A former fundamentalist turned simple fatalist, Maria Alexander currently works at Disney as a Web copywriter. Lest anyone think her head is full of pixie dust, since 2000 a number of her dark fiction stories have been published to some acclaim, as well as a collection of horror poetry. Her credits include stories in Gothic.net, Chiaroscuro Magazine and Paradox Magazine, as well as a number of anthologies. Almost all of her works have garnered either Honorable Mentions in the Year’s Best Fantasy & Horror anthologies, appearances on the Preliminary Ballot for the Bram Stoker Award, or both. Her story “The King of Shadows” was Finalist in the 2003 Moondance Short Fiction Competition sponsored by folks such as Oprah, Coppola and Variety magazine. The BBC radio occasionally invites her to talk about blasphemy, her favorite subject. She lives in Los Angeles with a French boyfriend, a pervasive sense of doom and a purse called Trog. For the full literary rap sheet, visit www.thehandlesspoet.com.

DBJ: You started out trained as a classical musician, and you still sing “dark folks songs for dark folk as Lady Euthanasia” - this from your website. My question is this…darkness infects and empowers your work. Given the chance, you lean to the morbid without fail — not that this is a bad thing, just a noted trait. The question is…is there something in the minor chords, the soulful (or soulless) lyrics - the plaintive hymns - something on the dark emotional side of music that has driven your other creative efforts in that same direction? Did it start with the music? Is it all the same obsession - prodding the dark emotions with sharp sticks to see what oozes out?

MA: Music is definitely where it all started, although I’m not sure it was that dark in the beginning. Since I was a spooky little sprout, my father has been writing these bright, crisp tangos that he plays on the piano. They sometimes tumble into a minor key, but they’re usually pretty cheerful. Although I danced around to the music, I only liked the minor keys. When I became aware of classical music, I was predictably drawn to the darker, more dramatic symphonic and chamber music, the same way I was drawn to Poe and monster movies. I’d say my aesthetic awakening to The Dark Side was pretty unilateral and simultaneous at a wee age across artistic mediums. It deepened the night my family watched “The Curse of Dracula” in that doomed TV series, Cliffhangers; I fell in love with Michael Nouri’s delicious Dracula and Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” all on the same night. I was flappin’ those bat wings early!

These days I’m more drawn to dark stuff with a sense of humor, so darkness alone doesn’t drive me nearly as much as amusement. Unless I really need some kind of grim solace, straight-forward horror just doesn’t attract me like it used to. My music is a tiffany twist of the two. The last song I wrote was, “Don’t Cry Baby Mithras Cos Jesus Stole Your Birthday.” I mean, you can growl, but that’s not nearly as cool or entertaining.

As for what drives the obsession, I suspect it has something to do with how darkness is the only medium that lets me explore wounds for real healing. Every story I’ve ever written had some healing purpose for me, even the silly ones like “Samantha Blazes: Psychic Detective of L.A.” And let’s face it: wounds, like car wrecks, are damned fascinating. I’ve also never liked the confines of regular literary fiction or even of straightforward fantasy. I remember when I was little loving Jewish folktales like “Let’s Steal the Moon.” It’s in the darkness where mystery is born, and mystery is infinitely more interesting than anything else.

DBJ: You have done some screenwriting. You have had some success with it. You have even done well in the contests that people are always putting forward as great ways to “break in”. From your perspective, what’s that business really like? I’ve had some small success too - and I’ve steered away from contests…but I’ve not “broken in” either… you got insights from Clive Barker…and youv’e been around the ’scene’ for some time…your thoughts would be of great interest. PLEASE be verbose, wordy, and uncontrolled …

MA: I’m glad and ready to (re-)option existing scripts or sell rights to my work, but I’m a much happier person when I’m not part of that daily swirl. The business can at times be very sick. Unless you’re well grounded and have a lot of people keeping you sane, it sucks you into a vortex of crazy, needy, fearful thinking that can kill your creativity faster than you can say Academy Award®. Also, unless you get into TV, chances are you’re not going to make very much money. You’re much better off writing books and getting them optioned than pursuing a career in screenwriting, as glamorous as it sounds. But if you’re really that kind of masochist and you must pursue it, then you are not allowed to wallow on couches at parties and complain about how underappreciated you are. If I hear you, I will beat you blind with the sharp heel of a stinky shoe.

The insights I got from Clive have ultimately helped me far more in my fiction writing than in screenwriting, although his advice could apply to any discipline. He taught me about regulating my time in terms of how long I spent on a project versus the payoff, as well as how to balance elegance versus visceral qualities in a work. We talked extensively about being a person with an open alternative sexuality in the film industry and how that does or doesn’t affect your career. He felt it didn’t, while I had some reservations since I’m a woman. Clearly we’re discovering that deviant sexuality is a powerful marketing tool, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that, either. In fact, like a lot of people, I’ve found the industry hopelessly sexist and ageist. Until I see a homely 55-year-old woman sell a spec script to a studio in the mid six digits, I’m sticking to my observations.

