Plotting by Poster

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

In this post, I would like to suggest how movie posters can help to suggest plots. Before I get to a couple of examples, though, I offer a few guidelines for anyone who might like to try this approach to plotting stories. They have served me well.

1. If the poster you select promotes a movie you have seen, pretend it does not, and don't reference the film, even in your thoughts, as you analyze the poster. The poster should speak for itself, as it were.
2. We are taught to read from left to right and from top to bottom. Graphic designers know this and use our training to their benefit in creating designs and art and in communicating to us.
3. A poster is likely to have a central image, and this central image will be emphasized in some way—through its position, just off center; through color or intensity; by being of bigger than other images. It is obvious that the artist wants the viewer to focus attention on this central image. Text and other images, if any, will relate to this central image and help to develop its figurative aspects.
4. Most art employs various “visual” figures of speech—metaphors, similes, allusions, personifications, exaggerations, understatements, symbols, puns or other plays on words, synecdoches.
5. See all there is to see—not just size, but color, intensity, depth, balance, negative and positive space, shape, texture, size, density, position, arrangement, patterns. facial expressions, hairstyles, costumes (i. e., the models' clothing), age, sex, gender, class, income level. Also consider whatever props might be displayed.
6. Analyze visual evidence of behavior: care, neglect, attendance, abandonment, support, and so forth.
7. Consider the other four senses, too: what sounds, tastes, smells, and tactile sensations does the poster suggest?
8. The text is the key that unlocks the visual imagery's figurative meaning.

With these guidelines in mind, start by describing the poster. Start at the top and work your way down. Include quotations of any text you encounter. Be detailed, but don't be flowery. At this point, be a camera operator, not a sketch artist, an objective viewer, not an interpreter.

After describing the poster, use the elements you identified to complete this list, creating a complete sentence in the process. In doing so, stick to the poster itself.

WHO?
WHAT?
WHEN?
WHERE?
HOW?
WHY?

Next, question yourself about each of the six phrases you entered into the table. In doing so, make observations; draw inferences from what you see and read in the poster. Look for potential relationships among the poster's elements. Look, also, for possible connections between your own thoughts, between your own feelings, and between your own thoughts and feelings. Ask yourself how the answers you listed in the table could be “flipped,” or reinterpreted.

As a result of this process, you may develop an idea for a story or even a synopsis of a plot for a story. At the same time, you will have a sequence of elements that are logically related and which, together, form a narrative thread upon which, by the questioning process and the use of your own imagination, you can embroider, or develop further.

FRIGHT NIGHT

Text above the image reads: “There are some very good reasons to be afraid of the dark.”

It is night. There are stars and a full moon. Spirits swarm above a house. One appears to be the ghost of a vampire; its wide open mouth is positioned above the center of the house, near the domicile's rooftops. Two other spirits have a bestial appearance. The rest are heads with faces and fanged mouths—demons, perhaps.

Behind a simple white rails, a front porch runs the length of the three-story Victorian house. In the center, second-floor room (perhaps a bedroom), the silhouette of a standing figure, hands on hips, is visible between drawn drapes, against light.

Five low steps lead to the porch from the end of a sidewalk, the other end of which connects to a sidewalk that parallels the street out front. Low shrubs are planted along the front of the porch. A tree flanks each side of the front of the house; each is almost as tall as the house. The lawn is cut. Behind the house is a line of trees, perhaps the front rank of a forest.

Text below the image reads, “Fright Night: If you love being scared, it'll be the night of your life.”

Observations

Although the house could be in a suburbs, it seems more likely that it is in a more rural area. Not only are there large trees present, but the visibility of the stars suggests that the house is some distance from the street lights common to suburbs.

The swarm of spirits seem to fountain from the house, suggesting that it is haunted.

Although rather indistinct, the figure appears to be wearing a dress, which would indicate that the figure is that of a woman. It is impossible to tell whether she faces forward, but her presence at the window suggests that she is looking out of the room.

