The Necessity of Horror: A Purposeful Project

Editor’s Note

My guest writer has been working with me for around eight years, now, and I couldn’t be more humbled that they’ve decided to stick with me for this long. When they approached me regarding this piece on horror writing, I’d often get updates on the ever-increasing page count. There’s little I could possibly love more than a writer who’s found their gold coins. Roy Peter Clark discussed writers and their gold coins in reference to their stories. Clark would encourage writers to reward the reader with clear milestones in their stories. The gold coins are a gift from the writer to the reader, and I love the concept. I think that writers need gold coins too. I’m grateful to have been there when my guest writer found theirs and came back into their passion for writing.

Editing is seen as more technical work than creative work, but editors need to be familiar with creative processes enough to engage with authors’ voices effectively. I’ve been in a creative slump before, bogged down with a world on my shoulders and drawn into the work of it all. The feeling of coming back from that slump was my gold coin as it was theirs. For them, horror writing has always been a strong part of that journey.

Horror is a necessary part of our creative environment, and it’s heavily undervalued. Even when it’s difficult to engage with, it’s important. On September 9, 2025, Andrew Joseph White published You Weren’t Meant to Be Human. The themes are graphic, but the work conveys a deep truth for people who need it spoken. That’s what horror has become over time. We engage with the strange, the horrific, sometimes the traumatic in a safe place. We sit with that fear, communicate with it, and feel it in a way that’s necessary.

This note is intended to give my sincere thanks to my guest writer for this piece and for contributing to the space of horror as one that is meant for entertainment, validation, and for something needed.

---

It’s that mystical time of year again. The leaves are changing, the air is getting cooler, the houses around you are decorated with jack-o-lanterns and other festive, spooky things. Well, I assume they are. No one seems to do that around here anymore. The point is that it’s Halloween season! Personally, this is my favorite time of year. Time for cider, sweets, and that wonderful staple: the horror story.

Yes, my friends, my clumsy intro is to let you know that this article will focus on all things horror. From the truly terrifying to the spooky but fun. Most importantly, we’re going to focus on how to get you involved in the fun. After all, what’s not to enjoy about the spooky season? Maybe you’ll learn some interesting things along the way. Maybe you’ll find that horror writing is something that calls to you. After all, your writing is great so far. Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t find something you published.

I’m reading it right now.

Over your shoulder.

Right behind you.

Part One: What Is Horror?

Merriam-Webster defines horror as “painful and intense fear, dread, or dismay.” That says a lot with so little, doesn’t it? Not just something scary or a mere fright, oh no, but something so terrifying that it causes intense reactions. Sometimes painful ones. Have you ever experienced something like that? Something so unexplainably terrible that it feels like your own body is revolting against it?

That feeling in itself is a horrifying thing. You feel both the urge to run and yet you’re frozen in place. Your muscles and brain are arguing back and forth about what to do. According to an article on ScienceDirect, “This perceptual optimization has been suggested to be aided by freezing – an evolutionarily preserved defensive response that prepares the body for a successful countering of threat.”

So, that sudden chill and frozen in terror response is actually part of evolution? Interesting.

However, many humans find that simulating or replicating these intense feelings is a form of entertainment. After all, thrill rides and haunted houses exist for that purpose.

Horror as a genre, though, goes deeper than just the feelings of terror. Over the years, it has grown into many different sub-genres. From the classics like gothic horror and supernatural horror which share some themes of paranormal creatures haunting an area to the more recent staples like analogue horror, which has a “retro” style, few to no jump scares, and cryptic messages. Unlike its predecessors, analogue horror is more of an interactive medium stemming from internet subcultures.

Horror can also work well as an interactive medium. Horror games are believed to have started with Haunted House released in 1982 for the Atari Video Computer System. That game is fairly basic. You’re lost in a haunted mansion, a maze of 24 rooms, and you need to find the pieces of a magic urn to get to the exit. Haunted House has a dark atmosphere, and there are enemies to fight. As a player, you are not able to see those enemies without your light. The immersive element of the horror game changed the nature of the developing horror genre. The player was not viewing the action, the terror, as an observer from outside the gate. The enemies, the hazards, the feelings of terror were all directly experienced by the player. From that point, interactive horror games got more and more advanced and much more terrifying.

