R.L. Stine: “I never planned to be scary”

At the age of nine, Robert Lawrence Stine found a typewriter in his parents’ attic, carried it to his room, and began to write.

The other kids were playing, but he preferred to stay inside and type, finding more satisfaction in the worlds he was inventing than the one outside. To this day, he couldn’t tell you why exactly.

“It’s very mysterious. Why was I sitting in my room typing? I’m a 10-year-old kid. My parents didn’t understand it at all. My mom [said] ‘Go outside and play. What’s wrong with you?’ Worst advice I ever got, right?”

More than 350 books later, R.L. Stine is a writer whose impact and influence extends to nearly every cultural and commercial sphere, ranging from film, television, merchandise, clothing, video games, and even briefly a Goosebumps attraction at Walt Disney World.

Otherwise, not much has changed about Stine’s love of writing since those early days. At 81, he still cherishes the time spent alone in his room creating stories as much as ever.

“Those are the best hours of my day,” he says.

I was preparing for my interview with Stine when the world around me began to shake. I looked out the window, searching the street below for signs of abominable snowmen, animatronic mantises, or anything that would explain that moment of instability. But reality would not prove as imaginative as the worlds created by Stine. The disturbance that I and millions of other New Yorkers felt was the shock waves from a 4.8 magnitude earthquake in Tewksbury, New Jersey, just miles away from where I spent my childhood reading Goosebumps.

Hours later at his Manhattan apartment, Stine greets me with his dog Lucky by his side. Our first stop is Stine’s office, a place that he humorously refers to as “my shrine to myself.” The room is filled with colorful and eye-catching objects that illustrate the wide-ranging influence of his life and work. In addition to shelves lined with books, there are orange, blimp-shaped Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards, a framed poster of the 2015 Goosebumps film starring Jack Black, and a pair of Kawhi Leonard signature New Balance basketball shoes featuring the iconic bright green lettering from the Goosebumps book covers. There are also antique radios, which he collects.

At the center is a large desk and a computer where he writes daily. Replete with a genial quirkiness, it’s a room befitting Stine’s impact and legacy, a visual encapsulation of a lifelong devotion to writing and the success that has followed. Standing there in Stine’s office, I’m aware of the cosmic nature of the moment, to be meeting with, and writing about, the person whose children’s horror series Goosebumps imbued in me a love of reading and writing in the first place. 

Conversation with Stine comes easily. Unassuming and gregarious, there’s nothing scary about him. He’s quick to tell a joke and generous in conversation where his authorial voice unmistakably shines through, particularly his signature sense of humor. This is the same sense of humor that led to the creation of Bananas in 1975, a humor magazine written for teenagers under the pen name Jovial Bob Stine. “I was funny. I’ve always been funny. I never planned to be scary. That was actually an accident.”

The accident he’s referring to happened a decade later in 1985, when Stine was prompted by friend and publisher Jean Feiwel to write a teen horror book. Stine had been working as an editor of the Junior Scholastic magazine after moving from his hometown in Columbus, Ohio to New York. He had no prior ambitions of writing teen horror, but didn’t want to say no to an opportunity. “Blind Date” was published in 1986 and became a bestseller. It was followed by a handful of other successful teen horror novels. “I said forget the funny stuff, I’m going to be scary now. And I’ve been scary ever since.”

These early novels paved the way for the Fear Street series, which launched in 1989 and brought continued success for Stine. In 1991, his wife and editor, Jane Waldhorn, challenged him to write a horror book for an even younger audience, noting that nothing like that existed on the market. Stine was reluctant at first, but found inspiration while browsing TV Guide and stumbling upon what he thought would make a good title for the series: Goosebumps. Hundreds of books later, Stine is synonymous with the children’s horror genre.

It’s refreshing to listen to Stine whose disposition flies in the face of every stereotype about writers. There’s no trace of pretension, no moodiness, no brooding, no anguish, no angst, no bitterness, nothing resembling anything other than joy and gratitude. He remains happily devoted to his craft, maintaining regular writing hours, unafraid to do the work that he hardly considers to be work in the first place.

