D.T. Neal's Blog, page 17

Fiendish Factors

My partner and I successfully curated and edited the FIENDS IN THE FURROWS folk horror anthologies, which have sold well from 2018 onward, and with the third volume coming out in August (!!!), we're optimistic that it'll do well, too.

THE FIENDS IN THE FURROWS trilogy

I'm a big fan of folk horror as a subgenre of horror (more posting on this later), and the success of the FIENDS franchise has been a high point for me in publishing.

A key part of what made FIENDS work was just how carefully my partner and I selected the stories on what was an open call. We both have a strong understanding of what makes decent folk horror, and also, what makes a good short story.

In retrospect, I look back on it and know that I had the right idea at the right time, and my partner did truly amazing design work (as ever) and created a book design that compelled.

However, our accomplishment was largely overlooked by the indie horror community (and I think most still don't appreciate what we did). But it hardly matters; readers dig FIENDS. Readers, the unicorns of publishing, dug FIENDS, and we're forever grateful to them for that. The reviews and ratings show that readers love FIENDS.

I also think that a fleeting reference to FIENDS in a GUARDIAN article by Andrew Michael Hurley was a major help. He made a mention of it, and I think for many people, it put FIENDS on the radar for them.

Indie books aren't supposed to succeed, not in the traditional narrative (pun intended). And short story collections and anthologies? Even more contrary to the conventional wisdom, even likelier to go unappreciated and unread.

However, it can happen. It does make me realize just how arbitrary it can be, the line between success and failure in publishing, and how good it can be when it works, even if it's just as mysterious as when it (more often) fails.

Others, having seen what we did with FIENDS, have tried to do their own folk horror anthologies, but they haven't succeeded the way FIENDS has. I think there are reasons for that.

One is that my partner and I get folk horror, because we love folk horror. Lots of folks make what they think is folk horror, but it's usually more folklore-type stories, or straight-up horror, or even urban legend-type stuff. The vibe isn't right. The atmosphere is key with any folk horror story.

Further, we both understand that folk horror cannot simply be purely formulaic literary rehashings of THE WICKER MAN, or be captive to the stories of the past.

Rather, there needs to be other places for the subgenre to go that keep true to the essence of it while also tilling new ground. I think we did that successfully as well, including in the third volume, which I think has the strongest qualities of the first two books braided into it.

I'd be lying if I didn't say that our timing was spot-on when we got the first FIENDS out there. It was the right book at the right time. No way would we want to try to start an anthology like that these days; the landscape has changed, and it's even trickier now to get something out there that people might enjoy, and harder to get seen in the flood of publications.

FIENDS has been an ongoing win that's a genuine point of pride for my partner and me. However, it's still an indie publishing win -- although even trad would envy the numbers we've had with FIENDS, while dismissing us as indie publishers, and, therefore, undeserving of consideration.

Publishing is alchemy--there are certain things you must have for a successful anthology: 1) a good idea; 2) good stories, carefully curated; 3) good design; 4) good timing; 5) good marketing; 6) good media exposure; and 7) good luck.

Without those, it's very difficult to actually succeed with an anthology, and it'll forever be mysterious to me whether that fleeting mention by Hurley in the GUARDIAN that tipped the scales for us, or what -- part of me wonders if we had gotten greater media exposure, would it have done even better? Who knows?

I do know that once a book attains a certain critical mass in terms of sales, those sales continue over time. And that's the key. It's not the flash-in-the-pan scramble for Flavor-of-the-Moment hype and the Greek chorus of friends/allies/confederates singing praises; rather, it's the longer-term build over time that delivers the lasting win.

Looking back on the trilogy, I'm proud of what we've accomplished. However, it's still alchemy, as ineffable as ever.

Debutantebellum

As a diehard indie writer (with, hello, 19 self-published books under my belt to date), I've often wondered if I ever managed to successfully get a book manuscript to trad publishing (itself a monumental feat), how/whether/if the trad publisher would pitch me as a "debut novelist."

I mean, one could see that from a trad POV, yeah, I'd be a debut novelist, as the work would be reflective of my debut with them.

But, from my perspective, such a debut would feel profoundly ironic, requiring the disregard of all the work that went before from the marketers tasked with pushing my trad work.

I imagine I'm a rare case, in that I doubt very many writers have published as much of their own books as I have. Few indie writers have probably as doggedly pushed along this path as long or as prolifically as I have.

