 Horror/Scary: August 27, 2008 Issue [#2579] |
  Horror/Scary
This week: Edited by: W.D.Wilcox  
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Oh...That's Scary
Scary is what horror writing is all about.
So how do you make something scary? How do you take a common, uneventful, everyday life, and turn it into something totally horrific?
I suppose you could start with, ‘It was a dark and stormy night…’ but then you would be missing your best ally in horror writing: the weather.
You’ve got to use that dark and stormy night to your advantage. In horror, everything has a presence, a distorted, often grotesque, and evil intent. So, instead of the weather just being dark and stormy, it has also got to be malevolent.
In order for things to scare us, we have got to let our imaginations run wild. The sounds of the wind whistling outside, or the creaks and moans of an old empty house open our imagination to something unusual, unnatural, and threatening. Use everything around you, and turn it into something terrifying. It’s all about atmosphere.
So let’s look at an example….
Shortly before midnight the storm broke. Brilliant chains of molten-silver lightning flashed and rattled across the wedge of the sky, as the rolling thunder shook the first fat raindrops from the clouds. The man stood before the old house and lowered his head against the force of the storm, the wind pushing and shoving at him as if hurrying him toward something important. He moved toward the porch and stood before the front door. Water dripped off his broad brow, his jawline, and then jumped from his chiseled chin.
As the flesh of the night pressed in around him, he heard the sizzle of rain dancing on the wet walkway, the gurgle and slurp and chuckle of rain in gutters and downspouts; it snapped and splattered against the windows while the wind continued to bleat and hiss.
Like so many times before when he had lived here as a boy, his hand automatically grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door slowly opened and swung away from him into the shadows. The house was as dark as a coal mine.
He took several steps inside, stopped, turned his gaze toward the stairs he knew were there but couldn’t see in the dark, and then listened for a moment. The house wore silence like a coat of armor, with an occasional clink or creak of gauntlet and chain mail.
He was home, and the horror of it chilled his heart, his marrow.
 Scary is a vivid imagination gone wild.
 Bad weather is a horror writer's best friend.
 Take the time to create atmosphere.
 Use everything that scares you, and incorporate it into your story.
There is nothing more frightening then being in the dark. But if you add a lot of wind, rain, lightning and thunder, you have created something that will scare just about anyone.
Until next time,
billwilcox
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Too Scary For Words...
[Excerpt] My God, her grin! It wasn't human! She stretched all of her facial muscles outward; molding together a smile, with the curves crossing the boundaries of her temples. One should never wish for this grin to befall their worst enemies; for that would not be of the nature of a merciful God, and He is kind to those who are unjust as well.
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[Excerpt] Passing the woman's photograph again, he was sure he saw movement in the darkness. Wilcox stood rigid. In the reflection of the photograph, he saw something, a shadow, translucent and dark. Its shape was indefinable, like moving water. It came out from the wall behind him, but when he turned around to face it, there was nothing.
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[Excerpt] You, with malice wings, hate fanning hot coals,
have fell from a golden chariot, you have been reproached.
And so in your rage, you will ignite not a few,
while still falling from grace, you will deal the world wounds.
[excerpt] Hilary glared at her father, convinced he and her mother harbored something from her that she needed to know. “I’m not looking for anything but the truth, Dad. I heard the voice call out to me! What is it that you and Mom are keeping from me? What is it you know that I don’t?”
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[Excerpt] “Come on then, let’s get this thing upright!” Peter said, and the two of them lifted the wardrobe. The key had fallen out onto the carpet and Peter picked it up and inserted it into the lock and turned it. The lock clicked open and Peter grinned at Matthew. "We'll just make sure that there's no monsters in here," he said and pulled open the door.
[Excerpt] In spite of its shabby condition, the Grandson place did not have the air of a ruin; in fact, it didn't appear empty at all, as did many decrepit buildings; somehow it seemed vital, alive. If a house could be said to have a human attitude, an emotional aspect, then this house was angry, very angry--furious, in fact.
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Chilling Feedback
Kotaro 
Submitted Comment:
Bill, your newsletter was straight from the soul. Writing is a spell that wards off the gravity of boredom and lets us fly. Thanks for giving us a push off the ledge.
Mavis Moog 
Submitted Comment:
Don't presume to know the right and wrong reasons for reading that! Who the Hell do you think you are? 
Successful people have one thing in common, none of them have ever given up. That's probably more true of successful writers than any other discipline . 
BranAPublishedAuthor!!!
Submitted Comment:
Hi, Bill!
Great words from a great writer! I think you are good at what you do. Hey, keep up the good work, and I have no doubt that you will see much more success than what you say you have been getting.(minimal) You obviously have not been paying much attention to my stories. They are nothing more than useless dribble! 
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