“Haunted Florida”, “Authors from The Twilight Zone”, and “Tales from the Dusty Tiger”
Night Time Logic is the part of a story that is felt but not consciously processed. It is also the name of this interview series here at Cemetery Dance online and over on my YouTube channel where we explore the night time part of stories, the strange and uncanny in horror, dark fiction, and more.
My short story collections are full of the kind of stories that operate with Night Time Logic. My latest is called Phantom Constellations: Strange Tales and Ghost Stories and is out now from Cemetery Dance Publications.
Over this past Halloween weekend (October / November 2025) I attended the Spooky Empire Horror Convention in Orlando Florida as part of the Creator’s Track. Author Joshua Ginsberg was one of the panelists on the Ghost Stories panel that I moderated. Over the course of the convention I had a chance to speak with Joshua about his work which including his travel guides to weird and haunted attractions in the state of Florida.
DANIEL BRAUM: Tell us about your travel and history guide Secret Tampa Bay: A Guide to the Weird, Wonderful and Obscure.
JOSHUA GINSBERG: The local travel guides, specifically Secret Tampa Bay, were really where my journey as an author began, and it happened both very gradually, organically, and then suddenly very quickly.
It was nine years ago this month that my wife, Jen, and I moved to Florida. Prior to that Florida hadn’t even registered as a blip on my personal radar. Gators, theme parks, senior housing, oranges, that was about the extent of what I knew of the state. But we had decided to leave the city of Chicago in search of something different and Jen was adamant that we at least consider the Tampa area. I agreed and to my surprise I absolutely loved it.
So, we went south, and by that time I had acquired a taste for curious local travel. At the time I was relying on resources like Weird Florida, Roadside America, and especially Atlas Obscura, to which I became a regular contributor. Scouting out weird and wonderous, one-of-a-kind natural and unnatural sites became (and continues to be) a passion. After just a couple years, I came across a publisher, Reedy Press, who was putting out local guides to strange and lesser-known sites, and it turned out to be a perfect match. I’ve written four books for them now (Secret Tampa Bay in 2020, Tampa Bay Scavenger in 2021, Oldest Tampa Bay in 2022, and Secret Orlando in 2023), and I’m now working on a fifth, Amazing Florida, for 2026 which will cover the whole state. This also led to writing a local ghost tour for a trolley company and then two books of Orlando ghost stories for Arcadia/The History press. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, writing about curious places was leading me towards genre and horror fiction.
Are there any locations and attractions that you’ve come across in your Florida travel writing that you think would be of interest to Cemetery Dance readers?
Unquestionably, and far more than I could list here. Florida has a surprisingly rich history when it comes to horror and speculative fiction. Want to see the place that inspired Jeff Vandermeer’s Area X? You’ll find it outside of Tallahassee. Care to swim in the same waters where the original Creature From the Black Lagoon movies were filmed? Silver Springs. Itching to meet Robert the Doll, who inspired the whole Child’s Play franchise? He’s on display in Fort Martello in Key West — just be sure to ask his permission before you take a picture. While you’re in the Keys you can visit Hemingway’s House (overrun with polydactyl cats) and have a beer in bar with a headstone poking up through its floor. If Cryptids are more your speed, you can learn all about Florida’s uniquely pungent version of sasquatch at the Skunk Ape Research Center.
Orlando is its own weird world of illusion and home to Ripley’s entertainment, if you can believe it. North of that, through the infamous I-4 Dead Zone, you have the spiritualist town of Cassadega. UFO sightings, witches, lost cemeteries, ghost stories, cults like the Koreshan Unity, the lingering legends of indigenous people, serial killers like Bundy and Wurnos, and many tragic places where massacres took place and ghost towns like Rosewood. And that’s just a short list. Suffice it to say, there’s plenty here to keep a horror enthusiast occupied 365 days a year. Is it any wonder that Stephen King, Stephanie Jensen, Derick Cavignano, Wendy Dalrymple, Doug Ford, Owl Goingback, and a slew of other great horror writers all call Florida home? I suspect not (alright, the weather might have a little something to do with it).
