Copyright 2018 by Gary L. Pullman
In Writing Monsters,
Philip Athans offers a number of definitions, his own and those of
others, to suggest that the concept is fluid and open, at least to
some extent, to individual writers' interpretation:
A
monster is something alive and uniquely strange that we instinctively
fear.—Alan Dean Foster
[A
monster is] inhuman, it's animate, and it wants to destroy you. Many
monsters are supernatural or [act] outside the norms of nature in
some way, but that's not always necessary.—Richard Baker
A
monster is something that is frightening because it is inhuman . . .
. It may be incomprehensible.—Martin J. Dougherty
A
monster is a species that is neither a part of the civilization of
sentient people [n]or among the ranks of mundane flora and fauna,”
and a monster is “scary.”—Philip Athans
Later, Athans, who often
exemplifies the concept by reference to such animals as slugs,
sharks, and lobsters describes them as as-yet-undiscovered animals.
He also suggests that the
effect of monsters can be heightened by relating them to fears or
phobias common, if not universal, to human beings, such as
arachnophobia (fear of spiders), social phobia (fear of a hostile
audience), pteromerhanophobia (fear of flying), agoraphobia (fear of
the inability to escape), claustrophobia (the fear of enclosed
spaces), acrophobia (the fear of heights), emetophobia (the fear of
vomit or of vomiting), carcinophobia (the fear of cancer),
astraphobia (the fear of thunder and lightning), and taphophobia (the
fear of being burned alive).
Athans points out that
readers know only as much about a story's monster or monsters as the
author allows, and , as long as the writer is consistent with how the
monster's characteristics, abilities, and behavior, readers will
accept its existence within the story. It is best not to divulge too
much information about the monster, he suggests, as readers will tend
to “fill in the blanks” with their own ideas about the monster.
Typically, monsters, have
a number of qualities, Athans says, among which are that they are
frightening, mysterious, violent, predatory, amoral or immoral,
uncontrollable, unpredictable, and terrifying in their appearance.
Monsters usually isolate their prey, often defy humans' attempts to
use technology against them, undergo some type of physical
transformation, do not think like people (if they think at all), may
be more intelligent than the average person, and are purposeful (they
perform a task). Most monsters have otherworldly origins; they may
come from outer space or hell. Others result from scientific
experiments gone awry or from such natural processes as mutations of
diseased states. They may come from underground, underwater, or other
remote places.
Monsters may also be
metaphorical. They can represent “ideas, feelings, dangers,”
states of existence, the effects of bullying or greed, or any number
of other real behaviors, conditions, or situations. Although Athans
doesn't discuss Buffy the Vampire Slayer
in this context, fans of the show are likely to know that its creator
frequently made the series' monsters the metaphorical reflections of
real-world problems. In the episode “Beer Bad,” for example Buffy
Summers adopts the crude, almost animal-level behavior of a woman
after she drinks enchanted beer. Her state of drunkenness is a
metaphor for her uncivilized conduct. Likewise, in “Out of Sight,Out of Mind,” a high school student who is ignored by her peers
actually becomes invisible, her invisibility a metaphor for her being
neglected and unheeded. In the same way, Athans says, Godzilla is a
metaphor for the atomic bomb. He is born of a test involving an
underwater nuclear detonation, and he terrifies Japanese cities with
his devastating radioactive breath.
Monsters
introduce and sustain conflict throughout the story, but they also
help characterize the human characters, showing them as tenacious,
loyal, trustworthy, and as having the capacities to forgive and to
join forces against a common threat. At the same time, they may
exhibit self-centeredness, a capacity for exploitation, and
vindictiveness.
It
is important, Athans says, to provide monsters with an offense, a
defense, and a “utility.” By “utility,” he means a signature
behavior, such as the Blair Witch's “marking her territory [with
bizarre] “stick figures” or vampires' needing to be invited into
one's home.
