Posts Tagged ‘storytelling’

Last night as I was dropping off to sleep and feeling happy about setting up that new blog of mine (thanks to everyone who’s already signed up to follow that, by the way), my mind started to wander, as it usually does right before I fall asleep. This time around my mind went to horror stories (yeah, it does that quite often too), and I started to ponder character depth and development in horror stories. At some point I realized that in horror, you often have either characters who are very well-rounded and developed, or you have characters that are little more than archetypes, e.g. the Skeptical Dad, the Final Girl, The Psychic Child, The Expert, etc. And you know what else I realized, what made me get up out of bed and write this revelation down before I fell asleep and forgot? Sometimes these stories require different level of character development, depending on what the story is.

Let me explain. In certain scary stories, such as Stephen King’s The Shining (the book, not that poorly adapted Kubrick film), the characters are more than just archetypes and we get to know them very well. This is because their inner conflicts are just as important to the story as is the outer conflicts happening with the hotel. Jack Torrance is trying to keep his cool and be a good husband and father for his family after so many screw ups, while also fending off his desire to drink and the mental assaults of the hotel. His wife Wendy is trying to keep her family together while also keeping an eye on Jack in case he reverts to bad habits. And Danny, psychic and wise beyond his years, is trying to stay strong and endure the hotel’s attempts to kill him because he knows a lot is riding on his father taking care of the hotel through the winter. How they react to situations and grow as characters is just as important as what is happening within the hotel, so King makes sure they are well-developed.

Part of the terror (in the book, anyway), comes from the conflicts these characters wrestle with inside themselves as well as the ones the hotel sends them.

Meanwhile other stories don’t need as much character development. Take Insidious 3, for example (yes, I’m using the third entry in a horror film series, but bear with me). Besides main character Elise Rainier, most of the characters in the film do not get much character development. In the Brenner family, who are experiencing all these supernatural happenings, you don’t see much beyond the roles they play in the story: Quinn is a pretty girl with dreams of acting and is being victimized by a spirit, her dad Sean is the scatter-brained parent trying to keep his family together through grief and tragedy, and the annoying younger brother Alex is…well, the annoying younger brother. Despite not getting a lot of characterization though, these three characters do actually get some growth in the story: Quinn’s car accident and the spirit attacking her causes her, her brother, and her father to get out of their own little worlds and come together as a family to save Quinn’s life.

And of course, there are those stories that require little or no characterization or growth at all. This is common in slasher films, where the characters are often reduced to archetypes or roles (anyone who’s seen Cabin in the Woods knows what I’m talking about). This also happens in a short story I had an idea for recently (and that I might write as soon as I finish editing Video Rage). In this story, I decided that I wouldn’t spend time going over why the protagonist’s younger brother is a bratty kid or why the antagonists are as freaky as they are. The reason I decided this is because the events of the story are where the terror and intrigue come from, not from any inner growth. This is usually the case with slasher films as well: the events of the story are where we get our terror and excitement from, so more attention is pointed towards telling the story than going over any inner conflicts of the characters.

Half the fun of this show is seeing these two interact with each other.

What I’m driving at here is that how much character development is required from a story depends a lot on where the excitement and fear is coming from and how essential developing a character is in order to keep a reader or viewer invested in the story. In the case of a Nightmare on Elm Street film or the story I mentioned above, we’re reading or seeing the story because we know that the story’s events is where we’re going to get the excitement we paid to read/see. In the case of stories like The Shining or most episodes of Hannibal though, a major reason why we’re investing time into the story is because of the characters, not just what’s happening around them. This is especially so in Hannibal, because most of the conflicts and intrigue comes from the characters, their psychological states, and how they play against one another. We’re there not just because Hannibal Lecter is a famous and charismatic serial killer, we’re also there because we like seeing how Will Graham’s relationship with Lecter changes and evolves over time.

And knowing how much to balance of these two elements–character development and story-focus–is very important. Look at the remake of Poltergeist that came out recently. It was an awful film, and one of the many problems it had was that they tried to insert character development near the beginning of the film and failed miserably. Early on it focused on the dad losing his job and trying to find a new one, as well as mentioned something about the wife being a writer. I think the filmmakers were trying to translate this into an arc where the family tries to stay together and come together through rough circumstances, but ultimately the whole thread of the dad looking for a job and the parents trying to keep the family together fails to really get resolved or come together and ends up feeling unnecessary to the story. You’d think that it would just be enough to say the dad got promoted or transferred or a new job and leave it at that!

