Pitchfork Diaries: 15 Years Later — An Interview with Jake

 

Pitchfork Diaries: 15 Years Later — An Interview with Jake Bannerman

Conducted by Ash

ASH:

Jake, take me back. Fifteen years ago, Pitchfork Diaries came to life. Who were you when you wrote it?

 

JAKE:

I had just gotten out of a five-year relationship with a girl I thought I was going to marry. She dumped me for another guy, and I ended up moving back in with my mother—who, as you know, is a toxic demon. I got involved with someone else quickly, we had a baby, and that ended up being one of the worst decisions of my life. I was in a dark place. The mother was an alcoholic, and I was struggling mentally. Both The Harvest and Pitchfork Diaries were written in bars, late at night, after my baby was asleep. It wasn’t a good time.

 

ASH:

Pitchfork is violent, unflinching, and deeply taboo. Did you know it was going to be controversial—or were you writing for yourself?

 

JAKE:

That goes back to what I said about it not being a standalone. I was writing The Harvest and having these sick, twisted visions that didn’t fit. So I jotted them down separately. Almost everything I write is about justifiable vengeance. It’s about power used to harm, and the revenge that comes from it. I wanted to show how disgusting humans can be. ‘The Scarecrow Limit’ is about a mentally challenged girl who has sex with scarecrows made out of corpses. That’s depraved, but it’s rooted in truth. People ask me where I get my inspiration. I say: have you read the news?

 

ASH:

What made you write it? Was there a specific moment, person, trauma, or obsession that lit the fuse?

 

JAKE:

Not really one specific thing. Life was just heavy and dark. I had a baby, mental health issues, and a toxic home life. That environment definitely fed the horror, but it wasn’t based on a singular trauma. It was everything—just compounded.

 

ASH:

You’ve called it “too much” for most readers, and even today, some platforms flag it. Do you see that as a badge of honor? Or a curse?

 

JAKE:

Until yesterday, my favorite review said reading Jake Bannerman is like listening to death metal while getting kicked in the teeth. If the author was a band, it’d be named Jake Bannerman. That’s a fucking badge of honor. Then Ash gave me one that made me howl: ‘Looks like Jake saw horror and said, That’s cute—then pulled out a spleen.’ That’s gold. But yeah, it's always been controversial. One editor almost quit over a rape scene in The Harvest. Another artist refused to be credited because of it. I want my books to leave a scar. Not just to shock—but to make people think.

 

ASH:

Revisiting it now—fifteen years later—what do you feel? Shame? Pride? Pain? All of the above?

 

JAKE:

Some of it’s dumb. *Starvin’ Marvin* is silly. *I’ve Got Two Christs* has a great title but is kind of a mess. *901* though—that story’s fantastic. And *The Stillborn Divine* started in Pitchfork and became its own book. So yeah, I’ve grown. Back then, I didn’t even know what Grammarly was. A lot of people helped me along the way. Now? I look at Pitchfork as my cult classic. I was doing this before *Saw*, before *American Horror Story*. I’ll always be proud of that.

 

ASH:

There’s a reader on TikTok who called it “vile, horrific, disgusting and very disturbing”—but couldn’t stop reading. What do you think keeps people turning the page even when they’re disturbed?

 

JAKE:

People tell me they have to take breaks from my books. That’s a compliment. Others say they can’t stop reading. It’s like watching a train wreck—you don’t want to look, but you can’t help it. Especially once I leaned into those dead-end twists. Readers have to know what’s going to happen. And yeah—it’s supposed to be disgusting. It’s horror. It’s *me*. That’s why I wrote *Cupcakes, Murder & Satan*—a middle finger to the people saying my work is ‘too gross.’ It’s horror. It’s *supposed* to be gross.

 

ASH:

Do you still see Pitchfork as relevant to your work today? Or is it a relic of another version of you?

 

JAKE:

I see it as my demo tape. Like when a band hands out burned CDs with Sharpie on them. It was raw, it was angry, it was honest. And I’ve grown so much since then. But it’s still the companion to The Harvest, and The Harvest is still very me. So I keep Pitchfork close. Just… maybe not on the top shelf.

 

ASH:

Final question, Jake: What does Pitchfork Diaries mean to you now—not just as a book, but as part of your personal mythology?

 

JAKE:

I’m glad it’s still around. Fifteen years later, people are *still* talking about it. When you Google me, Pitchfork pops up. That tells me it mattered. It’s not who I am now—but it was my way in. My battle cry. Middle fingers up. A book written in blood, rage, and desperation. It’s gross. It’s depraved. It’s a fucking masterpiece—for what it is.