With
monsters, size is not important, as long as the monsters are
frightening and have monstrous qualities and abilities.
Monsters
must have a weakness or two so the human characters can kill or
otherwise neutralize it. For example, vampires suck blood, can “live”
for centuries, are extraordinarily strong, can turn into bats and
fly, have hypnotic power, and can even levitate, but they can't abide
crucifixes, sunlight, mirrors, or holy water; they have to be invited
into one's home; and they can killed by being drowned or decapitated
or by having a wooden stake driven through their hearts. When a
monster is familiar to readers, writers must “tweak the trope,”
Athans observes. An example he doesn't offer makes the point: Stephen
King makes a crucifix's effect on his vampires depend on the faith of
the character who wields it.
Athans
suggests horror writers use the first-person or the limited
third-person point of view.
Descriptions
of the monster should involve as many of the five sense as possible.
Readers respond best to horror stories that have visual, auditory,
olfactory, tactile, and gustatory appeal. Only near the end of the
story should the monster be fully revealed; until then, writers
should rely on the other senses, providing only snapshots, instead of
more detailed, glimpses of the monster so that it remains mysterious
and terrifying. What a monster looks like, smells like, and feels
like are often interrelated, Athans points out: “a slimy monster”
is apt to “be shiny, to be heard slithering along, and to leave a
trail of slime,” signs that warn people “not to touch the slimy
thing.”
Use
short sentences to increase pace and to suggest terror and
hyperventilation, he suggests, and long sentences to reflect a
character's breathlessness.
Athans
also has a tip concerning the omnipresent cell phone. Isolate
characters, and then banish their phones. They could have dead
batteries, succumb to poor reception, get broken, or be left behind
on purpose.
On
Amazon, Writing Monsters has generated eighteen review. The lowest, two stars,
found it a good basic guide for beginning writers, but not the manual
the reviewer was seeking; he wanted a book that would guide him
through the process of creating bigger (and badder?) monsters, rather
than one that walks him through the process for creating them to
:”exist at all.” The review is more about the reviewer's
interests, unfortunately, than it is about the book that Athans
actually wrote.
A
middle-of the road, three-star, review found the book to generic, “a
victim of its
own wide-spectrum approach” that ended up being more about “how
to write speculative fiction” than a “specialized work”
concerned with monster-making. Perhaps this reviewer wanted less
context and more hands-on material.
A
five-star review reads:
Enjoyed
this immensely. Great insights into the subject of monsters in
fiction, their roles, suggestions on monster design, how to handle
strengths vs. weaknesses, etc. I dislike zombies as monster du
jure [sic]
but I benefitted [sic]
from the observations offered by the author who visualizes zombies as
a force-of-nature, like Godzilla, with the real conflict of a zombie
story between the people involved. Monsters, of course, figure into
horror, fantasy, and science fiction. Notwithstanding frequent
references to science fiction monsters, I believe science fiction
requires some more in-depth examination of creature creation than
this book can provide, [sic]
however useful it may be, especially when aliens are involved. That's
just a whole separate topic.. [sic]
But an excellent book, [sic]
I can't recommend it enough.
How
would I rate Writing Monsters?
It's an interesting, well-written book that offers food for thought
in the creation and deployment of monsters. Perhaps a few writing
exercises, at the end of each chapter, would have improved the work,
but, overall, the author provides much for monster-makers to
consider, the approach is easy to understand, and the book supplies
solid tips. The final chapter reprints a short story, “The
Unnamed,” by H. P. Lovecraft, whom Athans admires. Athans annotates
the story, but his annotations do not zero in on the techniques of
horror that Lovecraft uses in any detailed or comprehensive manner.
This is an example of the overall criticism I have of the book: it
offers a lot, but it lacks focus and detail, so it is more a survey
than an analysis of monster-making. It deserves a place on one's
bookshelf, as a basic guide or a series of reminders, which, unless
we're Stephen King, we can all use from time to time.