Meet Stephanie from Morbidly Beautiful:
To start, please introduce yourself:
Hello! I’m Stephanie, the founder and Editor-in-Chief of MorbidlyBeautiful.com, a website dedicated to indie horror and genre entertainment. I’ve been a film journalist and critic for the past decade. I’m also a Rotten Tomatoes-approved critic, a member of Cherry Picks women film critics, and a voting member of the Women Film Critics Circle. I run a podcast network and am the co-host and producer of several film-related podcasts, including Untold Horrors, Guilty Pleasures, and No Notes.
I am the founder and Chief Creative Officer of bloodygooddesign.com, and I regularly work with indie filmmakers, film producers, writers, and artists to provide audio and video editing, marketing and social support, and design for logos, websites, film posters, and more.
A lifelong horror fan and serious cinephile, I love everything from B-movies and slashers to arthouse indie horror to obscure cult films — and everything in between!
What is horror to you, what makes a work of art one in the horror genre?
For me, one of the most extraordinary things about horror is just how impossible it is to put in a tidy little box. Horror casts such a wide and wonderfully chaotic net, encompassing everything from supernatural chills to psychological terror, from gothic romance to gruesome splatter, from dark fairytales to devastating real-life documentaries. It’s a genre with so much depth and breadth—so much room for experimentation, boundary-pushing, and bold storytelling.
I’ve always had a very liberal definition of horror because I believe it can be—and is—so much more than just jump scares, masked killers, and haunted houses. Horror is deeply personal, tapping into our most primal fears, whether that’s the fear of the unknown, the fear of losing control, or the fear of the monsters that walk among us in plain sight.
Some people are terrified of creepy clowns and sinister dolls, while others—like me—find the horrors of the mind far more unsettling. For some, horror is ghost stories and demons; for others, it’s the all-too-real terror of home invasions, systemic oppression, or the unraveling of sanity. Horror can be loud, campy fun with buckets of blood, or it can be subtle, quiet dread that lingers under your skin for days.
And that’s the magic of it. Horror can be anything — a mirror reflecting society’s darkest truths, a cathartic exploration of trauma, a visceral thrill ride, or a beautiful, poetic meditation on death and grief.
I’ve yet to meet anyone who can draw a clear and universally agreed-upon line between what is and isn’t horror. That’s because fear is deeply subjective, and horror, at its best, invites us to confront whatever it is that haunts us personally. That inclusivity, that creative freedom, and that limitless potential for storytelling are exactly why I love this genre so much—and why I could never tire of it.
What made you want to work in horror?
My love affair with horror started when I was very young, thanks to parents who never saw the genre as something dangerous or taboo, but rather as something that could be incredibly healthy and even healing when experienced in a safe environment. They believed—as I do now—that horror offers a powerful way to confront fears, process anxieties, and build resilience. That philosophy shaped me profoundly and continues to guide how I engage with horror today.
For me, horror has always been more than just entertainment. It’s therapy. It’s catharsis. It’s a lifeline. It offers an escape from the pain and uncertainty of the real world, but it also invites us to confront the very things that make us afraid—both the imaginary monsters and the all-too-real horrors of human nature.
Horror has helped me understand myself better, but it’s also broadened my empathy for others. Through horror, I’ve stepped into experiences far removed from my own. I’ve walked through the darkest corridors of human suffering and survival, and it’s made me a more compassionate, socially aware, and politically engaged person. Horror has always been a reflection of the times, a mirror held up to society’s greatest sins and anxieties—and that makes it an incredibly powerful tool for activism, which is deeply important to me.
But perhaps most importantly, horror has given me community. The horror community is one of the most supportive, creative, empathetic, and inspiring groups of people I’ve ever had the honor of being a part of. I wanted to work in horror not just because I love the genre—though I do, with every fiber of my being—but because I wanted to contribute to that community.
I wanted to amplify voices, champion indie creators, and celebrate the power and importance of horror in all its forms. Working in horror feels less like a career choice and more like a calling, and I feel incredibly lucky to do what I do.
Where do you get your inspiration?
I’m a voracious consumer of content—not just horror films, but the incredible work being done across the entire horror community. I’m constantly inspired by so much and so many people. I devour the work of other horror journalists across platforms I deeply respect, as well as on social media, Reddit, and Substack. There’s such a wealth of talent and insight out there, and it pushes me to think differently, question more deeply, and find new ways to explore the genre I love.
I’m also incredibly fortunate to serve as the editor-in-chief of Morbidly Beautiful, which means I get to read and touch every single piece of content we publish. That exposure to so many diverse voices, thoughtful analyses, compelling editorials, brilliant reviews, and creative listicles is endlessly inspiring. Every time one of our writers offers a fresh perspective or introduces me to something I hadn’t considered before, it reignites my passion and reminds me why I love doing what I do.
And, of course, I watch a lot—and I mean a lot—of horror. One of my absolute favorite things in the world is discovering something exciting, weird, or wonderful in the genre and then shouting from the rooftops to anyone who will listen about why they need to see it. There’s nothing more fulfilling than when someone watches a film because I recommended it, and they end up loving it (or even if they hate it, but it sparks a passionate conversation). That sense of discovery and shared enthusiasm is pure magic.
I also draw a lot of inspiration from the world around me. Horror is such a powerful reflection of real life and the sociopolitical landscape, and I love exploring how the genre helps us process the fears, anxieties, and injustices of the moment we’re living in. Some of my favorite pieces to write are ones that challenge people to view horror through a new lens—to dig deeper into the films they love and recognize how much insight and depth this genre truly offers.
At the end of the day, my biggest inspiration is the genre itself. Horror constantly surprises me with its range, creativity, fearlessness, and heart. It’s a genre that can be terrifying, heartbreaking, thought-provoking, politically charged, and darkly beautiful—sometimes all at once. And that’s why I’ll never run out of things to say about it.
What would you like your legacy to be in the genre (or elsewhere)?
Wow. What a question—and not an easy one to answer. To be honest, I’ve never been driven by the idea of building a “legacy,” at least not in the traditional sense. But if I had to reflect on the mark I hope to leave behind, I think it starts with the reason I founded Morbidly Beautiful in the first place.
From day one, my mission has been twofold: First, I wanted to celebrate and uplift the world of indie horror—to shine a light on the artists, creators, and filmmakers who were being overlooked or dismissed by mainstream outlets. I wanted to give love to the ultra-low-budget DIY filmmakers, the ones making bold, subversive, extreme, or experimental work. I wanted to champion marginalized voices and bring more diversity into the conversation about who shapes and defines the genre. Every time I get to spotlight someone whose work might have otherwise gone unseen—or every time a creator tells me that being covered by Morbidly Beautiful gave them a sense of validation—that’s everything to me.
The second piece of that mission was to create a home for writers who were as passionate about horror as I am—writers who might not have had the opportunity to break into other outlets. I wanted Morbidly Beautiful to be inclusive, welcoming, and accessible to anyone with something thoughtful or passionate to say about the genre. I take immense pride in mentoring emerging writers, helping them find their voice, build their confidence, and create work they’re proud of. And I wanted to give them the freedom to write about what they love, not just what’s trending and not just what’s guaranteed to drive clicks. I want them to write about what truly excites, challenges, or moves them.
We’re not-for-profit by design, and we’re fiercely protective of our editorial integrity. We don’t take advertising dollars, we refuse to churn out clickbait, and we value quality over quantity every single time. For me, it’s about creating a space where passion, curiosity, and creativity thrive—and where readers can come to be surprised, challenged, and maybe even provoked in all the best ways.
If my legacy is that I made some kind of meaningful difference—no matter how small—by giving a voice, a platform, and a spotlight to people who deserved to be heard, that would be more than enough for me.
Beyond that, I hope people remember me as someone who led with compassion, kindness, and empathy. Someone who believed fiercely in the power of community and who always tried to use her voice and platform to advocate for what’s right—even when it was difficult, unpopular, or uncomfortable. I want to be remembered as someone who cared deeply, who fought for people and causes worth fighting for, and who never lost sight of the fact that horror, at its heart, is about humanity. It’s about understanding fear… but also understanding each other.
At the end of the day, I don’t care about being the loudest voice in the room, but I care deeply about being a voice that matters.
What is Women in Horror Month to you and why is it still important this many years later?
Women in Horror Month (WiHM) has always meant a great deal to me—both as a woman in horror myself and as someone who has built my career and my platform around the values of diversity, inclusion, and amplifying marginalized voices.
