“UNDER THE KUDZU” ACCEPTED FOR BEHIND LOCKED DOORS ANTHOLOGY

My short story “Under the Kudzu” has been selected for publication in Wicked East Press’ Behind Locked Doors anthology.

“Kudzu” has special significance for me. In September 2010, my friend Cynthia Wilson called me to ask if I’d seen photographs of structures that had been covered in kudzu. “Imagine,” she said, “what horrible scary things could be going on in houses buried by kudzu!”

She loved a good ghost story, so I suggested she write it. Her response was, “no, I want you to write it. I want to read what you have to say about it.” She then e-mailed me several pictures of the phenomenon.

So, I took a stab at it.

Unfortunately, Cynthia passed away before she got to read my first draft.

After much critiquing by a few writer-friends and a few rounds of revision, I promised myself that this year I would get it published—if she couldn’t read it, at least others could.

I achieved my goal.

When Behind Locked Doors hits the stands, I’ll let you know. If you’d like to see the photograph of a kudzu-covered house that inspired the story, you can view that online here.

About kristipetersenschoonover

A ghost story writer who still sleeps with the lights on, Kristi Petersen Schoonover’s fiction has appeared in many magazines and anthologies; her traditionally published books include a short story collection, THE SHADOWS BEHIND. She was the recipient of three Norman Mailer Writers Colony Residencies and holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Goddard College. She serves as co-host of the DARK DISCUSSIONS podcast, as founding editor of the dark literary journal 34 ORCHARD, and is a member of the New England Horror Writers. Follow her adventures at kristipetersenschoonover.com.

Posted on December 2, 2011, in Deep Thoughts & Fun Stuff, News, Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Discover more from KRISTI PETERSEN SCHOONOVER

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading