Happy Friday! Another week ends, but this time, unlike all the previous weeks, I'm 25 officially years-old. Who would have thought? Not me. Either way... This edition marks the 4th entry in the Elemental Genres series I've been working on (see entries I, II & III in case you missed them.)
For this edition of Fiction Notes, I'm using Episodes 11.18, 11.20, & 11.21 of the Writing Excuses Podcast as my basis. This newsletter (and this series more than other editions) is, first and foremost, an exercise of learning in public. This means that any exciting insight I fail to attribute probably comes from one of the podcast episodes mentioned above, and not me.
As I explained in other editions, the Elemental Genres are not a guide of any sort, but another tool for your toolkit. They are a lens through which you can look at stories (both your own and the ones you read/watch/listen to) to better understand them, to break them down, to distill them into their most foundational parts. I mean: The Elemental Genres are not about your traditional 'book-shelf' genres, but about what the story makes the reader feel, what makes them turn the page, what pulls them into and through the story.
So, without further ado... I bring you...
(Photo by David Dibert on Unsplash)
The Elemental Genre of Horror
The 3 types of terror: The Gross-out: the sight of a severed head tumbling down a flight of stairs, it's when the lights go out and something green and slimy splatters against your arm. The Horror: the unnatural, spiders the size of bears, the dead waking up and walking around, it's when the lights go out and something with claws grabs you by the arm. And the last and worse one: Terror, when you come home and notice everything you own had been taken away and replaced by an exact substitute. It's when the lights go out and you feel something behind you, you hear it, you feel its breath against your ear, but when you turn around, there's nothing there... ― Stephen King
You can think of the Elemental Genre of Horror (Horror EG, for short) as the overarching definition that encompasses the '3 types of terror' as described by Stephen King. Horror (like Wonder, or Mystery) is universal. Every story has an element of horror in it, and we all recognize it when we see it. When looking at a Romance, for example: the fear of the person you love not loving you back—that is horror.
Horror is often-times paired with visceral fear, yes. But as explained by the quote above, that kind of fear doesn't necessarily come from the supernatural. The Horror EG isn't even about the fear per se, not in its most effective, condensed form. It's about the character's relationship to said fear, and about what the fear is turning them into. As explained by the folks at Writing Excuses: An Element of Horror in a character's story is "very much a mirror of who we do not want to be", a way of creating a "visceral, metabolic reaction" in the reader as they watch the story unfold. A way of creating a fight or flight experience.
There are two types of Horror EGs:
Horror as a Main Elemental Genre (which means Horror is one of the story's primary element)
Horror as a Sub-Elemental Genre (which means there are Elements of Horror in the story, but that is not what the story is primarily about.)
"A Recasting of 'Surprising, Yet Inevitable'"
First, let's take a quick look at Horror as a Main EG in your story, because it works in interesting ways.
Most stories that do not have Horror as a primary element follow, when well executed at least, the famous idea of 'surprising, yet inevitable.' As explained by Brandon Sanderson—Stories that have Horror as a Main Element Genre (see: 95% of Stephen King's books) there is "a recasting of 'surprising, yet inevitable'" Story with a Horror Main EG usually do not have happy endings. So, instead of following the traditional 'it's surprising the characters made it through, yet inevitable', these stories follow the 'I was convinced they were going to make it through, but it was inevitable that they didn't.'
It's a reversal of most traditional story structures—which is what makes it exciting. Unlike most stories, where you have to fool the reader into believing the characters are in danger even when they know there will survive, for Horror-fuelled stories you have to convince the reader the characters are going to be okay, at least for a little bit, even when they know things are going to go horribly wrong in the end. Or, as the Writing Excuses folks said:
Not only were they not okay, but everything that they did to make things okay made things unavoidably worse. Selling that is brilliant.
Horror as a Sub-Elemental Genre
Although related to what I wrote above, Horror as a Sub-Elemental Genre plays by different rules. The main difference is: when dealing with Horror as a Sub-EG, you can not count on the reader's ingrained expectation of 'everything is going to go terribly wrong, and I can't wait to find out how.' Still, writing a story that is not primarily about horror doesn't mean you can't have horror-inducing elements in it.
As I mentioned above: in most stories, writers need to go against the expectation of 'everything is going to be okay in the end'. For a story to be emotionally effective, the moments in which your characters are in danger (be it physical, physiological, or other) need to be believable. Even if the reader knows no ever-lasting harm will come from it. Adding small moments or sequences of horror to your story is a great way of achieving that believability.
These elements of horror add a sense of uncertainty to your story—which in turn builds momentum. That uncertainty—that notion of 'will they get through this?' brings forth an (albeit temporary) loss of control on the part of the reader.
Horror also adds dynamism and is a great catalyst for change. When a character faces their fears it reveals their inherent flaws, it exposes them for who they truly are—and it shows them who they can become. When a character faces their fears, they will either surpass them or crumble before them. Whatever the result, one thing is clear: after that moment, they will change.
But there is one more thing—one other result that makes having at least one horror-inducing moment in your story worth it. Here it is: Horror maximizes all other emotions. Light shines stronger in the presence of darkness, that sort of thing.
If the character (or you, the reader) just cried or were made to feel extremely anxious, when you cheer, you're going to cheer that much harder (and you might even cry again, too). If the character just went through a period of intense dread and finds themselves enjoying a respite—well, that small break is going to be that much more satisfying. The humor, too, will become funnier. Love will feel more passionate. Action will become more exciting.
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That's it for today! I thought about giving you a few craft-centric techniques to help you achieve a sense of horror in your story, but the newsletter was already too long. So, I'll probably release that next week—Stay tuned! And, as always, please reply to this email or comment below if you have anything to say!
Have a good weekend.
Matias
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