Interview with Dr. Jolie Toomajan

Dr. Jolie Toomajan is all over the place! In recent years, she’s published many fascinating short stories, co-wrote the thrilling Posthaste Manor, won the Shirley Jackson Award for editing the anthology Asceptic and Faintly Sadistic, and got her PhD in English Lit! Not only does she write Weird ficiton, she studies it as well. As you might expect, I had some questions for her.

You're a scholar and writer of Weird fiction. When did you develop an academic interest in the Weird, and what shape did this interest ultimately take?

Academically, about two years into my doctorate I realized that in every analysis I was doing, I was somehow circling the concept of monstrosity. When it was time to take my comprehensive exam, that was the topic I chose, and when I built my list, I added quite a lot of pulp weird to it, and not really consciously. I had been very into women's weird ever since I encountered CL Moore's "Shambleau" as a young girl, and that informed the shape of my reading list. And the more I read the more into it I got (I am now the world's biggest Margaret St. Clair stan).

Your dissertation is about the mostly forgotten women who wrote for Weird Tales. Do you think they experienced discrimination in the writing world during their time? What do they have to impart to us now (that is to say, why should we still be reading them)?

This is going to be long. Brace yourself. 

Whether they experienced discrimination is a tricky question, because of course they did. They were women in 1930. A large part of my dissertation focused on the social conditions these women wrote under, and they were not good. And the women I focused on, the women who were able to overcome that, were generally white, college-educated, employed, and enjoyed a good amount of privilege and freedom for the time, so just imagine what it had to be like for everyone else. 

That said, the idea that women were so discriminated against that they were unable to write or did not write in large numbers until very recently is incorrect. The actual number of women writing for the speculative pulps was between 200 and 500 (different scholars used different approaches to identifying them, that’s why the discrepancy is fairly large). Mary Hemmings found at least one letter from a woman reader in every issue of Weird Tales until 1940.  Allow me to steal from Eric Leif Davin's Partners in Wonder:

[Weird Tales] is a magazine which published women from the very beginning of its existence, in which all editors published women writers during their tenures, a magazine with a longtime female editor, with a female artist sometimes called “The First Lady of pulp magazine illustration” as the most famous of its cover artists…with over 17% of its fiction authors female, and with over 40% of its poets female....‘weird sisters’ were highly visible at all levels of Weird Tales during its existence from editor to primary cover artist to writers to the readership.

These women were a vital part of the writing landscape. They wrote letters, they published widely, they had fans, they had an ecosystem among themselves. Women's weird literature was vibrant and thriving.

I'm not saying the conditions that they wrote under were easy, I'm not saying that they didn't face discrimination, I'm not saying that they didn't face hardship. But what I am saying is that they went out on that seriously unlevel playing field and they played and they played hard. We're not "missing," we've been ignored. That's significantly different.

What are some of the stories you've written that you're most proud of?

I think it has to be "Elizabeth Frankenstein Is the Saddest Girl on Earth."

“Elizabeth Frankenstein” is not a point-A to point-B narrative. It's more like looking into the pieces of a broken mirror and trying to fit the reflection together. From a technical standpoint, writing and building that story took me eight months, because it still had to make sense. And it often didn't. And then it was published in Black Static, which was mind-blowing. At the time, I had a single piece of fiction published, I was so green I could have grown leaves, and to land in a bucket list market? That vote of confidence did a lot of work for me. 

Aseptic and Faintly Sadistic, a hysteria-themed anthology you edited, won a Shirley Jackson Award, and the proceeds have gone to the Chicago Abortion Fund. This anthology was conceived (ahem) after the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade. Can you talk about the passion you feel for this cause? 

I mean, I'm clearly very pro-choice. I believe that abortion is a decision between someone and their doctor and nobody else. But the problem is also much much bigger than that, it affects those of us who don't even need abortion services. 

Abortion is an essential component of healthcare. There are simply no two ways about it. I'm in a deep red state...doctors are fleeing. All of them, not just the ones providing elective abortion services, but gyns and PCPs. Now if I want to have a child, I'd be going into that with a doctor I do not know, who may not perform life-saving services out of fear.