So whether it’s a zombie flick, a novel about a haunted house, or a psychological horror TV show, knowing the balance between character development and story-focus is just as important as creating a memorable and creepy villain or writing the story in such a way so that the story actually remains scary rather than goofy or just plain stupid (*cough* Friday the 13th remake *cough*). If you do, you’re more likely to write a good story worth remembering than you are to write garbage that horror fans sift through trying to find a nugget of gold.

I’ll certainly keep the balance in mind with the next story I write.

It goes without saying, I love villains. They’re often the most memorable part of a story or among the most memorable parts. Everyone recognizes the killer clown from Stephen King’s IT or Dr. Lecter tied up and wearing a mask in Silence of the Lambs. And in certain musicals, when they have a song about the villain, it can become the best part of the entire show. In fact, in some cases it’s the only good part of some musicals.

I guess I’m a little obsessed with villain songs, particularly “In the Dark of the Night” from the movie Anastasia (perhaps the only good part of an expensive Disney rip-off) and “Be Prepared” from The Lion King. I’ve even written my own villain song about me as a horror writer called “Eater of Fear” (boy, would I love to get that thing produced into an actual musical track) and I came up with an idea for a short story involving a villain song. And I’m not the only one. You’ll find plenty of people who like villain songs and even create lists for them (you can find examples of other people’s lists here, here, and here).

What’s with the love of villain songs? Well, I can think of several reasons. One is that everyone likes a catchy song. It’s part of the reason why we can’t get some of Taylor Swift or Carly Rae Jepsen’s songs out of our heads sometimes (I’ve been there more than once). Villain songs are among the catchiest because they are often used to explain the plans or motivations of the villains, so a lot of thought is put into making the lyrics and tune exciting while explaining these plans/motivations. It’s a lot more fun than you’re average monologue about the villain’s plans or beliefs, right? Nobody downloads those on their iPods!

Tell me you weren’t wiggling a little in your seat when Dr. Facilier started doing this fun little song and dance.

 

Another reason is that–and this is my own opinion, but I think it has merit–most people want to indulge in their dark side every now and then, they want to have a little fun being evil. How many times have we wished we could get revenge on our bosses or on that nasty kid on the playground? Probably a lot, but we don’t because most of us are good people who would never do something so horrid or we’re afraid of the consequences. A villain song is a sort of trip to the dark side. You get to indulge in being bad and have fun singing about it. And when the song is over, what’s the worst that comes back to haunt you? Maybe someone sees you singing and goes to warn somebody else, but that might be it. Usually, the song ends and we move onto the next part of the story.

In addition, villain songs are packed with dark visuals. Even non-fans of horror like the dark and the creepy every now and then, they just don’t like being assaulted with it in the books or movies or shows they read or watch. No, they prefer to dip their toes, and a villain song is a perfect way to do it. If you’ve ever watched “Hellfire” from The Hunchback of Notre Dame or “Be Prepared”, you know they’ve got some arresting visuals. The former has some freaky Gothic and hellish imagery, the latter has freaking Nazi hyenas marching in front of Fuhrer Scar. It’s kind of creepy, it stays with you, and it’s a lot of fun to watch.

Anyone who didn’t find this scene a little chilling is either lying or possibly has ties to dangerous organizations or groups.

 

These and a bunch of other reasons could be why villain songs resonate with us so much as an audience. Whether it’s because we love a villain, indulging safely in our dark side, or we just like a catchy tune, villain songs are just a ton of fun and as long as people are writing musicals, they’re bound to show up again and again in our shows and, if they’re good, in our consciousnesses.

Do you have a thing for villain songs? Which are your favorite? And why do you think they tend to stick in people’s minds so much?

Oh, just a reminder that my Big Birthday Sale is in 2 days. From June 10th to June 14th, all my titles–The Quiet Game, Reborn City, and Snake–will be marked down or, in the case of the e-books, free to download from Amazon and Smashwords. So if you’re looking for something new to read and want to get it at a good price, this might be the opportunity for you. Get excited, because it’s coming soon!

That’ll be all for now, Followers of Fear. I’ve got to go and sing some “Eater of Fear” in my head. Have a good one.