Maybe it's a quandary I'll never have, but it's curious to ponder. I'm proud of those 19 books. They're trad-quality indie books I chose to publish myself, versus trying to peddle them to trad. Obviously, given how few readers I have, maybe that was a grand strategic failure on my part.

But, surveying publishing in general, it's as easy to imagine that had I somehow gotten my books picked up by trad, they'd be languishing and I'd be similarly afflicted. At least those 19 books are mine.

I've got some I'm querying to trad, so if any actually find trad homes, I can revisit this "debut" discussion with additional insights.

The fact that I've got that big catalog of books itself speaks to the plight of writers and publishing, in a way. Another facet of the "supply exceeding demand" peril plaguing publishing.

BLACK MIRROR Season 6

So, I binged through the most recent season of BLACK MIRROR (S6), and found the stories generally enjoyable, if not particularly exceptional. They included:

Joan is Awful
Loch Henry
Beyond the Sea
Mazey Day
Demon 79

One of the challenges I run into with BLACK MIRROR is that there are episodes I've loved in the past that most people don't, and vice versa (*koff* "San Junipero" *koff*), so take my take on these with a pinch of salt.

"Joan is Awful" was probably the most meta of metanarratives ever, and was the most obliquely comic and self-referential. Entertainingly goofy, despite some things that were just way too on the nose.

"Loch Henry" spun out a found footage story with a pretty obvious twist, but was nearly folk horror-adjacent, and, being set in Scotland, managed some vibe.

"Beyond the Sea" took a long time to get to what was obviously going to happen, and then ended pretty ambiguously (felt like there was still some unfinished business in that one).

"Mazey Day" was trying for some relevance around pop culture and the paparazzi, but spun off in another direction that, again, was kind of obvious.

"Demon 79" reveled in retro 70s horror vibe, and was somewhat entertainingly apocalyptic.

None of this batch were bad, but none of them really jumped out at me, either. I'm pretty jaded, I guess. I imagine normies will like it well enough, but part of BLACK MIRROR was rooted in its examinations of technology and such, and while those notes are acknowledged in it, these seemed more like basic horror stories that just happened to have a tech element, versus the earlier seasons, where it's more overt.

One thing I noticed in this season was willful use of easter eggs and callbacks to previous seasons, the kind of fan fodder to drive interest. I don't mind if/when shows do this, but it felt pretty clearly intended in this season.

Anyway, there it is. In total, I'd give this season three stars. It does its job, but didn't blow my mind:

***

So Far, So Good

Just perusing the books I've put out there over the years, specifically the ones I've written, because it sometimes gets hard to track after one's written a bunch (especially when they don't sell particularly well).

This cataloguing only counts the novels and novellas I've written and published, not the books I've edited...

Horror (D.T. Neal): 9

SAAMAANTHAA (2011)*
CHOSEN (2012)*
RELICT (2013)
SUCKAGE (2013)*
SUMMERVILLE (2013)
THE HAPPENING (2015)*
THE DAY OF THE NIGHTFISH (2020)
NORM (2021)*
THE CURSED EARTH (2022)*

Short Story Collections (D.T. Neal): 2

SINGULARITIES (2015)
THE THING IN YELLOW (2023)

Fantasy (Dane Vale): 6

THE WOLF & THE CROW: QUINTET (2018)
THE WRATH OF SHADOWS (2020)
THE NIGHT'S VIOLIN (2021)
BEYOND THE IVORY SHORE (2021)
UPON THE SERPENT'S TONGUE (2022)
THE TWILIGHT ISLE (2022)*

Science Fiction (Dean Vale): 2

FARTHER (2020)*
THE CHARGE OF THE WOLVERHINO (2021)

*Novels

So, that's 19 books published from 2011 - 2023. Not a bad turnout over a dozen years. Particularly when factoring in the overall lack of interest in the books and near-zero support from any "communities" out there. I'm nothing if not stubborn/determined.

I've also got five more books coming out, likely '24-26, so there's that, too.

Anyway, I've been busy. No wonder I'm tired....

CHERNOBYL

I've said it before, but HBO's CHERNOBYL (2019) is easily the best cosmic horror story of the past few years.

Obviously, it's dramatizing the all-too-real events of the Chernobyl disaster in Soviet Russia. But in terms of conveying a cosmic horror vibe, I would strongly recommend anyone who likes cosmic horror to watch it.

