Escaping the Dreamhouse with H.V. Patterson

H.V. Patterson (she/her) lives in Oklahoma, USA, and writes speculative fiction, poetry, and plays. Recent credits include NoSleep Podcast, Flash Fiction Online, Hex Literary, and Best Horror of the Year. You can find her on Instagram @hvpattersonwriter, Bluesky @hvpatterson, or at hvpatterson.com.

H.V. is the author of “Barbie Grasshopper Dreamhouse” from Issue 13.

Q: What would you most like readers to take away from “Barbie Grasshopper Dreamhouse”?

Like all creative work, the writer loses a degree of control over what a reader thinks as soon as a work is out in the world. However, there are a few things I hope come across. First of all: You cannot completely control a person any more than you can completely control a body. We are not dolls, and the world is not a dollhouse.

Related to this is the second point: You should not seek to treat people as dolls who are incapable of making decisions about their own health and bodies.

This leads to the third point If you attempt to control people, the results will be unexpected and often horrific.

Q: Do you have personal experiences with Barbies or the Barbie Dreamhouse which colored your story?

When I was a kid, I had a few Barbies, but Barbie was more of an idea than a toy. I couldn’t imagine inner worlds for my Barbies as easily as I could for my stuffed dragons and my hoard of tiny, plastic animals. I also just thought dragons and animals in general were more interesting than people. So I guess Barbies functioned in my childhood the way they function in the story: as a symbol the main character cannot avoid because of its ubiquitousness.

I don’t think I ever had a Barbie Dreamhouse, but some kids I knew did. I found the idea of a house that could break in half, revealing the inner lives of its inhabitants to a gigantic observer, intriguing but unsettling. If I’d ever had a Barbie Dreamhouse, I probably would’ve imprisoned an insect in it at some point.

Q: How do you believe a person can maintain a sense of self in a situation or society that oppresses them?

This is a hard one, and I’m not sure if I have a good answer.

I don’t think the “self” is an entirely stable concept. We evolved to be flexible and adaptive creatures, and I think we’re constantly rewriting our sense of identity when we access our memories and make plans for the future. Taking on different roles (“parent,” “worker,” “student”) also impacts our sense of who we are and how we fit into society. We equate what a person does with who they are, and if they are more or less deserving of our respect and sympathy.

I think community and education are integral to maintaining a sense of who you are and fighting against social pressure to conform. The trouble is: How do we keep access to community and education open when there is a concerted effort to keep us isolated, ignorant, and afraid? Keep fighting for real connections. Keep fighting for access to public space, for libraries and public schools. And don’t rely on AI. Seriously, for your own wellbeing.

Q: How does the rolling back of women’s rights in the United States impact your writing work?

It’s impacted my writing heavily. I started drafting “Barbie Grasshopper Dreamhouse” after Roe v. Wade was repealed in 2022. Since then, the world depicted in the story has become a lot closer to our current reality.

As of July 2026, there have been multiple cases of women being criminalized for receiving abortions or having miscarriages, and multiple cases of women suffering and even dying because they didn’t have timely access to reproductive healthcare. There are even efforts from some states to introduce legislation classifying abortion as homicide.

As someone who lives in the body I inhabit, I’ve felt vulnerable from a young age. I remember as a kid thinking of myself as a “person” or a “human” first, but feeling like the world and people around me were always telling me I was a “girl” first and a “person” second. I think I sensed from a young age that my personhood was diminished by my girlhood. I think most people, girls or otherwise, sense the loss of personhood associated with “girlhood” and, especially, with puberty and becoming a “woman.”

The shift in laws, the attempt to legally return to a place where a pregnant body is less-than, feels like an unfortunate affirmation of a deep injustice I’ve felt in my bones since childhood. It’s yet another reminder that you cannot exist in any body without objectification because the body is itself a physical object which can be acted upon. It’s impossible not to let the intimate horror of this bleed into my writing.

