Turning the Monsters Loose

I try to create sympathy for my characters, and then I turn the monsters loose. — Stephen King

I know this is a blog primarily focused on fiction writing — specifically fantasy fiction — but I'd like to take a sharp turn and head down a spooky, far-too-traveled road into the realm of horror, if I might.

First thing to know: I hate horror. I don't read horror books, don't watch horror films, can barely stand to have anything to do with it. Last scary movie I ever watched was The Haunting when I was a teenager (and any horror-movie watcher is laughing their ass off at me right now to know that). The only book by Stephen King I've ever read is On Writing (which is an excellent book, by the way). I don't even like Halloween, and when the holiday rolls around I shut and lock my doors, turn off all the lights and do my best not to attract unwanted attention.

Second thing to know: I'm fascinated by horror. In a previous job, I'd scour Wikipedia articles on my lunch breaks because I couldn't resist the allure of knowing what a scary movie was without actually having to watch it. I can't stand horror because my imagination is too vivid, too bright. The blood is real, the dying is real, the monsters are real – I'd go insane if I had to watch or read the stuff on a regular basis.

Third thing to know: I write horror. The first short story (worth mentioning) that I ever wrote was only completed last year when my now-girlfriend challenged me to a horror writing prompt over at AbsoluteWrite's forums. I wrote a story about a man who's caught living in the shadow of the girl he loves all his life, even when she leaves him behind to go explore space. But then the ship disappears without a trace for months, until her superiors discover that she's the only survivor. When she won't talk about it, our boy is called in to get her to talk about it … and that's when we find out what kind of desparate measures a human being will stoop to in order to survive.

That was my first short story, but it wasn't my only one. I've written stories about the monsters hiding in garage attics, about armies of cannibals rampaging across the land, and snark-loving knights who have to escape those armies. I don't do a lot of short fiction — I've always dreamt in too large of a canvas for the limitation of 2,000 words, or 5,000, or even 10,000. I can count on two hands the number of short pieces I've done at all, but I inexorably feel myself drawn back to the horror well for just one more drink. The stories don't come very often, but when they do I'm almost powerless to resist the allure of them until I've cleansed myself of that particular demon.

Now, have I sold any short fiction? Nope. Almost sold my space-horror piece once, before it got the axe in a manner which I won't go into here, but I still haven't crossed that particular finish line yet. The monsters are still nipping at my heels, and they won't let me go until I've talked someone into liking the story as much as I do. Plenty of people seem to like it … but if I can't talk an editor with a checkbook into liking it, all of that's for naught.

The monsters are a fickle bunch. Whether they're from under the ocean, beyond the stars, or inside of ourselves it's necessary to let them cut loose and do their scary business for awhile. Don't be afraid to try something that's outside of your comfort zone every once in awhile if it keeps you trying new things, and if it keeps you writing.