The just nail it -- the vibe is overwhelming and frankly terrifying (more so because Chernobyl actually happened).

The interplay of the visuals (they willfully went with a washed-out color palette, which strongly conveys that whole Eastern Bloc bleakness vibe), with the chilling soundtrack--a masterwork of a soundtrack that lurks and haunts, and the great performances of the stellar cast--they all combine to make one of the very best disaster shows ever.

"The Bridge of Death"

And, as I said, cosmic horror. It just radiates it (pun intended). Anyone who aspires to writing good cosmic horror should watch this miniseries. It's impossible for me not to see it when watching it (and rewatching it).

Cosmic horror (made famous or infamous by HP Lovecraft, among others) revels in the idea of an alien and uncaring universe annihilating humanity.

And all of that is present in CHERNOBYL. The "elder god" of it is alternately the leaked radiation itself, as well as the paranoid political pretensions of the Soviet state. They coil around each other and literally destroy human lives--and while the courage and sacrifice of the Ukrainian, Russian, and Belarusians in fighting the disaster is a triumph of the human spirit, it's not without a terrible cost in human lives.

The combination of the invisible peril of radiation and the very vivid effects of it on the human body is staggering. The showrunners were exemplary in showing how quickly and terribly (and irrevocably) human lives are destroyed by radioactivity--you'd have healthy characters exposed to it, a scene later, they're badly burned (or worse), and soon after that, are basically melting in hospital beds. "Ghastly" doesn't even begin to describe it. And yet, compulsively watchable because of the horror it brings.

It's revealing at the end when they roll various bits of information about what had been depicted) that the USSR claimed only 31 lives were lost in the Chernobyl disaster, which is an absurd number (more realistically estimated to be numbers around 4,000 to 93,000 killed by it, although--in true cosmic horror tradition--no one really knows the exact number because of the maddening secrecy of the USSR).

CHERNOBYL is a work of pure horror (cosmic, psychological, body, and political horror all wrapped up in one).

"The Bridge of Death" scene (incidentally, nobody present at the Bridge of Death survived--all of them died horribly from their exposure). Rarely has certain death arrived more quietly.

If you're a fan of true horror, you must watch CHERNOBYL--obviously, the pathos of it being that it's tied to real-world events is undeniable.

However, from a creative perspective, the creators of the miniseries delivered a malevolent masterpiece to the world, and I'm forever grateful for it.

The Hermetic Existence

I'm not saying writers are best-suited by leading a hermetic existence, but it helps, strangely. We're honestly meant to be observers of the world, not entirely participants in it.

If we're alive, we can't help but participate in the world on some level, to be sure. However, the discipline of writing means you need to maintain a degree of detachment from the world, too.

In order to be able to live in the fictional worlds you create (if you're inclined to build worlds at all, which even the most real-worldbound writer must still do), you have to basically exist between the real world (aka, real life) and the fantasy worlds you're creating as a writer.

As such, the writer who gets caught up in the real world will find themselves further removed from their fictional worlds. Just as the writer who truly embraces their fictional worlds will find the real world something that they deal with at arm's length.

There's a reason why solitude suits writers, to be honest. At our best, we manage to be of the real world without being a part of it. We need our breathing space to be able to create -- all creative artists need that space.

Yes, our art can flow from our lives, our experiences, but, critically, we need the time and space to create.

That's one of the most insidious threats of social media -- it erodes that necessary private space every creative needs. What we get are people posting their lives day-to-day, as if it matters that somebody's drinking XYZ IPA that morning, or particularly appreciated that sunset, or took a trip to a new city.

Writers in particular aren't meant to be in the spotlight. We're meant to be alone with our work. Most of the tourists and Flavor-of-the-Month types don't realize this, but all the time and energy they're spending on impression-managing is time better spent writing fiction, if they actually cared about it.

I know that makes it seem like I'm advocating a monastic, ascetic kind of existence. And I wouldn't necessary advocate it for most of the tourists, but it's where one needs to go if you really love the work (aka, writing).

There are few pleasures greater for a writer than successfully creating a good work of fiction. It's transcendent. The only thing perhaps better (heh, I wouldn't know this, so I must imagine) would be having some bestsellers.

However, even then,, one must inevitably be alone with one's work, if that's what's most important to you as a writer.

I am increasingly shedding social media, beyond maintaining a nominal presence. The words I write are more important to me than anything I see on social media. Inasmuch as social media *might* get my work seen, there's a smidgen of value.