I’ve been part of a Facebook group for writers for a while now, and we have this thing where on Fridays called #FirstLineFriday (always with the hashtag). Basically we post the first one or two lines of one of our stories, works in progress, or potential stories. It’s a lot of fun, so I thought I’d try it here on my blog, maybe see if I could inspire some other writers to do it on their blogs and start a trend. It would be pretty cool if that happened, don’t you think?

Alright, here’s my first lines, from a story I had an idea for not too long ago. Not sure if these will be the first lines when I write the story, but it sums up a great deal of the story’s theme. Enjoy:

Being human meant surviving, at almost any cost. That was the humble opinion of eight-year-old Marianne Carter, who had endured the whipping Lady McConnell had bestowed upon her rump today–without crying–just so she and her family could survive on the meager pay her job brought home.

Thoughts? Suggestions? Errors? Let me know and wish me luck for next week. Here’s hoping this ignites a trend!

In case you’re not friends with me on Facebook or you don’t follow me on my author page or Twitter feed, my trip to Russia has been delayed. I won’t go into the reasons why, but just know we’re working hard to get a new date and as soon as I know, everyone else will know, including you, my wonderful Followers of Fear. In the meantime, I’m doing what I’d been doing before the delay: preparing, practicing German, packing, and of course, writing and blogging and editing (bet you expected something beginning with a “p”, didn’t you?). Which leads to this post, which is something I’ve been contemplating quite a bit:

It’s considered healthy in your personal life to get out of your comfort zone and try something new, whether that be a new hobby, a new group of friends, or just a change in routine or attitude. I think at times it’s the same thing with the stories you write. Sometimes you want to stick to writing content you feel is safe, that you as the author feel comfortable dealing with. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing–I’d say most writing is writing in an author’s comfort zone–but occasionally as an author you have to get out of that area and go in directions you normally wouldn’t go.

When we authors try to push our boundaries like this, we may do it for several reasons. On a personal level, an author may want to push themselves in the hopes that they won’t become boring or stale staying in what feels like safe territory, or they might want to see how far they can go. On the level of the story they’re working on, an author might feel he or she is helping to make things more exciting or keep it from becoming too much like some of their other works. Another reason could be for the audience’s sake: authors may feel that something different has to be done with the story, something untried and maybe even a little scary, so that either the audience stays interested or so that they too are pushed out of their safety spots.

An example of this happened to me while writing Rose. In one of the later chapters, my protagonist Rose Taggert remembers some of the formative events in her life. In the first draft, the first flashback in that chapter  ends with Rose being traumatized but not seeing any of the things that would cause the trauma. The flashback after that, while Rose does see and experience some traumatic stuff, it was all things I felt comfortable writing about, nothing that made me personally squirm.

While I won’t post excerpts here on the blog (too much space would be taken up and besides, the book’s still far from ready), I can tell you that in the second draft things changed quite a bit. I looked at that scene, those flashbacks, and I thought to myself, “You know Rami, this is supposed to be horror. You’re not horrifying enough in this part. Perhaps you should go deeper, show more and maybe try to go places you normally don’t. Besides, some other authors you admire would add some very nasty and hurtful dialogue in that second flashback. You should at least try it and see how it works.”

And I did. I expanded the first flashback so that Rose, rather than experiencing her trauma from afar, experiences it up close and personal. With the second flashback, I added a bit more dialogue that was meant to make Rose (and possibly myself) a little uncomfortable, just a bit more afraid than she normally would be. And you know what? It actually worked out pretty well. The flashbacks were much more intense, the tension and terror were heightened, and you got much more of a sense as to why these moments affected Rose so much in her later life.

This experience taught me that sometimes you had to push yourself and your boundaries and be bold, try writing stuff you might not at first be comfortable with, see how it fits with you, your story, and what you’re trying to do with the story. I think that’s especially important to me as a horror writer. Often I’m diving into subjects or going into directions meant to scare people, to make them afraid of what might be lurking outside the house or what is underneath their beds. If I’m scared to go someplace with my story, then perhaps that means I should try it and see how it fits in the story. If it scares me, imagine what it’s doing to my readers!

And I think for a bunch of other writers, from many different genres, backgrounds, and training, pushing those boundaries can be a good thing. It can lead to new and interesting stories, or within the stories themselves bring new twists that make what you’re writing (and what hopefully people are reading) that much better. It also can be considered part of the continual evolution that writers go through, constantly learning and getting better as they craft new stories to tell. And by going outside your comfort zone, an author grows not only as an author, but as a person too.

