We chat with author Jo Paquette about Stories I Told My Dead Lover, which contains eight searing tales of psychological horror that probe the darkest and most deeply buried parts of the human psyche.
What can readers expect from your short story collection?
Each story is completely independent from the rest. The collection spans a range of wildly different characters, settings, and storylines. The stories are psychologically dark; one reader called the collection “unsettling,” which I think reflects the exploratory, introspective frame of mind in which I wrote them. While they are largely realistic, there is often some element of the otherworldly, some weird or slightly skewed frame to the narrative that doesn’t quite fit the norm. A bit of a Twilight Zone vibe, but in book form and make it pass the Bechdel test.
What do you think the biggest takeaway is that readers will get from Stories I Told My Dead Lover?
My aim is always to tell a good story, first and foremost. Beyond this, the themes on my mind at the time of writing had to do with agency, personal empowerment, and the ends to which a person might go to regain control of their own life. If there is one takeaway I would wish upon readers, it would be to examine this area in their own lives. My deepest hope is that some shard of story might linger on after that last page has turned, might return to a reader’s mind on some dark night. Might, I hope, cause them to see themselves or their lives in some small way that is different. That is new. There are no answers here, only questions. But sometimes, all it takes is a beginning.
Where did the inspiration for Stories I Told My Dead Lover come from?
Each story had its own beginning spark: Some, like Sonata in God Minor, began first as an intriguing title that I could not get out of my head. What circumstances might do it justice? Where might that dark pathway lead? Others, like The Taste of Yellow, were inspired by a particular theme that I wanted to explore further. Several—such as Ova and Shadow of the Abyss—had their start in long-held concepts or idea-seeds which had lingered for years in my “idea file,” and which chose this moment to finally spark to life. Into each story I tried to weave some element from my own life or experience, whether a tiny occurrence or some larger event. This mix added relevance and kept me grounded through the writing process.
What was the hardest part about writing a short story collection? What part was the most fun?
I most enjoyed diving wholesale into a world: creating characters and dynamics and story from scratch, sinking in as deep as I could—and then jumping back out. Unlike a novel, you are telling a complete story in just ten to twenty pages. But there is also a necessary incompleteness. You need to know when to stop, when to back away and drop the closing curtain, and let the characters carry on with their lives outside of your writer’s lens. And that can be hard to do. Like so many things in life, the hardest and the best things often intertwine to an extent that the one cannot exist without the other. Which is, I suppose, also one of the most rewarding parts of living itself.
Is there a specific character you really enjoyed writing and why?
I quite liked the narrator of My Head Is a Chestnut. Right from the start, her voice felt very sharp and clear in my mind. At first I didn’t know where her story was heading, but from the moment of typing those first few opening sentences, I was hooked. And the very visceral difference of her voice and worldview from my own made the creation process all the more exciting, and challenging, and ultimately satisfying.
What’s next for you?
I’ve got a couple of longer ideas I’m toeing around, but honestly? I’m kind of hooked on short stories. The weird, the dark, the strange, the thought-provoking… those are the elements that keep calling to me when I sit down with the blank page. As for the rest? Who can tell what might yet come.
