Hello and Happy Friday Friends and Fiends:
Today in the Madhouse, I'm excited to welcome poet and author Eric Larocca to our ranks as we chat about his poetry debut, Fanged Dandelion. Larocca describes his collection as follows: "a dark and deeply wounding portrait of a young queer man on the verge of splintering apart, ‘Fanged Dandelion’ is a nightmarish odyssey that delves into the bowels of the human mind - a frightening exploration of the caskets we build inside our heads…"
Fanged Dandelion was my first read of 2021 and not only was it beautifully written, but it explores the darker parts of human nature, of our battle with identity, all while bringing light to issues of oppression, repression, and mental health. I really loved it and I hope you folks will, too, so please consider picking up your copy today, and in the meantime, sit back, grab some tea, and walk with me through the gorgeous and nightmarish mind of Eric Larocca.
With barbs and thorns,
Stephanie M. Wytovich
Discussing
Fanged Dandelion
SMW:
Tell us about your book. What gave you the idea to create this collection and
what does the image of the fanged dandelion symbolize to you?
EL:
Fanged Dandelion was essentially my response to the quarantine
restrictions imposed by the United States due to the Covid-19 pandemic. I found
myself burdened by anxiety and worry every day, and I knew that I needed to
distract myself with a creative project simply because the craft of writing is
usually so therapeutic for me. That being said, I was uncertain what exactly to
write and I knew I wouldn’t find much solace in my typical prose form. That’s
when my ever-supportive partner suggested I start writing down my thoughts and
crafting short poems from what I’ve written. The collection is somewhat
autobiographical. It’s essentially about a young queer man who is filled with
inner turmoil because he’s being bombarded by hideously pernicious intrusive
thoughts – something I’ve unfortunately experienced first-hand. The collection
is about coming to terms with these horrible thoughts and determining whether
or not they represent me as a human being. Fanged Dandelion is
essentially an exploration of my identity as a queer man. The titular symbol of
the fanged dandelion refers to how I view my mind – something ornate and
delicate, yet capable of horrifying destruction.
SMW:
One of my favorite things about horror (especially horror poetry) is that it
allows us to champion and explore our shadow selves. The beginning of the poem
“Fanged Dandelion” starts out with you saying: “I am a vile thing/ made of
insect hair/and broken teeth.” Can you talk a little bit about how you explore
the darker parts of yourself or human nature in your poetry? And do you find
this approach to writing to be cathartic?
EL:
Absolutely! Writing poetry (specifically horror poetry) has been a deeply
cathartic experience for me. I honestly never anticipated sharing this
collection with anyone other than my partner simply because the content I was
exploring was so grim, so unapologetically bleak. I was afraid of sharing these
pieces with anyone simply because I thought readers might judge me or think I
was unhinged because some of the intrusive thoughts I explore in this body of
work are literal thoughts I had once experienced. I’ve never shared this with
anyone before, but I had to visit the emergency room one evening because I was
so afraid of myself, so frightened of the thoughts I was experiencing.
Thankfully, I’m in a much mentally healthier state now, but I’ve always been
deeply familiar with the darker aspects of my identity. It’s an intimidating
experience – sharing these gruesome actualities with readers. But I’m so
delighted to see people responding and reacting to this body of work. It
assures me that perhaps I’m not the monster I think I am.
SMW:
This collection beautifully and viscerally explores body horror and puts it on
display. In your poem “Venom in Bloom” you write: “he’d drink it all if he
could, / turn as sickeningly green/as seawater/his mouth/a tourniquet/for venom
in bloom.” What about body horror draws you to it and why do you think this
subgenre continues to grow in popularity?
EL:
I have always had a deep fascination with the subgenre of body horror. One of
my very first plays, Parasite, was produced by a small independent
theatre company in New York City and focused on the subject of body horror. I
think I’ve been drawn to the genre simply because it’s so profoundly intimate.
There’s a certain level of immediacy when analyzing a work of body horror.
After all, we’re all human and we all possess complex human bodies – subject to
entropy, disease, and decay. There’s nothing quite as horrifying as realizing
that there’s something burrowing, feeding, stirring inside your body. In fact,
my debut novella, Starving Ghosts in Every Thread, was a work of body
horror and explores how grief and guilt can quite literally transform a person.
I think the subgenre continues to grow in popularity simply because of its
unadulterated honesty. I think audiences and readers are deeply unnerved by
body horror because the genre is so immediate, and we can empathize with the
characters undergoing the grotesque mutation.
EL:
Any time I sit down to work on a new project, I always consider the question:
“what would upset me to write?” Moreover, “what would force me outside of my
comfort zone?” Of course, there are certain traumas from my childhood that I’m
not quite yet ready to tackle; however, the incentive for me is always to write
from a wounded place. I’ve always been attracted to writing from the wellspring
of trauma and suffering I have pumping inside me. Naturally, it’s of vital
importance to monitor your mental health while working on such upsetting
pieces; however, very often horror has the ability to help us better understand
our trauma because it’s a safe arena in which we can confront our fears. For
me, horror always has been a safe space where I can come to terms with my
identity as a queer man and explore some of the traumas I’ve faced. I think
that’s mainly due to the fact that all horror has to do with empathy in some way.
We care about the characters in horror and when horrible things happen to them,
it pains us. We suffer along with them.
