Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts

Friday, March 11, 2022

The Problem-Solution Plot

 Copyright 2022 by Gary L. Pullman

In some horror movies, the plot is structured by attempting to solve a problem to no avail. Such plots have three parts: the problem, which is the film's inciting moment; the solution, its turning point; and the failure of the attempted solution, the denouement.

These are examples of films that have this three-part structure.

 

The Hunger (1983)

Problem: Beautiful vampire Miriam's husband John begins to age rapidly.

Solution: Miriam seeks a new lover.

What Goes Wrong: Miriam ages rapidly after a lover locks her inside a coffin.

Jennifer's Body (2009)

Problem: A ritual transforms Jennifer into a succubus who must devour men to survive.

Solution: Jennifer goes on a killing spree.

What Goes Wrong: During a fight Jennifer bites Needy, who then kills Jennifer but, assuming some of Jennifer's traits, Needy becomes a killer.

 

 

The Witches of Eastwick (1987)

Problem: Witches seek the perfect man.

Solution: They find the devil, who poses as their dream come true.

What Goes Wrong: The witches attempt to control the devil through various magic spells.

Piranha 3D (2010):

Problem: Flesh-eating, prehistoric fish swarm Lake Victoria during spring break.

Solution: The fish feed on tourists.

What Goes Wrong: The piranha are killed, but they are only babies; the mature piranhas live, continuing the attacks.


Species (1995)

Problem: A female alien, Sil, needs to breed.

Solution: Sil kills men unsuitable mates.

What Goes Wrong: Although blasted with a shotgun, Sil mutates into a different, equally vicious, organism.


Nekromaniac (1987)

Problem: Rob, a street sweeper who cleans up after grisly accidents brings home a full corpse for him and his wife Betty to enjoy sexually.

Solution: Betty prefers the corpse over Rob.

What Goes Wrong: Rob commits suicide.

Psycho (1960)

Problem: Norman Bates's mother won't allow him to date.

Solution: Norman kills a woman to whom he is attracted.

What Goes Wrong: Norman, who dresses as his late “mother,” is arrested and jailed.


Thursday, October 14, 2021

Using Horror Movie Taglines to Develop Characters' Personality Traits (and Story Plots)

 Copyright 2021 by Gary L. Pullman


A movie poster tagline poses various questions related to

  • WHO? (personal identity, agent, or agency),
  •  WHAT? (identity or identities, nature or natures, or origin or origins of an object or objects or an abstraction or abstractions),
  • WHEN? (time, endurance, or era),
  • WHERE? (location),
  • HOW? (process, technique, or method);
  • WHY? (cause, motive, purpose, function, or use), and
  • HOW MANY? or HOW MUCH? (quantity of number or volume).

The tagline for the 1988 movie Call Me is “Her fantasies could be fatal.”

By identifying the questions evoked by this tagline, which should be considered in relation to the film's title, we can establish the elements of the plot that create mystery, thus creating, maintaining, and heightening suspense:

WHO is “she”? (personal identity)

WHAT are her “fantasies”? (fantasies)

WHY is she fantasizing? (motive)

HOW do her fantasies involve others? (process)

WHY do her fantasies involve others? (cause, motive, purpose, function, or use)

WHO is the other or are the others whom she includes in her fantasies?

WHY does she include this other or these others in her fantasies?

WHY could her “fantasies be fatal”? (cause)

From our investigation, we find that mysteries regarding who the woman is, what her fantasies are, why she fantasizes, how and why her fantasies involve others, and why her fantasies could be fatal fuel the suspense of the plot. Counting our “whos” and “whats” and “whys” and “hows,” we see that there is two “who” question, one “what” question, one “how” question,” and four “why” questions. Therefore, the plot's main source of suspense will be related to questions of cause, motive, purpose, function, or use (WHY?). Related to this primary source of will be the secondary questions concerning the personal identities (WHO?); the nature or natures, or origin or origins of an object or objects or an abstraction or abstractions; and process[es], technique[s], or method[s] regarding the way in which she includes another or others in her fantasies (HOW?).

The tagline uses the nominative case of the third-person personal pronoun to refer to the woman who fantasies, referring to the woman as “her.” This pronoun separates her from the viewer/reader, who regards him- or herself as an “I” (if a subject) or a “me” (if an object). The story is about her (and her fantasies); she is the protagonist. Her callers are the story's antagonists. They may also be her victims, since her “fantasies could be fatal.” Therefore, she can be a predator, even a killer. Vicariously, as we read her story (i. e., “call” her), we may become her victims as well.