I know you have an interest in classic genre fiction and writers such as Rod Sterling, Charles Beaumont, Harlan Ellison, Ray Bradbury and many of their contemporaries. Please tell us about some of your favorite authors and how they have inspired and influenced you.
Thanks and yes, I think when it comes to my favorites, you’ve hit the nail on the head — the Cold War era classics I guess you could call them. To those I would add Matthison and Shirley Jackson, but also Italo Calvino, Kafka, Borges, the Beat generation and affiliates, as well as more contemporary authors like Kurt Fawver, Holly Rae Garcia, J.W. Ocker, Elaine Pascale, Gemma Files, Cody Goodfellow, Robbie Dorman, Kelly Link, Pedro Iniguez, Adam Neville, and way too many others to name. Since focusing more on fiction, I’m now constantly filling in gaps and discovering authors I’ve missed along the way. To my wife’s dismay this means that my TBR pile has graduated to Olympic-level tsundoku.
In terms of how various authors have influenced me, I could talk at great lengths about some of the specific ways that they have changed my writing. For instance, how Clive Barker has mastered making the absurd and impossible sound plausible, or how Aickman uses “hinged” language and phrases to create multiple interpretations of his stories, or the way that Grady Hendrix applies the combination/contrast of horror and comedy to amplify the impact of both, what can be gleaned from M.R. James as far as what not to reveal, or what John Langan’s writing can teach about “finding the third ending,” but I think to go on in this vein gets pretty wonky and dull for anyone other than us writers.
So how these folks have inspired me and why their work resonates with me is maybe a better and broader discussion. For me at least, most of my work I see as being the product of two specific poles: wonder and grief. There’s a whole lot of variation to that, but if I had to identify the most powerful forces generally acting on me as a writer it’s those. Nostalgia too, though maybe that’s a byproduct of the other two. So, from there it probably makes more sense as to why those authors you mentioned have such a profound impact on me. If there is a writer who captures the joy of childhood wonder than Bradbury, well, I haven’t gotten to him or her yet. As for grief, there’s a lot to choose from — Poe and Ballingrud would be at the very top of that list for sure.
I also seem to be drawn to writers and writing that defies or ignores the typical genre categories. Whether it’s horror, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, poetry, modern mythology or some strange fusion of those. If a friend of mine says to me, “hey, I just read this thing and I even can’t figure out how to describe it,” that is almost certainly something I’ll be interested in. Same goes for “speculative” anything.
Your first collection of short stories is Tales From the Dusty Tiger published this year (2025) from Too Many Tentacles Press out of Tampa Bay, Florida. All of the stories share a connection to a fictional oddities and curiosities shop called the Dusty Tiger and the strange and nostalgic objects that can be found there. Please tell us about this shop, the Dusty Tiger, your connection to its real life counterpart, and how the book project came to be.
This too happened very organically. I had started writing some weird stories and what better setting for some of them than a curio shop? I grew up with stories like “The Monkey’s Paw,” Stephen King’s Needful Things and the Friday the 13th television series, so I was already sort of attuned to the idea of magical or cursed objects. The first story I wrote about the Dusty Tiger (my fictional version of my friends’ store Tiger Dust), was “Collected,” which was very much drawn directly from my own past. The piece appeared on the No Sleep Podcast, so that encouraged me to see what else might be lurking at the Dusty Tiger. My second piece in that realm was “The Vessel,” which also appeared in an anthology. So after just a couple stories, it occurred to me that maybe there was a whole collection’s worth of stories to be told. I love the idea of short stories being connected around a central idea or narrative, very much the way Bradbury does it with The Illustrated Man.
When I asked the couple that own and operate Tiger Dust what they thought of the idea, they loved it and expanded into publishing to get it out into the world. I had worked previously with the illustrator, Joseph Weide, whose prints are sold at Tiger Dust, so it became a bit of a hyperlocal creative lovefest. We even used a local printer as opposed to KDP.