The house is in good repair, and the lawn is landscaped and well kept.

The text suggests that this is a special night; it is Fright Night. The text also suggests that the spirits are the “reasons” that one should fear the dark.

The text that reads “it'll be the night of your life” suggests that Fright Night will be momentous, probably unique.

The figure stands in a lighted room, surrounded by darkness. The room may be her “safe place,” but only as long as the light continues to burn.

WHO? A young woman

WHAT? stands watch

WHEN? at night

WHERE? in the lighted room of an otherwise dark Victorian house in a rural part of the United States

HOW? ready to become a conduit for spiritual warriors

WHY? to ward off a horde of demons that appear every decade on Fright Night.

Questions

Over what, if anything, do the demons rule? What powers do they have? Why do they appear every decade on Fright Night? Whom do they seek to frighten? Why is one the spirit of a vampire? Why are two of bestial form? Why do the remaining demons look similar? Where are the spirits' bodies? Why have they gathered here, at this particular house? Is the house significant in some way? Who is the young woman? Why is she in the house? Why is she alone? How can the story line be flipped?

IT FOLLOWS

Text above the image reads, “it doesn't think. It doesn't feel. It doesn't give up.”

Looking frightened, a tense, young blonde woman, eyes wide, stares into her car's rear-view mirror, which she adjusts. Outside, it is dark and perhaps foggy. Her headlights don't seem to penetrate the gloom.

Text below the image, the film's title, reads, “It Follows.”

Observations

The woman wears makeup, and her nails are painted red-orange. Her eyebrows, like her eyes, are brown, which suggests that she is a peroxide, not a natural, blonde. She wears her hair in a bob or a pixie cut.

WHO? A young woman

WHAT? looks into her rear-view mirror

WHEN? at night

WHERE? on a lonely stretch of country road

HOW? as she is driving her car

WHY? fleeing from a relentless, inhuman pursuer.

 

Questions

Who is the young woman? She appears to be alone—is she? If so, why? If not, why not? Where is she going? Where has she been? Is she on some sort of mission or is she just trying to escape? Why is she driving at night? Who or what is she fleeing? Why is her pursuer chasing her? Why is her pursuer relentless? Is her pursuer behind her, as she appears to believe, or in front of her? Her tension and fear suggest she may be involved in an emergency situation? Is she? If so, what is the emergency? If not, what else explains her tension and fear? Is her car a sedan? A convertible? New? An older model? How large or small is her car? Is it in good repair? Is someone expecting her? If so, who? Why? If not, why not?

In future posts, I may model this technique for plotting by posters again. There are many posters, after all—an inexhaustible supply of them. To generate a strong, intriguing, suspenseful plot, we need only one. Meanwhile, why not try your own hand at this poster:

Alliterative Plotting (?)

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

I can't say whether Erle Stanley Gardner used alliteration as a way of prompting plots, but some of the titles of his Perry Mason novels sure did—as did even more—most, in fact—of the CBS television series' episodes—could have suggested story lines.

