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HOWE: Sorry to disappoint, but as much as I admire the work of Mr. Cage, I’m not an obsessive fan by any means. The reference to Cage in “Damn Dirty Apes”—the first of the Reggie Levine misadventures/clusterfucks—was little more than a throwaway line. Cage just seemed to me to be the most likely candidate to play Reggie in a movie of “Apes,” as occurs within the world of the story. In fact, given some of the shitty DTV schlock Cage has been making lately, “Apes” would be a step up in quality. At the time of writing “Apes,” I didn’t know I’d be returning to the Reggie Levine character … or that Cage himself would cameo in the sequel, Tijuana Donkey Showdown. Call it a lucky accident.
GNG: The only way to top that is death by merkin. While much of your writing defies rigid classification, if I had to slap a label on it, I would call it redneck crime/noir. (As a side note, folks, that tag doesn’t even begin to do Howe’s work justice.) What makes the lowlife, sleazeball sub-genre so appealing to you?
HOWE: Dumb-ass characters make dumb-ass decisions, which lead me down the strangest paths and allow the kind of blackly comic scenarios I like to write about. I would hope that readers of my work are smarter than my characters, which allows a sense of schadenfreude. That’s what I write: schadenfreude noir. Also, I’m a recovering addict. Seven years sober this year. My drinking days were nothing like as exciting as the stories I write, but I guess in writing about these lowlife sleazeballs and their doomed schemes, there’s a part of me still vicariously slumming it.
GNG: “Dumbass schadenfreude” should definitely be an official genre. Are there other genres you would like to take a crack at someday? I’m betting you could write the blazes out of some Sasquatch-on-unicorn bondage erotica.
HOWE: Who’s to say I’m not already writing cryptid porn under a pseudonym? (Shit, I daresay there’d be more money in it than what I’m currently writing!) Nah, I’m pretty comfortable in the crime/horror/thriller genres. I don’t see that changing anytime soon … though I do dig the “splatter action” you write, so that may be something I’d like to take a stab at someday.
GNG: I highly recommend you try some “splatter action." Unless you want to make money, in which case you should stick with cryptid porn. Is there a certain author (or authors) that you draw inspiration from? Or is all the demented madness solely from the disturbed depths of your warped brain?
HOWE: Beyond the primary influences we latch onto as beginning writers, who help shape our style—and for me these included Stephen King (big surprise) and Shane Black—these days it’s the discovery of new-to-me writers who most inspire me and re-energize my work. When my own work is feeling stale, the surprise connection to a fresh voice can be like a jolt of adrenaline and a creative kick in the ass. That’s how I felt reading for the first time the likes of Johnny Shaw, Duane Swierczynski, Jordan Harper—and most of all, Joe Lansdale.
Lansdale has been perhaps the biggest influence on my later work. That’s when I started moving away from the Stephen King-style stuff I thought I should be writing, as a so-called “horror” writer, and began writing my OWN stuff, for better or worse.
GNG: Anyone who can’t see the Lansdale influence—but not mimicry—in your work is blinder than a no-eyed monkey. You possess an unabashed love for ‘80s action cinema. Tell us why that particular era appeals to you so much and, on a related note, tell us your opinion of the definitive ‘80s action flick. Personally, I thought the genre peaked with Ernest Saves Christmas…
HOWE: I dig the earnest machismo of ‘80s action cinema, the “toxic masculinity,” if you will. Consider the cast of Predator—Arnold fuckin’ Schwarzenegger, Carl fuckin’ Weathers, Bill fuckin’ Duke, Jesse fuckin’ Ventura, Sonny fuckin’ Landham—that’s a cast to give a hard-on a hard-on! Now consider the cast for the upcoming Predator flick … I don’t know about you, but I’m flaccid. Where have all the tough guy actors gone? Clearly they don’t make ‘em in America anymore. Today’s action stars are mostly Brits (God save the Queen!) and Aussies. That’s a sorry state of affairs, man. When it comes to action movies, I want a star who looks like he could kick ass (not some RADA-trained pansy who boot-camped for the role); I want stunt guys risking life and limb performing real stunts, none of this physics-defying CGI shit; I want real explosions, real car crashes; I want squibs inflicting Verhoeven-style carnage, not computer-generated muzzle flash and fake blood. Suspend my disbelief, motherfuckers! I feel sorry for the kids of today with this endless glut of socially conscious superhero garbage. They will never know the dubious pleasures of an Action Jackson, a Roadhouse, a Stone Cold, or a Cobra. And this is why society is doomed.
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HOWE: Like so many of my grand schemes, none of it was planned in advance. I first pitched the idea for a wrestling anthology to another small press publisher. With myself attached as editor/writer, the publisher authorized me to run with the idea. I assembled a kick-ass lineup of writers … only for the publisher to nix the deal within a few weeks of the deadline. I’d already received a bunch of stories from the writers and felt like a heel for letting them down, so I decided to test the waters of self-publishing and release the book myself. To be honest, pro wrestling is something I know little about. Of course, I watched it as a kid, but these days I’m a boxing fan. That said, in researching my own contribution to the book, a Reggie Levine story called “Rassle Hassle,” I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the circus-on-steroids world of pro wrestling really compliments the crazy shit I write about. Such that I suspect it’s a subject I’ll return to further down the line, if not in another volume of Wrestle Maniacs—judging by the sales so far, I may have vastly overestimated the demand for an anthology of wrestling fiction!