As a vehicle of self-expression, though, fiction writing is a far more satisfying experience than everything on social media. It's like a good steak versus Hamburger Helper -- the difference is unmistakable. Social media excels at the transitory mundane, and there's simply nothing transcendent about it, ever.

I'm going to disappear one day, but the work will still be out there, if people want it. I'll keep working until I'm gone, and hope readers appreciate what I've created.

Dancing in the Vacuum

A new edition of my science fiction short story collection, SINGULARITIES, is coming out next week, and I'm pleased with that. First off, I love the new cover for it, which is retro-futuristic fab...

SINGULARITIES

I think it captures the spirit of the collection. I can't help but be a little wistful about it, as this collection contains 11 heavily-rejected short stories of mine from a time when I tried very hard to get short stories picked up somewhere, anywhere, and failed.

Now, one could look at the collection as a bunch of loser stories, since they never found their proper homes back in the day ("the day" being around 2005-2015, if memory serves).

But I think the stories are all really good (and I'm still my toughest critic of my own work), so I guess we'll see what people think, assuming anyone reads them. I'm proud of the stories in this collection, and as a time capsule of where I was at the time I wrote them.

Those stories are all very emblematic of where my head was at that time, so I suppose I'm kind of wistful and nostalgic about them, as they reflect my preoccupations at the time.

They should have found homes, but didn't (remember my previous grousing about how venues began drying up? Yeah...). At least this way, they get to "live" -- the original collection contained nine stories, but I added two more from my archive (I have a lot of stories in there) to buff it up to eleven (heh, maybe a SPINAL TAP nod, there).

It also reflects a time before I adopted pen names to cover my science fiction. I am a longstanding fan of science fiction, and wrote those stories under my own name.

Since then, I willfully migrated my science fiction into one of my pen names -- Dean Vale, specifically -- where all future SF I write will go. You can see my existing Dean stories here:

Dean Vale

Both are terminally unread books, as is my literary tradition, but I'm proud of them, too.

However, as I've said before, I'm slowly backing away from indie horror, so you can be sure there'll be more Dean Vale science fiction stories coming in the future.

In fact, I've already written two SF books, which will be appearing in '24 and '25, if all goes well.

In the meantime, if you want to see how I approach science fiction, check out SINGULARITIES, or those Dean Vale stories, and you'll see.

Short story collections are notoriously hard sells, but these still deserved that new edition, and I'm happy they'll blast off again, even if they ultimately burn up on reentry.

Dead Letters

Picking up on some of what I'd posted before, one of the biggest problems on Twitter (specifically Writer Twitter) is writers aren't the same as readers.

Sure, writers read (duh). But writers aren't the best audience for books, compared with actual, real readers.

I know that seems like a semantic point, but it's not. Writers are all competing with each other for the same limited audience of readers.

And, particularly in indie, there are desperate writerly souls out there who just want to get seen and discovered and read, who'll do anything they possibly can to get seen and read, in the vain hope that they'll catch on.

This has led to the tendency of Twitter writers to cross-promote each others' works (whether or not they actually read the books they push is almost beside the point, although not completely beside the point).

There's a fatuous "rising tide lifts all boats" sentiment among indie writers, closely tied to "you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours" -- however, it misses the fact that Twitter isn't a top social media app, and that writers singing praises for each other isn't actually going to do much to elevate a book.

Rather, it's just commiseration among writers who want to feel better than they do about their work, and hope sing-songing praise for each other will provide some solace (and sales, of course).

For writers, only readers truly matter. That's your audience. That's who you really need to be trying to reach. Reach your readers.

And the ratio of writers to readers on Writer Twitter is heavily skewed toward the former, not the latter. What sort of reader dithers on Twitter hoping to find the next book to read? Wading through the muck that is Twitter seems a poor way to discover good books -- which is why it lags as a social media app, even before it got worse.

Further, the writers on Twitter who are pushing for the acclaim of other writers are fooling themselves. It's like McDonald's looking for Wendy's and Burger King to promote them (wishful thinking -- no indie writers have that kind of reach).

I respect that readers only have so much time, money, and attention to read. That's a precious thing.

So, let's say a score of writers are all pushing each other's work, hyping it up, fluffing it up, praising it to the heavens. And let's suppose there's even an actual reader considering a buy (versus a Twitter sycophant, acolyte, or confederate pretending to dig a book) who has a choice of those 20 books.