WHY we might call her (our motive) suggests information about us: WHO we are and WHAT we want (and, therefore, WHAT we lack). “Call me” is an invitation to listen to her fantasies, to participate in them, vicariously, potentially as her victims. We have a motive for desiring to do so. Perhaps we are lonely, feel unloved, are unhappy either at being single or in our marriages. We lack something that we believe, or hope, that we may obtain from this woman, from her fantasies. According to the U. S. National Library of Medicine, loneliness can lead to various psychiatric disorders [such as] depression, alcohol abuse, child abuse, sleep problems, personality disorders and Alzheimer’s disease. It also leads to various physical disorders like diabetes, autoimmune disorders like rheumatoid arthritis, lupus and cardiovascular diseases like coronary heart disease, hypertension (HTN), obesity, physiological aging, cancer, poor hearing and poor health. Left untended, loneliness can have serious consequences for mental and physical health of people.”

As the article explains, “Loneliness is caused not by being alone, but by being without some definite needed relationship or set of relationships.” This seems to be the lack, then, that those who answer the woman's invitation to 'call” her experience. We have learned much about the antagonists of the story, including their possible physical as well as their mental health issues and their causes. (The article also defines three types of loneliness that could be of use to a writer writing about the situation reflected in the Call Me movie tagline: “situational loneliness,” “developmental loneliness,” and “internal loneliness.”

The woman who fantasizes also wants something from us: our ears, our attention, our indulgence of her fantasies. However, she does not want us for long; we are disposable because she has, potentially, many callers, many replacements for us. We are like food, as it were, that sustains her, but nothing more. Therefore, we are expendable. What counts is she and her fantasies, her needs and desires.

 Everything seems to revolve around her and her desires and needs, which suggests that she might be a narcissist, whose behavior, according to the Mayo Clinic, is characterized by:

  • an exaggerated sense of self-importance
  • a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration
  • [the expectation of being] recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it
  • exaggerate[d] achievements and talents
  • [a preoccupation] with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate [Now, we have an idea of the types of fantasies she might have!]
  • [the belief that] they are superior and can only associate with equally special people
  • [the tendency to] monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior
  • [the expectation of] special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations
  • [taking] advantage of others to get what they want
  • [having] an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others
  • [being] envious of others and believe others envy them
  • [behaving] in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious
  • [insisting] on having the best of everything—for instance, the best car or office

What is she like? Someone who is unable to form long-lasting, meaningful relationships? Someone unconcerned about the welfare, or even the lives, of others? Someone who is willing to kill others without remorse or concern? A sociopath, perhaps? A killer, certainly, and a survivor, of sorts, a survivor at all costs. She is amoral, it appears, and is not bound by the mores, customs, conventions, or laws of society. She seems either unconcerned about them or believes that she is above them, a force of nature or a law unto herself, perhaps.

In addition, she is likely to be narcissistic, feel herself to privileged and entitled, possess a sense of superiority, and be arrogant, manipulative, dominant, and authoritarian.

What sort of fantasies might she have? Those that provide what she wants, but lacks, even if her fantasies provide them only momentarily. Company? Intimacy? Relief from loneliness, boredom, or emptiness? A sense of belonging, for a moment, at least, or a sense of being in control? She will also probably fantasize “about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate.” Presumably, those who do not properly reinforce her concept of herself or are in any other way less than “the perfect mate” would be murdered, since the fact that her fantasies “could be fatal” suggests that sometimes they are; other times, they are not. Why does she sometimes kill, sometimes spare, those who answer her call? It seems that her decision would depend on whether or how well her callers respond to her fantasies, to her? On how well her callers fulfill her needs.

It seems that she could be a narcissistic sociopathic serial killer, possibly with sadistic sexual tendencies. As the Mayo Clinic website points out, “Antisocial personality disorder, sometimes called sociopathy, is a mental disorder in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong and ignores the rights and feelings of others.” In addition, such persons “tend to antagonize, manipulate or treat others harshly or with callous indifference. They show no guilt or remorse for their behavior.” People who suffer from antisocial personality disorder also “often violate the law, becoming criminals. They may lie, behave violently or impulsively, and have problems with drug and alcohol use. Because of these characteristics, people with this disorder typically can't fulfill responsibilities related to family, work or school.” Operating one's own erotic telephone service might be an ideal career choice for someone who displays such symptoms as the Mayo Clinic website lists for the antisocial personality disorder:

