Matthew R Davis is Singing Songs Songs of Shadow, Words of Woe

A lot of my characters are haunted by trauma or guilt, and sometimes it’s not clear whether their circumstances are a result of external forces or their own mind. That guilt isn’t even over the traditional horror mistakes, like causing someone’s death accidentally or otherwise, but usually over more mundane and relatable things: exploiting others for artistic gain, hurting loved ones, not being there for people, and so on.

Since I’ve been responsible for many of these things, I really feel the sharp edge when I write them. Sometimes I’m trying to own my actions in retrospect, sometimes these things have no direct connection to my experience, but I understand guilt and shame more than I would like, sadly, and they are rich sources of horror. As for trauma, well, I try to be sensitive when it comes to addressing the various kinds of things that bring it on, with as much compassion and insight as I can offer.

Matthew R Davis is Singing Songs Songs of Shadow, Words of Woe

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.

Hi, everybody. I’m Matthew R Davis, and I have an intense interest in art that overwhelms everything else in my life. This feels like an AA meeting or something, but that might be appropriate, because I’ve spent much of my existence trying to ignore everything that wasn’t directly related to music, fiction, film, altered states, and love.

That hasn’t worked out so well, so don’t be like me, kids! Anyway, besides writing, I’ve spent many years in the trenches as a practicing musician – I was the vocalist, bassist, main songwriter, and mismanager of Blood Red Renaissance, am the bassist/backing vocalist in icecocoon, and have dabbled in many other projects over the years.

I’m fuelled not only by a steady diet of art but also by what happens around and to me – everything is a source of inspiration if you open yourself to the possibilities inherent in all things. I’m not religious in the least, but the world is a wild and wonderful place, every person and every place have stories to be told, and we’d all benefit from connecting with our universe a bit more.

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?

This varies from tale to tale. Looking at the stories in my new collection: “Steadfast Shadowsong” was inspired by an open mic night that I attended and played at; “A Walking Wound” came from the desolate view out of a truckstop window as I ate chips there one night; “The Haunted Heart of Ebon Eidolon” was written as a tribute to a departed friend, intended to evoke both his loving nature and his dalliance with darkness; “Heritage Hill” was the result of combining a location I already had in mind with the idea that few things, sadly, are more Australian than systemic racism.

The character usually comes after the initial inspiration, though sometimes I’ll start off with the desire to write a certain type of person – often artists from different disciplines, as the new book contains various musicians, photographers, drag acts, writers, burlesque dancers, and so on. Whatever I start with dictates the rest of the tale; the location will decide the characters needed, or vice versa – I feel there needs to be a reason why these people are in these places, some connection between them and the horrors they confront.

There is something to be said for the random, of course, and that speaks to our own lives, but often my work deals with the consequences of actions both big and small, deliberate and unintended, so that the characters are faced with dark situations and beings for specific reasons. Jennifer from “A Walking Wound”, for example, is drawn into a nightmare by the simple and innocent action of taking a photograph of a scene she finds interesting.

She doesn’t deserve what follows, but this is how her path crosses that of an unusual and terrifying predator; whereas the titular band in “Our Tragic Heroine” has crossed the line between tribute and exploitation and its members are forced to face up to what they’ve done.

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’ve had issues with all the above from time to time, but with Songs of Shadow, Words of Woe, the main problem was coming at stories from the wrong angle. “Thee Most Exalted Potentate of Love”, for example, was initially set in a strip club and felt flat and uninspired until I realised it should take place in a burlesque bar instead; “Andromeda Ascends” was going to feature an artist who painted prog-metal album covers as its lead, but that thread went nowhere until I discarded that aspect and found another approach to its central idea.

Other times, I just didn’t know where the story was going – “The Ballad of Elvis O’Malley” lay fallow for a year until I worked out the point of it and finished it, and “Nymphaea” was a case of just writing and writing until I hit what I realised was the ending.

The journey from a finished manuscript to a book in a reader’s hands can be a surprising one. What was the most significant way your book evolved during the editing and publishing process, something you didn’t anticipate when you typed ‘The End’?

This question isn’t especially relevant to a short story collection, but things are ever in flux. The edits sent back to me were relatively minor, as all but one of these tales had been published before and hence had already gone through the editing process many times. The biggest change was in presentation, probably – each story was going to be accompanied by a unique image by my partner, the award-winning Red Wallflower, but for many reasons, this sadly did not come to pass. I was also hoping to write and record a soundtrack album for the book – same thing.

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?

