An Interview with Piamo

You noted Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness and The Word for World is Forest as inspirations for Hurt to Kill’s concept. What draws you towards speculative fiction and eco-horror?

In my writing, I find myself constantly wrestling with the concept of self-annihilation, both on an individual and global scale. I guess it’s natural that, starting from my own nucleus of personal experience with obsession, self-harm, and suicidal ideation (owing to bipolar), it’s not hard to see echoes of that on a macro level with the environment and technology. “The purpose of a thought experiment…is not to predict the future…but to describe reality, the present world.” Can you guess who said that?

Hurt to Kill highlights the link between colonialism, nature, and an assimilated identity from the perspective of the other. Was this connection something you intentionally aimed for or did it emerge organically?

I wrote HTK for the itch.io Sexy Werewolf Jam. It felt like in most werewolf stories, the werewolf was the Other (either as the lone individual or a group), so I wanted to try a story where the werewolf experience was considered the norm. I also wanted to subvert the traditional erotic werewolf tale so the human form is capable of more taboo behavior than the wolf form. The rest happened organically.

Hurt to Kill takes place on a civilized alien planet inhabited by werewolves with their own tribes, cultures, and traditions. How did you develop the vast world of Lycaon?

I’ve historically considered myself someone who can’t worldbuild well. I’m not a writer who builds up worlds in advance. I just jot down a quick outline, and everything happens improvisationally. I was guided mostly by images and sentence-level language. The phrase “the Wild Ones” and “Wild Play” preceded my understanding of what they were. I like letting characters say things and to sort out what they mean as I go.

The surreal, nonlinear feel of Hurt to Kill is expressed by the weave-ins of Inek’s field notes and Cahlil’s changing inner world. What challenges went into constructing the structure of this narrative? How did this change your understanding of the cast?

I think a hallmark style of mine is the use of short sections. Turns out, this is very conducive to multimedia, such as weaving in articles and diagrams, and making quick jumps between different points of time and POVs. I intended for Inek’s notes to both clarify and complicate Cahlil’s experience. Personally, I get bored easily, so when my own attention is sliding, I try to think of ways I can play with the presentation of the story to keep myself engaged. Inek’s role as a haunting figure was a direct result of this.

A lot of the relationships within your stories, including Hurt to Kill convey relationships to be of circumstance, dependency, and a lack of autonomy, rather than love. By subverting the boy’s love genre, what message do you hope readers take away from Hurt to Kill?

To identify something as “love,” at least for me, ends up feeling creatively limiting, because there are so many expectations of what that word means, and it often bleeds into what love “should” look like. I think I do better when I try to remove the label; it short-circuits my social programming to moralize my own work so that I can let the work speak for itself. Message? “If I could have said it non-metaphorically, I would not have written all these words.” Le Guin keeps me sane.

Over your five years of writing fiction, there’s been an evolution of style and story preferences. How would you describe the evolution of your writing style and what differentiates your current style and preferences to years back?

I think intentionality is a muscle I’ve slowly developed. I still am very improvisational, but I’m better at knowing what I want now re: including certain details, narrative decisions. My novellas and novel attempts were always informed by a theoretical framework of what makes a story (three-act structure, four-act structure, hero’s journey, etc.), but that generated a lot of bloat. Now that I’m writing short stories and novelettes, I let myself compress, such that I see the scenes before the structure, which I think helps me stay intentional. 

You’ve published numerous stories that touch on taboo topics and strong themes. What advice would you give to writers wanting to tackle unconventional themes who are afraid of how their work may be received?

There’s a lot of fear out there, and in here. Fear of others’ minds, fear of our own. Are you a deviant? Am I? Reminds me of the Jungian concept of the (collective) shadow. An exercise I use dealing with OCD is to journal my worst fears, walking through them in exacting detail if they were to come true. The obsessive-compulsive seeks out reassurance from others, but that reassurance feeds the cycle. I think that cycle can apply to anyone, and it’s useful to understand. It’s no fun being afraid of your own mind. Once you trust yourself, you become less controlled by your fear of others.  

How and where can we support you? Is there anything readers can look forward to in the upcoming year?

I’m disabled and am relying on the support of friends and family right now, so any amount of support, be it buying a book or two, or even just sharing my work helps a lot. But so many authors and artists are in the same boat as me. The problem is systemic. Why do we have to pay for food or housing at all? Healthcare is a human right. We don’t need to produce something to have worth. Continue having these conversations with the people around you about this kind of thing. Maybe collectively we can put an end to this capitalist nightmare. 

I do have exciting news! A dark sci-fi novelette of mine has been picked up for publication. You can subscribe to my newsletter or Bluesky to stay updated.