Page Nav




Classic Header


Header Ad

Breaking News


Author Q&A ft Eric J. Guignard | That Which Grows Wild Book Tour | Dark Fantasy - Short Stories

That Which Grows Wild  by Eric J. Guignard  is on virtual book tour.  The dark fantasy (short stories) stops at Readeropolis w...

That Which Grows Wild by Eric J. Guignard is on virtual book tour. 

The dark fantasy (short stories) stops at Readeropolis with an author interview and an excerpt from Last Night. 

Be sure to enter for a chance to win the giveaway and follow the Silver Dagger book tour (for other dates see the link at the bottom of the post).

Advice you would give new authors?

Be confident to fail. Read broadly. Experiment. What I tell others, and what I repeat to myself like a mantra, is simply: “Keep writing, and remember that every rejection is an opportunity for improvement!”

You’re also an editor. What three tips would you give to a writer who is looking for a publisher for their stories?

1. Read authors you admire, and who you wish your books would be placed alongside on a bestseller list. Read authors who are progressive and experimental. Read authors of diverse voice. Read authors from bygone eras as well as the newest up-and-comers. Just read, and daily, at least 30 minutes.

2. Be a slush reader for a few months, meaning a “first reader” (generally unpaid volunteer) for a publication. By reading submissions (most that will be rejected), you’ll see (a) what everyone else is doing and flooding the market with (and thus you can set yourself to be different), and (b) flaws in others’ writings that by their aggregate you’ll be able to recognize in yourself (and can rectify).

3. Everyone gets rejected. Everyone, and more often than they’re accepted. Remember that every rejection is an opportunity for improvement!

Which do you prefer more, Editing or Writing?

I’m gonna take the middle road on that answer, as both editing and writing provide me great satisfaction, just in different ways. I really look at them both as completely different processes, like asking if I prefer baseball over the color green. I find editing is easier for me than writing. Writing is emotionally exhausting, whereas editing I can do all day long. And I’m always thrilled with the chance to connect and work with other writers while editing. But I love so much to type “The End” at the end of a writing piece—it’s a wonderful, fulfilling sense. Both are different journeys to a creative destination.

What new and upcoming authors do you think we should take notice of?

Thersa Matsuura, David Tallerman, Ray Cluley, Lisa Morton, Joanna Parypinski; Helen Marshall; Nadia Bulkin; Grady Hendrix… and so many more.

That Which Grows Wild
by Eric J. Guignard
Genre: Dark Fantasy, Short Stories

That Which Grows Wild collects sixteen dark and masterful short stories by award-winning author Eric J. Guignard. Equal parts whimsy and weird, horror and heartbreak, this debut collection traverses the darker side of the fantastic through vibrant and harrowing tales that depict monsters and regrets, hope and atonement, and the oddly changing reflection that turns back at you in the mirror.

Discover why Eric J. Guignard has earned praise from masters of the craft such as Ramsey Campbell (“Guignard gives voice to paranoid vision that’s all too believable.”), Rick Hautala (“No other young horror author is better, I think, than Eric J. Guignard.”), and Nancy Holder ( “The defining new voice of horror has arrived, and I stand in awe.”)

Stories include:

• “A Case Study in Natural Selection and How It Applies to Love” - a teen experiences romance, while the world slowly dies from rising temperatures and increasing cases of spontaneous combustion.

• “Dreams of a Little Suicide” - a down-on-his-luck actor unexpectedly finds his dreams and love in Hollywood playing a munchkin during filming of The Wizard of Oz, but soon those dreams begin to darken.

• “The Inveterate Establishment of Daddano & Co.” - an aged undertaker tells the true story behind the Saint Valentine's Day Massacre, and of the grime that accumulates beneath our floors.

• “A Journey of Great Waves” - a Japanese girl encounters, years later, the ocean-borne debris of her tsunami-ravaged homeland, and the ghosts that come with it.

• “The House of the Rising Sun, Forever” - a tragic voice gives dire warning against the cycle of opium addiction from which, even after death, there is no escape.

• “Last Days of the Gunslinger, John Amos” - a gunfighter keeps a decimated town’s surviving children safe on a mountaintop from the incursion of ferocious creatures… until a flash flood strikes.