When I started seeing my current psychologist, I thought it might be useful to give her some insight into my mind and what I do with it, so I gifted her a copy of my novel Midnight in the Chapel of Love. She thought that one of the cornerstone characters was a narcissist, which I found quite interesting! That character was supposed to be complicated and rash and a bit selfish, but relatable in parts and even sympathetic – but what do I know, really? That book was about the importance of communication and trust in relationships, and then, between finishing it and finding a publisher, I went and made all the same mistakes as my protagonist… what an idiot!

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?

I’m not really sure, other than perhaps compulsion. Whilst I hope to keep converting new readers until I die (and beyond), like most things, I write because I want to – this is something I enjoy and am rather good at, so I do it as much as I can, possibly to the detriment of other parts of my life.

Or perhaps I’m trying to understand people, life, and myself, and I’m convinced that my writing has some meaning and insight, so I’m clutching at enlightenment through my work? Or perhaps I’ve placed so much importance on my creative abilities that I don’t feel I’ve really much else of worth to offer, so I have to write in order to justify my existence. Bit of a loaded question, that one…

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?

I can’t name a single piece of music that shaped my writing, because there are so many! My new collection is called Songs of Shadow, Words of Woe because most of the tales have a musical element, and there’s even a bass clef on the cover – the influence is obvious! Music has shaped my personal attitudes and beliefs, my love of word combinations and rhythmic flows, even the way I think of the world and hence the ways I write about it.

Whether it’s hip hop, grindcore, vaporwave, or The Cure, music is woven through my writing as much as any literary or filmic influence. My new book features a swathe of fictional musicians, namedrops over three dozen real ones – ranging across a very wide spectrum from Sunn O))) to Portishead to N.W.A. – and contains stories named after tracks by The Sisters of Mercy, The Cramps, and Rammstein. Just as the songs I’ve written bear the stamp of literature, so my stories echo with the eternal influence of music.

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?

When it comes to writing, my honorary fathers are Stephen King and Ramsey Campbell. (Both still living, thankfully!) The way they conduct themselves and their careers, the sheer quantity and quality of work they have produced over the decades, their personal kindnesses… very inspirational. If you wanted to be crassly reductive, you could argue that my own writing voice is largely a bastardised blend of theirs, though of course there’s so much more that feeds into my work.

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?

The only person who gets to see (or rather, hear) my work before it’s submitted is my partner, Meg. I read many of my stories to her because she enjoys listening to my prose and I trust her in all things. She will occasionally point out a factual inaccuracy in subjects she knows better than me, or agree that perhaps one section needs an extra beat to help it flow correctly, but possibly the most constructive criticism she delivers is an appreciative “Baby!” at the end. That’s how I know the story works.

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?

A lot of my characters are haunted by trauma or guilt, and sometimes it’s not clear whether their circumstances are a result of external forces or their own mind. That guilt isn’t even over the traditional horror mistakes, like causing someone’s death accidentally or otherwise, but usually over more mundane and relatable things: exploiting others for artistic gain, hurting loved ones, not being there for people, and so on.

Since I’ve been responsible for many of these things, I really feel the sharp edge when I write them. Sometimes I’m trying to own my actions in retrospect, sometimes these things have no direct connection to my experience, but I understand guilt and shame more than I would like, sadly, and they are rich sources of horror. As for trauma, well, I try to be sensitive when it comes to addressing the various kinds of things that bring it on, with as much compassion and insight as I can offer.

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?

Many of my short stories start with a location that I want to use. “Hauntology”, from Samhain Screams (Black Beacon Books, October 17), focuses on a photo booth and a derelict cafeteria in a dying shopping mall; “Flash of the Blade”, from The Writing on the Wall: Horror Inspired by the Music of Iron Maiden (Wicked Ouija Press, October 3) is largely set on a moving train and at a deserted railway platform; “Coffee, Toast, Garden” from Midnight Echo 20 (AHWA, October 4) was inspired by my own yard and my partner’s work in it.

In each case, I saw something in these locations that could be used to foment fear. The way I typically go about that is to employ descriptions so that these places feel somewhat strange or liminal before anything has even happened; word choices and queasy similes are important here, and my approach to them owes a lot to Ramsey Campbell in particular. Sometimes the location echoes or reflects the protagonist’s thoughts, past, fears – this congruence of environment and character helps to amplify the story’s themes and moods.

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? 

That varies from story to story. Sometimes you want to keep the reveal until the end, perhaps the very last paragraph; sometimes you need to bring on the threat earlier and give the protagonist some time to try and deal with it. “A Walking Wound” is an example of the latter – Jennifer encounters something strange on the second page, but it’s what that creature does over the next few days that really ramps up the terror and builds to (hopefully) an unexpected climax.

