Feral, Fearless, and Long Overdue

Alma Katsu and Sadie Hartmann discuss women who write horror fiction.

By Alma Katsu, Sadie HartmannDecember 10, 2025

• SF

ONCE DISMISSED as pulp or relegated to the fringes of “genre” publishing, horror literature is enjoying a full-blown renaissance these days. The genre is not only appearing on bestseller lists; its influence is also being felt in literary circles, film, and television. Yet amid this resurgence, old questions linger regarding whose voices are amplified.

For decades, horror’s household names have been overwhelmingly male: Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Clive Barker. Women have also written horror for decades, of course, but their work has too often been labeled as “psychological,” “domestic,” or “literary” rather than as pure horror. As the field expands and diversifies, are women finally being given equal footing, or does bias still haunt the genre’s bloodstained corridors?

Discussing this question are two writers who have helped redefine the genre: Sadie “Mother Horror” Hartmann, whose Feral and Hysterical: Mother Horror’s Ultimate Reading Guide to Dark and Disturbing Fiction by Women was released this August, and Alma Katsu, author of Fiend, published this September.

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ALMA KATSU: For fans of horror fiction, the past few years have been exciting. Appetites for horror stories have grown—and publishers have responded. Bookstores are once again stocking horror sections. Horror-specific festivals and events are popping up across the country. Horror novels regularly appear on the New York Times bestsellers list—and not just the ones written by Stephen King and Joe Hill. It seems the decades-long drought of horror stories is finally over.

Ironically, that drought happened as a reaction to novels written after King popularized the genre, and as publishers soured on the pulpy, one-note paperbacks that flooded the market. Today’s horror fiction covers a much wider range of topics, themes, and styles. But one thing remains the same: the lion’s share of attention often goes to men. The names you see mentioned over and over belong to the guys, while women writing in the field are shunted aside, even if they produce consistently excellent work.

SADIE HARTMANN: Running a horror subscription company, I see the divide play out in real time. Some readers will go feral for the latest Grady Hendrix or Stephen Graham Jones the second it drops, but I have yet to see the same enthusiasm for horror by women.

I also write spy thrillers, a genre where there is a strong gender bias. Readership is dominated by men, many of whom won’t read books written by women, or even ones that feature female protagonists. And the fact that the number of women readers in the genre is small is an anomaly; in terms of absolute numbers of readers, women outnumber men.

There’s still this stereotype that horror targets a male audience and caters to the male gaze. The perception persists that women can’t possibly tap the same wellspring of emotions necessary to terrify a reader, especially a male reader—though this may be due to people mixing up their feelings about horror movies and horror fiction. I don’t think the two audiences or marketing strategies are the same at all.

Meanwhile, women are writing some of the most emotionally gutting horror out there. I mean, have you read Lucy Rose’s The Lamb? Tananarive Due’s The Reformatory? That’s trauma excavated with a scalpel. And yet horror books by women always get described as “elegant,” “haunting,” or “literary”—as if it’s unheard-of for a woman author to go for the jugular and write something deeply messed-up.

But things are changing. Women are not only showing up; they’re also shaping horror’s future. We’re writing the books, running the presses, curating the shelves. And readers are catching on. There’s a hunger for horror that hits from angles people didn’t expect: emotional horror; domestic horror; weird, griefy body horror. A lot of that is coming from women.

Maybe we’re not always perceived the same way, but we’re certainly starting to be heard. And if you’re not paying attention yet, trust me—you will be.

There seem to be more women—particularly younger women—writing about female protagonists taking their frustrations out or getting revenge in a satisfyingly physical, bloody way. (I’m thinking C. J. Leede, Monika Kim …) There’s still a calculus, though, in how successful female writers portray their female main characters. I doubt any woman is going to be allowed to publish a version of American Psycho anytime soon—at least one that isn’t triggered by a typically female plot device, like a dead child or lost husband. I tried to come close to this in Fiend: we see a young woman driven mad by her family’s refusal to let her take over the business. Her role is to do the one thing that daughters can do and sons can’t: birth an heir. But that isn’t the role she wants.