Even more than the prejudice, the thing that bothers me most about the industry is how it brings out the leeches. I’ve been bombarded with requests from people to give Clive scripts. (PSA: I’m not the Cenobite Express, people.) It can be really uncomfortable meeting junior screenwriters, in particular. If they think you’re “connected,” you are obviously there to be used. At every social event I’ve been to related to the film industry, the first question people in general seem to have when they meet you is, “Can I use you to further my goals?” If you’re not apparently useful, they toss you aside like a crusty Kleenex. While I’m business-oriented myself in a lot of ways, I guess I’m either too much of a hot house flower or I don’t have any patience for dealing with people like that. (Okay, I admit it’s the latter.)

DBJ: You have expressed your creativity in a great number of venues, gaming, fiction, music, film. Is there one that you prefer? Do you see yourself as one particular type of artist foremost, and the others as branches from that one, or are they all separate and equally important aspects of the whole? If you prefer one over the others, why, and in what way - and if you do NOT prefer one over the other, what is the process you use to determine which way to express an idea, or an emotion when it demands to be addressed?

MA: If anything, I’ve been ridiculously unfocused and I want to stay as focused as possible for the near future. I prefer fiction over everything, although I will say that, when I create something, it comes out in the form it’s meant to take. I don’t have much control over that. Sometimes ideas even take the form of poems. (I’ve published a lot of poetry. I was even a winner of the AOL-Time Warner poetry competition in 2003.) Here’s a great example: once when I was disabled with hand injuries, I decided to get cortisone shots so that I could get back to work. The doctor missed the spot and hit a nerve in my wrist. Whiteness billowed in my head for a moment, wherein a poem fell in its entirety. It’s been my most re-printed poem.

I do think some ideas are great for film, but it’s not worth the time to invest in a script unless I’m co-writing with someone I respect who has experience and relationships in the business. Besides, a lot of novels aren’t nearly cinematic enough or well-plotted so I don’t think it hurts to use movie ideas for books. As the spirit moves me, I will continue to adapt scripts to book format because I feel strongly about those stories getting out there. I have toyed with the idea of making my own films, but that won’t be for a few years.

I’d really, really, really love to write graphic novels – but again with the focus thing! Still, I want to try. I think it’s a much shorter leap and I certainly have the skills, plus I have a particularly great story for it.

I rarely write for games any more, but that’s not for lack of inspiration. I’d just rather do that for hire. Besides, those ideas don’t beat their way out of my skull the way stories and poems do.

DBJ: Your fiction, particularly what I read in Sins of the Sirens, is very darkly erotic. In fact, all of the stories in the volume have that unique, simmering sense of dangerous eroticism. My question is this - the “ladies of darkness,” female dark fantasists from Tanith Lee on through yourself and the others included in this book, tend to handle this subject matter without kid gloves, while male authors seem (in general) more subdued or controlled. Do you think this is true, and if so, why? From a woman’s perspective, why is this subject matter such a fascination to readers and authors alike … is it that fiction can cross lines that most will shy away from?

MA: Female authors more often take into account the realities of sex, even when writing about fantasies, as opposed to the pure fantasies that men thrive on. I think this explains the difference you’re referring to, although I’m not totally convinced it’s there. Certainly horror deals with the darker side of life, and I’d not expect everyone to be having healthy, consensual Dan Savage-approved sex in a horror story. We both know that passion can bring out the absolute worst in people, especially spurned love, and that in real life women are victimized more often than men. But it’s this reality sans consequences that influence men’s writing, I think.

And that’s what sells. Certain successful horror authors call women “bitch” every other sentence and get away with rape scenes where – get this – the woman enjoys it. So, regardless of how most male authors deal with sex, it’s this approach to sex in literature that’s popular with readers – and publishers. The violent, immature and degrading male fantasies, written by men, for men.

DBJ: Standard question: You have one day to come up with the inspiration for a new story, novel, song - whatever. You have your choice of a day in a library with access to all the worlds published works - a studio with all the world’s music at your fingertips - or a car to take you any one place in the world for the day. Which do you pick, and why?

MA: If I can’t draw on all the many stories I’m taking to my grave and it absolutely must be spanking new, I’d drive around for the entire day (maybe to San Francisco) and listen to music by artists and composers I love. It’s the ultimate muse. That and driving. I remember once driving home from Santa Cruz to Hollywood and I came up with two new stories, neither I’ve ever had time to write. One’s really funny, though, about two stoners driving a car by agreement from Portland to San Diego only to find out it’s haunted by the previous owner’s girlfriend who’s body is in the jammed trunk.

Oh, fuck. I have to write that now, don’t I?

DBJ BONUS QUESTION: Any particular subjects that REALLY interest you, but that you don’t get asked about often enough?

