 Horror/Scary: August 17, 2011 Issue [#4568] |
  Horror/Scary
This week: Atmosphere Edited by: Jeff  
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"Last night you were, unhinged.
You were like some desperate, howling demon.
You frightened me. ... Do it again."
-- Morticia Addams
Random Horror Trivia of the Week: Although perhaps best known and most recognized as a collaborator of Stephen King, novelist Peter Straub is an accomplished horror author in his his own right. He has written more than twenty solo efforts and been the recipient of the Bram Stoker Award (six times), World Fantasy Award, and International Horror Guild Award.
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| ASIN: 0995498113 |
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Amazon's Price: $ 19.95
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ATMOSPHERE
Everybody knows the cliched story opening, "It was a dark and stormy night." Heck, it's such a familiar opening that there's even a contest named after its author. (The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is a famous, or infamous as the case may be, writing contest for the intentionally worst opening lines of a story, but that's a topic for another newsletter.) The line comes from the novel Paul Clifford, written by Edward Bulwer-Lytton, and the entire opening paragraph reads:
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
While the opening line is cliched at this point, the novel actually did quite well upon it's release in 1830. It was particularly praised for its use of atmosphere which, as is apparent even from the opening paragraph, is rich in detail and description. Atmosphere (as it relates to mood) is defined as "the surrounding influence or environment" or "the overall aesthetic effect of a work of art." In other words, the feel or the tone of a piece of writing.
When it comes to writing horror or suspense, atmosphere is a critical implement in our writers' toolbox. We use it to create the feelings of unease, tension, anxiety, and even horror that this genre is so well known for. Imagine, for a moment, if a horror writer were to completely disregard the atmosphere of a piece. If they were to write without regard for the tone or feeling of a piece. Would Bulwer-Lytton's story be as ominous and imposing if it were a "bright and sunny day?" The choice to set the story during a dark and stormy night - with violent gusts of wind and nearly impenetrable darkness - sets a tone. It creates an atmosphere for the story. We know it's not going to be an uplifting feel-good type of story. The atmosphere of the story and its setting immediately begins to work on us; to guide us in a direction that's much darker and more sinister.
The horror genre is often most effective when it takes readers out of their comfort zone. Whatever the specific type of story you're trying to tell, if you can get your reader uncomfortable and wary of what's about to happen, you're well on your way to creating a satisfying read in this genre. Make sure the atmosphere in your story reflects those emotions that you're trying to evoke in your reader. That's not to say that every horror story has to have an atmosphere of dark and stormy nights... but that atmosphere can be created anywhere. A tropical Hawaiian honeymoon can be fraught with tension and suspense, as can an idyllic, sleepy little rural town, or a road trip, or even a trip to visit the in-laws.
Atmosphere isn't just about the weather; it's the feeling that the environment imparts on the reader. For those of us who write to scare, frighten, surprise, or shock our readers... it's worth taking the time to make sure the atmosphere of our stories does just that, regardless of the setting. 
Until next time,
-- Jeff
QUESTION OF THE WEEK: What are some of your favorite stories that maximize the use of atmosphere for effect?
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This week, I would encourage you to check out the following horror items:
I am writing this under significant emotional and mental strain so if you are reading this, it is because I have taken my own life, but before you cast your judgment on this act please read on as I am going to explain the reasons leading up to my actions, I only hope god will forgive me and allow me entry into his kingdom.
“Jenny McCreary, go and tell that vile creature I wish to speak with her at once.” “Oh, no! Please…ma’am, please don’t make me. She scares me something awful!” the Irish girl whined. “Good! I hope she scares you to death, you silly cow,” the dressmaker hissed. “Now go and fetch her before I give you the strap!”
I heard a girl standing next to me say “It’s… it’s beautiful” with her voice nearly breaking. I do not know if she was speaking to me, to somebody else, or merely speaking out of an inability to contain the thought. Whatever her motivation was, I felt the need to reply. “I know. I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said. I truly hadn’t. This was not a matter of pretentious agreement. If I could have found more words to support my opinion, I would have. However, all I could bring myself to do was to revel in the raw expression in front of me with wide eyes. To call it hypnotizing would be a hideous understatement; to leave without digging into its origins would have been a tragedy.
She stepped into the shower. Her shins hurt as she stood too heavily on the cracked white porcelain. She closed her long, thin fingers around the dial, and shut her eyes tight against the cold water that fizzed out and crackled against her skin. She opened her eyes, stretched, and felt the skin pull tight over sharp bone. The light flickered, but she hardly noticed. It started to rain outside, and a chill wind rattled through her flat and through the dirty blond hair of a man crossing the sticky beige carpet towards the kitchen door.
God it's cold in here. Where are we? Don't know. Open your eyes. Open YOURS! Don't want to. Why, you scared? No! What if he comes back? Who? The man with the blood on his hands.
I am a bed monster. My head is nothing but an antelope skull with no horns, or antlers, or whatever you humans call them. I constantly wear a black cloak which is cut into long rectangles at the ends. My hands are long and bony with one foot finger nails that have formed into claws. "Good night sweetie," the little girl's mother says calmly. "Good night mommy," the little girl replies. The mother walks out of the room, turns off the light, and closes the door behind her. The nightlight immediately turns on. Do you people know that myth that monsters are afraid of the light and if they come out from the closet or from under the bed they'll burn up? Well, those people who made that myth are wrong.
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