Do they buy all 20 books? Highly unlikely. They might go with one or two. And even then, they might not get to reading it for a long time. Ergo, a couple of winners, and a lot of losers at the crapshoot. And even the winners only just barely won -- converting a reader or two does not a bestseller make (sorry to burst that bubble).

All writers are competing with each other, whether or not they admit to it. And all writers within a genre are intensely competing with each other, because the audience segmentation is even more taut -- they're hoping to reach the right *kind* of reader for their books.

It's why writers secretly seethe when one of their ranks does better than them. It throws them into unadmitted fits of envy. It's why the illusion of "community" on Writer Twitter is just that.

Sure, all writers (good, bad, and ugly) are dealing with the pain of writing together. If they are seeking transitory comfort there, it can be had for those who need it. But after that, the community evaporates because everyone's still competing with everyone else for that time, money, and attention of readers.

Moreover, at least for me, it's far more valuable to have a dozen readers who are strangers to me sing the praises of my books, because those are honest assessments of the work, because they've come in cold, and don't have an agenda. Something about the book(s) caught their eye, they read it, and there it is. That's an actual win -- doubly so if the reader rates and reviews the work and tells others about it.

That's much more trustworthy than faux reviews from erstwhile writer allies and courtiers eager to scratch each others' backs for fleeting flavor in the endless churn of Twitter.

And there's another problem with the writer-to-writer hype train. Writers involved in this find it easier to lob praise to inferior writers than writers they know are better than them.

Of course, writerly egos being what they are, few writers actually think "Wow, I suck. Can't believe people are shelling out money for my shit books." -- but, when writers confront writers who are better than they are, the response is usually one of envy and, in many cases, awe -- I know I've read classic writers whose work impressed me so much, I desired to get better in my own work, to aspire to reach their level. I could name many names of those writers, but you probably already know them, because they're the legitimate giants of writing.

Spoiler warning: There are no giants of writing on Writer Twitter. Rather, there are cadres of nobodies and courtiers peddling books in vain hope of recognition and reward.

What I'm saying regarding the indie Writer Twitter, is the writers who're boosting each others' works are full of shit (I can write more on this later, and probably will).

They're trying to win points with each other in hopes of ginning up interest and attention for their own works. It's how we end up seeing what I call "Flavor of the Month" writers & books appear (and, more importantly, disappear) cyclically. They come, they hype, they go.

Why do they go? Because readers -- the most critical part of the process besides the books themselves -- aren't buying.

Certainly, the arbitrary winds of fortune have favored junk writing (FIFTY SHADES, anyone?) -- but even tripe like that reflects what can happen to a book if enough readers get behind it. That's what makes a bestseller, and what makes a writer's name and reputation.

What doesn't make a bestseller is a book (or writer) touted by a bunch of desperate and miserable unknown writers on Writer Twitter. Those books are overwhelmingly dead letters.

People who are playing that game might be triggered by my dark cynicism about Writer Twitter, but I don't care. I'm not part of that game (aside from maintaining a nominal Twitter presence). And I don't get involved in that boosterism -- I market the books I have to, but only because I believe in them, not because I'm doing some quid pro quo-type hype arrangement with others in hopes of gaining favor.

For those who think I'm too cynical, let's see where Writer Twitter is in another five years. Hell, maybe as soon as three years. It'll be a ghost town -- and/or there'll be haggard new aspirants out there, pushing their latest literary snake oil, begging people to take a swig.

Meanwhile, the readers -- the true readers -- are out there, somewhere, wanting something worth reading.

Speaking of cynicism -- the booster brigades & hypesters are very much hoping their self-dealing fluffing each others' books will translate into some word-of-mouth wins. Or possibly getting enough hype swirling around them that a trad publisher and/or agent might give them a look. Still feels tremendously unlikely to occur, barring below-the-radar friendships and associations that might otherwise draw someone's eye.

Misfitting In

There are two key facts of the writerly existence that I think people struggle with (especially the ones attempting it): 1) it's lonely; 2) it's masochistic.

"Writing is a lonely job. Having someone who believes in you makes a lot of difference. They don't have to make speeches. Just believing is usually enough." ~Stephen King

Now, here's the thing for me regarding the first one. I'm not bothered by the loneliness of writing. It has never bothered me. I'm well-suited by temperament to do the work. It's part of the discipline.