Gardner himself created such alliterative titles as

The Case of the Lucky Legs

The Case of the Caretaker's Cat

The Case of the Dangerous Dowager

The Case of the Shoplifter's Show

The Case of the Perjured Parrot

The Case of the Haunted Husband

The Case of the Drowning Duck

The Case of the Crooked Candle

The Case of the Black-eyed Blonde

The Case of the Borrowed Brunette

The Case of the Cautious Coquette

The Case of the Negligent Nymph

The Case of the Fiery Fingers

The Case of the Moth-eaten Mink

The Case of the Grinning Gorilla

The Case of the Hesitant Hostess

The Case of the Restless Redhead

The Case of the Glamorous Ghost

The Case of the Terrified Typist

The Case of the Demure Defendant

The Case of the Lucky Loser

The Case of the Daring Decoy

The Case of the Mythical Monkeys

The Case of the Singing Skirt

The Case of the Waylaid Wolf

The Case of the Duplicate Daughter

The Case of the Shapely Shadow

The Case of the Spurious Spinster

The Case of the Blonde Bonanza

The Case of the Stepdaughter's Secret

The Case of the Amorous Aunt

The Case of the Daring Divorcee

The Case of the Phantom Fortune

The Case of the Horrified Heirs

The Case of the Troubled Trustee

The Case of the Beautiful Beggar

The Case of the Worried Waitress

The Case of the Careless Cupid

The Case of the Fabulous Fake

The titles also often invoke mystery or suspense or both. Why are the legs lucky? Why is the loser lucky? What is the stepdaughter's secret? Why is the waitress worried?

Most of these titles also contain adjectives that characterize specific types of fictional character, many of them women: blonde, brunette, coquette, nymph, redhead, typist, daughter, spinster, aunt, divorcee, waitress. Often, in the television series, at least, the character identified in the title became Mason's client and the defendant in a murder trial.

While identifying a type of character, each of the titles also suggest several questions. The answers to these questions may imply still other questions, or, at times, they may hint at plot twists or even a resolution.

The Case of the Haunted Husband: Who is the husband? Who is his wife? Why is he haunted? In what way is he haunted? Has h done something that frightens him or haunts him with guilt? Maybe he murdered someone. Maybe he had an affair with someone? Maybe he murdered another woman with whom he had an affair. If so, who is this other woman? Where did they meet? What attracted them to one another? Did they break off their relationship? Did the wife know about the affair or find out about it? Lieutenant Tragg might consider such knowledge a motivation for the wife to have killed the mistress. Perhaps the husband didn't kill the other woman, after all. Maybe she was killed by the wife of a previous husband with whom she had had an affair, a wife who's tracked her down to kill her. Was the husband or his current wife the killer's fall guy? (Since Gardner was writing Perry Mason novels, Gardner also had to answer the question, How is Perry going to prove his client is innocent of the charges that the police will lodge against her?)

The Case of the Borrowed Brunette: Who is the brunette? Who borrowed her? How was she borrowed? For what purpose was she borrowed? Was she returned? If so, to whom? An intriguing title, the name of this story conjures up all kinds of possibilities. Did the woman look like another woman? Was she borrowed to impersonate another brunette? Was she, perhaps, killed so the other brunette could disappear and start a new life or escape a prison sentence? Did her boyfriend or her husband plan to kill the other woman and run away with the borrowed brunette? Was the borrowed brunette a model, a call girl, a wealthy businesswoman, a woman from a man's past? (Remember, too, that because Gardner was writing Perry Mason novels, Gardner also had to answer the question, How is Perry going to prove his client is innocent of the charges that the police will lodge against her?)

The Case of the Worried Waitress: Who is the waitress? Who or what worries her? Why is she worried? What, if anything, does she do to eliminate the cause of her worries—or what do the police believe she has done? Is she a victim? A witness to a murder? Did someone she served as a waitress leave incriminating evidence behind? Did she see or hear something she shouldn't have while serving a diner? (As always, since Gardner was writing Perry Mason novels, Gardner also had to answer the question, How is Perry going to prove his client is innocent of the charges that the police will lodge against her?)

Although the plots of the episodes of the television series may differ from those of the novels, the episodes provide at least one way writers answered such questions, generated a plot, and solved the cases. Summaries of the episodes on the Perry Mason TV Series wiki indicate that, in The Case of the Haunted Husband, the series' writers came up with this approach:

Hitchhiker Claire Olger is charged with grand theft auto and manslaughter when the driver of the car she's riding in hits a truck, killing the truck driver, then flees the scene, leaving Claire to take the blame. 

 

Perry agrees to help Claire and eventually does locate the missing driver. Trouble is, he's dead. Burger drops the previous charges against Claire and files a new one: first degree murder. A second murder only complicates things more.