I’m citing two of my favorite games in this genre as examples: Silent Hill 2 and Doki Doki Literature Club. Both are great examples of supernatural horror and psychological horror. At the same time, they both blend several types of the horror genre together. We’ll get to that as the time comes.

Released in 2001, Silent Hill 2 is a sequel to the 1999 iteration. It isn’t a continuation of a story, however. The game begins with James Sunderland receiving a letter from his late wife explaining how she wants to see him again and that she’s waiting for him in their “special place”. Confused and still mourning the loss of his wife, James goes to the town of Silent Hill only to find it isn’t the idyllic town he and his late wife loved so much. It’s become a place covered in dense fog, filled with inhuman monsters and a small scattering of other people. Throughout his journey, James must not only survive against the creatures of this living nightmare but also contend with his own guilt over his past actions. I’m being vague on purpose so as not to spoil the story for those who have not played this game.

In most cases, one makes it into this hellish version of Silent Hill by doing something horrible. As the game progresses, you learn the dark secrets and painful histories of the people you meet. The horror of the mind. Traumatic events, horrible moments in time continue to haunt the characters long after their story has ended. In Silent Hill, however, those stories become reality once more. Some realities are even more twisted and horrible than the original event. The only way out of Silent Hill is through it, and that means confronting the horror within you and either overcoming it or submitting to it.

Let’s move on to 2017. A visual novel game made by Team Salvato is released for free to an unsuspecting public. Doki Doki Literature Club doesn’t seem like a horror game on its surface, but that’s all part of the design. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the “Visual Novel” type of game, let me explain. It’s a simple game, for the most part. Usually part of the romance genre, games of this kind involve making decisions in order to get your character in a relationship with the character you like best. Doki Doki Literature Club takes this premise and alters it. Moments that happen to your in-game character reach beyond the game to your computer and, therefore, you.

Using creative storytelling and very subtle code alterations, the game manages to break through the way a video game usually acts, bringing terror directly to your system. Imagine if any of the programs on your computer started acting of their own accord. Something that, as you programmed it, should not know as much about you as the program clearly does. The horror that grips you is psychological with very little emphasis on violence or gore and blurring the lines between reality and fantasy. Is it just a game anymore or have you unleashed something far more sinister into your life? You downloaded this program, though, so is it just you? How many more are out there, just beyond the dark window of your room, experiencing the same dread?

Disclaimer: Doki Doki Literature Club is not malware. Team Salvato is not using this game to put viruses into a computer. The story within the game only gives the illusion that the game is interacting with your computer.

Horror is a many-fold thing. It can go anywhere, in as many directions as the mind can think of. With that being said…

Part Two: Why Write Horror?

That is a broad question. It can even go back as far as “Why write at all?”. The easy answer is expression. All art is expression in one form or another, after all. Romance can be an expression of the writer’s desire for love or maybe it’s about someone they love in real life. Action can be a call to attention or a desire to play out a scenario that can’t or won’t happen in real life. Horror, though? Well, much like any other genre, there can be many reasons to start. I could look up about ten different authors talking about it, but this is my article to you, so why don’t I tell you why I do it?

Horror is a plunge into the unknown, a push against the darkness, and a chance to learn, even to change things about myself all while expressing what is going on inside me. I don’t publicly name or publish much of my work, but I’ve been working with horror for many years now. It’s a hobby of mine as well as a bit of self-exploration. One of the most interesting parts about writing to oneself is the exploration of parts of yourself that you normally wouldn’t or couldn’t for one reason or another.

Horror, for me, is about pushing into that which you fear most. Create something that actually frightens and worries you and see if you can play with or work around those fears. If your biggest fear is the ocean, then how do you overcome a situation in which you’re stuck in the middle of the ocean? Are you on a boat or in the water? Is there something nearby to help? It can’t be complete surrender to this adversary. It’s human nature to fight against that which tries to take us down. So, how do you fight it? What can you do? In this simple thought exercise, you’re already working through what could happen and how to overcome it. The fear itself is real and understandable. There might be an element of estrangement or exaggeration, but fear usually comes from something real or perceived as real. That’s what makes the story compelling.

Using real fear is key. It’s why a character like Pennywise the dancing clown is terrifying to some people and not others. Some people do have a fear of clowns, and this character touches on that. The ocean example isn’t a good one for me to use when writing horror because I don’t fear the ocean. I understand how dangerous and powerful it is, sure, but I don’t have the fear that could make the terror feel real. If I were to use it, I might make something good, but I have my doubts. When it comes to the ocean, I can’t really tap into that expression and vulnerability that makes horror really click with an audience.

