Jason Everett Morris -- The Future of Horror

In answer to Hemingway — For sale: infant’s casket. Never used.

Welcome to home base for author and editor Jason Everett Morris. Come sit at my knee. Let the fire rosy your face. I have my book…and this story to tell.

I am a writer and fanboy of all fictions speculative, with a special craving for tales of cars that break down on stormy nights with a spooky old house in the distance. And someone ends up wearing someone else’s skin. And people have emotions and come to terms with things, just before getting a leg eaten off. And there’s fucking, too.

The Magic Toyshop and Lullaby totally turn me on. Weaveworld and Perdido Street Station make me want to be a better man. “The Call of Cthulhu” and “The Goblin Market” drive me deliciously mad. Trees dead in winter with no leaves, a stranger come knocking in a burlap-sack mask, finding a pair of horns in your lover’s hairline — these are a few of my favorite things.

My mind currently dwells on decayed theaters, grotesque troupes of actors, illicit love that dares not speak its name, and Shakespeare’s Tempest. I feel a revival of the gothic form is in order, albeit updated to a cell phone and Twitter era.

This is what I intend to do.