In “Vision Thing”, the antagonist appears in the first paragraph; in “The Black Regent”, we’re halfway through before something horrible abruptly crashes the narrative and chases us headlong to the end. Conversely, I’ve written tales where the truth and nature of the threat only become clear in the last paragraph or two, the rest of the story acting as a misdirection whilst also subtly laying out a puzzle that only comes into focus when the last piece snaps into place.

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?

I’m not that interested in tropes as a rule. When I do tackle one, I try to make it my own, as I don’t want to merely rehash what’s already been done. “Bit Part” (Strange New Moons, French Press Publishing) appears in a werewolf anthology, and there I inverted some of the usual lore to find a different take on the hoary old beast. On the other hand, I wrote a new novelette expressly for a 2026 slasher anthology and decided to play it straight rather than get all clever with it, but I still had to come up with ways I could set it apart from the usual genre fare.

Ultimately, I think that subverting tropes is a valid approach when sparingly used, but it gets cloying quickly when overused – for example, the trend of rewriting mythological monsters and classic fiction characters as misunderstood feminist icons started out as a healthy new take but soon became predictable as any other literary fashion. Better to think up new tales rather than new ways of retelling old ones, I feel, though the line between can be quite thin.

How do you approach writing scenes of intense terror or violence to make them feel physically impactful without tipping into gratuitousness?

It’s best to avoid stereotypical language in such situations, so as not to distance the reader from the action. I find that run-on sentences work well for sequences of drastic terror, as they drag the eye along at a frantic pace, but they mustn’t be overused.

When it comes to violence, I usually aim for something stark that shocks by dint of its unexpectedness after a relatively sedate build-up, though some stories are more cavalier in their approach if I’m going for a more pulpy vibe – “Thee Most Exalted Potentate of Love” is the best example from the new book, treating gunplay and gore with a salty lesbian-noir wit that makes it seem like fun rather than the obscenity it truly is.

Do you have a favourite line or passage from your work, and would you like to share it with us?

Not really. Too hard to choose. Let’s skip this one.

What is the specific, core truth you are trying to expose or explore through your horror? 

Terror can be found everywhere, in all things, and it is a universal experience that crosses all arbitrary boundaries. Religion is useless as a method to understand, navigate, and survive the ineffable – art is a much better discipline for that, so long as it is genuine. Compassion, acceptance, and understanding are the keys to a better world – love is not all you need, but it is essential to embrace kindness rather than hate.

You have precisely two minutes in a crowded bookstore to hook a reader who is sceptical 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.’

“For starters, horror isn’t just about being scared. It’s really about looking at the world through a darker lens. No, don’t walk away, I’m not finished. I don’t think you understand the breadth and worth of horror fiction – sure, some of it is just what you think it is, and that’s fun too, but the best of it is every bit as incisive and profound as any lit-fic you care to mention. It’s not just about death, and it doesn’t always end with someone dying.

Sometimes it gives us hope that we can navigate the more mundane horrors of our lives, assures us that others out there are thinking the same way we are and making great art from those thoughts. Sometimes it’s a helpful way to process traumatic events in our own lives, to make sense of the senseless, and sometimes it’s just a comfort read when we want to escape from grim reality. Like all fiction, it shows us different points of view and allows us to learn how other people live, which is essential for the growth of compassion and understanding.

And it gives us an opportunity to face unlikely fates in a harmless and vicarious fashion – the average person is probably never going to be chased by a masked slasher or haunted by a grisly spirit, but we can experience these things in a book, and we might even learn some tricks and details that will be useful if it ever does happen.

Look, I can’t speak for every tome on this shelf, but I can tell you that my book is smart, it’s compassionate, and it has things of worth to say about the human condition – all while creeping you out, yes, but let’s face it, there are shadows in all our lives, and you won’t be able to cope with them without practice.

Read this, and maybe you’ll understand what horror is capable of in the right hands… and maybe you’ll keep coming back, because once you get a taste for this stuff, it gets a taste of you, too. Mwah-ha-ha-ha! Okay, bye, keep the receipt. And please post a review!”

Matthew R. Davis is a Shirley Jackson Award-nominated author and musician from Adelaide, South Australia, with over one hundred short stories and seven books published to date. His latest releases are the non-fiction tome The Cure On Track: Every Album, Every Song (Sonicbond Publishing) and his second full-length horror collection, Songs of Shadow, Words of Woe (JournalStone). He lives with the award-winning artist Red Wallflower and her cats Juniper and Lexi.

https://matthewrdavisfiction.wordpress.com

https://journalstone.com/bookstore/songs-of-shadow-words-of-woe

Out now through JournalStone is the second full-length horror collection from award-winning Australian author and musician Matthew R. Davis. Songs of Shadow, Words of Woe collects thirteen deliciously dark short stories and novelettes, five of them awards nominees or winners and one previously unpublished. Like an obscure prog-horror soundtrack album found at the back of the racks in a strange record store you’ve never seen before, this book contains deep drops and diverse grooves that will intrigue, entertain, and terrify.