One of the core missions of Morbidly Beautiful has always been to shine a spotlight on creators who aren’t given the same access, support, opportunity, or recognition as their more privileged counterparts. That very much includes women, who—despite their incredible contributions to the genre—have historically been underrepresented, overlooked, and underestimated.
For me, WiHM is not just about celebrating the achievements of women in horror; it’s about reminding the industry (and the audience) how much incredible work is happening because of women—and how much richer, more dynamic, and more imaginative horror is when women are given the opportunity to tell their stories.
As a woman in horror, there’s also a deep sense of camaraderie and community that comes with WiHM. The horror community can be one of the most supportive and collaborative creative spaces, and nowhere is that more evident than when women come together to lift each other up.
That being said, as much as I love WiHM, I also look forward to the day when we don’t need it anymore—when the industry recognizes and values women creators all year long without needing a dedicated month to remind them we exist. But unfortunately, that day hasn’t arrived yet. The reality is, there’s still a staggering lack of parity between men and women in film.
When Women in Horror Month was founded in 2010, it was meant to address the fact that women were vastly underrepresented both in front of and behind the camera. And while progress has certainly been made, the numbers still paint a sobering picture. In 2025, women still direct only about 15-20% of horror films—and when you look at studio-backed horror, the percentage shrinks even further.
Women are also still fighting for recognition at the highest levels. Since the inception of the Academy Awards, only three women have won Best Director—Kathryn Bigelow in 2010 (the same year WiHM launched), Chloé Zhao in 2020, and Jane Campion in 2021. In horror specifically, the disparity is even more stark. While female directors have made some of the most influential genre films of the past decade—from Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook to Julia Ducournau’s Raw to Nia DaCosta’s Candyman—they are still the exception, not the rule.
There’s also an argument I’ve heard, and I do understand, that says highlighting someone’s gender can be diminishing—that we should simply celebrate great work, regardless of who makes it. In an ideal world, I would agree. But we don’t live in that world. We live in a world where the playing field is still nowhere near level, and talented, visionary women are still fighting for a real seat at the table.
It’s no different than the fight to preserve DEI initiatives. The people saying “just hire the best person for the job” are ignoring the fact that so many brilliant women—along with BIPOC creators, LGBTQ+ creators, disabled creators, and others from marginalized communities—aren’t even getting the chance to show they are the best person for the job.
That’s why WiHM is still essential. It’s a celebration, but it’s also a reminder—a call to action— to keep pushing for change, to keep demanding more opportunities for women, and to keep proving that women’s stories are not just important, but bankable, marketable, and worthy of investment.
I’m incredibly grateful to see trailblazers like Coralie Fargeat making major strides and earning well-deserved mainstream attention. But she’s still the outlier. Until highly visible women directors are no longer the exception—until they are as common, celebrated, and supported as their male counterparts—we still need WiHM, and I’ll proudly champion it for as long as that’s true.
Who are some of the Women in Horror who you look up to and who do you want to bring attention to in your field or others?
What a tough and almost impossible question to answer because there are so many women who have inspired me, shaped me, and pushed me to be better, both in my work and in the way I show up for others.
First, I have to shout out my fellow women-run horror sites and publications. There are so many talented editors, writers, and creators out there who are doing extraordinary work to champion independent horror, amplify marginalized voices, and deepen the cultural conversation around genre film. I’m not only inspired by them, I’m also motivated by them.
I’ve also been incredibly fortunate to become friends with some of the filmmakers I admire most. It still blows my mind that I get to know and support people who create the kind of art that leaves me breathless. That sense of community—that constant reminder that we’re all part of this same ecosystem, lifting each other up— s one of the greatest gifts this industry has given me.
Someone I have to single out is Hannah Neurotica, the brilliant woman who founded Women in Horror Month and helped turn it into the force of influence it became. Hannah is also a talented filmmaker and the founder of the AxWound Film Festival, one of the most vital showcases of women and non-binary filmmakers working in genre today. Getting to know her has been an enormous honor, and I’m so proud that Morbidly Beautiful has had the privilege of sponsoring AxWound for several years now.
But if I’m being really honest, my biggest inspiration isn’t a single filmmaker or famous name—it’s the writers who believed in me and in Morbidly Beautiful from the very beginning. When I was just a movie-loving girl with a blog and a dream, there was absolutely no reason for anyone to trust that I’d be able to build something real, lasting, or valuable. I had no industry cred, no connections, and no platform. But some incredibly talented, passionate writers took a leap of faith and joined me anyway.
