Interview: Trent Zelazny

By Darrell Schweitzer

Trent Zelazny has published numerous short stories in a variety of genres including horror, humor, erotica and suspense. His short story “The House of Happy Mayhem” received an honorable mention in Best Horror of the Year 2009. He currently lives in South Florida.

Q: Your work isn’t much like your father’s, is it? Is this a deliberate choice on your part, or just a different inclination of talent?

Zelazny: I have always enjoyed science fiction and fantasy but was more personally drawn to horror and crime. Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Richard Matheson, and of course Robert Bloch, all played a big role in my early love of dark fiction. I have written some science fiction and fantasy but found it wasn’t really my thing. I just wasn’t very good at it. I identified much more with horror as a kid—partly due, I think, because I was somewhat of a skittish child. Also my brother loved horror, and when we were young he really got a kick out of scaring me to death. Already being kind of scared in general, growing up with someone who loves scaring you even more, and also having parents who allowed me to watch movies at age five which I probably shouldn’t have seen until I was fifteen, all played major roles. With that kind of situation, I think you’re either going to run away constantly, or become fascinated by it.

Q: I’d place your work closer to Joe Lansdale, Thomas Harris, Jim Thompson, and assorted psychological horror and noir writers. Are these your models & influences?

Zelazny: Definitely Lansdale and Thompson. Lansdale is who I modeled my work after most as I learned the writing craft. He was the one who let me know it was okay to be very dark, and to just be honest with myself. He also has the amazing ability to string together even just a few words, and make the image so vivid you can see, smell, hear, feel and taste it. Jim Thompson had a hard-edged drunken style of poetic writing, and was so brutally honest. His characters are always very interesting and the stories are always unsettling but all too believable. David Goodis is another I really enjoy. I remember the first time I read him, and I thought, “Man, this guy speaks to me! I relate so well with what he’s saying.” I then shortly learned that he’s considered the Poet of the Losers. A very high and low point in discovering Goodis. Cornell Woolrich, Patricia Highsmith, Lawrence Block and Donald Westlake were also very important. And when Charles Ardai started the wonderful Hard Case Crime, I learned about other authors I may not have found otherwise.

Q: You make a distinction between “science fiction and fantasy” on one hand, which you say you’re not very good at, and “dark fiction.” What does the term “dark fiction” mean to you?

Zelazny: I feel they all work in similar ways, really. To me, “dark fiction” can encompass all genres, but if you want a definition, I guess I’d say it’s a study of the negative side of human behavior. All fiction, I think, is a study of human behavior. I just see the term as a deeper study on the dark side. Oddly, I’m mostly an optimist these days, but I do believe everybody has some serious darkness inside, and I’ve battled, and continue to battle, many demons in my life. Fear is complex. People can be afraid of many different things, and being scared is often very unpleasant. But there can also be a thrill when your fears are invoked without actual danger. Just as people can get screwed up or sort situations with, say, love, the same thing happens with darkness. It might screw you up more, but it also might help you analyze something from a different perspective. My girlfriend, who passed away in April, said that I write about things people would never do. I’ve seen people do much stranger things than I’ve written about. As the saying goes, truth is stranger than fiction.

Q: Does this preclude supernatural or otherwise fantastic horror?

Zelazny: It’s all encompassed, I think. I’ve certainly written fantastical fiction, dark and light. When I say “dark fiction,” I’m merely referring to the darkness of people. I’m a big crime and mystery fan, and I’m fascinated by how horrible people can actually be, especially to each other. It certainly spills into supernatural and fantastic, though. My collection has a few fantastical pieces. Mostly I use that term because I don’t feel my work up to this point truly falls into one specific genre, yet mostly it tends to fall over to the dark side.

Q: So, tell me about the origins of “The Day the Leash Gave Way”? This seems over-the-top, even for you.

Zelazny: Being over-the-top is something people have done for ages. The Marx Brothers, for example, were constantly extreme. Everything was always insane, and just when you thought a joke couldn’t go any further, they’d up the ante, and take it a step or three forwards. The title story was inspired after a break-up. I was still reeling from the passing of my father and was drinking heavily at the time. Not proud of that. That was also I had discovered Lansdale. Man, his work blew my socks off, especially his short stories. There were a few I read over and over again, like “Night They Missed the Horror Show” and “Steppin’ Out, Summer, ’68.” I learned a lot from reading his work and he’s been a very kind man to me. I had basically learned that I could be as weird or as angry as I wanted. But they say laughter is the best medicine. When I can be weird, angry, disturbing and funny all in one piece, that’s usually when I’m more emotionally secure, even if just for a little while.