Part of what makes the goods within a curio shop (real or fictional) so interesting, is that they are not typically mass produced. With that in mind, we decided to make the first printing a signed and numbered limited edition, so each book is truly unique.
It’s still a little early to say for sure, but the initial response has been far better than I anticipated. I am keeping my fingers crossed and hoping for a larger, second edition printing maybe in the early part of 2026.
The majority of the stories were written specifically for the book. What was it like writing a series of stories with a shared element, knowing that they would be collected together and meant to be read together? What challenges and opportunities for storytelling showed themselves writing with this directive?
The book is essentially composed of three categories of stories — those designed specifically around the Dusty Tiger (like “The Vessel” and “The Ending Machine”), those that were repurposed to fit the theme (such as “Secret Santa” and “Kiss of the Babushka Lady”), and some of the shorter pieces that served as connective tissue between the stories like the online store reviews.
I did spend a good bit of time trying to figure out the right flow of stories. I knew I wanted the first and last ones to be what I thought were my strongest offerings, and alternate between shorter and longer pieces to keep the readers’ interest. I also wanted to make sure that while all of the stories fit the overall concept, each was different in some significant way from all the others, whether that had something to do with the type of story or the narration or a combination thereof. Lastly, since this was my first collection of fiction, my approach was to try and provide a sampler of what I’ve done thus far.
In terms of opportunities for storytelling, there were two specific stories that needed the structure or theme to happen. One of those was “No Free Sniffs,” which came to me while I was assembling the collection and allowed me to explore a phobia that I was previously unfamiliar with. And “Radio Nothing” was a foray into cosmic horror. I’d had some rough drafts and ideas for it, but it wasn’t until I connected that story to the Dusty Tiger that it really took on a viable form.
Many of the stories are set into play from objects found in the Dusty Tiger. Cursed film and supernatural objects are a trope or even a sub-genre of horror and speculative fiction. Your story “Kiss of the Babushka Lady” centers around a Super-8 tape. How does the story fit into or build on the object tropes?
This was a fun rabbit hole of a story for me, not only because it was my first attempt at a found footage story, but also because it was also historical fiction and conspiracy theory fiction around the JFK assassination. The story was actually one that I had written for a found footage anthology open call. It didn’t make the final cut (pun intended), but I’m a big believer in finding ways to cannibalize my work. With a bit of revision, I think it fit quite nicely into the collection. It was also maybe the goriest of the stories, so I know that appeals to some readers.
To add to the weirdness of the story, I used present tense (and a bit of future tense at the end), which I felt best corresponded to the experience of watching a video. Things are made to feel like they are happening in “real time.”
And that idea is taken further with the ending, where it seems that the video tape is continuing to record the new people watching it, so it starts to edge into metafiction by creating this second layer to the recording/story. Pretty sure I was reading Borges at the time. I’m not entirely sure if that adds something new to the trope, but it was certainly something new for me.
In the story “Curious Notions” there are ideas that “manifest” and come to life as corporeal beings or things. This is one that I felt positively evoked those old Twilight Zone and other classic horror and genre programs. Tell us about this story. Could it be read perhaps as an analogy for the collection itself?
I’m so glad to hear that you enjoyed this one — I was a little concerned that maybe it was too goofy, but you’re absolutely right that it goes back to my interesting in metafiction and self reflexive stories. Those series like The Twilight Zone and the more comic book-driven Tales from the Crypt are never far from my thinking, and both in their own ways have played with related ideas.
So, yes, the idea of giving birth to these very strange stories that need a place where they can be safe (i.e. the Dusty Tiger) is certainly intended as a reference to the stories in the collection. I also feel like my stories are being stalked a bit by this idea of a devourer –– something that is the antithesis of creation and creativity. I don’t think that particular monstrosity is done with me yet — I expect that it will return again in some form and maybe have a larger, more central role.
