Madhouse Author Interview: Foundlings by Cindy O'Quinn and Stephanie Ellis

Hello Friends and Fiends--

Today in The Madhouse we're focusing on collaboration, specifically so with Stephanie Ellis and Cindy O'Quinn and their recent poetry collection Foundlings.  Now I've worked with and been published alongside Ellis and O'Quinn before, so I knew this was going to be a book of powerhouse talent, and needless to say, I was not wrong. One of the first lines that grabbed when as I started reading was: "a frozen gift of dead flowers,/broken like her neck." I was immediately taken in by the quiet, yet sometimes violent beauty that not only lived inside these pages but was created using foundations already penned by Linda D. Addison and Alessandro Manzetti, two other poets I greatly respect and admire.

I feel like we've been seeing a lot of movement in the poetry market these days that goes beyond the prose poem or free verse. We're seeing found art, blackout poetry, centos, sonnets, etc, and I'm a sucker for form and experimental work, so I hope we keep seeing it and I hope you'll give these poems a read and meditate on ways to expand and experiment with your own work, too. 

Best,

Stephanie

SMW: Hi Cindy and Stephanie! Welcome to The Madhouse. Since this is both of your first times joining us here, can you tell us a little bit about yourselves and what drew you to poetry in the first place?

Cindy: First, I’d like to thank you, Stephanie, for reading Foundlings, and inviting us to The Madhouse. It’s one more thing I can mark off my bucket list. I’ve been a fan of yours since my first publication in 2016. We shared a TOC in Sanitarium Magazine Issue 48.

I’m drawn to poetry because it’s an extension of my way of storytelling, which is in my blood. It’s one of the ways of keeping my memories, folklore, genealogy, and magic alive in Appalachia. My call to write stories began as soon as I was old enough to do so, which in my case was around age five.  I was shy, so instead of playing with cousins at gatherings, I preferred to remain unnoticed among the elders, so I could be close enough to hear their stories. All these experiences, all the stories, color my writing today, and bits of my truth are woven into everything I write.

Steph: I’d like to second Cindy’s thanks for allowing us across the threshold of The Madhouse. I remember reading a poem of yours in an anthology which brought on a ‘wow’ moment and led me to The Apocalyptic Mannequin, which lurks happily on my bookshelf. Unlike Cindy, I was not an early writer – that particular drive appeared much later in my life – but I have been an avid reader, and poetry has long been part of that. When I was awarded a school prize at the age of 12, I requested The Oxford Book of English Verse and that was the start of my poetry journey, in the reading if not the writing. The composition side bizarrely started in an old workplace when dissatisfaction with the way I, and a few other colleagues, were being treated, led me to write verse about our situation, which I shared with my little group at work. Let’s just say we were good at our jobs but were often called in to pick up that of others who had not achieved what they had been instructed to deliver and were also paid more than us, and usually got the promotions! From there, I wrote poems for my colleagues – it was all very humorous and tongue-in-cheek – then submitted and was published in the local press and in a national daily. Then I got a bit more serious in terms of form and content but it was very much in the background until more recent times. 

SMW: What was the writing process like during Foundlings? Can you speak to the collaborative process you shared with one another?

Cindy: I have to say this project, working with Steph, was one of my favorites. It really did flow like magic. It shouldn’t be too surprising, considering the awesome poets who inspired us to create Foundlings. Linda D. Addison and Alessandro Manzetti are so talented and were so gracious with their forward.  

Steph: Oh my, it was so easy! We are both huge fans of Linda’s and Alessandro’s work and there was no stress or strain involved at all. We would decide who would start a poem – when it was a collaborative one – and that person would write a line or two and ping it over to the other. It was back and forth and worked so smoothly. The hard part might be when one person had picked out most of the words you were going to use and you had to really work with the remnants to create the response but that always came together in the end! 

SMW: These poems were created from work in Linda Addison’s collection How to Recognize A Demon Has Become Your Friend, Alessandro Manzetti’s collection Whitechapel Rhapsody, and their collaborative work The Place of Broken Things. What about these particular collections stood out to you and called you to work with them?

Cindy: Linda and Alessandro’s work is the type of dark poetry I love, much like yours, Stephanie. These particular works were like a healing balm to my spirit.

Steph: The poets are both so gloriously dark. I had Whitechapel Rhapsody and The Place of Broken Things already when I was talking to Cindy about the possibility of a project, it was all such a spooky coincidence. I chose Whitechapel Rhapsody because of its ‘pulse’ if you like. As you delve into the verses which reflect the poverty and miseries of the East End and the reign of Jack the Ripper, it’s almost as if you can feel a dark heart beating beneath the surface. The Place of Broken Things is also dark but has a more noir emphasis; dark poetry like this really calls to me.

