Today we are excited to share a guest post from author M.R. Fournet,
Darkness & Demon Song (Marius Grey book 2)!
Read on for more about the author and Darkness & Demon Song!
Meet MR. Fournet!
M.R. Fournet’s ties to New Orleans are part of her own origin story. As as kid, she would go fishing in South Louisiana and eat crawfish with her family in Houma. She has always been fascinated by the myths and legends of New Orleans. When not writing, she is a professional artist, belly dancer, and autism mom. She now lives in Texas with her husband, son, and ungrateful cats. Brick Dust and Bones is her middle grade debut.
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About the Book: Darkness & Demon Song
If Marius wants to save her, he’s going to need help. Serious help. Good thing he has a flesh-eating mermaid for a best friend and a classmate with extra strong magic. Add in mysterious clues for new hunts, graveyard hopping from Louisiana to Texas, and a tough ex-hunter he doesn’t know if he can trust, and it’s clear that Marius has his work cut out for him.
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~ Guest Post ~
Why Scary Stories Are Good for Kids
written by M.R. Fournet
“Are you worried your books will give kids nightmares?”
As a horror writer, I get this question often when speaking with parents. In fact, I don’t recall doing an event where this doesn’t come up. My stock answer is, “Have you ever asked a ten-year-old to tell you a scary story? It’s way worse than anything I come up with.” This never fails to get a laugh.
The statement is true, but it’s not the whole truth.
Scary books are important because in a terrifying world, kids need a safe place to explore their own fear. They test their bravery in a controlled environment. A haven where the things that go bump in the night have rules.
Books have rules.
The heroes have a fighting chance because they know this trick or that spell or where to hide. The trolls turn to stone when the sun comes up, and the demons run screaming from holy water. And if all else fails, you can always just close the book, and the monsters go away.
The real world has no rules.
Most adults forget what how vulnerable teens feel. In that place between childhood and adulthood where you don’t know where you fit. You still need your parents but want your autonomy. You’re learning about reality, and it can feel so isolating.
Even though I was raised by an absolute rock star of a single mom, I remember feeling lonely and vulnerable and afraid. When I felt that way, I’d curl into myself and create stories. There were heroes and villains. Grand adventures and narrow escapes. But most of all, there were monsters. My monsters.
They helped me process my own fear. They protected me in the dark. They held my hand when I was lonely. Since I made them, they did what I said. I had the power. Thankfully, my mother never sent me to a doctor about my strange imagination. She’d just shrug and say, “Well, she’s creative, and that’s a good thing.” She is and will always be my hero for that.
Today, kids have a different experience. I grew up in a time before social media or the internet. We knew about injustice and starving people in far away countries, but it was an abstract idea. Something I never actually witnessed. I can’t imagine what it’s like to wake up with all that visual information at your fingertips. Videos, images, inundating news, commenters, and talking heads. Everyone discussing the latest doom and gloom. How vulnerable that must make them feel. How frightened.
When someone asks me that question about giving kids nightmares, I want to say something else. Something deeper. Something absolutely true.
“No, I’m not worried my books will give them nightmares. A scary world without rules is far worse than anything in my book. My stories are secure. They can escape into the pages knowing it will be alright. They can process fear safely. The pages of a book provide an oasis of certainty in a world gone mad.”
But I never have time for all that. I stick to my stock answer. It’s a good, short sound byte. Besides, how do you explain it to adults who don’t remember how this feels? As for the truly important people—the kids—I want to say this.
“Don’t worry. You are okay in my book. It’s safe here. These are my monsters. I made them, and I would never ever let them hurt you.”
