So most of you know Stormi @
Books, Movies, Reviews, Oh My! have declared this month "Hunter Shea May" on our blog. We've already reviewed "Antarctic Ice Beasts" and look for our thoughts on Shea's newest release from Flame Tree Press, "Ghost Mine" later this month. So I reached out to Hunter and he graciously provided us with a guest post so read on to find out why Hunter Shea is the writer he is today.
WHY AM I LIKE THIS???
By Hunter Shea
It’s the kind of question that
fills the couches of therapists all over the world. Nine times out of ten,
unfairly or not, mom and dad get the blame. It only takes years of head
shrinking and tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars to get there. Which
begs the question, why don’t therapists just ask, “So, what the fuck did mommy
and daddy do to you?” right from the jump.
Now, I’ve been to therapy, but for
very different reasons. At least I thought at first. But it essentially boiled
down to ‘why am I like this’? I was a rare case in that the root of my issue at
the time didn’t come from the parentals.
However, when most people meet me
and learn that not only am I obsessed with horror, but I also write ‘scary books’,
they inevitably ask, “Why?” That’s shorthand for ‘what the hell went so wrong
that you’ve dedicated your life to such trash’? Well, horror ain’t trash you
uptight mother effer! But wait, let’s not go there.
Guess what? I can say with
confidence and without paying a dime to Freud Jr. that my parents are to blame
– I mean, thank. First, dad gets top billing for being a horror fan himself,
though not to my geeky degree. The man took me to see a ton of horror and sci
fi movies when I was just starting to walk. We sat side by side on the couch
watching Chiller Theatre, Creature
Feature, Kolchak The Night Stalker, Universal Monsters when they appeared
on PBS and The Twilight Zone on our
black and white console TV. When he came home from NYC, he’d pick me up comic
books like Eerie and Conan the Barbarian, or the latest copy
of Famous Monsters. We listened to
reruns of horror radio plays and put together glow in the dark Aurora monster
model kits. When I was big enough to read adult books, Stephen King’s Night Shift was placed before me. And
then there were boxes of paperbacks of Lovecraft, Poe, Koontz and other lesser
known and one-and-done horror authors. I especially loved his Doc Savage books,
which is why I tend to add a lot of action and adventure in my monster novels.
So, aside from veal cutlet TV
dinners and corn on the cob, that was my steady diet. I mean, did I even have a
chance? As I got older, Fangoria was
added to my reading list. Of the four walls in my room, two were dedicated to
posters and cut outs of hot babes, and the other two to horrific, bloody stills
carefully excised from the pages of Fangoria. My father used to sit on my bed
and stare in wide wonder at Morgan Fairchild in her leopard bathing suit just
inches away from the Nazi werewolves in An American Werewolf in London. Or
Victoria Principle giving some side-eye to a blood-soaked Ash in Evil Dead. (On a side note, I had to
give away a TON of comic books to Jimmy across the street in trade for three
nude pics he’d gotten of Victoria. Nowadays, it’s all free and right there on
the Internet. You horny kids don’t know how good you have it.)
My favorite double feature of all
time was when we walked three blocks to the movie theater in our neighborhood
to see The Kentucky Fried Movie and Dawn of the Dead. My ten-year old mind
was blown and forever rewired. Comedy, sex and gore! I desperately wanted there
to be a zombie invasion so I could take over a mall and live the life of Riley.
That is, until the bikers came and ruined it all.
Mom is also at fault here – for
being complicit! She allowed this sensory overload into an impressionable young
mind. Never said no. Never asked if it was too much for me. And I love her for
it. She saw how much I dug it all, and when you have a hyper boy in the house, you’ll
grasp for anything that will keep him quiet for hours on end. When I started
writing and publishing horror, mom and dad were my biggest fans. I’m sure they
would occasionally look to one another and say, “Yep, we did this.” Dad has
been gone six years now, but mom is still here, reading my madness, and proud
as hell.
I’m glad as all get out that I’m
like this. Thank you mom and dad. Who knew that loving parents could lead to
this? Huh, I guess they did.
THANKS HUNTER!