  • Disregard for right and wrong
  • Persistent lying or deceit to exploit others
  • Being callous, cynical and disrespectful of others
  • Using charm or wit to manipulate others for personal gain or personal pleasure
  • Arrogance, a sense of superiority and being extremely opinionated
  • Recurring problems with the law, including criminal behavior
  • Repeatedly violating the rights of others through intimidation and dishonesty
  • Impulsiveness or failure to plan ahead
  • Hostility, significant irritability, agitation, aggression or violence
  • Lack of empathy for others and lack of remorse about harming others
  • Unnecessary risk-taking or dangerous behavior with no regard for the safety of self or others
  • Poor or abusive relationships
  • Failure to consider the negative consequences of behavior or learn from them
  • Being consistently irresponsible and repeatedly failing to fulfill work or financial obligations

So, is the woman who fantasizes a narcissistic sociopath who entertains dangerous, potentially fatal fantasies about others who accept her invitation to “call me”? Does she operate an erotic telephone service for lonely people who lack “a relationship or set of relationships”? Could she be a sadist and her callers masochists whom she lures into a sadomasochistic telephonic relationship? Does fantasizing sometimes cross the line between fantasy and reality, resulting in the deaths of her callers? Is the woman who fantasizes a femme fatale? Our search for answers to the questions the tagline provokes and our research into the implications of the tagline certainly seems to open such possibilities.

 

Checking a synopsis of the movie's actual plot shows that the screenwriters chose a different plot than the one we might envision from the movie's tagline, but that doesn't mean our ideas of the protagonist's character, the antagonists' characters, and the protagonist operating her own erotic telephone service while she searches for her “perfect mate,” according to her own needs and desires as a narcissistic sociopath with a well-defined list or criteria is “wrong.” It is simply an alternative plot—and perhaps a better one, at that.

   

Here are a few more horror movie taglines that you can try, each of which is capable of suggesting personality traits, if not mental disorders, for a protagonist and one or more antagonists and a plot based on those personality traits. Using horror movie taglines as a means of developing characters' personality traits goes a long way toward generating plot ideas as well.

Dawn of the Dead: When there's no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the Earth.

Paranormal Activity: What happens when you sleep?

Saw: Every piece has a puzzle.

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Who will survive, and what will be left of them?

The Grudge: It never forgives. It never forgets.

Wolf Creek: How can you be found when no one knows you're missing?


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday, July 7, 2021

Evolution, Psychology, and Horror, Part I

Copyright 2012 by Gary L. Pullman

 

Source: kickstarter.com

According to evolutionary psychologists, human behavior evolved through adaptations that had survival, including reproductive, value. Although not without its critics, who see the school as seriously flawed, evolutionary psychology may offer some insights of value to readers and writers of horror fiction.

 

Leda Cosmides and John Tooby. Source: news.uscb.edu

According to evolutionary psychologists Leda Cosmides and John Tooby, the discipline regards the brain as “a computer designed by natural selection to extract information from the environment” and this organ generates the behavior of individuals based on its “cognitive programs,” adaptations that “produced behavior” that “enabled [our ancestors] to survive and reproduce.”

 

Einstein's brain. Source: thespec.com

Therefore, to understand what makes people tick, these programs must be understood and explained. As a result of natural selection, the brain consists of “different special[-]purpose programs” rather than having “a . . . general architecture.” Finally, the description of the “evolved computational architecture of our brains 'allows a systematic understanding of cultural and social phenomena.'”

 

Psychological Methods. Source: slideshare.net

The method of evolutionary psychology is not entirely scientific. After detecting “apparent design in the world” (e. g., in the brain), they seek to produce a “scenario” that suggests the selective processes that could account for “the production of the trait that exhibits [this] apparent design” and then put their hypotheses to the test of “standard psychological methods.” Thus, their approach seems part thought experiment, part scientific method and has been challenged on both counts.

 

Waist-hip ratio in women. Source: ergo-log.com

For example, men, shown illustrations of potential female mates exhibiting “varying waist[-]hip ratios,” preferred those depicting “women with waist/hip ratios closer to .7,” because hips wider than waists suggested that the women who possessed them would be likely to be more “fertile” and, as such, better able to “contribute to the survival and reproduction of the organism.”

 


"Would you survive?" Source: thequiz.com

One theme of horror fiction is the survival of the threat posed by the villain or monster. Both novels and movies often show their characters' use of a variety of attempts at, or methods of, survival, most of which prove futile. Often, in the slasher sub-genre, the sole survivor of the group's encounter with the antagonist is the so-called final girl.