But I think plenty of people who style themselves writers aren't suited to the profession by temperament. I'm only judging by what I see them chattering about on Twitter (an app that's positively lousy with writers of all stripes -- from excellent to absolute hacks).

Anyway, Twitter has become a place where writers commiserate -- they want to be known as writers, seen as writers, talk to other writers (or to anyone, for that matter), who'll help them feel less alone with the work.

Not to be a scold, but the work is the point of being a true writer -- you must live with your words, your worlds, your characters. That's a key part of the discipline. Just you and the blank pages you need to take the time and energy to fill with your vision.

Most true writers are compelled to write. That is, if you stop writing, you feel like you're somehow incomplete. The tourists? They can (and do) walk away from it without consequence.

No true writer can ever do that. And the tourists, the wannabes, the dilettantes -- they'd all chafe at me even saying "true writer" at all. They'd say they're all true writers.

But not everybody is. Just like there are true musicians, true painters, true sculptors, true actors, true poets, there are also true writers. Those are the folks who can't live without their words, and who're able to create compelling works of fiction, again and again and again.

Of course, I always wonder if one can be a true writer if nobody reads your work. It's the proverbial tree falling in the forest -- is a book real if nobody reads it? It is, obviously. An unread book, to the writer who wrote it, is kind of like a ghost, or an uncast spell.

Which brings me to the masochism at the heart of writing. There are an array of writerly agonies one must endure -- the peril of the empty page; the time and energy one expends writing when one could be doing literally anything else; the tyranny of endless rejection; the agony of the unread book I mentioned above; the uncertainty that what you write will even reach anyone; the economic peril inherent in writing (never a secure occupation for the non-rich); there's also the pain of not knowing whether your work is any good or not (or, perhaps worse, thinking it's good but nobody seems to like or care about it).

There's even the dissatisfaction that writers can face in the disrespect they can endure. There was a brief time in the last century when writers might've been respected, but generally, the reaction from most is "Oh. Huh. What have you written?" (with the unasked question being "Why haven't I heard of you?")

Additionally, there are countless people out there who think they can write (because, you know, it's words -- everybody knows words, everybody has a story to tell), so there's a devaluation of what a true writer does.

Writers (good or bad) are true masochists, because we undertake a profession that will leave nearly all of us wrung out and ruined. The truest among us continue, despite this baleful reality, but it takes a toll on any who undertake it.

The number of people who wish to be seen as writers far exceeds the number of people who are actually true writers, toiling away in isolation and obscurity, hoping to do justice to their characters, the worlds they're creating, and hoping upon hope to be able to reach readers with their words.

No wonder so many take refuge in the ephemeral Twitter, to float on a sea of chattering flummery, hoping for recognition and refuge.

"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master." ~Ernest Hemingway

Entitlement

One trend that always annoys me is movies that are like:

THE [INSERT WHATEVER] OF [INSERT NAME]

Examples...

THE EXORCISM OF EMILY ROSE
THE TAKING OF DEBORAH LOGAN
THE POSSESSION OF HANNAH GRACE
THE SUPPRESSION OF HANNAH STEVENSON
THE EXORCISM OF MOLLY HARTLEY
THE EXORCISM OF ANNA ECKLUND
EXORCISM: THE POSSESSION OF GAIL BOWERS

I always know I won't like movies like this, and it bemuses me that they follow that pattern.

Overwhelmingly, they involve exorcism storylines, so there's clearly some pop cultural and/or sociological impulse to follow this presentation pattern.

One could probably do a dissertation about fears of women losing their shit or something like that, galvanized by the success of THE EXORCIST (1973) -- which I always felt was a mainstream Christian (esp. Catholic) allegory of the fears of losing control of women -- hell (hah, pun intended) it's entirely possible to watch that movie with that perspective, as the male priests do all their mumbo-jumbo to bring hapless Regan into line. Some academic somewhere probably already has. At least I hope they have. I could probably write a whole series of posts about THE EXORCIST, but I'll spare you for now.

Anyway, the subgenre (?) of possession/exorcism movies always seem to follow that titling path noted above. The marketers want to be sure viewers know exactly what they're getting.

Anybody who's into that kind of movie is assuredly captivated by that titling. "Oooh, I'm sure Hannah Stevenson's really in for it in that one!"

I have plenty of other titling beefs, but I'll save those for another post.

Now, excuse me while I watch THE TAKING OF PELHAM 123 (1974)...