Explore within, and discover a wild range upon which grows the dark, the strange, and the profound.  

Eric J. Guignard is a writer and editor of dark and speculative fiction, operating from the shadowy outskirts of Los Angeles. He's won the Bram Stoker Award, been a finalist for the International Thriller Writers Award, and a multi-nominee of the Pushcart Prize. His stories and non-fiction have appeared in over one hundred genre and literary publications such as "Nightmare Magazine," "Black Static," "Shock Totem," "Buzzy Magazine," and "Dark Discoveries Magazine." Outside the glamorous and jet-setting world of indie fiction, Eric's a technical writer and college professor, and he stumbles home each day to a wife, children, cats, and a terrarium filled with mischievous beetles.

Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts, guest posts and a giveaway!

Excerpt from Last Night :


Last night, the world stopped turning.

Last night, the cosmos froze, like the slow-moving cogs of an ancient clock that finally grind down. Perhaps the great horologist of the universe simply forgot to rewind the mechanism of its gears. Perhaps he will appear at any moment to lift the stop lever and turn back its counter wheel. Perhaps he has decided the clock is broken and not worth his patience to tinker with any longer.

The earth hangs motionless now, peering to the sun from one face which, presumably, must begin to burn. Is the other side of the planet in flames or is it simply cooking like a slow-roast oven? I cower in North Vancouver, across the Burrard Inlet and, here, it is only night. My own watch has outlasted the mechanism of the universe and ticks away, telling me it’s three in the afternoon. The sky shows otherwise, black and interrupted by a soft moon which rests high above like a pool of cream.
The temperature had fortunately been warm, golden months of Canadian summer that were just beginning to fade into autumn’s auburn embrace. But I feel it cooling already. The red mercury on my thermometer outdoors drops steadily—forty-eight degrees and slowly sinking. The electricity is still on to generate heat but, once that goes out, there will remain nothing to warm this part of land relegated to nocturnal shadows. Lest that great horologist return, I can only image the arctic wasteland all of

Vancouver will soon become.

If the sinking cold were not grim enough, the howl of werewolves chills me even more.
It’s true they exist, but they’ve been of little consequence. One night a month, they transformed and ran wild through the piney wilderness above Lion’s Bay. Their victims were homeless vagrants found sleeping in ravines or drunken hunters, piss-proud they killed a rabbit with a shotgun. Poetic justice, if you ask me, and their deaths unmourned. We all knew of the creatures and simply stayed home those nights with doors locked and shutters bolted.

The werewolves were people of the town, members of families with long-standing roots to the indigenous men and women who first settled this country. When the time of month came, they did
their business elsewhere, and we let them be.

Now, however, the moon does not fall. It no longer cycles the earth, while the earth no longer cycles the sun. That beguiling orb in the sky has petrified and casts its strange call permanently over mortals who would transform into howling beasts: those mortals who will never be mortal again. As the cosmos are stuck in their current alignment, so too are the creatures stuck in their transformation. The moon may stay full on this part of land for the remainder of eternity, and the wolf-men will run wild.

LAST WEEK, the moon turned full.

Last week, the world stopped turning.

Last week, time fell meaningless as calculations based on the rotation of the planet ceased. My watch ticks onward, the quartz crystal in its center vibrating at a steady frequency to tell me the hours, the days that have passed. It matters not for, outside, it is still midnight . . . always midnight.

I look out the window and see the dark ocean far away, its surface illuminated by the moon’s reflection. Burrard Inlet is motionless, flat as a sheet of glass. There are no tides to pull the waves in or out, motions I once let myself be hypnotized by, dreaming upon their quiet, steady roar. Little moves outside, except for glimpses of fleeting shadows that dart across the hills—shadows that quickly melt into darkness and, once they are gone, cause me to wonder if they were ever there to begin with.

The werewolves have grown bold. In the past they relegated themselves to the wilderness, but now they roam the city. Their number is multiplying. I hear howling often, and screams too, but can never tell where the sound comes from as it echoes in the cold, still night air.

I have gone outside my house only twice since the world stopped moving.


  1. Very interesting that you write and edit as well. I think that's would be an interesting career, and I like the cover of the book. A little wild is good sometimes.


Get carried away with love!