So I’ll keep pushing boundaries when I feel it’s necessary, see if it works out like it did with the second draft of Rose. Heck, maybe when I get to the third draft, I’ll push some more boundaries, add what happens from doing that to all the other edits my advisor and second readers suggested for me. You never know what could happen. But I think it could make the story much better much better than it already is.

Do you push your boundaries a little or maybe even a lot while writing? How so?

What was the results of pushing those boundaries? Would you do it again if given the chance?

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I’ve been away from the blog for the past few days. Between working on a really awesome new story and the job hunt and everything else, I’ve been a busy guy lately. But since I’m here, I have a question for you all: where do you go when you want to feel creative?

Now, I define being creative as two different things: either when you’re having a lot of ideas for stories and projects you’d like to do, or when you have the energy to produce those ideas into reality and you can’t stop writing/painting/whatever it is you are doing. And with those definitions, you might have multiple places where you go to have either of these happen. For me, if I’m stuck for an idea or if I’m having trouble moving forward in a story I’m working on, I go take a shower (I might also do that because I’m sweaty or it’s been a long day but that’s beside the point). For some reason my mind unwinds in there and I’m able to come up with new ideas for stories or on how to modify existing stories so that they’re better on the next draft. I also often come up with new ideas during and after a group meditation. If you’ve known me for a while, you know I’m a big believer in the benefits of meditation, and I often find the energy produced during a group session helps my mind make new connections, perfect for coming up with stories.

As for the the latter definition, I like to spread out on either of the couches I have in my apartment and work on my laptop. Usually that’ll get me producing a couple of pages per session, depending on how into the story I am that day and how many distractions there are to keep me from writing. I also tend to favor one couch over the other, depending on the time of day. Not sure why, but I think it might have something to do about where the sun is shining during the day.

But how do we creatives find our creative spaces? That’s something that each individual has to figure out on their own. Some people make a single room in their home their creative space or map out a single space as the place where they get the most ideas and/or work done. I heard one novelist liked to sit on the rim of her bathtub while worked through her stories. Others go out of their homes to coffee shops or parks. And some will make do with anywhere they can get a moment, be that on the way to work each morning or on an airplane or in the laundry room while the kids are zoned out watching TV. A lot of it depends on the person in question, their circumstances and temperament, the places they go to write or whatever they do, the time of day, and a whole bunch of other factors.

It’s really interesting when you think about it. Where someone goes to be creative–either of the definitions I supplied above–can tell you a lot about what sort of person they are. The places I go are at home and where I might try and unwind after a long and stressful day, so you could say I like to be relaxed or unstressed when I’m working on something. And frankly, that’s true. When I don’t have a lot on my mind, I tend to find it easier to tell a story or come up with a new idea.

Where do you go when you’re trying to have a new idea or when you’re trying to create something extraordinary? Why do you think that place resonates with you so well?

By the way, working on a new science fiction story right now, and it’s coming along great. I’ll post about it when it’s done. I think a lot of people will enjoy this one, it’s got a very interesting premise to it.

The main fear of every fiction writer is whether or not they’re telling a good story, usually meaning they hope they have an interesting story or they’re telling it in the best way possible. After that those, there’s another fear that is just as important and just as scary: you fear your characters aren’t relatable, that they don’t feel real to the reader. The last thing any author wants to read in a review is that the characters seemed “artificial” or “their actions and words felt forced” or instead of seeming like real people, they were “more like robots.”

Unless all or most of your characters are actually robots, of course. Then those reviews might actually be compliments.

But in most other situations, you want to avoid getting these sort of reviews, and there are a number of ways to do that. One is to fill out a full character bio for each of your characters, even if you don’t plan on using everything on that bio in the story. I’m talking full educational history, childhood experiences and traumas, hobbies, likes and dislikes, dirty little secrets, all that good stuff. Having a full picture of your character can help you bring them to life. You can tell a lot about a person just by knowing the full story about them, and you can do the same by knowing everything about your characters, getting in their heads and figuring out everything from reactions to certain situations to their decision-making processes.

Some of these involve writing, which I think adds to the fun.

One of the best parts of some of these is you get to write them out. If you’re one of those types who write a certain amount of words a day, this may help fill it out on a bad day.

