By Jim Mcleod 
From the Driver’s Seat to the Drawing Board: The Everyday Horrors and Hopeful Monsters of Candy Corn Comics Mark Glover
Let’s start at the very beginning. For our readers, please introduce yourself. Beyond the author bio, tell us a little about who you are when you’re not writing, what you love doing, what fascinates you, and what fuels your creativity.
Well, I have a wife, a kid, and a yappy little dog. My job-job is driving a bus, and I spend so much time on Candy Corn Comics that I’m beginning to use the company as a personal pronoun. So I guess fueling my creativity these days is usually catch-as-catch-can.
Lonely places intrigue me, and I seem to find a lot of them when I’m on the road. “Murder barns,” dead churches… I dig new homes when they are just frame-up skeletons with dull little work lights for hearts. I like dirt roads that seem to have forgotten where they are going. These going-nowhere roads are a consistent reminder of what the company(I) is(am) trying to do, and sometimes they show up in our pages.
On the other end of the spectrum, I/me/Candy Corn Comics love(s) the goofy, outrageous, and irreverent. I know it doesn’t seem to fit all the lonely stuff I was just talking about, but it shows up and demands my attention. A year ago, I was super busy trying to get an issue finished, so I hadn’t played with the dog is several days and the dog wasn’t having it.
I was up on the bed with a laptop when I felt paw, paw paw on my arm (the dog trying to get me to play). I said, “Go away Sugar. I’m busy.” Paw, paw paw. “Go away,” I said again. Then there was this weird stillness, like when you are watching a movie and you can tell something bad is happening off camera. So I turned to find the dog taking a shit right next to me. If you put all of this together and then add maybe a werewolf, you pretty much have Candy Corn Comics.
In the early stages of a new project, what tends to come to you first: a compelling character voice, a central thematic question, or a vivid image/scenario? How does that initial spark then guide you in building the rest of the story?
Honestly, it’s a title. I know I am supposed to say character, or social issues… And sometimes there is something like a werewolf pooping on the comforter that gets things going. But if I get a title that causes a strong emotional reaction, I can usually see it right down to its socks.
Every book has its own unique set of problems to solve. What was the most difficult ‘puzzle’ you had to crack while writing this book? Was it a plot hole, a character’s motivation, the structure, or something else entirely?
I wear a lot of hats. You could say I am the company hat rack which sounds cool if you are not a perfectionist. However, if you are a perfectionist then sooner or later your artist is going to turn in a truly inspired piece of art that unfortunately is missing an important detail.
“If the monster doesn’t bite the guy’s head off, the joke won’t work on page fifteen,” the company wants to say. So then what? Do a rewrite, ask for a redo, or avoid thinking about it by making a big sandwich? Usually, I don’t ask the dog because she’ll vote for the sandwich. And usually, I do have an inkling as to what needs done. I just need to flesh that inkling out instead of eating my own body weight in baloney.
Once a book is published, it no longer entirely belongs to the author; it belongs to the readers and their interpretations. Has a reader’s reaction or analysis ever revealed something about your own work that surprised you?
I have low self-esteem, so even if I know something is good, I’m surprised when people like it. Then I just sort of tell myself, “Oh yeah, I should be allowed to breathe and eat cookies too.” And I move on.
Writing is a demanding, often solitary pursuit. Beyond the apparent goal of ‘telling a story,’ what is the specific, personal fuel that keeps you going through the difficult stretches? Is it the joy of discovery, the need to understand something yourself, the connection with a future reader, or something else?
If it’s alright with you, I like to turn this question on it’s head. For me, it’s not about getting through the difficult stretches of writing. It’s more about using the writing to get through the difficult stretches of life. When my mom was dying, I spent day and night in her hospital room. When she slept, I worked on outlines. The week my wife got cancer, I think I only wrote two lines (and they sucked), but I wrote them.
Just now my dog barfed all over the bed (same dog) and I just found out that the drunk driver who tail ended my bus three weeks ago is going to fight his charge, so I have to go to court and defend myself on Halloween. This isn’t just my life; everybody has this kind of shit. And sure, everybody need to stop and catch their breath, and cry, and throw up (stupid dog), but you can’t stay there. I feel that making something, especially something that engages others, is step toward living, and curling up in a ball of pain is not.
We often hear about authors being influenced by other books. What are some non-literary influences on your work, such as a specific piece of music, a historical event, a scientific theory, or even a landscape, that have profoundly shaped your storytelling?
Music wise, there are two albums, Destroyed and More Trouble Than They are Worth by Sloppy Seconds. These guys combine passion and craftsmanship with a b-movie-I-don’t-give-a-fuck esthetic. BA (the lead singer) is my spirit animal.