SMW: There are repetitive themes of religious iconography and allusions throughout Foundlings and the original pieces that birthed them. Readers will recognize and note the use of churches, rosaries, snakes, bloody angels, Lucifer, incense, gardens, etc. Now the intersection of horror and religion is a tale as old as time. What about this do you like working with best? Do you try to intentionally comment on it or send a message, or is it more about writing for visceral reactions and playing with tropes? (I love it all, to be honest!)

Cindy: For years, I was hesitant about mixing the two, mostly because I worried about disappointing my family. But, in the end, what allows me to work religion into my horror writings is the fact that religion is horror. I don’t think anyone can deny that there’s some pretty horrific stuff that goes on in nearly every religious text, so it seems only natural to include the horror of religion.

Steph: I am not a religious person although I am open-minded to possibilities. What I enjoy about bringing religion into the mix is the nature of its own darkness. For something which is supposed to bring light and hope and comfort to people, it also delivers condemnation, isolation, and death (literally, historically, and in the present). I like to play with religion’s own imagery and subvert it, get that visceral reaction you mentioned – and in that subversion, I believe a message is also delivered.

SMW: While reading, I noticed a quietness at times with words like “whisper” and “disappear” being used throughout. Horror can often be fleeting, soft, still, and honestly, which describes some of my favorite works in the genre (re: The Woman in Black by Susan Hill, The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, Slade House by David Mitchell). What are some of your favorite horror stories/collections/books that use this idea of echoes or hauntings to elicit fear from the reader?

Cindy: It is the quiet horror I’m most drawn to, like the works you listed above. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all up in the blood and guts, as well, when called for, but the murmurs of what’s to come in the stillness pull me into the story. I’m quite fond of Thomas Tessier’s collection, World of Hurt.

Steph: Like you and Cindy, I prefer quiet horror. The hints, the subtle dread, are so much more effective because they demand more of your imagination, your investment in a tale, and that heightens the horror. I agree with your choices which are also on my shelves! I would like to throw in Thomas Tryon’s HarvestHome, which, like much of folk horror has this appearance of an idyll but slowly you get beneath the surface and the darkness appears. This is very much why I am drawn to folk horror as a sub-genre, we are haunted by a landscape that is imprinted with echoes of the past.

SMW: Cindy, in your first portion of the book, I made a note about how you handled the subject of nightmares and memory, which I thought was just beautifully done. In your poem “What Mourning,” you wrote: “of growing secrets & teeth/ nailed fences tangled in chaos,/ she remembers endless fear.” When it comes to writing horror, especially horror that cements itself in our heads (psychologically speaking), how do you protect yourself and your mental health from these types of fears and images? Have you ever been writing or working on a project and have had to stop to just take a breath and reset?

Cindy: I’m so glad you enjoyed “What Mourning”. I love psychological horror because it feels so real. There are times when I fail to protect myself and have to come up for air, usually sobbing. Getting the traumas and real-life horrors out of my head is my attempt at catharsis. There are times I wonder if it keeps me in the darkness longer. Hopefully not. I don’t generally write nonfiction for just that reason, but this past year I went there. I wrote about the day my husband died. I needed to put it down on paper for him. One final kiss. 

SMW: Stephanie, your poetry there was deliciously violent, and I adored your poem “How to Disappear.” I tend to fall in love with stories and poems about vengeful female ghosts and women portrayed as monsters because, surprise! (just kidding, no one will be surprised by this) I’m a fan of feminist horror and horror that gives power and agency back to women, even if it’s messy and grotesque, and well…violent. Can you talk a little bit about how you handle themes of the monstrous feminine and violence in your work?

Steph: Thank you, Stephanie! I love that poem and when I reread it, I feel as if someone else wrote it. Being able to turn the poem from one which initially portrays the woman as a victim, to one which allows a woman’s ghost to enact her revenge is strangely joyful!

Within some recent work, most notably The Five Turns of the Wheel and its sequel, Reborn, I have been playing with the idea of Mother Nature. This figure, supposedly the bringer of life, the nurturer, is also responsible for some of the greatest cruelty. This is mirrored in some of my female characters, who display inherent violence, usually when fighting for their own survival or in the protection of those closest to them. This contrast between what the female typically regarded as generally calm and measured – and in previous times, docile – and the violence they’re capable of when roused or threatened, is an exquisite contrast and a juxtaposition that can really heighten the horror.

Also within those works is an element of bringing back the importance of the female. In many early societies, the organization was matriarchal and many a goddess was worshipped. Cue Christianity and other world religions and the women were demoted to a subservient role as the patriarchy was established.

Thinking further, you would actually see an example of the monstrous feminine in my short story, ‘Cry me a River’, in Scott Moses What One Wouldn’t Do, anthology. There you have two mothers, one sacrificing herself in order to save her child, or so she thinks, whilst the other is using this woman’s sacrifice to protect her own child. Both are mothers, one is monstrous, but would you condemn her?