“Curious Notions” isn’t the only story that serves as an analogy for the work — there’s also “Body of Work” which is sort of absurdist/body horror. That one came directly from reading Kafka, and the idea of someone becoming the story you’re reading is intended on one hand to be laughably odd. There’s another, more serious aspect to it though, which is about what we become and what we leave behind. As a childless man nearing fifty, my “progeny” at this point are probably going to consist of the stories I create. So, in a very literal sense, one day when I am gone, all that will remain of me will be words on a page. I sure hope they’re good ones worth rereading.
The story “Burning Inside” starts with a song from the band Ministry. You’ve recently contributed to a tribute anthology for the band Iron Maiden. What is the role of music in your writing and or creative process, if at all?
Music, reading and writing — all things that were once defining aspects of my young life. Things I thought I’d left behind, that I’m now returning to with a renewed appreciation. My wife and I still go to see live music fairly often, and whenever I’m not writing something, I’ve probably got something playing in the background. I think COVID was a big factor in that — while all my friends were learning to make sourdough bread, I was going back and rediscovering bands I’d loved like Bad Religion, the Clash, Bowie, Pink Floyd, Nine Inch Nails, Dead Can Dance, Joy Division, The Cure — lots of eighties and nineties. Also seeking out some newer favorites like Lord Huron and more experimental stuff like Ak’chamel, The Giver of Illness.
Turns out it was good timing, because now I’m seeing all these calls for music-related stories. I’ve written several now that will be looking for homes, including one called “Bone Machine” based on the song by the Pixies and another one title “Tainted Blood” based on the Blue Oyster Cult song. If I keep it up maybe my next collection will be a “mix tape” theme.
Sometimes listening to a song isn’t the focus of a story, but it ends up being what pulls one together. That was the case with my liminal-themed story “A Room Where the Light Won’t Find You,” which was in the last issue of Spooky Magazine. The story is about a photographer who can make his subjects disappear, and it was that line from a Tears for Fears song which solidified the idea for me.
The more short fiction I read, the more I find other great stories based on or connected to music. There’s your own story, “Music of the Spheres,” along with Lovecraft’s “The Music of Erich Zann” and dozens if not hundreds of others.
Interestingly, the three stories I just mentioned all share a common focus on music as a force that can reshape reality, or keep it from coming apart.
Tell us about the Iron Maiden book and your story in it.
What a fun anthology to be a part of! I figured my story was a bit of a longshot, but I’m so happy that it was included. I’d been working on an idea before the anthology –– a twist on both the search for a missing father and the search for a mother’s killer and finding that they are one and the same. When I saw the call for the Iron Maiden anthology, I started going back through their songs and when I listened to “Wrathchild,” the little lightbulb went off over my head. Once again, a song helped solidify what was little more than a rough draft at the time.
“Playing Dice with the Universe” I think is my favorite of the collection. I could see the Twilight Zone and Ray Bradbury influences in it. From the dedication in the book I surmise that there is a personal story behind this one. Could you tell us about the story and who it was dedicated to and why?
Yes, this was a very special piece for me and I would say the most personally important one in the collection. Growing up I was a bit of a loner, which probably isn’t all that surprising. But I did have a few close friends who were similar. We wrote and read and played video games and watched horror movies together. All the typical Gen X outsider stuff. The one I remained closest with was my friend Steven, and it was a little over ten years ago that he died suddenly. That really shook me, and it was the underlying reason why I started out on my personal mission to see if I could recover or rediscover some of that lost childhood wonder that he and I had shared. That was what led me to try and see the place I was living in a new way, and ultimately change where I lived, and start writing again.
Well, flash forward many years. The youngest of the two sons he left behind was having a Bar Mitzvah. Being the younger or his son, he didn’t have very many memories of his dad, and I wanted to somehow give some of mine to him, but I wasn’t sure how to do it. At the time I was reading a lot of Neil Gaiman and when I read his story “The Wedding Present,” that gave me the answer I needed.
I noticed something about the structure of many of the stories. Many of them are something akin to what is sometimes referred to as “idea” stories. I think of idea stories as ones where the focus of the story is not necessarily on a dynamic character who changes during the course of a story or has a full dramatic character arc, rather the story is structured to deliver an idea, a speculative element, or to bring the reader to a revelation, twist, or point of conflict.
