This was an interesting and thoughtful piece, and I think you made a solid argument. I just think you made it about the wrong word. I'm betting you chose to write about horror because tomorrow is Halloween, and all of the examples you gave in the genre section were essentially horror, but I really think this argument makes better sense around the word 'tension,' which you actually used a lot in the piece.
You said at the beginning that you didn't want to get bogged down in definitions, but I do think the way you're talking about horror in the first half is somewhat out of step with what people think of when they hear the word. Horror, at least as I think of it, is specifically supernatural, surreal, otherworldly, or exaggeratedly violent and grotesque. It plays on our fears of the unknown and the unseen, or a visceral reaction to blood and guts.
Tension, meanwhile, can be real and powerful in any setting. When the kid on the bus sees the sign for the next rest stop hours away and knows he won't be able to pee, that's tension. He's wondering what the hell he's going to do, worrying whether he's going to piss his pants. It's awful, relatable, but not horrifying.
Just my thoughts. Don't mean to offend! Other than this quibble, I really enjoyed reading it and it got me thinking. Looking forward to more of your thoughts. ✌️
Hi Jeremy, I appreciate the engagement and didn't take offense at all! The notion regarding horror came to me a few years ago after watching the video I have linked in the footnotes. Timing it around Halloween was certainly opportunistic, but perhaps not quite *that* opportunistic.
Genres are notoriously difficult to screw down, so I began with the requirement "is meant to be scary" and in order to achieve that goals usually involves [a] frightening or threatening elements as you noted, and [b] tension. The phenomenon I wanted to highlight that crops up in most stories is one that utilizes both [a] and [b], so I used the broader term "horror" rather than just focusing on tension. The consequence was I used the terms slightly interchangeably, but not wholly without justification, I would submit. Likewise many of the fantasy examples were [a] instead of [b], and there would have been even more of those had I included sci fi.
Beyond that, I can agree the child on the bus might not appear to belong in the same category as, say, Dracula or Texas Chainsaw Massacre. That example was meant to call attention to horror devices' collective abilities to elevate a mundane situation to something the audience deeply cares about. I actually used that example because it's a trick Steven King uses constantly: give the character a drive that the reader won't care about but would understand, and use it as a tragic flaw. Ergo the Salem's Lot gravedigger ill-advisedly at dusk begins exhuming the definitely-not-vampiric corpse because he forgot to place Charon's obol and he *never* forgets to do that! If fear had not rooted the audience in place, we could call the guy a jackass and laugh at what happens next. The difference is what makes horror tick.
That said, when thinking about your comment I realized "Thriller" is also a genre and arguably utilizes tension even more. That said, I still aver there are lessons to be gleaned from knowing when and where to use scary images. I'll keep thinking about this, though, you've got my gears turning.
“give the character a drive that the reader won't care about but would understand, and use it as a tragic flaw” — this is an interesting idea that I need to think about more to make sure I understand it. In the sense of tragic flaw I guess you mean a self-initiated behavior that leads to their undoing?
That's a good way of putting it! I would only modify slightly and say a "tragic flaw" is more of a predisposition that inform decisions, and inevitably lead to a tragic consequence. The classic example is Hamlet's hesitation. You or I might not hesitate to out our regicidal, fratricidal uncle once we learn he murdered our father, but Hamlet first wants to see the guilt in his eyes and wants to know for sure he's going to hell. If he had just killed the bastard then it wouldn't have been a tragedy. Likewise, if you or I were gravediggers, we probably wouldn't be midway through burying what's probably a vampire at dusk, realize we forgot the coin, and start digging the body up out of commitment to tradition, but King's gravedigger cares profoundly about that, a fact he'll die for. In both cases if it had been someone else -- perhaps *anyone* else -- it might not have gone so sour, but that's what makes it a tragedy.
It's worth noting that neither of these examples, nor any tragic flaw example, works if the audience doesn't understand or care about the character in question. It's interesting because it kind of flies in the face of the conventional "make characters relatable" advice, but I think it results in some pretty cool stories.
