’s and are now publishing a YA horror novel with flourishes of Wes Craven. That’s a fantastic shift. How does your background in comedy influence how you build tension or approach dark themes? Are the two genres closer than they seem?

There is truly no art that I enjoy that has no sense of humor. To me it’s just an ingredient, like salt or pepper, that you can sprinkle in as needed. It’s easy to overdo it, but just the right amount can really enhance almost any story by breaking up the tension and providing another point of interest to your writing. 

I saw on your website that you have a script being turned into a movie. Congratulations, by the way! How does your process for writing a novel differ from writing a script? Does thinking cinematically, like with The Purge or Scream, affect how you structure your chapters and scenes?

I love moves and I do tend to think and write very cinematically. Screenwriting is necessarily very efficient. A hundred-page screenplay is only using 20,000 or so words to tell a fully complete story, with a beginning, middle, and end. I try to keep things moving in my books and ideally keep in mind Elmore Leonard’s tenth rule for good writing: “Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip.”

You also have a comedic RPG-inspired series. That seems to come from a completely different part of your brain than Moonsick. Do you find that working across vastly different genres and audiences helps keep your creativity fresh, or does it present a unique kind of challenge?

I’ve written lots of different things in my career—TV, movies, political humor, middle-grade books, comics. Working in different genres and in different media is a great way to keep your brain limber and explore new ideas. My only rubric for what I choose to work on is that I always try to write something I would like to read. 

Without any spoilers, the ending of Moonsick has left some readers speculating about a sequel. Did you always envision this as a potential series, or did you want to leave Heidi’s future somewhat open to interpretation?

Moonsick provides a totally satisfying conclusion but leave open the possibility of continuing the story. I have tons of ideas for another book in the series. Fingers crossed I get the chance to write one.

Now that you’ve explored a horror-tinged pandemic narrative, are there other “societal fears” or genres you’re itching to tackle in your next project?

My next project is another YA horror book that mashes up a detective story with historically grounded medieval necromancy. I’m so pumped about it!

Moonsick by Tom O’Donnell

28 Days Later for werewolf lovers in this pacey, pulse-pounding YA horror debut!

High school senior Heidi Mills seems to have it all. A popular (albeit conceited) boyfriend, loving (wealthy) parents, and an acceptance letter to Harvard (well, almost). With her parents away for a long weekend, she’s about to host the party to end all parties. She just has to ride out the full moon first, which should be simple with her home’s state-of-the-art lockdown system.

But when two intruders show up to loot what they think will be an empty house, Heidi’s pampered life is shattered – because they’re not the only ones who get in.

One bite is all it takes for Heidi to be thrown into a terrifying new reality: the brutal world of the lupino virus that the privileged never see. Accompanied by the alluring boy who broke into her home, she embarks on a desperate race against the clock to find a cure before the next full moon. But in a post-pandemic society where survival is everything, the most dangerous monsters don’t always have claws…

Tom O’Donnell

Tom O’Donnell is the author of the Hamstersaurus Rex series as well as Space Rocks and its sequel, Space Rocks 2: For the Love of Gelo! He has written for the New Yorker, McSweeney’s, and the show TripTank on Comedy Central. His comic strips have been featured in the New York Press and the Village Voice. He lives with his family in Brooklyn, New York. Read more at www.tomisokay.com.

Interviews on Ginger Nuts of Horror

If you’re a fan of horror literature and cinema, then you absolutely need to check out the horror interview section of Ginger Nuts of Horror.

Firstly, the interviews feature a diverse range of authors, filmmakers, and horror enthusiasts, allowing readers to gain a multifaceted understanding of the genre. Each interview is an opportunity to explore the creative processes, inspirations, and personal stories behind the minds that produce some of the most chilling and thought-provoking works in horror today. From seasoned veterans to up-and-coming talents, the variety of voices ensures that readers can find something that resonates with them.

Moreover, these interviews often delve into the nuances of what makes horror such a compelling genre. Contributors share their thoughts on the psychological aspects of fear, the societal influences on horror trends, and the ways in which horror reflects cultural anxieties. This deeper exploration not only enriches one’s appreciation for horror stories but also fosters discussions about broader themes, such as identity, morality, and existential dread.

The interviews frequently touch on practical advice and industry insights. Writers and creators often share the hurdles they faced in their careers, tips for aspiring horror writers, and the realities of getting published or produced. This wealth of knowledge is invaluable for anyone looking to navigate the sometimes challenging waters of the horror genre. Readers interested in breaking into horror writing or filmmaking will find a treasure trove of wisdom that could pave their path toward success.

Lastly, the community aspect of Ginger Nuts of Horror cannot be overlooked. Engaging with these interviews allows readers to feel connected to a larger community of horror enthusiasts. Comment sections and social media interactions often follow, enabling fans to discuss their thoughts and engage with both the interviewees and fellow readers.

In conclusion, the horror interview section of Ginger Nuts of Horror is an essential resource for anyone interested in the genre. It provides rich insights, guidance, and inspiration that can deepen one’s appreciation for horror while fostering a vibrant community among fans and creators alike. Don’t miss out on the chance to delve into the minds of your favorite horror creators!