Another thing you can do, if you’re wondering if something your character says or does seems believable or not, is to do what I call split-mind writing. I forget where I got this (it might have been a Stephen King novel), but it’s a pretty interesting way to work out problems, if rather schizophrenic. What you do is take a piece of paper, and pretend to have a conversation with someone on that piece of paper. Basically it’s a game of question-and-answer where you bounce ideas off of the person you’re writing to, see if you can work out what’s bothering you about your character and find a solution through this process.

There’s also acting it out, which is as the name implies (and with the perfect partner, is as fun as it sounds). If you have someone to act it out with, fill the in on a scenario in the story and act it out. If you or your partner’s reactions and words are different than what you’d expect or thought might happen, examine why. There might be something in that difference that can help you in your work.

A fourth one, and one that I feel is always worth a try, is to look at your favorite characters in literature. Examine them and ask yourself why those characters feel so real to you, or what about these characters that you identified with. Often we’re inspired by these sort of characters and the stories they’re in. We want to write stories that are just as inspirational as those ones that inspired us. Going back and figuring out why can be very helpful with putting those same qualities into your stories.

And of course, there’s my favorite option: would I do that in the same situation? I find asking myself this sort of question of myself actually helps. Often our characters have a bit of ourselves in them (as they should, seeing as we created them). Asking if we would do the same thing as them, and then exploring the answer, may help you make these characters seem real. After all, if you consider yourself at least fifty-percent normal and your reactions too, then maybe those thoughts and reactions should apply to your characters as well.

Sometimes it’s just a matter of thinking and puzzling it out.

Sometimes it’s just a matter of thinking and puzzling it out.

While making characters seem real to your audience can seem daunting, it’s not impossible to do. We all start out having trouble making our characters seem real, but with time we improve, make them real not just to us, but to our readers. And part of that is just asking a question: why or why does this character not work? The answers you get can be the key to writing something–and maybe even someone–truly awesome.

Long ago, when college was still a faraway possibility in my preteen mind, I got my first exposure to college writing courses via Stephen King’s IT, which my mother had bought for me during a family vacation to visit our relatives in Delaware. My first Stephen King book and still one of my favorites, I remember during one of the early chapters one of the protagonists Bill Denbrough, who in his adult years is a successful horror novelist, flashbacks to a honors’ creative writing class he took.

To say the least, the class he took scared me almost as much as the clown: it was a bunch of hippies talking about everything wrong with society sexually, culturally, racially, politically, economically, etc. The professor was a weed-smoker who saw fiction as inseparable from politics and revolution. Suggest that if writing stories for the sake of writing stories in this class, as Bill did, and everyone would turn and see you as a sexist death merchant or something. He later dropped the class (smart move) and did more than fine on his own.

For twelve-year-old me, I sincerely hoped that I wouldn’t find this sort of experience when I got to college. I did tell myself that Bill’s college years took place in the middle of the Vietnam War, and everyone was a little politics crazy then. But for a twelve-year-old, you don’t really understand what college is except maybe images of grassy lawns and old buildings and people between adolescence and adulthood going to classes during the day and going to wild frat parties at night. And of course there was that slightly hippie reputation, you can’t shake that off no matter what you do.

About seven years later, I enroll in my first creative writing class. And no, they’re not a bunch of hippies looking to protest the wrongs of the world and turn any guy wanting to write a simple horror story into a pariah. Our teacher was a grad student who swore like a sailor despite emphasizing a Southern upbringing, and she tasked us to write one short story that was literary that could incorporate genre themes. That was one of my first lessons in avoiding giant plot holes, because the first draft of my story, a girl freed from being a sex slave, had some issues. My second draft was a bit better, but only so much. Still, learned a bit from that, and the students were a cool group. Some were English majors, others were looking to fill credit requirements for other majors. We wrote, we critiqued each other’s work, it was fun.

The second creative writing class I took was an advanced course, and was taught by this professor who was such a great guy. He told us flat that he wanted only literary stories, that he thought genre was often unimaginative, and that he hated James Patterson. But he always had a smile on his face, and he always brought a little wind-up toy to amuse us. I got a lot of training in characterization and looking for new angles and perspectives from that class. One of the short stories I turned in was part of the finished collection of works for The Quiet Game, “Addict”. That class definitely helped bring it up to scratch.