MA: My latest obsession – hell, the thing that’s driven me intellectually for the last five years – is the concept of The Jesus Myth. People have for centuries had this mistaken belief that there’s evidence that Jesus existed as a real person, when in fact there’s almost no evidence whatsoever. When you look at what’s really there, it falls apart completely. But most people can’t evaluate the historical evidence for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is church brainwashing on the issue. They present the New Testament in a highly deceptive way that prejudices even the least likely to believe.

Deceptive! Why, that’s a strong word, Maria. Well, it’s meant to be. Let’s pretend that you have never read the Bible in your life and that someone verbally told you the gist of the story. You’d never heard of Jesus or any of the Bible stories. If you were to read Paul’s letters – the earliest works, which take up most of the New Testament, written about 20 to 30 years after Jesus lived – you’d see something interesting. Paul only once ever quotes Jesus. Everywhere one would think he’d quote Jesus, he quotes the Old Testament. He never talks about Jesus the person who lived in Nazareth or mentions a single miracle that took place in Jesus’ life except his death and resurrection. And even what he says about the death is a bit curious: he says Jesus’ sacrifice was made “in the heavens” as opposed to on a filthy cross pushed up by ancient military guapos. (To be fair, he does talk about crucifixion per se, just not a lot about what happened specifically.)

Now you, the ignorant savage, take this in stride. If you knew about such things, you might think Paul was talking about one of those weird mystery religions. Or maybe you’d assume Paul was talking like Aesop and telling a fable. You’d definitely be blown away when handed the next piece, which is purported to have been written about 20 years later after the destruction of the Temple: The Book of Mark. It’s nothing like Paul’s letters in content and little resembles the philosophy except that Jesus died and was resurrected for salvation. You’d wonder: If Paul hung out with the “Super Apostles,” why didn’t he repeat any of Jesus’ famous words? Why all the bizarre silences from Paul on the miracles and the virgin birth and everything Jesus said? As you would go on to read the other three Gospels, which are considered to have been largely derived from Mark, depending on your scholasticism, you would be further confused by the sheer volume of supernatural detail that explodes from the pages that entirely escaped that earlier and closer source, our homophobic friend, Paul.

But since churches generally reverse the order of the books, by the time you get to Paul, it seems like he’s spouting refinements to already well-known verse, even though the Gospels had never even been written yet. If you confront church leaders, they’ll tell you that – in absence of Teh Intarwebs, CNN, the Associated Press and the Gospels – somehow everyone from Jerusalem to Galatia had all of these details and Paul was just spit shining Jesus’ intent for his church.

This, of course, is complete shite. Paul didn’t say anything because the Jesus of Mark hadn’t happened. Paul had his own version of Christ spirituality going on, his own worship and experience of a Messiah separate from Christianity as we know it today. His religion had nothing to do with what came later, which built upon what he said.

The argument is much more extensive than this – including Christian forgery in Josephus’ Antiquities of the Jews – so I won’t even try to represent it faithfully here. Everyone from popular writers like Earl Doherty to deconverted Christian ministers such as Dr. Robert Price have written exhaustively about this hoax on humanity. Brian Flemming has a brilliant documentary called The God Who Wasn’t There that describes the lack of historical evidence for Jesus. If you want to get truly scholarly, try Reinventing Paul, by Dr. John G. Gager, a Professor Emeritus in Religion at Princeton. You’ll soon find out why his students called his basic Christianity course “Faith-Crusher 101”. When detractors will tell you no “real scholars” support this theory, you can throw Gager at them. Go ahead. He bites.

One Christian friend told me that absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence. I replied, of course it is, especially when we’re talking about history. No one wrote about Jesus during his lifetime nor for decades afterwards. Not even one of those sneaky little subversive anonymous pamphlet thingies you’d expect if one’s life was in danger. Throughout history people have risked their lives for smaller “truths” than this. And yet there’s nothing. No “Roman records.” Not a shred of historical evidence from that time period. You have to wait two decades after Jesus’ purported death to hear anything, and that’s just Paul.

The Jesus Myth aside, I’m even more fascinated that people – both believers and non-believers – are so invested in the notion that Jesus was a real person. Even some humanists get red in the face and flustered if you suggest Jesus never existed. Isn’t that weird? I guess it’s because people don’t like to think they’ve been fooled. Or maybe because they’re lacking the knowledge to refute the assertion or they think somehow The Golden Rule is automatically invalidated if it wasn’t ever spoken. It’s hard to say.

This has only begun to inspire my writing. It took a while for the idea to finish revolutionizing my psyche and for things to settle down to where it could really inform my creativity. For a new anthology, I wrote a poem the other day called “Uncle Nietzsche With Anchovies” about how when I was 13 years old, searching the New Testament for passages to convince my parents we could eat “unclean meat” (pepperoni in particular) I discovered the problem with Paul’s letters. Unfortunately, when I asked about it, I let our pastor give me a phony-baloney explanation. It’s really a poem about wishing someone – an Uncle Nietzsche – had been there for me to validate my intelligence. I have no doubt that a much bigger story is going to emerge on this front. I’ve already started doing some nonfiction writing on the subject – Egad another genre! – so we’ll see what happens.