For The Case of the Borrowed Brunette:

Eva Martell gets a part, not on stage but impersonating Helen Reynolds, a woman she has never met. She is paid extremely well and given a beautiful apartment to live in with her Aunt Agnes as long as she continues the charade. Still, Eva suspects foul play in paradise, and seeks the advice of a good lawyer. 

Perry steps in and meets with the real Helen Reynolds, who swears she is not doing anything illegal, but cannot reveal her motives. That’s fine until they find that dead body in her apartment. . . [.]

The wiki doesn't provide a summary for The Case of the Worried Waitress, but a detailed synopsis appears on Thriftbooks:

The Case of the Worried Waitress [sic], by Erle Stanley Gardner[,] 'The 'Foreword' [sic] is dedicated to Marshall Houts, who gave up a lucrative law practice to become an investigator for the Court of Last Resort. Houts investigated several murder cases in which innocent men had been wrongfully convicted, and brought about a satisfactory conclusion. Houts created 'Trauma', [sic] a publication that deals with the field of legal medicine. Forensic medicine applies to many cases, from accidents to the more publicized murders. Perry Mason and Della Street have lunch at a restaurant, and are served by a new waitress Katherine Ellis. The next morning Kit Ellis visits Mason for a consultation about her Aunt Sophia. Kit's parents were killed in an automobile accident, she was left penniless, and moved in with Aunt Sophia (who met a divorced man, and turned over her money to him). After he died of heat stroke, his first wife took everything (their divorce wasn't final). Perry Mason said this could be a partnership, and Sophia could claim half of the property. Kit says Aunt Sophia has a hatbox filled with cash, and she is afraid of burglars. Perry advises her to move out for her own safety. Soon Perry gets a phone call from Kit Ellis; she is being accused of theft by a Stuart Baxley. Baxley hired a private detective to get fingerprints from the hatbox. Paul Drake said this is difficult. But Perry Mason knows that Macdonell Associates of Corning NY have invented a method to do this with magnetic dust (Chapter 4). They learn that Aunt Sophia Atwood is in the hospital, someone hit her on the head with a five-cell flashlight. Kit Ellis had gone back to the house by taxi at night to retrieve her shoes and clothing. Lt. Tragg arrests Kit Ellis at Perry's office (Chapter 9). Mason and Paul Drake visit another person who knows Sophia Atwood (Chapter 10). Perry bait a trap with a seemingly missing will (Chapter 11). Does golf get blamed for things that are the result of human carelessness, stupidity , and foolishness (Chapter 12)? Perry assigns an investigation to Paul Drake: put a female operative at the Gillco Company who can pose as a blind woman (Chapter 14). The Preliminary Hearing begins with Stuart Baxley. Perry destroys his credibility in his cross-examination. The judge expresses doubt as well (Chapter 15). Then Stuart Baxley changes his story again! In Chapter 16 Perry thinks of a theory that can explain the strange events at that house. Perry and Paul find a cache of money, and are found out by Lt. Tragg (Chapter 17). In Chapter 18 Perry brings in a surprise witness who reveals shocking secrets! Lt. Tragg admits fingerprints on the flashlight do not match Perry's client, and do match fingerprints on the water cooler, but are from an unknown person. Perry later hands Lt. Tragg some fingerprints to analyze. Kit Ellis is freed to rejoin her Aunt Sophia (Chapter 19).

Gardner's technique—and, let's admit it, his use of alliteration is fun—can work for any genre, horror included. Let's make up a couple of alliterative horror titles (since Chillers and Thrillers is a blog about The Theory and Practice of Writing Horror Fiction, after all):

The Case of the Ravenous Rats: Why are the rats ravenous? Where do they live? Are they captives? If so, who has them? Why are they being kept? Are they to be used in a mass attack on someone? When? Where? Why? If the rats are not ravenous, where did they come from? A research laboratory? The site of an nuclear reactor's failure? The military? (Maybe the rodents are living weapons?) Are they genetic mutants? How are they stopped? By whom?