What if you’ve no audience in mind? That’s fine too! Writing, as we established, can be for just you. In that sense, you are your audience. Write what works for you. How would you interact with this scenario? How would you overcome it? Would you overcome it? Why or why not? Explore your mind and the space in which you’re working. Take the thing that scares you and play out how it would work. Plan and understand. After all, it’s your story.

Part Three: Horror Tropes

Horror tropes are usually spoken of with derision or dismissal, something to be avoided, and a crutch for a bad story. Sometimes, this can absolutely be the case. I’ve seen more than my fair share of terrible horror movies. I watch that kind of stuff for fun. I’ve seen so many of them used to such ill effect that it makes me wonder if any of them ever actually worked at all. Let’s go through some and talk about whether and how they can be used for something good rather than something cheap and transparent.

The Jump Scare

Let’s start with the most over-used big bad of the bunch. You know this one. How can you not? If you’ve seen a horror movie or played a horror game within the last decade, you’ve seen this at least once. Jump scares are the act of surprising someone, causing that adrenaline rush by triggering someone’s fight or flight response. It’s used a lot in the horror genre, and I’m not a fan. It’s a cheap way to get a scare from the audience. It doesn’t inspire lasting fear or sense of suspense, just a worry that this thing might jump out at you again. That being said, we are going to try to touch on the good as well.

Can jump scares be used for a good effect in horror? I’m hard pressed to say yes, but I do have to. I think that, if done correctly and within a proper framing, it can be something that works. You need to build momentum for them to build paranoia or another kind of fear. I think that’s what most modern horror movies and horror games seem to be missing. We don’t see this one much in written works for obvious reasons. It’s  hard to jump out at someone from a page when there is no suspense built up there.

An example that comes to my mind is the “Lurker” enemy from the game, Silent Hill: Homecoming. Setting the rest of the game aside, this moment in the game is a good set-up for how a jump scare is used well. Our main character, Alex, has to descend into a flooded basement. The water is only about knee-high, but the room is dark and the water is dirty, making it very hard to see anything under the surface. Emerging from the water, we get our first look at the Lurker, a humanoid creature with metal claws for hands, a legless body of discolored flesh, and a head devoid of a face. The only thing on its head is a gaping maw filled with pointed teeth. After showing us this terrifying creature, it descends under the water again, then the in-game fight begins. This creature will jump out at you to attack you, and the right kind of set-up is there. It makes sense that this would happen. Part of this horror experience is the feeling of never knowing where this terrible thing might come from. A jump scare, in this case, is accentuated with a “fear of the unknown.”

Haunted Places/Abandoned Locations

These two usually go hand-in-hand. Not always, mind you, but a lot of the time. Why do we find places that are abandoned so terrifying? Is the feeling of terror the same in all abandoned places or just some? What makes them appear “haunted”?

Let’s try a little experiment with that. Some might disagree with me, and that’s perfectly fine, but I’ve found locations like the Egyptian Pyramids or the Roman Coliseum to not inspire fear. They’re just interesting artifacts of a passed and ancient time. However, their history and very nature, if applied to another location, does seem to meet other qualifications that would make a location seem “haunted”.

The Great Pyramid of Giza, for example, is a long-abandoned site. The people who built it and worked around it are long gone. The place is a tomb, as well. All the writing, the art, the things inside were made and left by people who have died many years ago. All of this is historically fascinating and culturally interesting but...not horrifying. Not really. Maybe it’s a little spooky if you’re inside by yourself, it’s dark, and you’re alone. At the same time, it’s not really what you’d call deeply “haunted” in the modern cultural sense.

Now, let’s use that same principle on a different location: There’s an old house in your town, it’s been abandoned for years, all the people who once lived there and decorated the place are long dead. The person who owned and lived there the longest also died in the house. This is the setting for many horror movies, games, and stories. Why does this seem to have more of an impact?

I have a hypothesis. I think it has a lot to do with cultural relevance. We don’t relate to the ancient Egyptians because we never really knew them. They’ve been gone for so long that the idea of anything “horror” in relation to them comes from the body horror of a mummy suddenly coming to life. Meanwhile, you shift that setting to a house in Egypt in a city nearby and, suddenly, we feel more connected to this horror. We can relate to these people because we know them, we’re around their ages, and we understand what they’re talking about.