My final, and possibly my favorite, creative writing class was last semester, with a professor who retired at the end of our class. Every week we would read an average of two or three short stories from our peers, as well as stories gathered in a course packet (some of those left a deep impression on me). Another advanced creative writing class, each of the students here had a lot of experience and brought a lot to the table. At times I felt I had trouble measuring up, that’s how good they were. But I worked hard, and in addition to the lessons I was getting from writing my thesis, I was growing as a writer, learning all sorts of things on relating to the audience, on storytelling and how not to rush it or stuff too much into ten-thousand words. It was excellent, and I know that class is definitely going to stick with me the most, because I was never bored and I got so much out of it.

In a month and four days (yes, I’m keeping count), I’ll be walking down the aisle in Ohio Stadium in a cap and gown and receive my diploma. If someone were to ask me right before I go up to get my diploma if I became a writer because of my time at Ohio State, I would say “Yes” and point to these classes. They did wonders for my writing, and I’m so glad I took them. And while the likelihood will be that I won’t be taking any formal classes again for a number of years, I know that as I go on and get plenty of informal training, these classes will stick with me through life.

So if you’re reading one of my stories some day in the future and suddenly you’re afraid and want to bolt the door, you can go ahead and blame my classes for that.

Did you take creative writing courses when you were in college? Did they help you at all?

What’s one lesson from those classes that has stuck to you even up till today?

By the way, remember my Secrets of Ohio State University article and its sequel? Well, there’s a third secret I wanted to share, but I didn’t want to make a whole article about it. So instead, I’ll just share it here: there’s an urban legend on campus that if you’re hit by one of the school’s buses you’ll receive various benefits as compensation, including free tuition for a semester. I’ve never heard anyone test this theory, but once I got hit by a car passing through campus while I was on the way to a psychology exam. The person who hit me, as far as I’m aware, wasn’t affiliated with Ohio State. But not too long after the incident, I got a small refund from OSU. Coincidence? Or maybe some form of restitution? The world may never know.

 

I’ve been busy this past weekend, attending my cousin’s bar mitzvah in Detroit and when not doing bar mitzvah things, I was busy with homework or being in the car (hard to get Wi-Fi while in the car). Otherwise I would have posted something Friday or Saturday. Well, better late than never, right?

And on the subject of writing posts, I want to talk about something that’s a subject of controversy for writers: a daily word count. I’ve heard plenty of writers give their opinions on the topic, from being proponents of 500 to 1000 words a day, to others who say that the daily word count is some draconian form of masochism for writers. Me, being “ambitious”, as my English major advisor called me (or was it “overachiever”?), have tried to at least get 500 words typed out each day, whether it be short story, novel, or blog post. 500 words seems to be the amount of words most proponents seem to advocate, whatever the reason that be.

Well, the other day I was working on a short story that I’ve been working on and off for about eight months. That night I barely got three or four hundred words written and I was feeling pretty ashamed about that. This story’s been wrestling with me for ages, and I’ve been trying to get a version of it written that I feel would be up to the standards I (and possibly the magazines I could submit it too) like of my short stories.

The next night though I had a different idea of where to go with this story, and I wrote about fifteen hundred words. Obviously, I felt elated by that. But I also had a bit of an epiphany that evening. The night before I’d been unsatisfied with the direction the story was going and obviously it stalled. The next night I had a different direction for the story that I thought might work better and I got out over a thousand words.

I won’t be worrying about word counts while writing any time soon.

It made me realize that some days, if I’m enjoying how the story goes or if I’m really in the flow, I’ll write a huge amount. And other days, if I’m tired, if I’m not really liking the direction of the story, or if it’s just not my day, I might not get a hundred words out. It’s not any fault of mine, it’s just the way sometimes these things go. Writers have bad days too and on those days we just have to deal with it, and maybe try again tomorrow.

These past couple of days, outside of homework, I haven’t gotten anywhere near five-hundred words written. Am I upset? More about not having the chance to write than anything else. The word count isn’t important to me anymore. Or it isn’t as important as it used to be. I’ll definitely try to get more written out than I have previously over these next couple of nights. Since I’ll be editing Rose starting Tuesday, I might just get a lot out depending on how much I want to change from one draft to the other. We’ll see.

But I’m not that concerned. As I said, some days you’re going to get plenty done and some days you’ll only get a few words out. It’s important at the very least that you try. And believe me, I’ll be trying.

How do you feel about daily word counts? For or against? Why?

Are you planning on asking me how many words this post is?