Songs of Shadow, Words of Woe follows on from Davis’s increasingly eclectic and electric range of previous releases: the Australasian Shadows Award-winning novelette Supermassive Black Mass (Demain, 2019); debut horror collection If Only Tonight We Could Sleep (Things in the Well, 2020); the Aurealis Award-nominated novel Midnight in the Chapel of Love (JournalStone, 2021); the Ditmar Award-shortlisted novella The Dark Matter of Natasha (Grey Matter Press, 2022); the Shadows Award-nominated flash fiction chapbook Bites Eyes: 13 Macabre Morsels (Brain Jar Press, 2023); and non-fiction music volume The Cure On Track: Every Album, Every Song (Sonicbond Publishing, 2025).

Morose, macabre, and mordant, Songs of Shadow, Words of Woe will play on in your mind long after you turn the final page…

Tracklisting:

Andromeda Ascends / Steadfast Shadowsong / A Walking Wound / The Haunted Heart of Ebon Eidolon / The Ballad of Elvis O’Malley / I Do Thee Woe / Pilgrimage / Heritage Hill / Our Tragic Heroine / Thee Most Exalted Potentate of Love / Nymphaea / The Black Regent / Vision Thing

Blurb:

The beach where his teenage sister disappeared / Time and dream melt in the mouth of deep weird—

An open mic night bears witness to a fury / A life-changing performance before a dread jury—

A truck stop photo by a touring punk bassist / A chase across the country and her most personal places—

Seven friends mourn a beloved queer icon / A final bequest unleashes the deepest dark of an eidolon…

Songs of shadow, words of woe!

A lonely film student attends a free indie screening / Will this obscure flick bring the end he’s dreaming?

Two wilful women climb a hill to watch a storm / And learn their town’s history of racism and scorn—

Grotesque gangsters in a burlesque club dive / Trouble erupts when a new player arrives—

Invited to experience true terror, not a relic / A horror film fan runs through a theatre derelict…

Songs of shadow, words of woe!

Thirteen morbidly melodic deep cuts from Matthew R. Davis, including the Australasian Shadows Award-winning “Steadfast Shadowsong” and the Shirley Jackson Award-nominated novelette “Heritage Hill.”

“A f**king beauty of a book, every story brilliant.” —Kaaron Warren, award-winning author of The Underhistory

“Elegant, frightening, and so delightfully strange, this isn’t just a collection—it’s a cabal.” —Aaron Dries, author of Dirty Heads and A Place for Sinners

“A powerhouse collection filled with rock and roll, the uncanny, the unsettling and the all-out terrifying. A few stories had me looking over my shoulder to see what was lurking in the dark corners of my room.” —Jo Kaplan, Shirley Jackson Award-nominated author of When the Night Bells Ring

Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0FQTKNTQN/ref=sr_1_2

Publisher store: https://journalstone.com/bookstore/songs-of-shadow-words-of-woe

Author blog: https://matthewrdavisfiction.wordpress.com

Horror Book Reviews on Ginger Nuts of Horror

For dedicated horror fans seeking their next chilling read, Ginger Nuts of Horror has established itself as a must-visit destination. Driven by a passion for the genre, the website offers more than just standard reviews, providing a deep dive into the world of dark fiction that keeps a global community of readers coming back for more.

A genuine, infectious enthusiasm for horror fuels Ginger Nuts of Horror. Founded by Jim Mcleod, the site has grown from a personal project into a significant resource. The site’s unique appeal stems from its “sense of fun” and the evident “joy for horror“. This passion translates into thoughtful coverage that explores the emotional and thematic depths of horror, looking beyond monsters to the “feelings and emotion” that make the genre so powerful.

The site offers a diverse range of content catering to a wide variety of horror tastes. Readers can find:

• Thoughtful Reviews
• Author Insights: In-depth interviews that provide fascinating glimpses into the creative processes of renowned authors.
• Genre Exploration: A commitment to pushing boundaries and highlighting authors who try new things, ensuring readers discover fresh and innovative voices.

With over 16 years of experience, Ginger Nuts of Horror has built a reputation for credibility and consistency. It is frequently nominated for awards and has become a go-to source for readers seeking honest and engaging opinions. The site excels at creating a shared reading experience, helping readers not only find books they’ll love but also understand the deeper currents moving through the horror genre today.

For anyone looking to stay informed and inspired in the world of horror literature, Ginger Nuts of Horror is an invaluable resource. Its blend of expertise, passion, and diverse content makes it the perfect guide for navigating the ever-expanding shelves of dark fiction.