Often your stories come to a stopping point which highlights something for the reader. Can you tell us about this recurring structure?
I think that’s a keen and accurate observation. In the context of the collection, each story is really the story of an object, right? Consequently, some of the stories, like the drabble Tecpatl and “The Ending Machine” exist almost entirely without really needing the human beings in the stories. As I was assembling the collection, I often thought of a line from a book called the Design of Everyday Things, which talks about “the tyranny of objects.”
In other cases, the objects have something very specific to convey to the right person, as in both “Playing Dice with the Universe,” and “Betwixt and Between.”
In still other instances, the objects sort of mete out justice. In “Elfric the Unwise,” Alfred is essentially punished for trying too hard to be something or someone he’s not. The narrator of “Unsafe” pays the price for his obsession with a safe. We’re left with the impression that Jeff in the Vessel will get exactly what he’s hoping for, that working for Brisby will be the last job he ever has, though not exactly in the way he’s expecting.
Conversely, the story “Burning Inside” is almost entirely character focused and the object is almost incidental to the story, which is part of what makes that story different from the others and hence, why I felt it was important to include.
The story “Zeitgeist” has the names or name analogs for classic Twilight Zone and science fiction authors. Tell us about the story, those names, and those authors. “Zeitgeist” is also a ghost story. Can you tell us about the time travel and relationship to the supernatural you portray in the story?
“Zeitgeist” (aside from just being a very fun word that literally translates to “Time Spirit”) is also the most sci-fi of the stories in the collection. That’s by design, and the story is intended to be something of a love letter to those early writers. Beaumont sadly did die very young of a condition which caused him to age rapidly. As others have noted, that’s a very Twilight Zone kind of condition to befall a Twilight Zone writer. So, I wanted to give him a better ending, even if it’s only a fictional one. What if he did get to live out a full life, just not in the same chronological way as the rest of us? That seems better to me, so I tried to edit reality a bit more to my liking. Hey, it’s fiction, so I figured I’m allowed to do that.
So, it’s a ghost story. Or a time travel story. Both maybe? I’ve thought about that question quite a bit –– the difference between a time traveler who travels past the point of their own death, and a ghost. I think the difference is perspective and continuity. For the time traveler, they are still living their life as one continuous, chronological story. But to anyone else who encounters them, they are alive after having died, hence essentially no different than a ghost.
Whatever your position on the matter, I imagine that it is the type of question Beaumont and his writer friends would have thought and written about, but that’s just my guess.
The story “The Vessel” has a not-so-thinly veiled connection to perhaps the most visible of Florida travel destinations, Disney World. Tell us about this story and its connection to the Dusty Tiger.
When it comes to Floridiana and collectible trinkets, it’s tough to outdo the mouse. Disney has been a profoundly transformative force on the state, for both good and ill, and it has brought with it its own world of urban legends, lore, and one-of-a-kind objects. I’ve explored the subject of Walt and the world he built in some of my nonfiction work, but it was just too irresistible not to weave into a story.
It also tied into another theme that runs throughout the book, which is the idea of blurring the line between reality and fiction. The ghost of George, for example, is said to haunt the Pirates of the Caribbean ride.
I’ve written a few other “Dalt Brisby” stories with more in the idea stage. I can’t make any promises, but I do think a fun follow up to Tales from the Dusty Tiger would be something like “An Unauthorized Guide to Dalt Brisby World.” Might that happen? Only time will tell…
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Stay connected with Joshua Ginsberg everywhere except TikTok, (although that too could happen at some point.) For now, people can find his books at www.secrettampabay.com. He’s on Patreon at www.patreon.com/authorjoshuaginsberg, @authorjoshuaginsberg on Instagram, and Secret Tampa Bay on Facebook.
Phantom Constellations: Strange Tales and Ghost Stories by Daniel Braum is out now from Cemetery Dance Publications.