Q: Readers will inevitably wonder: what was it like growing up as the son of a famous writer? Did your father encourage you to write?

Zelazny: My father encouraged me and my brother and sister in anything we were interested in. Before writing really grabbed me, I was into music. Rock. I was a drummer for many years and both my parents fully supported me in that. When I realized that it wasn’t what I truly wanted to do and focused more on writing, my father was very encouraging. He read what I wrote, made simple corrections, but not once did he ever tell me how to write. I know half a dozen other writers that would probably say something similar about the guy. He loved reading and he loved writing, but he didn’t ever want to make a literary clone of himself. He gave advice and helped with certain must-knows, but he always encouraged individuality. Those who knew him know that he was his own person.

As far as being the son of a famous writer goes, like anything else it has its negatives and positives, but I’d be lying my ass off if said I wasn’t proud of him.

Q: What would you say is the appeal of the dark suspense story? How would you describe its aesthetics (which is not quite the same thing)?

Zelazny: The main appeal of the dark suspense story, I think, is, well, suspense. I’ll poorly paraphrase Hitchcock: the bomb is under the table and you know it, because you know someone put it there. You’re aware the bomb is going to explode, but the characters are not. But now you’re participating in the scene. You want to warn the characters but you can’t. Like good sex, tension is built until you can’t stand it anymore, and then the bomb goes off.

Also human dynamic. I find it to be some of the most realistic fiction there is, albeit the some of the weirdest and scariest. Bust by Ken Bruen and Jason Starr, and Shoot the Piano Player by David Goodis are both good examples. Disturbing and horrible each in their own different way, but also touching similar nerves. The fear is genuine (even if ridiculous at times) because the characters are created as real people. Real people with problems.

As far as aesthetics, I’m gonna put that mostly in terms of atmosphere. Typically taut, short sentences, or sentences so perfectly constructed and so vivid you’re unaware that you’re reading a book at all. And snappy dialogue that, from my personal experiences, is all too real, whether it was written this year or fifty years ago. I sometimes wonder if I was born in the wrong decade. If I know right away that I’m on a New York street, or swimming in the Pacific, and yet I’m just sitting in a chair, then that is the mark of a good writer.

Q: You mention that you discovered that in this sort of fiction you can be as weird or as angry as you like. Is the suspense story then a method of releasing emotional tension in the writer? In the reader?

Zelazny: I think so. Same goes for horror too. It’s a catharsis. Reading it and writing it help keep me sane. That may come off too black and white—and it really can only help so much mentally and emotionally—but I personally have found it to be a big help. Years ago, in my early 20s, I went for a few days feeling beyond depressed. I picked up Joe Lansdale’s Nightrunners, a terrifying and very disturbing book. By the time I finished it, all wasn’t right with the world, but it sucked a lot less. I allowed myself to fight the bad guys and BE the bad guys, and this combination helped me get a little balance. Often, I think, the same goes in writing.

Q: What are your writing methods like?

Zelazny: I try to write something every day. Just like the seasons, the time of day I write varies. I always have the internet on in case I need to look something up on the spot but try not to be reliant on it. Also, it can be dangerous and you can get sucked into the net rather than getting the work done. I also pace a lot and bounce tennis balls when meditating on a piece.

Q: So, what are you working on now?

Zelazny: I’m currently working on several projects. One is writing a haiku to thank you for the interview. A new novel, a collaborative collection, as well as a collaborative novel with Gerald Hausman. I’ve also been reading Wilderness, by Gerald and my father, for an audio book release. Recording is a lot of fun but so much harder than one might think. You’re not just sitting there reading. You’re acting. It takes about an hour for my voice to recover after a session. I’ll also soon be doing some audio work with an Amber title or two, and probably be doing The Day the Leash Gave Way as audio also.

Q: Is it too early to ask about your long-time career goals? What would you like to accomplish as a writer?

Zelazny: Fame and fortune. Kidding.

Haiku

Darrell Schweitzer asks
His question’s smarter than me
Thank you for your time

If you enjoyed this interview, you may enjoy this author’s collection.