(Another way to approach plotting from alliterative titles is to consider stories that actually involve ravenous rats, such as Edgar Allan Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum"; Bram Stoker's "Burial of the Rats" and "The Judge's House"; or my own "A Job Well Done.")

The Case of the Grotesque Gallery: What's grotesque about the gallery? What exhibits are shown in it? Is it a private or a public gallery? Does it exhibit corpses as sculptures, paintings made with body fluids for paint? Do tableaux depict perverted acts? Are the owners insane artists? Failed artists? Are their models alive? If so, are they held against their will? Do the same ones appear in multiple works of art? Do the paintings or sculptures that include them show them as victims (or perpetrators) progressive acts of torture? Do the artworks depict past—or future—catastrophes? Why does the grotesque gallery exist?

 

The Case of the Screaming Skull: Part of this title actually includes the title of a 1958 indie horror film, The Screaming Skull, giving us an example of how an alliterative title might have suggested a plot; the synopsis is courtesy of Wikipedia:

Over a scene [sic] of an opening coffin, a narrator explains that the film's climax is so terrifying that it may kill the viewer, while reassuring the audience that should they die of fright they will receive a free burial service. Inside the coffin is a card that reads "Reserved for You". [sic]

Newlyweds Jenni . . . and Eric . . . move into Eric's palatial country home. Jenni is Eric's second wife; his first wife Marion died when she accidentally slipped and hit her head on the edge of a decorative pond on the estate. At the home they meet Eric's friends, the Reverend Snow . . . and his wife . . . , as well as Mickey . . . , the developmentally disabled gardener. Eric privately mentions to the Snows that Jenni spent time in an asylum following the sudden death of both her parents, and Mrs. Snow reveals that Jenni is very wealthy.

Jenni is disturbed both by Mickey's belief that Marion's ghost wanders the estate and by Marion's self-portrait inside the house, which Jenni believes resembles her mother. When she begins to hear unexplained screaming noises and see skulls around her house, she believes that Marion is haunting her. Though Eric speculates to Jenni that Mickey, who was a childhood friend of Marion and thus dislikes Jenni, may be behind the trickery, Jenni worries that she is going insane. Eric suggests to remove Marion's self-portrait from the home. Eric and Jenni take the painting outside and burn it, later uncovering a skull from the ashes. Jenni panics at the sight of the skull, but Eric denies that the skull is there. Jenni faints and Eric withdraws the skull and hides it, revealing that he has been gaslighting her all along.

Believing she has finally lost her sanity, Jenni resolves to be committed. She tells Eric that the entire property will be meticulously searched for the skull as a last resort. Mickey secretly steals the skull and brings it to Snow before Eric can retrieve it. That night, Eric prepares to murder Jenni and stage it as a suicide. Jenni sees Marion's ghost in Mickey's greenhouse and flees back to the house, where Eric begins throttling her. The ghost appears and chases Eric outside, corners and attacks him, drowning him in the decorative pond.

After Jenni regains consciousness, the Snows arrive. Mrs. Snow comforts a hysterical Jenni and the Reverend discovers Eric's body in the pond. Some undisclosed time later, Jenni and the Snows depart from the house. Reverend Snow declares whether or not Marion's death was an accident will remain a mystery. 

Gardner's plotting technique (if his alliterative titles really was a plotting technique, rather than just a fun way of enticing readers to buy his books) can be used by anyone, for any genre. Why not try it yourself?

Writing an Effective Title

Copyright 2009 by Gary L. Pullman

Ideally, like a movie tagline, an effective title should snare its reader’s attention, suggest the novel’s or film’s genre, indicate the type of monster or other threat, promise enjoyment, and have aesthetic appeal. Although it is difficult for single-word titles to accomplish such a three-fold task, it is possible. Pyscho is an attention-grabber, suggesting that the movie that bears this title is apt to be a horror film, indicates that the threat is that which to be posed by a madman, and promises a display of madness and mayhem. The Exorcist gets prospective audiences’ attention, suggests horror as its film’s genre, and promises an appearance not only of an exorcist but of a demon to exorcise and of a victim from whom to cast out the devil.