GNG: Maybe a horror anthology set in the world of ballerinas would do better? Just a thought. Anyway, what is the single most important piece of advice you would give to aspiring authors? (Other than become bosom buddies with Lee Child and James Patterson.)
HOWE: I was just discussing this very question over brunch with Lee and Jimmy and we all agreed: be careful whom you ask to blurb your work. After writing the first of the Reggie Levine misadventures, “Damn Dirty Apes,” which involves a backwoods safari for the rogue cryptid that has abducted a porn star, I made the mistake of submitting the galleys to the Society for the Preservation of the North American Skunk Ape, in the hope they might endorse the book. I know, I know! The S.P.N.A.S.A. has far more important things to do than read dumb-ass fiction. But I was new to the writing game and naively assumed it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Little did I know the hell I had wrought. I have no wish to recount my ordeal (and my legal counsel advises it’s probably for the best that I let sleeping skunk apes lie) but here’s a link for anyone who wishes to read what has become known among Forteans as … “The Damn Dirty Apes Controversy.”
GNG: Clearly those skunk ape lovers are not be trifled with. Your fiction often takes bloody, disgusting turns (that’s praise, by the way). Is there a line you won’t cross, some taboo that you refuse to tackle? Ever started to write a scene and then hauled back on the reins because you thought, Naw, that is just too messed up?
HOWE: The pat answer here is pedophilia—at least, it used to be, before today’s “triggered” culture made everything “problematic.” But nothing’s off limits, as far as I’m concerned. It all boils down to tone and I like to think my readers are adults. I find it hard enough to write, period, without censoring myself. I’ve begun seeing writers (mostly indie writers; the pros know better) announce on social media that they will no longer write stories (fiction, mind you) involving violence against women or guns; well-intentioned though this may be, it’s baffling to me that a writer of horror or crime FICTION would allow a knee-jerk reaction to current events to limit their imagination in any way. Now I’m not advocating shooting women in books, but c’mon, enough with the fucking grandstanding. We’re storytellers, not politicians.
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GNG: For the record, I loved that “sick shit.” Not sure what that says about me, but I’ll let some high-falutin’ therapist figure that out somewhere down the road. You have published multiple novellas and short stories, but only one full-length novel. Do you prefer the shorter format, or did things just work out that way?
GNG: Sometimes shorter is better. Speaking of that … they say to write what you know. Since so many of your characters are down-on-their-luck dirtballs with oversized phalluses, what should we infer about you?
HOWE: Modesty forbids me from bragging about my giant cock, but I’m pleased you caught the subtext of my work (even if it does sound a little like you’re soliciting for dick pics … sent, by the way). In my defense, the genitals in question belong to porn performers, a dwarf and a donkey respectively. I’m reliably informed (because I don’t watch that stuff, mom) that adult entertainers are not typically known for having small penises (though of course, the camera adds a few pounds). So cut me some slack, man. Readers have come to expect a certain gritty realism from my work and I’m nothing if not a people-pleaser.
GNG: Thanks for those pics, by the way. They’ve been submitted to Guinness Book of World Records in the “World’s Tiniest…” category. Okay, another very important question: Nicholas Cage in Con Air versus Steven Seagal in Out for Justice. Who takes the crown?
I realize that Seagal has become something of a joke nowadays, but there was a time when he was The Man … though Van Damme fans might take exception to that. (Seagal fans and JCVD fans are kinda like ‘cat and dog people.’) Big Steve’s early run of pictures, from Above the Law to Out for Justice, are fuckin’-A classics. And you can take that to the bank!
Here’s a piece I wrote on Seagal and Out for Justice:
"An Appreciation of Steven Seagal's Out for Justice"
GNG: I hate cats. Just wanted to put that out there. Okay, let’s wrap this up by having you tell us what’s next for you. (Unless it involves shaved gerbils and extra chunky peanut butter. Oh God, I just gave you a story idea, didn’t I…)
HOWE: You kid about the gerbil, but in fact I’ve already written that story. It’s called “Foreign Bodies” and was first printed in the Chopping Block Party anthology published by Necro Press, and is due to be reprinted in the Year’s Best Hardcore Horror Vol. 3 from Comet Press. It’s about a Z-list Hollywood fixer, a disgraced children’s TV host called Uncle Buddy, and a gerbil called Gerry. I’m talking with Disney for the movie.
Beyond that, James “Ugly as Sin” Newman (that’s the name of his novel, not a comment on his appearance) and I have an ‘80s-set occult thriller called Scapegoat coming out later this year. Here’s the synopsis:
“For metal-heads Mike Rawson, Lonnie Deveroux, and Pork Chop, an RV road trip to Wrestlemania III becomes a one-way ticket to hell. While delivering an illegal shipment of counterfeit wrestling merchandise, an ill-fated shortcut through the Kentucky backwoods brings them into contact with a teen-aged girl carved head to toe in arcane symbols, and with a horrifying story to tell. Soon our unlikely heroes are being hunted through the boonies by a cult of religious crazies who make the Westboro Baptists look like choirboys; a cult that will stop at nothing to get the girl back and complete a ritual that has held an ancient evil at bay for centuries … until now.”
Sounds OK, right? We’re looking forward to sharing that one.
I’m also taking another crack at my long-gestating ode to ‘80s/’90s action cinema, One Tough Bastard, a ‘buddy’ caper about a washed-up ‘80s action star called Shane Moxie and a talking chimpanzee called Duke exposing a crazy-ass criminal conspiracy in Hollywood (of all places!).
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