Of Teeth & Claws follows a queer man who, after being outed and estranged, returns to his Southern hometown only to find it being stalked by a brutal creature tied to old secrets, witchcraft, and the boy who was his first love. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?

I believe we’ve all experienced our first love, that person who awakens something inside us that we didn’t realize was even there. Most often, it starts with laughter, playful banter, and teasing. But as we grow closer, we begin to share pieces of ourselves with this person, pieces that, at that young age, we’re not sure fit in life’s puzzle. For straight youth, these connections are fostered and encouraged by society. They are told in every fairy tale, sung in every love song, and shown in a plethora of films. For those of us in the LGBTQ+ community, it’s a frightening feeling, a panic that can be isolating and terrifying. I wanted to explore that. I wanted to take that beautiful possibility, box it into society’s flavor of “normalcy,” and wrap it in dark, unforeseen challenges. In essence, I just wanted a love story.

Jasper Mill feels steeped in history, secrecy, and tension. What inspired the setting, and how important was Southern culture in shaping the tone of the story?

When I began focusing on the LGBTQ+ experience in horror, I felt it was essential to write what I knew, and that meant exploring Tennessee. It’s challenging for anyone in our community to be truly accepted, and that is especially true in the South, where tradition and faith are often weaponized. In my lifetime, I’ve met many in the community who have chosen to leave for new homes in regions where LGBTQ+ people find a more welcoming atmosphere. But I don’t necessarily believe leaving is the answer. I believe we are better served to keep our homes, because it is our right to have them. I thought that if I could take these love stories, these relationships, and make them rise from a place of horror and mystery, it may help some people understand that love is just love. No more, no less.

The novel explores how shame travels through families and communities. What drew you to that theme?

Certainly, it would have to be my own experience. And, sadly, it is not unique in any sense, especially in the 80s and 90s when I was raised. I was the youngest of eight children, consisting of seven boys and one girl. Two of my older brothers were Baptist Deacons in the church. Shame follows you in a legacy such as this. But I think that is one of the positives of growing older. You become a bit wiser. And you also stop caring so much about what others think. I wanted the reader to know that shame is nothing more than a winter coat. Really, you can take it off at any time.

Do you think horror is uniquely suited to exploring queer identity and experience?

Yes! I do! And that is a great question. Not only do I think it is uniquely suited, but I also don’t think it is explored nearly as much as it should be. There can be so much terror and turmoil with the LGBTQ+ journey, and that is speaking to the internal struggles that many of us face while on that road. These themes parlay eloquently into horror, because it’s not just the monster lurking in the trees that you need to fear; it’s the monsters who hide as friends and family. Even the monsters that lurk in the mind.

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