1) Tell us about your book/series

Although my book series Feral Rebirth involves vampires, my Consorting with the Shadow: Phantasms and the Dark Side of Female Consciousness book (a collection of essays and short fiction about women in horror) includes a discussion of the shapeshifter archetype in the films Ginger Snaps, Cat People, and Black Swan. I focus on female shapeshifters.

2) What type of shifter do you write about and why?

In that book I write about the female characters from those films, who shapeshift into a werewolf (Ginger Snaps), a cat (Cat People), and a black swan ballerina. I chose to write about these films because they depict different types of animal transformations and reveal the positive as well as negative aspects of shapeshifting.

3) Tell us something interesting or unusual about your main character

I love all three of these female shapeshifters (the werewolf, the cat, and the black swan) because they express rage and feral autonomy, reveling in their animal aspects and the freedom to transcend their human female form.

4) If you could turn into any animal, what would it be and why?

A semi-feral cat who could exist independently from humans but who also could partake in some of the comforts domestic cats have. As a cat, I would be free to express my wild nature, bare my fangs and claws, maybe even become part of a shapeshifting cat colony. In feline form, I would be more agile, break free temporarily from my human consciousness and human expectations, especially the ones restricting women.
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5) What will you be working on next?

My next project will be editing the anthology Life, Death, and Transmutation: A Charity Anthology of Dark Nature Poetry and Fiction, for which I have contributed two poems

 GriddleboneDebbie Manber Kupfer
From the world of P.A.W.S.​

The werecat padded silently across the cobbles of the dark Vienna street. It was deserted now, but Griddlebone knew it would soon be filled with bootsteps and cries, gunshots and blood. They were slated to come at dawn, to cleanse this last Jewish neighborhood of its vermin, so that the proper folk of Vienna could finally live Judenfrei.
Inside the darkened houses, the residents huddled in fear. The news of the transport had only come hours before, and some still couldn’t believe it. They had been fooling themselves for months, believing this one insignificant street could survive in its own little bubble, that somehow God would protect them.
They readied themselves with what few valuables they had left. Maybe they could still bribe the Nazi soldiers. Maybe there was still a way out.
The werecat flexed his claws, as he waited in the shadows. Griddlebone wished he could rescue them all, but his orders were clear. He could only take one. They needed to be the right age too – a teenager would be good, strong enough to fight, strong enough to survive the turning.
As the first rays of light caught the cobblestones, Griddlebone felt the bootsteps echoing down the street. Soon. His tail swished back and forth in anticipation. Within minutes, the first soldier came into view. The werecat was all but invisible to the soldiers, his mottled grey coat blending perfectly with the cold grey street.
At the same time as the first soldiers appeared on foot, a silver-grey truck arrived on the street and parked in front of the buildings, waiting for its human cargo.
As the Gestapo soldiers marched past the werecat’s hiding place, he longed to dig his claws into their ankles, to hear them scream with pain. Not yet, Griddlebone, not yet.
The soldiers reached the first house. They banged on the doors.
“Juden, Heraus, Heraus! Schnell, schnell! – Everybody out of there, quickly, quickly.”
At first there was silence. Griddlebone held his breath, waiting. And then, slowly, they came out, squinting in the light of the dawn. They had been inside for so long, sitting in the darkness. They looked like ancient patriarchs held in suspended animation from biblical times. The man had a long white beard and was wearing a prayer shawl. The woman had her head covered and bent. She held out something to the soldiers. The werecat stole closer to get a better look. It was a silver candlestick. The frightened woman offered it to the soldier.
The soldier laughed. He grabbed it and shoved it in his bag, then roughly pulled the old woman forward. She tripped and fell onto the hard cobble street. The soldier kicked her, and she cried out in pain. Throughout this, her husband was bobbing up and down in prayer, praying that God would take them before these Nazis did. His prayers were not answered, and the soldiers forced the old couple into the waiting truck.
More soldiers arrived now and pushed their way into the buildings. The next house held a young family, a mother and father, with two small terrified children. The mother clutched a baby girl in her arms. As they boarded the truck, the baby started crying. The nearest soldier grabbed her from her mother’s arms and flung her with full force into the solid concrete wall. The baby stopped crying. The mother screamed. A Nazi soldier silenced the mother with his gun. The father and his remaining children climbed quietly into the truck, trying not to look back.
The werecat stalked over to the baby. He nudged her gently with his nose, but it was too late, and, in any case, how would his clan have been able to care for a baby? They could barely find enough food for their own kittens these days.
Griddlebone continued watching the parade of Jews being evicted from their buildings. They had been told they were being rehoused, that their homes were needed for the war effort. As patriotic Austrians, surely they understood?
Griddlebone knew that most of these Jews would end up in the concentration camps, if they even survived the transport. A second shot filled the air; a young man this time. He had tried to run, but the soldier had used him for target practice.
Still the werecat watched and waited.
There she was, straggling at the back of another family, the girl he’d been watching for the last few weeks. She looked around with wary eyes and caught sight of the cat on the corner of the street. The cat had been her friend. She would sneak out and give him scraps to eat from her own meager portion. Now the cat was watching her with big orange eyes.
It was strange, she wasn’t scared, despite the soldiers and the guns and the screaming. Of all those here, she thought, looking around at the collection of frightened Jews, she felt that she had the best chance of surviving. She held her head upright and stared straight into the eyes of the Nazi soldiers.
Yes, thought Griddlebone, watching her, I’ve chosen rightly. Esther is strong, a survivor.
Silently Griddlebone sent his message to the rest of the clan members, who were waiting in the shadows. They moved into the previously agreed positions on the street corners. They readied themselves to pounce.
Each cat started out as an insignificant street cat, but slowly they began changing and growing into wildcats that resembled tigers more than tabbies. On Griddlebone’s signal, they launched themselves onto the Nazi soldiers – ripping at them with fearsome teeth and claws.
The soldiers shrieked in fear and fired at the cats, but the felines were far swifter than any of the men. They dodged the bullets with ease, dancing around them, taunting their enemies with their agility. Within just a few minutes, two soldiers had fallen to the werecats. The remaining cut their losses, and quickly shoved the terrified Jews into the transport. They jumped onto the truck and fled.
While the werecats attacked the soldiers, Griddlebone beckoned to the girl. Instinctively, she followed him into the shadows and ran after him through the streets until the howling and screaming was far behind them.
Finally they arrived at an old warehouse. Griddlebone stopped at the door and nudged it with his nose. It creaked open, and the two of them walked in.
The room was filled with yowls and growls . . . and laughter. It was a strange mix that met Esther’s eyes. There were many different cats. Some she supposed were werecats like Griddlebone, but amongst the cats were humans, mostly children about her age. They were sitting in groups – some playing card games or chess, others just talking.
She turned to the old cat. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Headquarters,” he said, his voice echoing in her head. “It isn’t much, but it’s our home.”
“What about my family?” asked Esther, “My friends?”
“I’m sorry,” said Griddlebone, “the Nazis have taken them on the transport. There was nothing we could do. I would love to save everyone, but we cannot. We are lucky if we rescue one person from each transport.”
“Where will they take them?” she asked.
“To the ghetto, but there are rumors that they don’t stay there for long. The Nazis have set up concentration camps, and most that enter those never leave.”
“Just for the Jews?” said Esther.
“Mostly, but not all – also the gypsies, the Communists, the homosexuals, anyone that Hitler doesn’t deem to be pure.”
“And we can’t do anything?”
“We do what we can – everyone here has lost family.”
“Everyone?” asked Esther, looking at the mix of animals and humans in the room.
“Everyone,” answered Griddlebone.
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