This was an interesting and thoughtful piece, and I think you made a solid argument. I just think you made it about the wrong word. I'm betting you chose to write about horror because tomorrow is Halloween, and all of the examples you gave in the genre section were essentially horror, but I really think this argument makes better sense around the word 'tension,' which you actually used a lot in the piece.
You said at the beginning that you didn't want to get bogged down in definitions, but I do think the way you're talking about horror in the first half is somewhat out of step with what people think of when they hear the word. Horror, at least as I think of it, is specifically supernatural, surreal, otherworldly, or exaggeratedly violent and grotesque. It plays on our fears of the unknown and the unseen, or a visceral reaction to blood and guts.
Tension, meanwhile, can be real and powerful in any setting. When the kid on the bus sees the sign for the next rest stop hours away and knows he won't be able to pee, that's tension. He's wondering what the hell he's going to do, worrying whether he's going to piss his pants. It's awful, relatable, but not horrifying.
Just my thoughts. Don't mean to offend! Other than this quibble, I really enjoyed reading it and it got me thinking. Looking forward to more of your thoughts. ✌️
Hi Jeremy, I appreciate the engagement and didn't take offense at all! The notion regarding horror came to me a few years ago after watching the video I have linked in the footnotes. Timing it around Halloween was certainly opportunistic, but perhaps not quite *that* opportunistic.
Genres are notoriously difficult to screw down, so I began with the requirement "is meant to be scary" and in order to achieve that goals usually involves [a] frightening or threatening elements as you noted, and [b] tension. The phenomenon I wanted to highlight that crops up in most stories is one that utilizes both [a] and [b], so I used the broader term "horror" rather than just focusing on tension. The consequence was I used the terms slightly interchangeably, but not wholly without justification, I would submit. Likewise many of the fantasy examples were [a] instead of [b], and there would have been even more of those had I included sci fi.
Beyond that, I can agree the child on the bus might not appear to belong in the same category as, say, Dracula or Texas Chainsaw Massacre. That example was meant to call attention to horror devices' collective abilities to elevate a mundane situation to something the audience deeply cares about. I actually used that example because it's a trick Steven King uses constantly: give the character a drive that the reader won't care about but would understand, and use it as a tragic flaw. Ergo the Salem's Lot gravedigger ill-advisedly at dusk begins exhuming the definitely-not-vampiric corpse because he forgot to place Charon's obol and he *never* forgets to do that! If fear had not rooted the audience in place, we could call the guy a jackass and laugh at what happens next. The difference is what makes horror tick.
That said, when thinking about your comment I realized "Thriller" is also a genre and arguably utilizes tension even more. That said, I still aver there are lessons to be gleaned from knowing when and where to use scary images. I'll keep thinking about this, though, you've got my gears turning.
“give the character a drive that the reader won't care about but would understand, and use it as a tragic flaw” — this is an interesting idea that I need to think about more to make sure I understand it. In the sense of tragic flaw I guess you mean a self-initiated behavior that leads to their undoing?
That's a good way of putting it! I would only modify slightly and say a "tragic flaw" is more of a predisposition that inform decisions, and inevitably lead to a tragic consequence. The classic example is Hamlet's hesitation. You or I might not hesitate to out our regicidal, fratricidal uncle once we learn he murdered our father, but Hamlet first wants to see the guilt in his eyes and wants to know for sure he's going to hell. If he had just killed the bastard then it wouldn't have been a tragedy. Likewise, if you or I were gravediggers, we probably wouldn't be midway through burying what's probably a vampire at dusk, realize we forgot the coin, and start digging the body up out of commitment to tradition, but King's gravedigger cares profoundly about that, a fact he'll die for. In both cases if it had been someone else -- perhaps *anyone* else -- it might not have gone so sour, but that's what makes it a tragedy.
It's worth noting that neither of these examples, nor any tragic flaw example, works if the audience doesn't understand or care about the character in question. It's interesting because it kind of flies in the face of the conventional "make characters relatable" advice, but I think it results in some pretty cool stories.
Well done. Loved this.