On most days, Stine either writes from 10am to 1pm or 2,000 words, whichever comes first. “I’m like the dog. I do everything in the same order every day. I have this game that I play: when I hit 2,000 words I quit,” he says. “It’s like factory work. I have no rituals. I’m just a machine.”

During the halcyon days of Goosebumps’ rising popularity, his time spent writing was double that, churning out a book a month for a period of nearly five years. Looking back now, Stine is amazed by his own prolific output. “I have no idea how I did it. How I had the energy. I didn’t get out much. That’s the big difference in being old. The work makes you a lot more tired,” he says. “I’d been writing for 20 years and no one had really noticed. And suddenly to have this kind of success, I think it was just so exhilarating that it kept me going. It was such an amazing new thing.”

At the peak of its popularity the series sold about four million books a month in addition to a host of merchandise and media. Its signature dripping green ink became ubiquitous, finding its way onto a host of products ranging from keychains, blankets, board games, fast food boxes, and school supplies. The iconic cover art by Tim Jacobus remains popular and is still regularly branded today, especially on clothing. “Forget books. We should be in the shirt business,” Stine jokes.

Stine is sincere in his assertion that writing can be fun and that cultivating a positive outlook towards process has contributed to his success. “I’m always on some panel and some writer says ‘Writing is so hard. I have to lock my kids in the garage to have time to write. I have to hide.’ And I said, ‘If you think writing is hard it’s going to be hard for you.’” He’s written books on the subject of writing, such as “There’s Something Strange About My Brain: Writing Horror for Kids” (2023). An avowed proponent of outlines, he creates one for each project before he begins writing. “I can’t work without it now,” he says. Every Goosebumps book receives a 20-page outline treatment. “It’s very hard to have writer’s block because you’ve done all the work first. And then it can be fun.”

Fun is not a word writers often use to describe writing, especially not with this level of conviction, and yet, writing is something Stine says he still looks forward to, even after all these years. “Those three hours are the best part of my day. I’m very disciplined about it because I enjoy it so much. I don’t get distracted and I don’t have bad days,” he says. “I hate when a writer comes to a school and says ‘Write what you know. Write from your heart.’ Those kids will never write another word. I’ve written over 300 books. Not a single word from my heart. It’s all designed to entertain people.”

This pragmatism is also evident when it comes to his philosophy on those starting out with writing. “People always say, ‘What advice do you have for young writers?’ And I always say, ‘Well, I don’t have any advice.’ I always assume they’re like me. I started writing when I was nine. And I assume that if people are going to become writers they’re like me and suddenly they find at a very young age that they really like it. And they don’t need advice. They don’t need anyone telling them, ‘Oh, read a lot. Write something every day.’ They don’t need to hear that because they’re already there.”

Though Stine discovered writing at an early age, it wasn’t his first creative passion. He credits the Tales from the Crypt comics as an early inspiration. “All I ever wanted to be was a comic book illustrator. I was a comic book freak when I was a kid. That’s all I read. I started in 4th grade doing these little comic books. I had this character Super Stooge. He was a really stupid superhero. And I would draw these and bring them in and pass them around just to get attention. And everyone said, ‘Bob, your drawings suck. Your drawings are awful.’ And I’d look around and everyone could draw better than me—they were right. No talent at all. So I had to write.”

It wasn’t until a librarian introduced him to the books of Ray Bradbury, whose work he says was responsible for turning him into a reader, that he took an interest in fiction. Stine writes about this pivotal moment in “There is Something Strange About My Brain.” “I’ll never forget the first Bradbury story I read. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The words on the page were so beautifully crafted that they conjured up a vivid world in my mind. Bradbury’s stories had it all—humor, suspense, twists and horror.”

At the end of our first meeting, he offers me one of his latest books, “Goblin Monday” from House of Shivers, a new Goosebumps series he started in 2023. When I open it, I see that one of the characters shares a name with me, Todd. It’s purely a coincidence, but suddenly I seem to have entered the world of one of Stine’s books once more, another cosmic overture.

