by JULIET WATERS

In 2001 Jay Clarke, aka horror writer Michael Slade, was the guest of honour at the World Horror Convention in Seattle. The conference actually forms the backdrop for some of the events in his most recent novel, Bed of Nails. A list of past keynote speakers includes Alice Cooper, Neil Gaiman and Clive Barker, so this was indeed an honour for the ex-Montrealer.

On a panel entitled "How to Write a Horror Bestseller: Is There a Demon You Can Sell Your Soul To?" Clarke’s answer was affirmative: "That demon is YOU. Because if you want to tap into horrors that will cause readers to shiver and shake, you must delve down into the landscape of your own damned soul. To be a bestseller, a book must resonate." Clarke used a traumatic anecdote from his childhood, a fever-inspired hallucination he never forgot, to illustrate his point.

But even if his imagination is the demon most responsible for his success, he’s received help from many others. Clarke spent a decade as a Vancouver defence lawyer, specializing in criminal insanity, and argued the last death penalty case in Canada. At the time it was the tradition for defence lawyers to attend their clients’ hangings. His anxiety at this prospect would eventually make it into his novel Hangman (which he co-wrote with his daughter, Rebecca, who has become half of the Slade pseudonym - but more on this later). As he explained to me last week on a short visit to Montreal, where he still has family, the defence lawyer is often the only one who hears the really gruesome details of a crime. Intelligent serial killers often revel in their lawyer’s obligation to protect their privacy and exploit them as a captive audience.

Clarke defended many serial killers in his legal career. "There are always more than the public realizes," he says. "But most of them are usually only charged with one murder, even if the police suspect there are more." Some were charming and mesmerizing, some were unbearably mundane. But either way they opened his eyes to the truth that horror is not as fictional as we’d like to believe. "I came from a left-wing ’60s background," continues Clarke. "Though we all start as innocents wanting to see everything from a sociological perspective, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are some people who thrive on evil." As for rehabilitation, "You could put a hundred psychiatrists to work on certain people, and they’d never be able to put Humpty Dumpty back together again."

But it wasn’t cynicism that led him to early retirement. It was the recession in the early ’80s. When cuts to legal aid drastically reduced his workload, he struck a deal with his law firm. He would get to work on the old typewriter his mother once gave him and write Headhunter. He would retain his share of the firm’s profits, and in return they would get a share of the book’s profits. It’s not all that hard a story to believe. Clarke is a ranconteur par excellence who moves effortlessly from illustrations from his most gruesome cases to scary anecdotes about exploring cannibal caves as research for Bed of Nails. Twenty years later, Headhunter looks like it’s going to be a movie, and his partners will still be entitled to their share of the profits.

Along the way, Clarke picked up another partner. A stay-at-home dad for much of his writing career, one day he discovered the original manuscript of Headhunter scribbled over with crayon. This wouldn’t be the last time Rebecca Clarke would doodle on his manuscript. They are currently the only father and daughter horror-writing team in the world. Editing a recent draft written by her father, she drew a caricature of herself holding a pen dipped in blood. The next five pages were slashed through with red ink. Demons these days seem to be taking on many innovative shapes.

Bed of Nails by Michael Slade, Penguin, hc, 399pp, $35