In addition to accomplishing the tasks of snaring the reader’s attention, suggesting the story’s genre, and promising enjoyment, a good title should be pleasing to the ear. Some examples of titles that accomplish this goal are Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House (use of alliteration), The Bride of Frankenstein and Bram Stoker’s Dracula (use of allusion), and Stephen King’s The Storm of the Century and Wes Cravens’ The Hills Have Eyes (use of common phrases).

A good story title may accomplish other ends as well. Although titles may not, in so many words, express what is at stake in the battle between good and evil that occurs in most horror novels and movies, it may do so. For example, The Exorcist suggests that an individual’s soul is at stake. H. G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds suggests that the fate of the Earth itself is at issue. The movie Independence Day implies that liberty--a value sacrosanct--to the American public which would make up a huge segment of the film’s presumed audience--is in peril.

Other titles suggest both the nature of the beast and its habitat: It! The Terror from Beyond Space, Alien, The Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Most titles ignore the question of “Why?” (saving the answers, if any, to this bigger concern for the novel or movie itself) and concentrate on more immediate questions such as those which involve the agent (“Who?” or “What”?), the setting (“When?” and “Where”), and the method, process, or technique (“How?”). By reserving the answer to “Why?” for the story itself to resolve, writers maintain the suspense that, hopefully, their titles have created.

For motives related to the foreign release of films and for other reasons, the same horror movie may be released under two or more titles, offering one the opportunity to compare and contrast the titles with an eye (and mind) toward determining which seems more effective and why. Such an exercise can make one more cognizant both of more effective and less effective techniques for creating titles and may disclose the subtle differences in how various audiences perceive stories and storytelling and clues as to what may offend one audience but not another. For example, Planet of the Vampires was also released under the alternate titles of Demon Planet, Planet of Blood, Space Mutants, Terror in Space, The Haunted Planet, The Haunted World, The Outlawed Planet, The Planet of Terror, and The Planet of the Damned.

If a writer wants to pack even more into his or her title, he or she can add a subtitle.

A good way, of course, to learn what makes good titles is to study those of well-established writers and directors such as, in the field of horror, Edgar Allan Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Dan Simmons, Robert McCammon, Bentley Little, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, James Rollins, H. G. Wells, Frank Peretti, Ray Bradbury, Alfred Hitchcock, Wes Craven, Brian De Palma, Roman Polanski, Stanley Kubrick, Francis Ford Coppola, George Romero, and Tobe Hooper.

A lot goes into a carefully written title because a lot is expected from it.

Intriguing Chapter Titles

copyright 2008 by Gary L. Pullman

Although it isn’t a horror story--at least not in the conventional sense--Ihara Saikaku’s short story, “What the Seasons Brought to the Almanac Maker,” a tale of adultery as a literally fatal attraction (based, it might be added, on a true story) offers a technique not seen often, if at all, in typical horror novels, but one which provides a simple, but interesting and effective, way of creating and maintaining suspense and of driving the story forward.

True, Saikaku’s choice of a true story as the basis for his story, his use of foreshadowing, and the situation itself, involving participants in an illicit affair against a background of sexual licentiousness and the concern of the protagonist’s society with superficial rather than meaningful matters create interest and suspense as well, but these are techniques already known to, and used by, writers of Western literature (by the use of which term, no, we do not intend to reference cowboy stories--or not only cowboy stories).