SMW:
There’s a violent spirit both to human nature and to the poems in this book. In
your poem “Handle with Care” you end the piece by saying: “it’s my way of
thanking her/for giving me things like/the teeth of the moon/something I never
asked for.” First off, those are some of my favorite lines in the entire
collection, but secondly, I’m wondering if you can speak to the lessons we learn
about violence and rage in horror genre. What do you hope readers takeaway from
this book, from these meditations within?
EL:
Thank you so much for your kind words! Those were some of my partner’s favorite
lines as well. There’s definitely an undercurrent of violence surging
throughout the poems in Fanged Dandelion. I think violence and rage are
integral aspects of the horror genre because horror is so heavily imbued with
emotions. I suppose what I most desperately want to say with this collection is
that these horrible intrusive thoughts do not define me. Your trauma does not
define you. Your past does not indicate your future. More than anything, I hope
people read this collection and recognize the fact that their pain, suffering,
sadness will not last forever. I once lived as if I were stuck in a horror
film. Everything petrified me. In fact, the world around me began to change.
But it didn’t last forever and eventually I was free. I want that same thing
for my readers – I want them to be free from what troubles them, what disturbs
them. If you’re reading this, I truly wish that for you.
On
Writing
SMW:
How did you come to writing and who are some of your influences?
EL:
I began telling stories at a very early age. I was inherently a very creative
child. I would draw pictures and narrate the illustrations to my mother and
father. Finally, when I began to learn to read and write, I immediately took to
writing. Most of my early work were crude imitations of stories I had read or
films I had seen. It wasn’t long before I took an interest in theater,
specifically the work of Tennessee Williams. I was completely enchanted with
the world he created on the stage. I devoured everything from his celebrated
successes like The Glass Menagerie to his more obscure work Eccentricities
of a Nightingale. From there, I soon developed a love of horror and devoted
myself entirely to studying the genre. I was, of course, a dedicated reader of
traditional writers like Bloch and Matheson; however, it wasn’t until I came
across the work of Clive Barker that I realized how brutally fearless I could
be while writing horror. Not to mention, I always felt remarkably empowered
while reading Barker as he was an open and proud gay man.
SMW:
Can you give us an insight into your writing process? Any habits when you sit
down to write?
EL:
I’m very militant when it comes to my writing process. I’m somewhat
superstitious and I prefer to keep in line with my routine. Usually I’ll get up
in the morning, have a cup of tea, and check email or do little things around
the house. Then, I’ll sit down, strap myself to the keyboard and I usually
won’t give myself a break until I reach a certain word count goal. If I’m writing
a novel, I typically commit to writing one chapter a day so that I don’t
overwhelm myself.
SMW:
What books are sitting in your TBR pile?
EL:
I have a ton of books currently sitting in my TBR pile. The most noteworthy
books I can immediately think of are Valancourt titles I had purchased at my
favorite independent bookshop, The Green Hand in Portland, Maine. I had picked
up a copy of In the Eyes of Mr. Fury by Philip Ridley, and I’m so
excited to start reading. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Mr. Ridley’s
work, I wholeheartedly encourage you to check out his impressive catalog. He’s
written works for the stage as well as film and literature. He wrote and
directed one of my favorite films of all time, The Reflecting Skin
starring Viggo Mortensen. I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about In
the Eyes of Mr. Fury, so I’m very eager to start reading soon. I also have
a copy of Michael McDowell’s The Amulet that has been glaring at me from
my nightstand for several weeks now.
SMW:
What is next in store for your readers?
EL:
I have a bunch of exciting releases
planned for 2021!
Readers
can currently preorder my next book, A Bright Enchanted Suffering. The
collection will be released March 30th, 2021. Readers can preorder
their copy here: https://amzn.to/3hYDFQV.
I
also recently announced on Twitter that I have partnered with Weirdpunk Books
as they will be publishing my brand-new queer horror novella, Things Have
Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke, in late Spring/early Summer of 2021. I am
so ecstatic to be working with Sam Richard (Weirdpunk’s owner) and I suspect
this will be a truly sensational release. We have a few exciting surprises
we’re currently in the process of developing, but I can’t divulge anything yet,
unfortunately. Although there’s no preorder link for Things Have Gotten Worse
Since We Last Spoke, I encourage readers to follow me on Twitter
(@ejlarocca) to stay up to date with my current projects. In the meantime, I
sincerely encourage readers to check out Weirdpunk and order directly from
their website: https://www.weirdpunkbooks.com/.
SMW:
What advice do you have for writers working in poetry?
I’m
not certain if I’m qualified to give advice to aspiring poets considering the
fact that Fanged Dandelion was my first attempt at writing poetry and I
feel as though I’m still learning and will always be learning no matter what;
however, if pressed, I would simply encourage poets to write what upsets them.
I would encourage them to write from the wound that never healed, to write from
their suffering and their pain. Poetry is a deeply intimate and raw art form.
Be vulnerable with your readers. They will respect you.
Blurbs:
What Cina Pelayo, author of poetry collections Poems of My Night and Into the Forest and All the Way Through, had to say about Fanged Dandelion:
"The beautiful and dark vivid visuals, dreamscapes and memories that Eric LaRocca paints masterfully in Fanged Dandelion offer a deep intensity. LaRocca’s compelling poetry demands our attention, to look at the lovely dandelion in our hands, its cheerful and bright petals, and to then submit as it sinks its sharp teeth into our skin. This is a collection by a fantastic and emerging voice in horror poetry, one that all of us should be reading."