If you are, you shouldn’t! Because if you ask, I won’t tell you! I’m evil that way.

And by the way, thanks once again to everyone who contributed to Buckeyethon this past year. Even though I could not attend the dance this year because of my cousin’s bar mitzvah, I heard about the great achievements of my fellow students and I this year. 1.2 million dollars towards cancer research! Thank you so very much for your spiritual and financial support in this. You helped make the difference with me.

Well, that’s all for now. It’s getting late, and I’m going to head to bed. I’ve had a lot of late night recently, so I need some sleep if I’m going to be able to deal with school and work and the writing tomorrow. Have a great night, my Followers of Fear.

My brain at work.

It’s been not even one full week into the new semester and there have been some interesting developments in the classes I’m taking. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’m taking a creative writing course this semester. The course requires us to turn in two short stories and a revision of one of them at different points throughout the semester, though not necessarily in that order (I wanted to turn in a revision and two original short stories, but I don’t have anything to revise at the moment, so forget that). And as I’ve also mentioned in previous posts, Ohio State’s English and Creative Writing departments tend to focus on classic and literary fiction. Genre fiction doesn’t often get as much discussion in Denney Hall.

I came into class with the idea that we were going to be writing several literary short stories during the semester, and even had a list of ideas for stories I could write. Imagine my surprise when my teacher announced that we could turn in genre fiction, so long as it was interesting. Yes, she said that. As long as it’s interesting and doesn’t hold to time-honored (0r time-worn) conventions, I could turn in something from genre fiction. The following conversation then ensued:

Me: So I could write a terrifying horror story, and as long as it is interesting and doesn’t hold to conventions, I can turn it in?

My Professor: Of course.

Me: Party time.

You can probably tell I’m excited. I love writing horror stories, and with the focus on finishing the first draft of Laura Horn and editing Video Rage taking up most of my time this summer, there hasn’t been all that much time to seriously focus on writing a decent scary story or two. However, there’s been plenty of time to accumulate ideas for short stories, so at the next available opportunity, I plugged in my flash drive and started looking over the Word document that contains all my ideas for short stories.

So much to work with, so little time.

What a list that was, with 294 entries at last count. Yeah, I know. And no time to seriously work on them. One of these days I’m going to have to set aside a period of time where I won’t work on any novels and I’ll just work on reducing the amount of ideas on that list, maybe put out a couple more collections of short stories.

But the other night when I went over the list, remembering ideas I hadn’t thought of in a while (good thing I keep a list!) and trying to remember what I was thinking of when I wrote down the idea I had for certain stories, I was looking for particular stories. They had to be the right length (under 10,000 words), they had to be one of the more interesting ideas I’ve had (I like to think they’re all interesting, but I tried seeing it from the POV of someone who’s not me) and I had to look for a story that wouldn’t be tied down to the conventions of horror.

And as many of the horror fans know, that last one can be tough. As the Scream movies, Cabin in the Woods, and Behind the Mask so wonderfully point out, horror stories often work within a certain narrative framework. This gives the writers who create these stories more freedom than you’d think as we struggle to please our fans who are looking for a certain product in their story, but there has been criticism (some of it well-founded) that horror stories can get a little too predictable, to the point where you get useful advice videos like this:


He does bring up some good points. Actually, a slightly paranoid fear of a horror movie death is why I’ve never smoke weed, drink sparingly, and I’m not violent outside of the books I write (I’m not commenting on the sex and abstinence part). I don’t want to die like that. That would suck! Especially if somehow my soul gets trapped in the place where I was murdered or is digested by whatever killed me or something. That would suck even more!

So in the end, I managed to pick out about eight or ten short stories that I thought fit the bill for what I was looking for, and I selected two out of them. Neither of these stories have any particular reason as to why I chose them. I just thought they were very unique and that they would be choices my teacher and classmates wouldn’t find boring or stereotypical. In fact, I’m hoping to keep them on the edge of their seats with suspense.

And as for what those short stories are, I’ll give you some hints. This is the hint for the short story I’ll probably start work on sometime next week:

And here’s the hint for the one I’ll probably start in late September, early October:

Anyone want to hazard a guess at subject matter and plot line? There are wrong answers, but no consequences if you guess wrong.

Well, that’s all for now. I have some homework to do if I want to get any form of creative writing done, so I’m off to do that. Wish me luck, and have a good weekend, my Followers of Fear. I’ll let you know the progress of each of these short stories as there is news to report and maybe even let you know what my classmates think. Hopefully they will be terribly scared.