A lot of what make a good horror is a human connection. An abandoned place being something that we recognize is unsettling because we can easily picture a time when the place was alive and in use. We can see the people working in that abandoned factory or the families living in that abandoned house. The “haunted” aspect is the feeling we get from seeing something that had been alive suddenly being so still, so quiet. This also has a lot to do with what the place was before it became abandoned. The pyramid is a tomb. It has only one purpose. An abandoned hospital seems more unsettling. It once had a primary purpose, but it’s the antithesis of what it is now. This was a place of healing and rest, and now, it’s a place of silence and rot.

Possession/Possessed Items

“Your mother’s in here with us, Karras. Would you like to leave a message? I’ll see that she gets it.” – The Exorcist

The Exorcist has one of my favorite examples of possession in horror. I’m sure that’s not that surprising, everyone either knows of or knows something about the story. Still, that line. That simple near-joke from an otherworldly creature possessing the body of a little girl just to cause pain and suffering drives home the idea of how horrible this thing really is.

The horror of possession connects to the fear of becoming someone or something else. Imagine losing everything you are to something that is doing all it can to take your life from you. It rips away your loved ones, your home, your life, even yourself. How do you begin to fight such a thing? How could you? It’s one of the many elements that makes that book so good. Modern science is doing everything humans know how to try and end this horrible affliction that’s tormenting poor Regan, but nothing seems to be helping. Eventually, in desperation, her mother turns to the church to try and cast out the creature that’s taking her daughter from her.

Possession is used in lots of horror stories. It shows the enormity of the thing you’re fighting against and putting a creative roadblock in the way of fighting it. How can you combat the creature hurting this person without hurting the one they’re possessing? It requires you to think outside the box of a normal confrontation.

The possessed item, on the other hand, takes a little more creativity to keep in your story. After all, the first option is “just throw it away.” Does the item get thrown away and come back? Does it move on from person to person? Can it even be thrown away?

In From a Buick 8 by Stephen King, the “possessed” item is a car. It’s not impossible to get rid of a car, obviously, but how does he keep it in his story so that he can tell the tale? The car is in the possession of the Pennsylvania State Police after the driver parked to refuel it. Then, the car promptly vanished. Legally, the car is the driver’s responsibility, but after it starts to display otherworldly capabilities and strange creatures start appearing, it’s obvious that disposing of the car is far too dangerous. The possibility of destroying it is brought up but without being sure that the characters can destroy it or that it won’t do something worse if they try. They conclude that it needs to stay locked in a shed on the back of the property, held there until it either rots away or everyone else passes on.

I think this is a good example of how to make your possessed item an anchor point to your story, but it doesn’t have to stay there. Heavy Metal is an example of the cursed item moving on. The item being the “Loc-Nar”, a sentient evil sphere that describes itself as “The sum of all evils”. The movie is several short stories all interacting with or around the Loc-Nar in some form, showing that its evil has an influence on everything it comes into contact with.

Whichever of these you choose to write about, the problem is in the conflict. How do you fight a person without hurting that person? How do you destroy that which cannot be destroyed? This also leads us to…

Fear Of The Unknown

It’s late at night. You’re watching a movie on your couch. You have the lights off and your favorite snacks and drinks with you for the full home theater experience. The movie ends and, as the credits roll, you turn down the sound. That’s when you hear it. Just over the soft rainfall from outside, there’s a scratching at a door. Not the front or back door. An interior door. Something is scratching from inside the house. It’s probably your pet who accidentally shut themselves in a room and needs your help getting out.

But what if it isn’t?

Fear of the unknown is a favorite of mine. I love the unexplainable horror, the living nightmare, the creatures that defy understanding. It can lead to so many interpretations, and the subject of fear usually carries much symbolism. Fear of the unknown is one of the many things that inspired the creation of the Silent Hill series, a favorite of mine despite some of its flaws. That unknowable, creeping dread that something is out there. It’s watching you. It knows more than you think it does. Maybe it’s intelligent, maybe it’s just a monster, but either way, you can’t be sure. Not unless you decide to reach out towards it.