And in one further instance, I have been working for some months now on a co-authored work, Revenant with Shane Douglas Keene. We are each a character in a narrative told in free verse and my particular character is Lilith. Through the telling, you hear and see the suffering of women and then discover Lilith’s retribution. We’re hoping to complete this work in the not too distant future!

SMW: The second half of the book is comprised of haikus. Haikus have always fascinated me because on one hand, they seem simple and they’re often the first bit of poetic writing we play with as children because it’s easily structured by counting syllables. However, writing haikus is anything but simple, and it’s an artform that digs deep and builds mountains out of the smallest words and phrases. Can you both speak about how you go about constructing your haikus? What about that specific form speaks to you as poets?

Cindy: I find Haikus fun, and I imagine one would get a kick by watching me count syllables on my fingers. Small poetry form that packs a punch.

Steph: Me too when it comes to counting on fingers! I love them because of the challenge they pose in trying to get an idea across in so few words. When I build the haiku, it’s usually finding a line that I love and then working around that. That first line I make isn’t necessarily the first in the poem though! I build everything else around it to fit.

SMW: What poets are you both currently reading? Are there any collections you’re looking forward to adding to your TBR lists?

Cindy: Over the past few years there have been so many excellent poetry collections released. I need to play catch up and read the ones I’ve missed, like ExposedNerves, and Strange Nests.

Steph: I’ve really enjoyed Sara Tantlinger’s work which weaves historical narratives into verse (The Devil’s Dreamland and Cradleland of Parasites so anything else by her, I’ll pick up and I also want to add more Stephanie Wytovich to my collection!

I have not long finished Avra Margariti’s The Saint of Witches, which is excellent and I’ve been re-reading Ilya Kaminsky’s Deaf Republic which is extremely poignant given the situation in the Ukraine. A recent trip to Waterstones saw me leave with The Mabinogi by Matthew Francis and A Choice of Anglo-Saxon verse, ed. Richard Hamer. I really want to build up my library of early poetry as I love the Poetic Eddas, the Icelandic sagas and so many others. Their style of metaphor, the kennings, are wonderful, and these, combined with the alliteration, make their verse sing. 

SMW: What’s next for your readers?

Cindy: I have several short stories I need to finish. I’m hoping to have a novel out in the next year or so I am co-authoring with a wonderful author. And there’s always the poetry I write along the way.

Steph: I have a few short stories due out this year and am working on some others. My novel, Reborn, is due out in October from Brigids Gate Press, which will also be publishing another folk horror, The Woodcutter, in January 2023. The latter is a new folk horror and not set in my Five Turns world!

I do have a new dark-found poetry collection out on June 16th. Metallurgy, Of Love and Death and Metal, has been formed from the lyrics of 200 of my favorite metal tracks. I took 2 songs per poem with some stringent checks afterward so that it was a completely original work – I do not want to be chased by lawyers! This one is my labor of love as metal is my happy place!

Apart from that, I have a gothic novella, Enough Rope, which I will be submitting as soon as I’ve finished writing that dreaded synopsis, and I do have an idea for another dark found poetry collection which I am trying not to start as I want to complete those short stories I mentioned!

And I want to start another novel ... 

Author Bios:

Cindy O’Quinn is a four-time Bram Stoker Award-nominated writer. Author of “Lydia,” from the Shirley Jackson Award-winning anthology: The Twisted Book of Shadows, “The Thing I Found Along a Dirt Patch Road,” “A Gathering on the Mountain,” and the nonfiction piece, “One and Done.”

She is an Appalachian writer from the mountains of West Virginia. Steeped in folklore at an early age. Cindy now lives in the woods of northern Maine, on the old Tessier Homestead, which makes the ideal backdrop for her dark stories and poetry.

Follow Cindy for updates: Facebook @CindyOQuinnWriter, Twitter @COQuinnWrites, and Instagram cindy.oquinn

Stephanie Ellis writes dark speculative prose and poetry and has been published in a variety of magazines and anthologies, the most recent being Scott J. Moses’ What One Wouldn’t Do, Demain Publishing’s A Silent Dystopia, and Brigids Gate Press’ Were Tales. Her longer work includes the novel, The Five Turns of the Wheel and the novellas, Bottled and Paused. Her poetry has been published in the HWA Poetry Showcase Volumes VI, VII, and VII, Black Spot Books Under Her Skin, and online at Visual Verse. She can be found supporting indie authors at HorrorTree.com via the weekly Indie Bookshelf Releases. She is an active member of the HWA and can be found at https://stephanieellis.org, on Twitter at @el_stevie, Instagram stephanieellis7963, and also somewhere on Facebook.

Stephanie lives in Wrexham, North Wales with her family, where she now writes full-time. Living not far from the border with England and the county she grew up in, just the other side, she is close to the rural environment which inspired much of her folk horror.