Is there an author, living or dead, whom you consider a ‘silent mentor’? Not necessarily someone you try to imitate, but whose approach to the craft made you feel permission to write in your own way?
I think I started writing in a free space but was not connecting with my audience because my feet never touched ground. So I studied, and I studied, and I studied until my feet got so damn heavy I could hardly walk. Then I started learning to jump and found that I could take off and land at will. To those ends, I want to thank Charles Bukowski for his fearless use of everyday intensity, and Neil Gaiman for his storm-blown imagination.
Who was the first person to see your early drafts, and why did you trust them with your unpolished work? What is the most valuable piece of feedback they gave you?
I wanted to say that my wife makes me show her my scripts or else she’ll beat me up. Then I thought someone might take me seriously. (If you are still taking me seriously, you should probably quit reading this.) The thing is, she is one of two people that can consistently help me sort out competing echoes in my head.
And even though we have vastly differing tastes, we generally agree on quality. My daughter is the first word on how artwork looks on the page (if there are no naked people). She has a teenage meh-barometer that is pretty damn accurate. The catch phrase in our house is, “Be who you really are.” I feed it to them, and they feed it to me.
Horror is often most potent when it’s internal. Beyond external monsters, how do you explore the slow unravelling of a character’s sanity or the horror of their own mind?
This may be ass-backwards, but I feel that a good monster is like a good title. If I listen, it will tell me which theme it is trying to express, and that is how I get inside my character and my reader. Often, I create the main character out of the monster, but I was never very good at coloring inside the lines.
Setting in horror is often described as a character in its own right. How do you approach transforming a location, whether a house, a town, or a landscape, into a source of active dread?
Writing a terrifying buildup is one skill; delivering a satisfying payoff is another. How do you decide when to finally show the monster or reveal the source of the horror?
When I work with timing, initially, I create going backwards. The monster payoff is usually the first thing I set up, and then it’s sort of a semi-conscious almost math-like word problem getting there. (How many pages do I need to cover X the theme X increasing scary-ass-cool action = arriving at curtain up on monster). If you think of the buildup as the “work” and the “payoff” as a payday, then it makes more sense. I mean really, who in the hell would take a job without knowing how much they were going to get paid? Okay, I mean besides a writer.
The horror genre is rich with established tropes and archetypes. How do you engage with these familiar elements, the haunted house, the ancient curse, the final girl, in a way that feels fresh and surprising? Do you consciously seek to subvert a trope, or do you focus on executing it with such depth and authenticity that it becomes new again?
How do you approach writing scenes of intense terror or violence to make them feel physically impactful without tipping into gratuitousness?
Well, again there is timing. But also, impact can be a lot more potent if you are throwing more than one punch. For example, a lot of our stuff has a comedic edge to it. Not laugh out loud funny but more like the scene in An American Werewolf in London that has the hobo and their dog. The dog’s name is Winston (very clever) and they hear the werewolf’s howl out in the dark.
Now the howl is hair-raising, and you think they’d agree to get the hell out of there, but one of the bums just says, “That’s not Winston!” Are you going to fall out of your chair laughing? No, but this is really funny because we have all drastically misread important/dangerous moments in our lives. The horror isn’t standing out there all alone. It has some ironic weight behind it.
Do you have a favorite line or passage from your work, and would you like to share it with us?
SPOILER WARNING: In this bit of dialogue a man confronts his wife on what she really is. Maybe I just like this moment, but I keep thinking about this speech.
BEAU
You said “Emma.” When we first met you said, “Hi, I’m Emma.” And I drove home in the dark saying, “Emma… Emma… Emma…” Like I could fit that word back into your mouth or onto the curve of your hip. But I couldn’t, could I? Because it’s not your name, is it?
What is the specific, core truth you are trying to expose or explore through your horror?
Please don’t ask me to be truthful, or I’ll end up lying to you all day.
You have precisely two minutes in a crowded bookstore to hook a reader who is skeptical of the entire horror genre. They look at your book’s cover and ask, ‘Convince me. Why should I read this? I don’t even like being scared.
If you go out back at night for an arm load of firewood, and you can’t stop to wonder what might possibly be watching you from the dark… then they have won. They have beaten the imagination out of you, and you’ll spend your life just getting firewood.
Mark Glover
Mark Glover has been published in several magazines, and his plays have appeared many times Off-Broadway. He was the horror judge for the Nashville Film Festival’s screenplay contest and is currently the CEO/Editor in Chief of Candy Corn Comics. https://candycorncomics.com/
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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!