The technique we’re interested in is his use of cryptic, apt, and sometimes rather poetic titles for the segments--they are too short to be labeled chapters--of his story. Divided into five sections, these divisions are named:

1. The Beauty Contest
2. The Sleeper Who Slipped Up
3. The Lake Which Took People In
4. The Teahouse Which Had Not Heard of Gold Pieces
5. The Eavesdropper Whose Ears Were Burned

Western writers have named the chapters in their novels. That’s nothing new. However, such titles have more often than not been straightforward. (A memorable one that is both cryptic, appropriate, and somewhat poetic is the title of chapter thirteen of Ian Fleming’s novel, Live and Let Die, in which James Bond’s CIA counterpart, Felix Leiter, encounters a shark in a swimming pool: “He Disagreed With Something That Ate Him.” However, it is Fleming’s habit to extract a phrase or, more rarely, a sentence from the chapter and to let it stand as the chapter’s title. The title of chapter thirteen of Live and Let Die, for instance, appears, in the chapter itself, on a note attached to Leiter’s body.).

The key to the use of intriguing (as opposed to straightforward) chapter titles is to make the title both cryptic and poetic but apt. It should hint at, rather than directly state, the chapter’s plot, theme, or significance, and it should do so in a figurative, metaphorical, or symbolic manner. For example, the title of the third division of “What the Seasons Brought to the Almanac Maker” alludes to a lake in which the protagonist, Osan, and her illicit paramour, Moemon, pretend to drown themselves. Therefore, it alludes to the central point of the narrative segment, using the literary devices of (an apparent) personification and a play on words to do so. Read literally, as people are wont to read anything they peruse, “The Lake Which Took People In” suggests that a body of water will deceive someone, that it will take him or her or them in, or con them. The absurdity of such an idea, in turn, alerts the reader that he or she has misread the title, and that it should be understood differently. As it turns out, the reader will discover that the lake literally takes in people--those who enter its waters, to swim or, as Osan and Moemon pretend, to drown. Therefore, the title is appropriate. It is descriptive of the action that the story segment contains, and it also suggests the subterfuge of the characters who perform the actions, for it is by pretending to have drowned in the lake that Osan and Moemon intend to “take in,” or deceive Osan’s husband and others.

The chapter of the final section of the story, “5. The Eavesdropper Whose Ears Were Burned,” is also intriguing (as opposed to straightforward)--that is, cryptic, poetic, and apt. It suggests that a particular type of person, an “eavesdropper,” will be punished--in a fitting manner, by having his ears burned. In this case, the eavesdropper is Moemon, who, during a nostalgic return to his hometown, while disguised, overhears people insulting him. His ears, metaphorically, are burned. However, when he, Osan, and the servant who had served as an intermediary between them, helping them to cuckold Osan’s husband, the culprits are “burned” in quite a different manner. After being paraded before the townspeople, as a warning of the punishment that comes to adulterers, they are executed, dying “like dewdrops from a blade of grass.”

As a way of practicing this technique, one might name or rename the chapters of various horror novels or segments of horror movies, selecting titles which meet the three requirements we’ve identified as belonging to intriguing headings, so that the results are once cryptic, poetic, and apt. A good intriguing title takes some effort, but it should pay dividends in being another means by which to create and maintain narrative suspense and of driving one’s horror story forward, toward its inevitable crisis, its possible catastrophe, and its satisfying resolution.

By the way, these are the titles of the Live and Let Die chapters; note that, on the basis of our analysis, most are straightforward rather than intriguing:

1. The Red Carpet
2. Interview with M
3. A Visiting Card
4. The Big Switchboard
5. Nigger Heaven
6. Table Z
7. Mister Big
8. No Sensayuma
9. True of False?
10. The Silver Phantom
11. Allumeuse
12. The Everglades
13. He Disagreed With Something That Ate Him
14. Death of a Pelican
15. Midnight Among the Worms
16. The Jamaica Version
17. The Undertaker’s Wind
18. Beau Desert
19. Valley of Shadows
20. Bloody Morgan’s Cave
21. Good Night to You Both
22. Terror By Sea
23. Passionate Leave