I’ll freely admit that when it comes to scary books and movies, I’m a giant chicken. I’m the reader who skips to the end of the book to see who dies so that I don’t get too attached, but then ends up having nightmares for the next two weeks anyway. So Ronan Cray’s horror novel, Red Sand, is not a book that I would normally try. But I’m glad I did, because it is a quick read with a unique twist – every chapter is written from the perspective of a different character.

In this interview, Ronan talks about what inspires him to write horror and how he crafted Red Sand, which landed him on the “Top 10 New Horror Authors” by Horror Novel Reviews.

Tell us a little about yourself.

It starts with a lie. I am a fictional character, a pseudonymous projection of all that is cool in the actual author with none of the geeky quantities. That amounts to about 1.05% of the original. Still, that exciting reality exists, as it does in all of you, albeit heavily diluted by day jobs, boredom, and mundane responsibilities. My makeup derives largely from annual and weekend travel – tours through the dry husk of the Forbidden City in Beijing, tastings of clear whisky at the Oban distillery, cold drafts in a St. Petersburg apartment, the cool autumn deaths of Pennsylvania flora. I am the memories of a drowning man. After a near-death experience, when you say, “My life flashed before my eyes,” you don’t see that wait at the DMV, the TPS report at work, the bus ride home. No. You see Ronan Cray.

Red Sand came from a dream. A big fellow chased me over the dunes and volcanic rocks of a desert island. A conch horn blew in the distance. “No!” he said, in fear. “It’s too soon! I could have done it!” It was too late. Hunter became hunted. They unleashed the creatures. They swarmed over us, vegetable Isz, tubers and vines destroying our flesh before I woke. That scene, slightly modified, started the book. The rest followed.

We’re surrounded by voices and stories, all of them valid, all of them interesting. I don’t believe in main characters. Who is the main character in a family, in a marriage? Most of the ills of this life derive from our solipsistic worldview, each person believing themselves to be the main character in their lives, waiting for everyone else to recognize this. But far more powerful characters frequently intervene. I’m fascinated by everyone’s agenda, and how those agendas inadvertently intersect and conflict with everyone else’s. That’s where drama comes from. I wanted the reader to experience omniscience, knowing the trajectories of characters bound to collide yet helpless to stop it. So I decided to explore the same story from the point of view of many. Out of dozens available, I chose only eight. Or rather, they chose me.

Of course, the multiple points of view turned out to be the hardest part. I often wrote myself into a roadblock. I’d give a character special knowledge, revealed only to her and the reader, then kill her off. (The character, not the reader). With that knowledge lost, how could the other characters continue the plot? Interweaving the plot between multiple characters meant fastidious tracking of facts and careful placement of actors on the stage. I couldn’t comb out a linear story, like first person novels can. I had to braid it. Rope is stronger than its individual strands. I think a story told by multiple characters is stronger in the telling.

I didn’t actively promote myself as some great author. I was just as surprised and delighted as the other authors on the list. But that honor has made me more careful. I want my next novel to live up to, even exceed the first. I think it has.

Three words: think long term. Does a painter throw a show with one painting? Does a band get on stage with one song? Many authors get discouraged after they see their first book turn transparent right before their eyes. The public is a fickle, hurried bunch (see question 3) and don’t have time to discover your greatness immediately. A self-published author is a desert mirage attempting to build itself from particles of sand.  It takes time. And lots of sand.

I’m inspired by the old greats – Stevenson, Dickens, Kafka, Hugo, and especially Conrad. In the old days, horror was implied. There is nothing implied in Red Sand, and my prose can’t compare, but that is the foundation I build my books on. Horror is a result of understanding. Events only have meaning when perceived.  Who perceives it is the story. The old masters understood this. They spent a great deal of time showing the reader the character, developing the context. Only when the reader fully lived in that world did they reveal the conflict. Modern books tend to skip to the action (myself included), in part because we are all more educated, less naïve, but also because we are less patient. I still prefer old books to modern ones, with apologies to my contemporaries.