Without them—without that belief and that early community—I absolutely would have quit. I would have self-sabotaged or let imposter syndrome swallow me whole. But knowing people were counting on me, and that they saw something worth nurturing in what I was trying to build, gave me the courage and the drive to keep going.
Today, Morbidly Beautiful is blessed to have a team of extraordinary women (and men!) who pour their hearts and souls into the site. I’m grateful for every single one of them, and I want nothing more than for people to discover their work—to read their articles, listen to their podcasts, follow them on social, and really see how much talent exists in this community.
There are a few I have to spotlight specifically. Our Managing Editor, Jamie Alvey, is an endless source of inspiration. She’s not only a phenomenal writer and a compassionate, whip-smart editor but she’s also an emerging screenwriter whose debut feature film, Bystanders, was just released to critical acclaim. That film, by the way, was directed by another powerhouse woman in horror, Mary Beth McAndrews, who also serves as Editor-in-Chief at Dread Central. Watching these two women thrive and create such vital, fearless work fills me with so much pride.
I also have to shout out my dear friend and podcast co-host, Kelly Mintzer. Kelly is an accomplished author with a razor-sharp mind, and she’s been writing some of the most thought-provoking, important think pieces I’ve ever had the privilege of publishing. Her work challenges, enlightens, and expands the conversation in ways that are so important to me personally and to the larger mission of the site.
And honestly, I could keep going for hours. Morbidly Beautiful has attracted so many brilliant, diverse, passionate female voices—each of them bringing something unique and essential to the table. I am endlessly proud of the fact that our site is not only by horror fans, but also truly reflects the diversity of horror fandom itself.
At the end of the day, my heroes aren’t just the women who’ve “made it”— they’re the women who are still fighting every day to carve out space, tell their stories, and make this genre and this industry better for the next generation. If I can do anything to help shine a light on them, then I know I’m doing the work I was meant to do.
What are you currently working on that you can tell us about?
Right now, my heart and soul are fully devoted to Morbidly Beautiful. I’m constantly writing for the site, editing content, creating custom artwork, and working on regular site enhancements to improve the user experience and expand what we offer our readers. It’s a labor of love—and one that never stops evolving.
Lately, I’ve been especially focused on producing more original editorials and regular columns, diving deeper into thoughtful film analysis, and creating fun, horror-themed personality quizzes that have been a huge hit with our audience. I’m also the keeper of our “Coming Soon” Horror Calendar, which I update religiously to make sure fellow fans never miss an important release.
Outside the site, podcasting has become a huge creative outlet for me, and I absolutely love it. Right now, you can hear me on Untold Horrors, Guilty Pleasures, and No Notes—each of which lets me flex a different creative muscle. I’m also in the process of rebooting the Cheer and Loathing podcast, which is very close to my heart because it was my first foray into podcasting. And, because I can’t resist taking on more, I’ve got a few other podcast ideas quietly simmering in the background.
On the artistic side, I’m also having a blast with my Nicolas Cage illustration project, where I’m creating a custom drawing for every single film in his expansive filmography. It’s all part of our Cage Match series on the site, where we’re reviewing every Cage film in order. We’re about halfway through, and it’s been an absolute joy to combine my love of art and offbeat cinema for this wild ride.
And of course, it’s also film festival season—so I’m deep into screenings, reviews, and coverage, which is always one of my favorite (and busiest) times of the year.
At the end of the day, my plate is always overflowing, but it’s all driven by my love for horror and my desire to celebrate the genre in every way I can—whether that’s through writing, podcasting, art, or curating new ways to engage with fellow fans.
Where can readers keep up with you? (social and whatnots go here)
I’m extremely active on Instagram at @srgreenhaw. You can find me on Threads, too, at @srgreenhaw. I just made the plunge to Blue Sky, and you can find me there at @angryprincess.bsky.social. I’ve abandoned Twitter and have never been much of a Facebooker. For film reviews, you can find me on Rotten Tomatoes and Cherry Picks (www.thecherrypicks.com). Of course, I’m always writing at morbidlybeautiful.com. You can check out my art at bloodygooddesign.com. I love to connect with fellow horror lovers, artists, and members of the film and creative community. I’m very responsive to messages, so don’t hesitate to hit me up on one of my social channels or email me at editor@morbidlybeautiful.com.