Q: How do you navigate storytelling that balances the fine line — where it’s not just a retelling of current events, but also not a heavy-handed scare tactic?

For me, character comes first. When I say this, I mean a few things. First, I mean that you need to create a well-rounded person responding to difficult circumstances. This doesn’t always mean they’re heroic or even actively defiant. After all, most people fall between the extremes of heroism and villainy. Secondly, you need to believe in your characters’ personhood. Are they making the same choices you, the writer, or a reader might make? Maybe not–but from their perspective, do their choices make sense?

When you write with empathy for your characters, the story unfolds naturally, even if the circumstances are strange or extreme. The story becomes a particular instance of a particular life, not a play-by-play of a news article.

In terms of avoiding scare tactics, there are horrific things happening in the world every day. Is it a scare tactic to discuss them openly? Some people say yes; they deny the reality of these horrific things, or excuse them as the result of bad actors, not systemic problems. I believe some readers may think my writing uses heavy-handed scare tactics and that I depict a world which cannot exist—at least not in these “civilized” times. I think restraint can be important if you don’t want particular gruesome or horrific details to overwhelm a point, but unfortunately one person’s scare tactics are another person’s lived experience.

Q: Tell us about how you approach writing your short plays?

A short play, even more than a short story, has to start in medias res. There must be tension and a sense of urgency the moment the curtain goes up. You can’t dump in a monologue of exposition (unless you’re Shakespeare and can do it in a very clever way).

So, I usually start with a clear idea of my characters’ conflicts and goals and what the ending will be. Then, I draft the dialogue, letting the characters “talk” their way to the ending. Dialogue is key because it’s how your audience and actors enter into the story. Then I go back and cut a lot of dialogue and shape the lines to be more individual and specific to the characters.

A cool thing about writing plays is how collaborative and alive theatre is. With Heller Theatre (a local Tulsa-based company who have produced six of my short plays), writers work closely with directors and actors. I’ve enjoyed working with talented people to revise and refine a script into an ephemeral, finely-honed performance. I’ve found that my actors reach deeper insights into my characters than I initially had, and their interpretations add richness and depth to their performances.

Q: How is Horns & Rattles Press, which you co-founded, doing this year?

We’re actually in the process of shutting down. We had an amazing experience putting together Fish Gather to Listen and Bitter Become the Fields, but it’s not feasible for us to continue. I’m definitely sad about this, but I know there will be a lot of creative projects in our futures.

Q: What is the most interesting thing you’ve seen while staring into the abyss?

Did you know that the human brain can’t really do absolute darkness? If, for example, you’re deep underground in a cave with absolutely no light, you’ll start to see things that aren’t there. Usually flashes of light, but sometimes more intense images.

Looking into the abyss is like that: You’re not really seeing anything external to yourself. You’re seeing what your brain generates when it’s faced with absolute darkness. It might be solipsistic to call it interesting, because I’m really only seeing myself, but the most interesting thing I’ve seen is how angry I am about the state of the world. We all wear a veneer, but beneath mine: so much rage. And beneath the rage: grief.

Q: What can fans of yours expect from your Substack newsletter?

Every newsletter includes information and links about my new and upcoming publications as well as a list of recent reads I loved. Additionally, you’ll get some of my thoughts on topics related to horror and/or writing and creative work.

In my latest newsletter (July), I talked about what a great year 2026 has been for horror movies so far.

I also talked about the two times I’ve received rewrite and resubmit requests, and how I approached those revisions and later received acceptances. One was for “Tickborne” published in NoSleep Podcast and the other was for “Barbie Grasshopper Dreamhouse”!

Q: Was there any music (1-3 songs) that you think would make a good mini-setlist for your story? Either ones that may have been on your mind, or ones that give readers a good idea of the themes?

“The Disappearance of the Girl,” Phildel

“Everybody Scream,” Florence and the Machine

“Bubblegum Bitch,” Marina