 Horror/Scary: January 26, 2011 Issue [#4206] |
  Horror/Scary
This week: Oh So Squeamish! Edited by: Leger~  
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This week's Horror/Scary Editor
Leger~ |
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Oh So Squeamish!
What's the new thing to use to make your reader squeamish? With all the new reality shows where entrants eat bugs and horror movies of the possessed, is there anything left? Or do we go back to basics...something like slimy worms, or cobwebs in the face? While it's fun to make fake snot with borax and glue, what makes for a good ick in writing - the five senses.
Whatever scare you choose to use, think about turning up the volume with the five senses. Smell - all those cool, putrid gaseous stenches. Touch - texture can be a great stimulant, many of our memories (good or bad) are based on smells and textures. Visual - oh dear heavens, it's dripping. Sound - don't fall back on the creak and scream. Find something new! Taste - well, how did that get in your mouth anyway? Much of what is connected to taste is actually smell, so work those two senses together.
Your character slips into an abandoned warehouse, looking for a lost child. When writing, this is the time to go into your "sense-mode". It's dark, so vision is limited, and it's time to heighten the other senses. Small noises become louder. The puddle he just stepped in isn't merely wet, but tacky and slippery, showing your reader that it is definitely NOT water. While you can't sprinkle adjectives and adverbs all over your writing like croutons on a salad, some specific description can carry your story a long way.
Now watch your step and write on!
This month's question: What makes you squeamish?
Send in your reply below, editors love feedback!
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Excerpt: Eternity seemed to pass. Brian's eyes shifted back and forth in the hopes of witnessing any sign which might give explanation to his condition. And then, absent all sound, a subtle movement drew his gaze toward the dark figure. It began a slow cadence where it sat - much like that of a pendulum.
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Excerpt: Even in the dry daylight, with warm eggs and toast, the memory of the laughing man was there like an open wound. Blake's younger brothers whispered about the laughing man and Blake's father must have heard because he rose to speak to the neighbours. Blake kept eating, watching the half cooked eggs spill sunshine across his plate. Billy, the youngest and most frightened by the laughing man, was the first to ask.
Excerpt: Some psychics have a "helping hand" from the other side but he didn't. He wasn't a fortune teller, a clairvoyant or even spiritualistic. He didn't see ghosts or poltergeists. He didn't have conversation with celestial bodies or knew things through astrology. He was endowed with a predisposition to "feel" other people's thoughts, actions and lives through his sensitive hands.
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Excerpt: Father Carmino shifted again. The man on the other side of the curtain was a pipe smoker, a blend of toasted Cavendish, Golden Virginia and aged Burley. Maybe a hint of Perique, rich, dark, woodsy with oriental undercurrents, sweet cherry, vanilla, prune. Such sweet memories. "Yes. The Lord hears all, my son."
Excerpt: "Step right up to see the greatest show on Earth!" a voice cried from inside the tent and a moment later a clown in a huge bowtie and hat ensemble stepped outside. His grin was wide and his teeth and eyes sparkled in the light from the entrance as he held out a white gloved hand which Sammy shook. He was almost surprised it didn't come off - all the clowns he'd seen on television had joke limbs, bright red noses and colourful makeup, but this one didn't seem to be dressed quite right. There was something about his face, something behind the flaking white powder that made Sam's stomach churn.
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Excerpt: She was such a good lady. He watched her at her giant desk as she went over the notes, flipping through the crisp pages one by one with hands so smooth and white. They were speckled with brown freckles like a flour tortilla. His mama used to make flour tortillas, would fill them with rice and beans and cheese and a hot chile sauce that would make his ears sweat. But that was long ago, over thirty years. He wasn't a boy anymore.
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Excerpt: Spotty lights in the next block told of commercial establishments, though not so enticingly as in an entertainment district, but even when upon them she could not quite discern their purpose. Several storefronts' greasy windows revealed stacks of packing cartons printed with what looked like Thai script. In several open passageways, men in bloodied white tunics stood smoking foul cigarettes, speaking among themselves in a language she did not recall ever previously hearing. They were silent as she walked briskly by, clutching her damp woolen coat close for protection as much as warmth.
Excerpt: Sometimes, the conflict drives me mad and I lash out, attacking her with razor sharp talons and gnashing teeth until she screams. But not tonight, tonight I want to love her. The bed bows beneath my weight as I lay beside my precious Anna. A sleepy smile curves her honeyed lips as I massage the back of her head. Unaware of her actions, she presses into my touch. I relish the moment, knowing her joy will not last long.
Excerpt: Memories, best not to have them. They were like a needle stuck on a gash of a record playing the same notes over and over except they were scenes forming behind her eyes so she couldn't shut them out no matter how she tried. Scenes of murder. Innocent lives taken to satisfy simple hunger and thirst. She had tried animals, but always she returned to men and women. The contrast was overwhelming and she was too weak to resist. Sometimes, Mari imagined her heart throbbed only to pound the hard lump of regret in her breast.
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This month's question: What makes you squeamish?
Last month's question: What do you do to make your writing stronger? ?
LJPC - the tortoise  replied: Terrific newsletter, Leger! Yes, word choice is very important to horror (and all writing). Words set a tone and must be used to create the scene as much as the setting.
What do you do to make your writing stronger? I focus on my MC's experiences and physical reactions. The MC is the direct connection between the author and the reader. No matter how scary the plot is, or how horrible the monster, only if the MC is shaking and sweating, sprinting down the dark hallway with his heart hammering in his chest, will the reader *feel* the impact of the scene. -- Laura
SantaBee  answers: Leger - great food for thought. I always look back and try to replace what I consider "weak" verbs. If I wrote "got" or "went" in my initial sentence, then I'll try to see if I can find a stronger verb to fit like "procured" or "walked."
PSanta-I'm ba-ack! said: The most powerful tool a writer has is the reader's mind. For example: I didn't realize until I became an adult why my father would so often say he was not hungry and stay away from the dinner table. What you don't say can paint a picture far more powerful than the proverbial thousand words.
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