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Horror stories usually have three basic types of endings. At least, in my experience they do. There are variants on the the endings, but for the most part horror stories and movies tend to fall into three broad categories: the happy ending, the temporary reprieve, and the monster’s victory. I hope that in the course of this post, I can go through all three and describe the benefits and cons of using each of these methods. This may bring a better understanding not only to other horror authors, but to myself of the stories we write and why we write them and how to improve upon them.

So without further ado, let’s begin the examination of endings in horror.

The Happy Ending. This one doesn’t need much explanation, because this ending appears in most stories. Good conquers evil, the monster is vanquished, and the hero or heroine returns home, maybe sporting some very attractive partner on their arm if they’re lucky. This is a standard ending that all authors use at least once, and it’s a good one because most audiences want a happy resolution to their stories. However, the problem with the happy ending (at least in horror), is that if it is done wrong, the reader could be given the impression that all is flowers and roses and that everyone who survived the terror is left unscathed. And fans of horror have only one response to that sort of Hollywood-sweet ending: “Bullsh*t!” Even though we enjoy realms with monsters, ghosts, and serial killers, we want some things to be realistic, and that includes having your characters somewhat scarred, even after they’ve achieved total victory over the enemy. At the very least, show how the characters are haunted by their experience, how they wish they could’ve done more or they’re sad that their lives are so messed up.

A good example of a happy ending in horror that is well done can be found at the end of the novel Misery. Protagonist Paul Sheldon has barely escaped Annie Wilkes. He hasn’t even escaped in one piece! He’s missing a foot and thumbs, he’s dealing with alcoholism and writer’s block, and he keeps seeing Annie’s ghost wherever he turns. Yet at the end he finds inspiration for a story and starts to cry, because he’s able to start writing again, that he was able to get away from Annie at all, and because of what his life has become post-captivity. That is a really well-handled happy ending for horror if ever I’ve read one.

The Temporary Reprieve. Another common ending in horror, and if you ask me the best of all three. The temporary reprieve is when the hero or heroine has defeated the monster at the end and has had a few pages or minutes of screen time to recover, maybe even celebrate and have a smoke. But then evil rears its ugly head again. The monster has returned, it’s only been stopped a short while, and it plans to continue doing horrible things no matter what happens (you don’t have to end the story with the monster reappearing, though. You can show what happens after it reappears or just end it there). This is a great way to end a horror story, because it gives the readers one last scare and leaves open the possibility of a sequel.

The problem with this ending though is pulling off another good scare (I’d also include whether or not you should do a sequel, but I’ve written about that elsewhere). You want to lull a reader into a false sense of security and get them to really be terrified at the end, and doing that relies largely on your talent and skill as a writer. If you are unable to create that twist at the end, it may come off to readers as cheesy, contrived, or unnecessary. Some good examples of horror stories that do this well are the movies Insidious and Nightmare on Elm Street.

The Monster’s Victory. Strangely for horror this one is a rarer ending, and I think that has to do with people wanting a positive resolution to their stories, even in horror (I have trouble with these endings sometimes). However the monster’s victory is still a great ending, and in the right hands can be a fantastic final note to a good horror story. In it the monster of the story has won, the protagonist has been killed or been rendered a victim, and evil will continue its reign forevermore (or until a sequel is made).

Like I said, this sort of ending does have the possibility of turning off readers, but at the same time, doing it well done will create a very positive response. I would recommend practicing it as well as looking at endings that have done the monster’s victory well. Some good examples would be the movies Sinister and The Skeleton Key. Terrifying and fun.

Now, not all horror stories fall neatly into these categories. Some are a mishmash of these endings, such as Texas Chainsaw 3D, which is arguably a combination of all three endings. And some endings don’t seem to be any of these endings: the novel Carrie has everyone in it, from insane Margaret to most of the cruel and evil teens to poor Carrie herself dying at the end of the book with a bunch of carnage in her wake. How do you categorize that sort of story?

Regardless though, these endings do crop up a lot in horror, and they provide a framework for authors to work and experiment with in their own writing. Using these sort of endings or examining them and identifying their flaws as well as their positive sides can help you identify which would work best for you or your story, or if you should try some sort of different ending that is not among the ones above. And if it produces a great story, then all that examination is worth it, don’t you think.