Page 46 - Novelist Post – J.D. Barker and more

Michael Bailey Explores the Power
of Storytelling, Horror, and Creative
Collaboration
Michael Bailey reflects on his evolution as a writer, editor, and filmmaker, sharing insights into storytelling, genre fluidity, co-editing with Chuck Palahniuk, and curating transformative anthologies with emotional depth.
Writing Across Mediums With Depth and Purpose
is a quiet revolution: one that prizes emotional truth, aesthetic risk, and a deep, unwavering respect for the reader. His voice on the page is both unflinching and generous, shaped by decades of observing how stories fail, and more importantly, how they survive.
46 II NOVELIST POST
Mby Carine O'Leary London
ichael Bailey never sets out to simply tell a story—he constructs a world and then patiently, insistently, dares us to enter it. Whether through fiction, essays, or the intricacies of editorial vision, his work
fear less. The editor in me has made the writer in me sharper and more forgiving in equal measure.
Silent Nightmares features collaboration with Chuck Palahniuk—what was the co-editing process like?
Chuck brings a minimalistic eye to prose and a contagious energy to everything he touches, and we both have an eclectic taste. We approached the curation of Silent Nightmares as an open dialogue, and our goal was to not only include writing legends in our line-up, but to purposefully leave room for future legends. With our open call for submissions, we filtered through 2,138 stories to end up with six; otherwise, the rest of the book was invite-only. We both have a passion to advocate for new voices, to mentor, to expose and elevate exceptional writing talent. After all, neither of us would be where we are today without the help from those before us.
How do you approach curating stories for anthologies with such diverse voices?
Bailey‘s literary reach is expansive, but his intention is always intimate. In Righting Writing, he offers a meditation on the craft itself—delivered not as a lecture, but a lived experience. In projects like Long Division, his editorial hand doesn’t just gather stories; it composes symphonies of social critique and human vulnerability. His latest anthology, Silent Nightmares, co-edited with Chuck Palahniuk, promises to further expand that vision—deliberately unearthing not just the dark corners of fiction, but the luminous possibility within new voices.
Curating is less about collecting and more about composing. I treat each anthology like a score—there should be rhythm, contrast, crescendo. I seek stories that speak to each other across genre, culture, tone, and that means paying attention
Beyond the written word, Bailey’s work in film—parti- cularly the poignant Madness and Writers series—blurs the boundaries between mediums, revealing a creator who listens as intently as he speaks. His curations are conversations, his edits acts of quiet advocacy, and his own writing a study in fearlessness.
In a world eager for noise and speed, Michael Bailey urges us toward resonance and reflection. His stories linger. His qu- estions echo. And through it all, he reminds us why we turned to words in the first place.
What inspired you to write Righting Writing, and how did you decide on its narrative format?
Inspiration came from years of watching the same mistakes cycle through submission piles—mistakes with soul, no dou- bt, but repeated. Righting Writing wasn’t born from a place of criticism, but care. I wanted to craft something that didn’t just instruct but engaged, something more conversational than a lecture. So I leaned into narrative. I thought: Why not approa- ch writing advice the same way we approach fiction? The for- mat mirrors the experience of learning to write and self-edit well: nonlinear, a little chaotic, but ultimately constructive.
How do your experiences as an editor influence your own writing?
Editing is a constant exercise in humility. It reminds you that brilliance and failure can share the same paragraph, the same sentence. I have learned to become a better listener—to hear what a story wants to be rather than forcing it to con- form, but it’s a slower process now. Editing thousands of vo- ices has taught me restraint in my own work: to let characters breathe, to allow space in the prose. I’m also less precious with my drafts now. I cut more, trust my writing more, and
to what’s not there yet but also seeking out what should be. Diversity is not just about representation—it’s about range, surprise, and emotional resonance. Readers should leave an anthology changed, not just entertained. That requires careful care during selection, and ruthless love during editing. An anthology should feel like stepping into a world with many windows.
What drew you to explore the intersection of horror and societal issues in works like Long Division?
Horror is a mirror genre. It reflects what we fear, but also what we’re unwilling to name. Long Division emerged from
a desire to hold that mirror a little closer to our collective
face than comfortable, and my coeditor Doug Murano and I understood what needed reflecting. The societal fractures we live with—color, class, politics, our dark history—they’re not separate from our nightmares; they are the nightmares. Horror becomes a lens through which we can explore injustice without moralizing, human suffering without dilution. And when done right, it doesn’t offer easy answers. It disturbs with purpose.
How does your work in film, such as Madness and Writers, complement or differ from your writing?
Film demands immediacy. Every second, every frame, must earn its place. Writing prose allows for introspection, texture, and interiority. Film strips that down to image and motion. That contrast has taught me economy in storytelling. In Mad- ness, for example, we lean heavily on atmosphere and emotion to provide what entire pages might in a book. Ten pages of pro- se could be captured in a single frame. Film sharpens the bones of a story. It teaches you to trust silence, to listen to direction,