From a recent post on Lost Lore:

“And some stopped associating with the genre all together, which is, unfortunately, what Kathe Koja did. After horror died, she turned her attention to writing young adult fiction, and she has yet to return. And that’s a shame. True, people have the right to mature and grow as writers, but when Koja was in her form, she wrote really good horror stories.”

My first thought is Thank you! It’s good to see that my 90’s books are read and remembered. Then I wonder if what some of my older (in both senses) readers may be missing in my YA books is not the horror element (though I’ll go to my grave insisting that the shrink in Going Under is as frightening a character as I’ve ever written) (as hideously self-centered as the dreadful Lena, in Kink, itself in no sense a horror novel – except that one) but the – should we call it “strangeness”? present in my earlier work. Which is quite valid. . . The Blue Mirror walks that line, actually.

As much as I’d like to lay claim to a savvy and coherent master plan for my writing career, the truth is, I just don’t work (or think) that way. I keep on writing about things that interest me – love, animals, the practice of art, the balance of power in human relationships, in their myriad, maddening forms – and then hope like hell that all the fun I have writing translates to fun reading for other people. Not everything will please all readers, of courrse, but I always hope to please the ones who have an eye for what I do, whatever it is, whatever we may choose to call it.

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