The book, set in a wintry Vermont landscape, is somehow Stine’s first about goblins. The idea for the story came to him first as a title, and then the rest followed. “I don’t try to think of ideas anymore because I’ve done everything,” he says. “The title leads me to the story. That’s my whole trick.”

Much like his early inspirations of The Twilight Zone and Tales From the Crypt, another area of emphasis for Stine are plot twists. It’s a signature of his work that often appears at the end of chapters, keeping his young readers turning the page, anticipating what’s to come. Here’s an excerpt from the end of the first chapter of “Goblin Monday:”

‘His name is Harlan, but everyone calls him Grampa Tweety,’ Jewel said. ‘That is because he is a fanatic birdwatcher. He can do hundreds of birdcalls. You name the bird, he can do it.’

‘Wow,’ I muttered. ‘Amazing.’

‘And he keeps a huge, floor-to-ceiling birdcage in his living room,’ Todd added. ‘It’s jam-packed with chirping birds. They chirp day and night.’

‘Whoa!’ I exclaimed. ‘A giant floor-to-ceiling birdcage in the living room. I can’t even picture it! That’s awesome!’

Of course, when I said that, I had no idea I would soon end up trapped inside that bird cage—fighting for my life.

Twists like this one remind me of the fun times I had reading these books as a child in the 90s. Back then, I regularly bought Goosebumps books from my friend’s brother. (I’m sorry now that that money didn’t go to Stine directly, but the appeal of 50 cents a book was difficult to overlook at the age of seven.) Those copies always came worn, their covers featuring pitch-perfect artwork by Jacobus, bent and damaged before they arrived in my hands. I was a bit more precious about my books than most kids, but this worn condition made sense to me: These were books meant to be read with enthusiasm.

In first grade, after a jaunt at the Scholastic Book Fair, one of the highlights of the school year, I asked my teacher if we could read my latest purchase. She acquiesced, and I sat at my desk in rapt attention as she read from the first chapter of “The Barking Ghost.” I felt that I had gotten away with something, that school should never be this fun. Really, I had gotten away with being exactly the right age at the right time, squarely in the target demographic of what would go on to be one of the most beloved children’s book series of all time.

On my 35th birthday, I drove out to Long Island to meet with Stine once more. It’s where he likes to spend his summers, and though the scenery has changed drastically, his writing routine hasn’t. When I arrive at his house, he’s in his usual good mood, having just completed Stinetinglers 3, a new collection of children’s horror stories. We sit by the pool and Stine’s dog Lucky makes another appearance. He seems happy to see me, especially after I initiate a game of fetch, one that I’m not able to retire from easily. Throughout our conversation I dutifully send Lucky’s tennis ball out into the yard again and again.

The backyard is in full bloom. Lush and well-maintained, bushes and flowers enclose the space and the grass is a vibrant shade of green. The central feature of the backyard is a pool with a custom water slide that curves its way around cascading water fixtures, generating considerable speed before emptying into the water below. “I hate slides,” Stine tells me, who nonetheless made a deal with his son, Matt, that he would go down the slide once every five years and film it. “Now that I’m old I don’t have to do it at all.”

Stine enjoys watching his grandchildren use the slide, though. Being around kids helps him to keep his audience in mind. Stine, who always imagines a reader while writing, says being around his son and his friends when they were kids helped him develop an ear for conversation and to better understand this young audience. “Seven to twelve is the best audience in the world. I love those kids. I get them the last time in their lives they’ll ever be enthusiastic.”

Stine shows his love for his audiences by treating them with care and respect as readers, not students. “There are no challenging words. There are no vocabulary words. They’re all words the kids already know. So the kids don’t really learn anything from Goosebumps except it’s fun to read,” he says. “There used to be a rule in children’s publishing that was really followed: In children’s books, the characters had to learn and grow. And I said why? [In] books we read they don’t have to learn and grow. We can read anything, right? Why can’t kids?”

