I enjoyed his other work– Mapping the Interior, Mongrels–but that collection of short stories remained my favorite. I didn’t think I’d ever read something even better than that collection from Stephen Graham Jones. So, naturally, I went to the library and checked out the only book of his I could find on the shelves: After the People Lights Have Gone Off. He even wrote about my greatest literary weakness: werewolves. She told me that this man, this fellow person of color, was writing horror that was literary and entertaining. She told me all about this native-Texan, Blackfeet-Indian, writing-professor horror writer. Then she asked, “Have you ever heard of Stephen Graham Jones?” I looked at her, full of skepticism that both literary fiction and horror could co-exist in the same piece. My amazing professor never batted an eye, even encouraging me to keep writing––to make a career out of words. The first time I was introduced to his work, I was studying creative writing at my local community college, writing horror stories for my assignments while my classmates wrote literary pieces. I didn’t think writers like Stephen Graham Jones existed.
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