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              That's how writing horror feels, like I'm trying to catch fish with 
              my teeth. It's strange, I'm drawn to writing horror, but I'm constantly 
              searching to define it. It's elusive when I can't catch it and when 
              I do, it's slippery. 
            Each project I write seems to be a personal 
              redefinition of the genre/mood, and even then, it only seems to 
              work for that one book. Bloody in one story, suggestive in another; 
              violent, coy, angry, cold
 it changes. 
            I suppose I love calling myself a horror writer, 
              but I think I write dark suspense more. I mean sure, I can write 
              of the horrific, but the horrific isn't horror. Hence the reason 
              I don't enjoy slasher flicks as much as I once did -- well, not 
              including the remake for "House of Wax," the sole redeeming 
              feature of which is watching Paris Hilton die. But, if horror is 
              suspense, then am I a horror writer because I enjoy writing dark 
              suspense? 
            See
 those are the Star Trek-type dilemmas 
              that go through my head. Now if only I could reverse the polarity 
              of my tachyon field and use the holo-emitters to solve my quandary, 
              I'd be happy (dumb as a herd of grapes, but happy). 
            I have stumbled across some personal truths to 
              horror
 truths I feel are important to me. They have helped, 
              but I don't usually analyze them as I write. These seem to be thoughts 
              on writing with the occasional application finding its way into 
              a book: 
            1) The audience wants to survive the horror flick. 
              Thank Mr. Craven for that one, but I love the notion. The reader 
              wants to participate in the ride and wonder how they'd react to 
              the situation. Take Tom Piccirilli's "A Choir of Ill Children." 
              It's really good (IMHO). Unfortunately, the mindset is so strange 
              and different that I don't feel like I'm reading horror. Certainly 
              some bits may be horrifying, but between the strange situations 
              and the protagonist Thomas acting alienated from his surroundings 
              (a trap many first-person narratives fall into, I believe), I'm 
              not actually participating in the ride. Therefore
 I'm not 
              scared.  
            2) Living is scarier than dying. Maybe this is 
              just me, but as I grow older, I think part of horror is actually 
              surviving the event; contemplating the consequences and being haunted 
              by them is more horrifying then just killing someone. This is, again, 
              why so few slasher flics appeal to me. I was more horrified for 
              Ripley in "Aliens" because she survived the first movie 
              then I was of Jason's first victim. I was horrified in "Se7en" 
              because one of victims (sloth I think) was still alive. 
            Naturally, you can play with this - killing one 
              character so the others must live with the consequences of that 
              - but in the end, I think there must be some survival. I think this 
              is why Joss Whedon shoves his characters into the meat grinder. 
              Drama sells, yes, but drama needs the living (or maybe the persistent 
              dead) to work.  
            To quote my friend, Stephan Brochu: Drama is like 
              Soylent Green
 it's made with people. 
            3 & 4) I once took acting lessons from 
              a Polish director who was quite good at his craft. In one scene, 
              he snuck up on another actress, very much in the classic Nosferatu 
              vein (one arm outstretched, fingers moving like slow tentacles). 
              The room was brightly lit, but he told the actress she was in the 
              dark. We saw them both
 her blind and him advancing up behind 
              her, and yet the scene still had us on the edge of our seats. I 
              think this works well for horror on two levels: 
            3) Horror is anticipation. 
            4) Horror is empathy. 
                
             
                
            
             
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