Even though I love using it in my own writing, I can understand how it can be used incorrectly. There are many examples of that. Sometimes, the mystery being left a mystery is a good thing. Other times, it’s just frustrating and distracting. A good example is the shape and behavior of the creatures in Silent Hill 2. Why do they look that way? Lots of people speculate that it’s because of the main character’s history with his own badly damaged emotions and mental health, but we don’t know that. That’s not the point of the story, so it’s left vague. The idea of an unknown force carrying a physical form gives a good opening for creature designs to be as wild and horrifying as possible. There is no hard limit on what they can be if your only limit is the twisted mind. Maybe it’s something to represent violence, maybe repressed sexuality, maybe they’re just weird-looking monsters? I don’t know, and that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?

Things being “unknowable” doesn’t just mean anything goes. There’s always a theme and an understanding about how these things work. Going back to Silent Hill, in the first and third installments, there are airborne enemies that don’t appear in many other games. A lot of that, I think, is because of the game play style and the controls. Fighting these enemies is hard in an annoying way rather than a challenging way. Are they just as unknowable as the other monsters? Absolutely, but they don’t add to the story the way other creatures do.

While I was using games as an example, this extends to writing. Unknowable creatures can be anything, but your writing should be fun and entertaining. Don’t make something unknowable just for the sake of it. Give your readers a reason for your entity to be unknowable. Maybe there is a mystery to be discovered, maybe there is something to overcome. If you don’t give your unknowable fear justification, it’ll take away from your meaning, and it might come off as annoying. That kills the pace and the tone of any work.

That being said, though, I have to ask…

Part Four: What Scares You?

You want to know the best piece of advice I ever got on writing or creating horror? Make what scares you. There are strong odds that you are not the only person afraid of the fear you have. Embrace it, run with it, turn it into something incredible. Take the power from that which keeps you up at night and make it into a monster of your creation and control. Who knows? In that moment of embracing your fear, you could create something so incredible that it becomes a phenomenon.

Wes Craven was inspired to make Nightmare on Elm Street after reading about a Cambodian refugee who died in his sleep after being terrified of nightmares. This lead to a whole franchise about a killer who attacks people in their dreams. It broke that concept with New Nightmare having Freddy Krueger becoming something that escapes the bonds of the movie that inspired him to attack people in the real world.

Obviously, I don’t know Wes Craven, but I can see how these fears can create something interesting. The idea of something killing you in your sleep, when you’re at your most defenseless, is horrifying. Top that with the idea that the very creature you created, the thing you know is only fantasy, coming through into your reality and coming after you. Terrifying with shades of “Frankenstein” thrown in for good measure.

There are more examples of fears, obviously, and we could sit here forever listing them. The important part is to go with what feels right to you. There will be people who don’t get it and don’t like it but horror, like comedy, is subjective. As I mentioned earlier, Pennywise is absolutely terrifying to some people but not at all to others. Don’t worry about the people who don’t get it. Focus on your audience, your creations, and your story.

What nightmares will you unleash upon the unsuspecting innocents? Will it be truly horrible or just misunderstood? Is it something that can be reasoned with or is it an unstoppable force of total destruction? There is one aspect of horror we haven’t really talked about. What truth or possibility of truth can scare a person completely?

Disaster. Usually disaster films and books are mostly focused on the action or the intensity of the disaster at hand, but the true horror is in the aftermath. A while back I was able to see Japan Sinks: 2020, an anime based on the 1973 novel. The story is about Japan sinking. Two children, Ayumu and her brother, Gou, do their best to escape this disaster with their family and friends. Along the way, they meet people and lose them. The horror of a natural disaster is spelled out well in this. Moments of losing people to this upheaval and, all the while, remembering that an entire country is slowly vanishing into the ocean.

Disasters of many kinds can fill us with dread and fear. The unstoppable power of such a thing can make you feel helpless, small, and easily overwhelmed. This is also a good subject for your horror stories. Maybe the main antagonist is something so far out of the protagonist’s grasp that all they can do is try to survive it?

Note that horror, despite its reputation, can be therapeutic, allowing people to interact with their fears in a safe environment. Horror pieces based on natural disasters serve as a prime example of contending directly with a valid fear.

In the end, I can’t say what scares you. That’s something only you can define. Perhaps, in that fear, you can find inspiration? Stranger Things have happened after all.