I love how your book tackled those age-old tropes of inheritance and birth order when it comes to taking over the family business—and then flipped the whole script. That’s what’s so exciting about what women horror authors have been doing. Especially over the last three to five years: we’ve seen books like Agustina Bazterrica’s Tender Is the Flesh, Virginia Feito’s Victorian Psycho, C. J. Leede’s Maeve Fly, Monika Kim’s The Eyes Are the Best Part, and Lucy Rose’s The Lamb storm onto the scene and absolutely shake things up. Readers are losing their minds over these bloody, relentlessly violent, and unapologetically savage stories. They’re calling them “Good for Her” books, because these aren’t just tales of survival or quiet suffering—these are female protagonists fighting back against the patriarchy, misbehaving, and demanding the spotlight. Not as victims, or damsels in distress, but as the antagonists, the heroes—sometimes both. As I write in my new book, this wave of horror is feral, fearless, and long overdue.

Has there been a time when your gender was a factor in how you were perceived or treated as a contributor to the genre?

About 10 years ago, I was invited to review horror for some well-known venues specifically because both editors felt that a woman’s perspective was sorely needed to balance out the landscape. I wish I could say I was welcomed with open arms, but the reality was a little more complicated. Some of the more established, male-led horror review spaces didn’t quite know what to make of me. The message was loud and clear: a woman in the horror fiction space with strong opinions and the courage to speak them is threatening. It felt, at times, like navigating shark-infested waters in a leaky boat—while bleeding out from all the barbs and arrows. But I kept going. Thankfully, the atmosphere now is completely different.

I suppose I’ve earned my place—as a tastemaker, a businesswoman, and an award-winning nonfiction author working in horror. (Although I hate the word “earned”—it suggests I was given some kind of approval.) I’m not going anywhere. At this point, the dust has more than settled.

Readers need to know the struggles that go on behind the scenes in all facets of the business. As for me, I’d say it’s not as bad as it was 15 years ago. When I was starting out, and men were told that I was an author, they would ask me point-blank if I wrote children’s books or romance. I continue to feel some constraints, but it probably has to do with how women’s writing is perceived broadly. I’ve long felt that, to the general public—including nonreaders, who can be the most biased critics of all—there are “acceptable” genres for women authors. I don’t mean to make it sound like there’s some nefarious plot; it’s more that everyone in the business loves a winner. And so they tend to throw their weight behind a book that’s more likely to find a big audience rather than one that appeals—on paper, anyway—to a smaller group.

Which leads us to indie and small presses. Women writers seem to be doing very well in indie and small-press horror, but does that door stay open in mainstream publishing, film, or critical awards?

I hear from editors at the Big Five that many of the submissions they get today have some element of horror in them, and that horror tops the lists of many literary agents, so I have to think that means the big houses are open to horror from women—perhaps within the constraints we’ve discussed. As for which properties get optioned for film or TV, that I don’t know. Fiend has been optioned for TV and was picked up quickly, so that seems like a good sign. As for awards, to be completely honest, I think there is still bias against women when it comes to certain categories, the “big” categories. But as women continue to produce strong works, hopefully we’ll see that erode.

The indie space has become this incredible ecosystem for women in horror to grow, experiment, and gain loyal readerships. But the leap to mainstream visibility? It still seems like a climb. You see it in the way blurbs get handed out. The biggest names still tend to blurb each other in that same tight circle; it’s like a secret handshake. I see women write something brilliant and genre-pushing, and the best they get is a line from another debut author or a fellow small-press writer (who also deserves a bigger spotlight). It’s not about talent but about access.

There are some exceptions, I think—some male authors that make an intentional effort to lift women in horror. For example, Victorian Psycho and Kylie Lee Baker’s Bat Eater and Other Names for Cora Zeng have been two huge hits this year for horror, and Paul Tremblay provided blurbs for both. That is an example of someone keeping a close eye on new and diverse voices in the genre doing big things. We need more of this energy. I would love to see established male horror authors challenge themselves to make more time for debut women authors and less time for their male friends whom they have blurbed several times—really lean into championing up-and-coming talent, giving it that invaluable visibility and praise.