Jorah Kai is an author, journalist, musician, and existential detective. His work explores the liminal spaces between history and myth, reality and madness, horror and wonder. His latest book, The Sun Also Rises on Cthulhu, blends Hemingway’s postwar angst with Lovecraftian horror. It was released on April 1, 2025.
Why do you write in the genres that you do?
I write in multiple genres—fantasy, sci-fi, cosmic horror, and nonfiction—but at the heart of it all, I’d call what I do Mythic Noir. I love exploring human existence through the lens of the supernatural, where classic literary themes intertwine with myth and eldritch horror.
I think my brain naturally pulls toward genre-blending because it reflects how I see the world—a mix of past and future, myth and technology, beauty and madness. My writing lets me wander through those realms, chasing questions I may never answer.
Do you keep a notebook of ideas?
I do, but it’s chaotic—scribbles in notebooks, voice memos, a graveyard of half-written Google Docs, and things I’ve told myself I’ll “definitely remember.” Spoiler: I don’t.
Ideas don’t always show up when I need them. They arrive when I’m in the shower, at the gym, or on a long walk. I’ve learned to capture them fast, however messy, before they evaporate. Sometimes I go back and wonder what I was thinking. Other times, I find gold.
Do you have a muse?
More like a chaotic assembly of ghosts, myths, and fleeting obsessions.
I find inspiration in the sea, the unknown, the concept of lost time, and the way people cling to stories to make sense of things that might not have a reason at all. I’ve also been lucky to know some incredible, larger-than-life people—some still here, some long gone—who whisper in my ear when I least expect it.
Also, my granddaughter Naomi. She’s my favorite human.
Are you more of a fan of plot-driven stories or character-driven stories?
Both, ideally. Plot is the vehicle, but character is the driver.
I love a story with forward momentum—a sense that things are inevitably happening—but if the characters don’t feel real, I lose interest. The best books don’t just make you want to know what happens next; they make you care who it happens to.
Fill in the blank: “People will like your book if they like stories about…”
…existential crises wrapped in myth, cosmic horror, and just enough dark humor to stop you from screaming.
What are your thoughts on typewriters?
Romantic in theory, but I write too fast for them—I’d jam a typewriter within minutes.
That said, I love their tactile magic. A typewriter is a commitment—every word matters. Knowing you can’t just delete everything makes it feel… permanent.
For The Sun Also Rises on Cthulhu, I hacked nostalgia with the future—writing on a Bluetooth typewriter keyboard, hooked to a mini PC with AR sunglasses.
Cyberpunk-goth-literati-chic.
Would you rather own a bookstore or run a library?
A bookstore. Dimly lit, overstuffed chairs, a hidden bar. No latte art—just strong coffee and stronger whiskey. Come in, browse the shelves, buy a book, or stay all day and argue whether Hemingway would love or violently despise being resurrected to fight Cthulhu.
How do you name your characters?
Names have weight, and I take them seriously. Sometimes they come fully formed, like they existed before I met them. Other times, I search for names with meanings that connect to their core struggle. I like names that feel timeless, mythic, or slightly offbeat—just a little too strange to be real, but perfect for fiction.
What is your favorite website that you use to promote your writing?
Right now, Bluesky is my favorite—it still feels like a place for real conversations, rather than an algorithmic shouting match. But my website, jorahkai.com, is the best hub for everything I’m working on.
If Hollywood bought the rights to your book, would you want it to be turned into a movie or series?
A series, absolutely.
The Sun Also Rises on Cthulhu needs room to breathe—a film would have to cut too much. A well-crafted series could immerse the audience in its creeping dread, letting Hemingway’s postwar malaise blend seamlessly with Lovecraftian horror.
Who is your dream audiobook narrator?
Werner Herzog. No hesitation. His voice could make a weather report sound like a descent into existential despair, which is exactly what I need.
Do you try to hit a certain page or word count with each writing session?
I aim for progress rather than a specific word count. Some days, that’s 500 words. Other days, it’s 5,000. The trick is showing up.
Do you have any writing rituals?
Coffee first. Always.
Then I re-read the last paragraph I wrote and try not to hate it. If I’m stuck, I go for a walk, listen to music, or stare at the ocean until something clicks.
What are your passions/obsessions outside of writing?
Music, travel, mythology, philosophy, and the unsettling feeling that reality might be a simulation.
Have you made any public appearances to promote your book?
Yes, both in person and online. I’ve done book signings, literary events, and even taught The Hunger Beyond to over a thousand students this semester. That’s going great. It’s wild watching them fall into a story that hadn’t even been published yet. I did that with Amos the Amazing too before I published it.
Who would you most want to read your book, living or dead?
Hemingway, just to see if he’d punch me in the face.
Lovecraft, just to watch his brain break.
And my granddaughter, when she’s older—because she’s my legacy.
Who is on your Mt. Rushmore of greatest/inspirational authors?
- Hemingway – Economy of words, power of prose.
- Edgar Allan Poe – The original goth king.
- Haruki Murakami – Surrealist master of the mundane.
- William Gibson – Prophet of cyberpunk and the digital age.
Have you ever gone away to work on a piece of writing?
Yes. I wrote part of The Hunger Beyond while staring at the South China Sea. Isolation helps. The ocean helps.
If I could go anywhere next, I’d take a cabin in the Alps or a haunted house in Kyoto. Somewhere with history and ghosts.
What is an annoying thing that a non-writer has assumed about writers or the act of writing?
That it’s easy. Or that ideas just appear, fully formed. Writing is an iceberg—90% of it happens beneath the surface.
Also, the classic: “You should write my idea for a book!” No, thanks. I already have too many of my own.
How do you measure the success of your writing career?
By resonance.
If my words stick with someone, if they linger in a reader’s mind, if they make someone feel something real—then I’ve done my job.
I don’t think success is about numbers. It’s about whether the story finds a home in someone’s head, long after they’ve closed the book.
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