Part Five: Visual And Written Horror

Can you pick a favorite between the two? I know I can’t. There are so many wonderful horror movies that I adore and yet, there are so many horror books I adore just as much. Is a horror book as good when it’s made into a movie or show? Is there any way it can live up to the story partly made by you, in your head, while reading it?

Personally, I’d say...somewhat. There are some horror adaptations that, I think, came out amazing. The 2017 adaptation of Stephen King’s Gerald’s Game was surprisingly good. When they first announced making it I was confused. After all, most of that book is internal dialogue. How, exactly, do you make a movie about someone’s thoughts and memories? That’s what made this one stand out. They set up our main actors as dueling thoughts. They were walking around, talking, but all the while, they’re just a part of someone’s fantasy. Imaginations of the poor woman chained to the bed. Very well played.

Then, you have the opposite, the horror that is better written than shown. I love being able to read the books that inspired several of the most famous horror movies. The Exorcist as a book was a bit better than the movie. Not that the movie did anything wrong, mind you, I just felt more involved and invested in the book.

That can be said of all horror books, though, can’t it? It’s the nature of a book. Think about it. You take a book you love, one you want to spend time reading, and you find your favorite spot. You can get lost for hours, but the story never feels like it’s having to hurry you along or to set a certain pace. Sure, there’s a narrative pace but you can re-read or go over whatever you want for however long you like. That’s one of the beauties of the written word: There is no limit. You can be as descriptive or as in-depth as you want. Really flesh out that horrible nightmare that you’re creating. If someone really likes what you make then they’ll take their time with it.

You might even discover that, when reading a book that has been adapted, you learn something about the characters or story that you didn’t know before. Before I got to read Dracula, I thought the movies and shows I had seen were being true to the source material. Some were, but there are parts that get skipped over. We focus on the horror of the vampire. What it can do, what it takes, what it can cause, so on. The part I never really see people focus on is the person Dracula is. The most significant thing I noticed is that, aside from being a vampire, he was just a strange man who really liked adventure. So many parts are dedicated to him asking Jonathan about London. What’s it like? What are the people like? Is there art? Culture? Adventure? He eventually leaves his whole castle and everything in it behind because he really wants a new, grand adventure. I found myself almost endeared to him. He’s a strange monster, sure, but that desire for adventure and to see places he’d never seen? That’s a very human desire too. I also got the impression that, if things had gone better, he might have befriended Jonathan. He seemed to love hearing Jonathan talk about everything. It didn’t feel conniving or cruel. He felt like one big dork who wanted to hear stories and see the world.

That’s also the fun in the written over the visual. There are so many more interpretations! You may disagree with my interpretations, and that is totally fine. That’s why they are the way they are. It makes the mind work, brings us places, and lets us play in those places. That’s what so much of writing and creating is: a place to play and have fun. Even in the realms of horror, the point is to have fun. Some of it might be truly terrifying and yield something exceptionally strange, but the reality is we’re all just making silly stories and having fun with it. Speaking of playing with horror…

Part Six: Atmosphere

I’ve talked about this before in other works and I’m quite partial to it, honestly. Atmosphere can change everything in a piece. The right frame of mind can be influenced by the descriptions, locations, and even the sounds of the piece. Sometimes, just playing with the spacing and locations of the words you use can affect what you’re doing. Never be afraid to break from the standard and show off some of the things you think will help what you work on. After all, something is only a “norm” because of its usage. Everything was made up at some point. Even the very formatting of this article. Do we indent or justify at the start of every paragraph? Why or why not? Do we even have paragraphs at all? Why not just one large block of text? The answers are all visual. We chose how the look of these things best works for what we’re doing. It has practical uses but also aesthetic ones. Breaking up the paragraphs makes things easier on the reader’s eyes and also shows when certain thoughts are done. Not always, mind, but most times. All of this was something we made up. Trial and error.

Atmosphere for your horror work is like that. It’s your work, so only you know the tone you’re going for. You need to try to explain that tone as best you can to someone who has never even met you. Seriously consider that for a moment. Even some of the writers you love, regardless of genre, are total strangers to you. They were able to convey the feelings, atmosphere, theme, and more of their story to you in written words. That’s why this is so critical if you’re writing for an audience. You have to try your best to connect with someone you don’t know to tell a story that they’ve never heard.