Another way Stine considers his reader is by letting them know what the book is about in the first chapter and by keeping the sentences short. Also, by not making the books too scary. “Don’t go too far. Some of these kids are seven years old,” he reminds himself. “I hate when parents tell me ‘You gave my kid nightmares.’ I hate that. That’s not the point.”

Stine’s primary sources of material are the memories and experiences of his own childhood. “I was a very shy kid and very fearful. I think maybe that’s why I like writing so much. Because I’m in my room and I don’t have to worry about things. Later on I could remember the feeling of panic and feeling of being afraid and bring it into the books.”

Nowadays, he isn’t so fearful. “I’m really optimistic about kids and reading,” he says. “Children’s publishing is now a two billion dollar industry. Someone’s buying those books.” He also doesn’t fret about the rapidly changing technological landscape either. “I think Goosebumps could have been written in the 50s when I was a kid,” Stine says. “The technology is different. The basic fears don’t change. Afraid of ghosts, afraid of monsters, afraid something is lurking under the bed.”

Writing offered him temporary escape from these fears. “We lived on the edge of a very wealthy community in Columbus. The governor’s mansion was two blocks away. And all the kids were really rich and I was wearing my cousin’s hand-me-down clothes to school . . . I would stay in my room writing. I think that was my refuge.”

It’s a refuge he’s been able to preserve for 40 years now, still finding new readers along the way while retaining an audience of adults like myself who grew up reading his books. Now, Stine has noticed that he’s enjoying a surge in popularity once more. Roughly 1,500 people attended a 2023 appearance at the Fayetteville Public Library in Arkansas.

“We’re talking Taylor Swift,” he says of the turnout. “I got popular again . . . These parents all have these 7-to 11-year-olds and they come to see me for nostalgia’s sake and they bring their kids. So I have two different groups now. It’s made a really big difference. The new Goosebumps series was back on The New York Times bestseller list. It hasn’t been there for 20 years now,” he says. “It took me a while to get used to it. I’d do a book store and you get the 7-year-olds and the 10-year-olds and the 25-year-olds. So far I don’t have people coming to me and saying ‘My Grandma loves your book.’”

What he does have, though, is a legion of readers who are grateful to him and his work. “A lot of people come up to me and say, ‘You got me through a difficult childhood.’” That his work offers both solace and entertainment to kids resonates with Stine and is something he doesn’t take for granted. So much so that he’s happy to revive the series and the fan favorites as often as there is an audience who appreciates them. For example, Slappy, an evil ventriloquist’s dummy, has found his way into many of Stine’s tales. “Slappy’s my favorite character and my least favorite character. He’s my favorite because people love him. He’s so popular. At Halloween time, thousands of kids go as Slappy. That’s a thrill. But he’s my least favorite character because I had to write 15 books about him. You try coming up with story ideas about a dummy that comes to life. 15 books. I’m sick of him.”

Despite his affectionate weariness when it comes to Slappy, Stine has no plans to stop writing. “I enjoy it so much and always have. I honestly wouldn’t know what else to do. What would I do all day?” He’s still motivated by the joy of writing, just as he was when he was a nine-year-old writing in his room alone. When he reflects on his career, he says there’s nothing missing.

“I’ve kinda done it all. Beyond my wildest dreams,” he says.

As for myself, I still own all 62 Goosebumps books from the original series. They’re stored in my childhood home, waiting to be exhumed one day like ancient artifacts, mummies in their tombs, each book bound with memories of childhood and the discovery of a lifelong love of reading.

In 4th grade I wrote a letter to R.L. Stine at the behest of my teacher who instructed us to write to someone we admired. I have no recollection of what I said in the letter or to where it was addressed. I assumed it wasn’t properly sent and had no hope of reaching Stine, but now I see it had simply remained a work in progress—one that’s taken me 25 years to write.

Production Credits:
Photographs by Ben Vogel.
Edited and Produced by Cristiana Lombardo.
Edited and Produced by Joe Skinner.
Location and interview courtesy of R.L. Stine and Tracy van Straaten.

The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the writer.

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