Page 5 of Grimdark Magazine Issue 48

Science FictionProgressive

SteampunkTechno/Ragtime

ThrillerRave

TragedyTrance

Urban FantasyDisco (that’s a joke)

WarDeath Metal

WesternCountry

I think the Fan Fic crowd might push back on the Filk correlation.

[GdM] Darkness in art is often defended as catharsis, but it can also become empty spectacle. What makes dark art feel honest to you?

[PO] If it’s moral. Not that I think you need to or should be pushing to make it so. But horror, dark fantasy, and other genres that have passages or elements that leverage the techniques of darker genres, have an opportunity to put morality at center stage. I think what people do, the choices they make, when the consequences are mortal provide the writer and reader with an opportunity to showcase what is best about humanity. Obviously, frustrating that along the way is the writer’s job. But the catharsis available to a well written horror novel—or other dark tale—often beats, in my opinion, that of many other genres. There’s a risk of being pedantic, or cliché, but when a writer gets it right, that feeling is hard to beat.

And I think what makes it honest is if the characters is forced repeatedly to choose between two outcomes that matter. This could be said of all writing. But again, with horror and the like, the stakes are usually higher. Often it’s not just life, but the soul, or a broader evil that could reach into other people’s lives. It feels mythic to me, and dropping a character into a scenario where they’re facing something so overwhelming, and then having them make a series of really hard choices in service of others, while trying to stay alive … that’s good stuff.

[GdM] Writing a novel is private for a long time, while performing music gives you an audience immediately. Which one makes you feel more vulnerable?

[PO] Honestly, it’s when a book hits the shelves. The writing of a book has moments of intimacy that make even me cry at times. But live music performance has never made me feel vulnerable. I think I’m just built that way. Not that every performance is perfect, or that everyone loves every song. But there’s a kind of unspoken contract between live musicians and concert goers that we’re all coming together to share a moment in time, and the imperfections are part of the experience. It’s a memory you build and share, and I’ve loved every one of them. But back to a book hitting the shelves. You just don’t know how people are going to react, and you’ve spent months or years creating it, and then in a relatively short time, things go great or not great. And there can be a helpless feeling of having labored all that time on something you cared about only to have it not land the way you hoped. Most writers I know have experienced this. The answer is usually to just keep creating and moving forward. And for most writers, you’re already deep into the next book, or maybe two, by the time a book comes out. The productivity helps mitigate the feelings of vulnerability.

[GdM] You’ve collaborated with both musicians and writers. Where do those experiences overlap, and where are they completely different?

[PO] I’ve collaborated with musicians to novelize their concept albums. Most notably I did this twice with the Grammy Award-winning band Dream Theater. In those cases, I had a series of video calls with members of the band to do some brainstorming, and then they turned me loose and gave me complete creative freedom to build from there. I’ve also collaborated with musicians to write and record music. That can be trickier, honestly, because there are often competing visions for a song, and so compromise becomes key.

As a writer, my main collaboration is with Brandon Sanderson on The Strata Wars, with the first book Songs of the Dead that came out in June of 2026. It was a fun collaboration because Brandon took me on as a full collaborator. He wasn’t dictatorial at all. If we didn’t agree on something, we kept brainstorming until we found a solution we both liked. Build the world, the series architecture, the first trilogy architectures, and the outline for Songs all went really well.

So, I’d say the two experiences don’t overlap much. They’re quite different.

[GdM] Once art becomes work, it gathers deadlines, contracts, promotion, and expectation. What helps you protect the part of it that still feels alive?

[PO] It’s usually the relationships between the characters that keep it alive for me. How they hurt and help each other. Their choices. And I think beyond that you have to write something that excites you. When I have a chapter or scene that feels like drudgery, I look for ways to make it exciting to me, whether it’s the setting, some unique conflict, a surprise or twist, just something that makes me personally excited to be writing it.

[GdM] When you return to something you began years earlier, how much loyalty do you feel toward the artist you were then?

[PO] Well, my vocal trainer taught me this adage: “Always satisfied, never content.” I try to live by that. So, from one book to the next, I feel good about the work and find myself proud of it. But I’m never content that I’m good enough. I study the craft now more than I ever have. There’s an old saying that says: The more you write, the harder it gets. The idea there is that you are continuing to learn your craft, and each time you acquire a new skill, you realize how much more there is to learn. It’s a bummer to read books by writers who plateau, because—in my opinion—it’s never because they’ve reached the summit, but rather that they’ve stopped climbing. Now, that doesn’t mean each book you write will actually be better than the last. But I think that should be the goal. It is for me, at least.

So, I don’t feel a loyalty to try and be who I was on a previous project. But if it has a certain voice or approach it can make sense to reinhabit those things.

[GdM] Which fantasy novel should become a metal concept album? And which album already feels like a fantasy novel waiting to happen?

[PO] I think Gene Wolf’s work would make a great concept album—so many good choices, e.g. Shadow of the Torturer.

I’d love to write Iron Maiden’s Seventh Son of a Seventh Son.

[GdM] After working in several creative forms, has your answer to the question “What is art for?” changed?

[PO] Not really. I think art is a human expression. That’s why I think AI is so destructive. It’s not that I believe every aspiring writer or musician is going to become Dostoyevsky or Bradbury or Mozart or Dream Theater, but the pursuit is the thing. The act of trying, even if a career isn’t the ambition, but rather the struggle to express something, that needs to be protected.

Writing an AI prompt short circuits the struggle, and its in the struggle to create that we learn something about ourselves and others and what it means to be human. AI poses an existential threat to all of that.

This conceit is actually the heart of the concept album by Dream Theater that I novelized entitled The Astonishing.

And even if someone never makes an attempt to write or paint or compose or sing, most of us have artists we like, books we care about, actors and actresses who move us. And all of it is commentary about the human condition. I know that sounds high-minded, but I still think it’s true. Art is expression of humanity. It’s critical to our well-being.