My goal as someone who is pro-choice is the same as someone who is pro-life. Save lives. But if the goal is to save lives, ensuring that more women and children die during childbirth doesn't make sense to me. Comprehensive medical care being fully available to every family; clear, correct, and realistic sex education makes sense; free and fair access to birth control makes sense. It’s not even my own Candyland fantasy. We have the data! 

You wrote a beautiful, poetic story for khōréō about the Mardagayl, the werewolf from Armenian folklore. Did you grow up hearing Armenian folk stories in your family? What would it mean (as you say in this story) for a body to be "a key, not a jail."

I grew up pretty poor, but my grandfather kept a library he had built one book at a time over like 45 years. It wasn't a room or anything, just a bunch of shelves stuffed into our living room. Lots of history, world mythology, lots of Armenian history and mythology written in English or translated, Shakespeare, medical books. My access to his books was limited only by my reading level. He just let me at it. And there wasn't much else available to me entertainment-wise, so I spent a lot of time reading. 

The mardagayl is one of the stories I encountered on my own, because it is absolutely terrifying, and nobody in their right mind would tell this to a child. All mardagayl are women who were given wolf pelts by God as a punishment for some misdeed. And as a wolf, they are horrific. Massive creatures, locks spring open when they approach, and they have the uncontrollable urge to eat their relatives starting with their own youngest offspring and then working their way through the children in their family by age. 

It's terrifying, but it's also powerful. Fear, in my opinion, is probably one of the most powerful emotions in the world; wielding fear gets results (this is not necessarily a good thing).

All of that bubbled up into how I approached this tiny little story. First, I wanted to completely roll my eyes at the idea of punishing a misbehaving woman (we’re just not doing this anymore). And the second was to recast the punishment. That's where the key and not a jail came from. This is supposed to be a punishment because you smiled for too long at a flower or something, but in reality, the world is now open to you in a way it never would be if you weren’t cursed. Mardagayl walk alone at night. 

You're a friend of many writers, and you even wrote a dark and imaginative collaborative novel called Posthaste Manor with Carson Winter for Tenebrous Press. How do you approach the writing community in a way that maximizes help and minimizes harm? 

In terms of working collaboratively on a project, I've seen a lack of respect and faith in your collaborator kill a lot of promising projects. Understanding whether something was a problem or a preference goes a long way. 

We are artists, we’re precious about our writing. God knows I am. But when you're collaborating, you have to let it go. With Carson, I went into it and assumed that every choice he made was deliberate and commented from there. Did he use a to-be verb in a place where I wouldn't have? Okay. So? I'm sure there's a reason for it, and I wouldn't be working with the man if I had no respect for his artistry, so that's not a problem that needs to be addressed. If I directly contradict something he said in the previous chapter, that's a problem we have to work out. If I occasionally fourth wall break for effect, and he doesn't like that technique, that's a preference. 

(None of these things happened, we wrote the book by holding hands like two little happy elves and skipping through a field of sunflowers)

In terms of the larger community, I try to keep it professional. Everyone here is my coworker, which is not to say that I don't also have friends, but I don't have to be your friend to help out with your projects, or to be polite, or to extend professional courtesy. If you're here and you're writing, we're co-workers, and we’re in the same boat (this has a limit. Creeps and weirdos can just get away from me)

You recently became Editor-in-Chief of Cosmic Horror Monthly. Why did you decide to work with CHM?

CHM published Aseptic and Faintly Sadistic, and if I’m being honest, that was a dream situation for an editor. As a team, Carson and Charles (Tyra) are so together, and really supportive. I had nothing to worry about the whole time. If it had been any editor position other than CHM, I would not have applied, but knowing how well the team works together…no brainer.

Charles has a really exceptional editorial eye, as well. His taste level is fantastic; several of my favorite stories of the last several years came out in CHM. I have big shoes to fill, but I’m thrilled about the direction of the magazine. I’m so proud of my first set of issues, and we have big things coming (invitations! More open calls! Tribute issues!)

Thanks, Jolie!!