In visual mediums, that’s a bit easier, obviously. Again, using Silent Hill as an example, you can see the fog, hear the music, know that there are monsters around every corner and know that you will have to fight to survive. It’s all laid out before you on the screen. Art direction is in full effect, working to convey the oppressive atmosphere of this nightmare town lost in the fog. It’s impactful. I don’t know about the newest installments, but I know that the originals had many written pieces in the game as well. The notes players found gave more insight into the story but also gave a feeling of dread. As you read this strange, sometimes creepy, note located in the game, you never knew if putting it down would mean you’re launched right back into danger. All well done for atmosphere, but that’s visual. What about written? That’s what concerns us.

Stephen King has a long fantasy series called The Dark Tower. I’ve been a fan of it for years. While not a horror story, it does have horrific elements in certain places. The atmosphere, however, is very well established. You feel the weight of Mid-World as soon as you’re into it. It’s a barren, dusty place that once was teeming with life but has long since moved on. Not just any life, either, but multiple full societies. Once, it was a great, modern, technical society, then a more Arthurian knightly society, and then only the remains of these things. The world feels massive, empty, yet also lethal and worrisome. Coming across strangers or even towns became major points because of how rare they felt. All of these atmospheric elements were conveyed with only the written word.

Even atmosphere while you work is important. You need to be in the right head space to create the type of art you are aiming for. Comfort, first off, is important. I know most people do their writing and creating at a computer, so please do make sure you have a chair with proper support and that you take breaks often. I know it disrupts the creative flow. I get into the zone and really want to stay there until I’m done, but the body isn’t really made to sit still like that. Please, take care of your health.

Back on subject, though, you need to find what helps you lock in on what you want to make. For me, it’s music. I’m a very audio-focused person and I always wonder what a soundtrack or the sounds of a place would be. When making something horror or horror related, I try to find the right kind of music to put me in that place and make me want to go further with it. Sometimes, I end up having to re-work things because they just don’t feel right or look right, but that is the beauty of creativity, isn’t it? Trial and error, learning from the past, even if all you are learning is how to make something even more spooky.

Part Seven: Conclusion

It’s been a bit of a journey but here we are at the end, friends. What did we learn today? We learned that horror, while defined as spooky, can be fun and enjoyable to experience as well as to create. We learned some of the many tropes and conditions that people use to create horror and why they can be used for good or overused. We learned to focus on our own fears and use them as tools for creating and crafting something that not only scares us but also can scare others and make something truly unique. We focused on the differences between visual interpretations of horror as well as the written word and how they can both be used to make something truly unique and interesting.

All of these tools and insights are here for you to use to make things more fun an interesting this spooky month. Maybe they’ll help you learn something new for yourself. Maybe you’ll find a new passion for creating horror. Maybe you’ll discover a new talent. Who knows? That’s the beauty of creativity! You’ll never know until you try.

By the way, dear reader, since this is the spooky month of Halloween, I do wonder what things you’ll be getting up to. Will you be working only on horror stories? How about going out to enjoy the fall air? Seeing the lovely sights as the days grow shorter and the nights grow longer. Enjoying the cool air and the stillness that comes with it. Lots of creatures find that fall and winter are the best time for rest and silence until the coming spring. Then there are those who enjoy the cold and the quiet. It makes it easier for them to move around, to seek out what they want, and to hunt.

Personally, I love the cold. It makes me feel alive. The hunting is also wonderful. Does that strike you as odd? Perhaps you’re right. It would be strange for a human to enjoy wondering the cold woods looking for something alive to claim it’s vital essences, wouldn’t it? Then again, I never claimed to be human, did I? Are you just now noticing that? Maybe you went back to see if I ever did and found that, in fact, no, I never claimed to be human. I implied a lot of things about myself, my interests, my habits, but never said…that.

Maybe, you’re only now starting to realize how dark it’s gotten outside since you started reading this.

Maybe, you’re starting to wonder if that noise in the hallway was just your imagination or if there really is someone or something in the hallway, waiting for you to open the door.

Maybe, you’re realizing just how quiet it is in the room around you as you’re reading this and you’re starting to ask yourself if you locked the windows and doors before you sat down to read this.

Well, dear reader, don’t worry.

Y̴͖̽o̵͎͗ú̵͎ ̸̭̃d̷͓̐i̶̘̒ḑ̴̂n̵̦̈'̸͕̒t̴̳͠.̶̢̑