 

 
There's a reason they're called "slashers'? Source: whatculture.com

These films implicitly invite audiences to compare the methods of survival—i. e., the behavior—of the characters: who did what to survive, and which one, ultimately, succeeded. Why did she succeed? Why did each of the other characters fail? Not only do slasher (and, of course, other types of horror fiction and drama) thus provide models for analyzing and evaluating both failed and successful survival adaptations, but the slasher also offers a list, as it were, of each.

Let's take a look at three horror movies that focus on the characters' attempts to survive the threat of an antagonist. The first, Backcountry (2014), involves a predatory animal; the second, Final Girl (2015), features a band of men who hunt a woman for sport; the third, The Exorcist (1973), presents a supernatural threat. The first involves a “woman vs. nature” plot; the second, a “woman vs. men” plot; the third, a “man vs. supernatural monster” plot. Each involves a final girl as the survivor of her respective threat.


Next post: Jen's survival


 

Tuesday, June 1, 2021

Vocational Horror: The Tools of Its Trade

 Copyright 2021 by Gary L. Pullman

 

A device often used to generate plots is to imagine a vocational role that, given a dark twist, produces unusual, horrific goods or provides equally bizarre, terrifying services. Stephen Kings; characters include writers (“1408,” Bag of Bones, The Regulators, Misery); painters (Duma Key); politicians (Under the Dome); a shop owner (Needful Things); a former police officer (Black House) and prison guards (The Green Mile); journalists (The Colorado Kid), government agents (Firestarter), and military personnel (The Tommyknockers), among others, whose wares and services are anything but mundane—or safe.


Other writers of horror have used the same technique. Bentley Little, King's “poet laureate of horror,” is a great example. His novels' protagonists include a mailman (The Mailman), store clerks (The Store); a homeowners association (The Association); resort staff and guests (The Resort); an insurance agent (The Policy), teachers (The Academy, University); and others.


In part, such fiction—what we might designate as vocational horror—works because it is associated, as it typically is in King's works, with forces equipped with vast resources, investigative abilities, access to the general public, political power, are backed by the authority of the state, or are imbued with supernatural or paranormal power (King) or perform essential services, operate in remote locations, or, again, enjoy supernatural or paranormal power (Little).


Another reason that vocational fiction works is that it is based on a twist, or a perversion, of the normal purposes of offering goods for sale or a perversion of the normal functions of a service, as is almost always the case in Little's satirical novels, synopses of a few of which suggest the nature of his twists:


[The Mailman:] “the strange new mailman is up to something sinister, an idea bolstered as people in town start receiving increasingly disturbing hate mail” (Wikipedia).


[The Store:] “customers are hounded by obnoxious sales people, and strange products appear on the shelves. Before long . . . [is] taking over the town!”


[The Association:] “Members of the neighborhood's Homeowners' Association, a meddling group that uses its authority to spy on neighbors, eradicate pets and dismember anyone who fails to pay association dues and fines” (Publishers Weekly).


[The Resort:] “[At] the exclusive Reata, an isolated resort in the Arizona desert, . . . . unnerving encounters with strange employees, wild parties in empty rooms and bizarre sex antics in the family restaurant prompt . . . key characters . . . to think about leaving early. Yet the Reata's magnetic pull essentially brainwashes all the guests into believing that their odd experiences are normal” (Publishers Weekly).


[The Policy:] “Recently divorced Hunt Jackson, his new wife, his co-workers and his best buddy from high school . . . are continually harassed by a pesky insurance salesman [who] tries to convince them to purchase bizarre policies protecting them from the law, their bosses and even death, and if the clients refuse, inexplicable consequences usually follow” (Publishers Weekly).


[The Academy:] “Students and faculty who embrace [a school's new] charter get steadily darker and more sadistic; teachers and students who oppose the charter find strange things happening and people disappearing; and the school seems to have taken on a life of its own” (Publishers Weekly).



Thursday, March 18, 2021

Describing Images of Horror: Part 2

 Copyright 2021 by Gary L. Pullman

 

At the end of the initial post about this topic, I ended with this poster promoting the 1981 film Possession and the idea that images, such as those depicted on movie posters, are open to several, if not to many, possible interpretations, each of which interpretations could give rise to a story, at least theoretically. In other words, a set of images could become the basis of two or more stories, rather than just one.

The Possession poster showcases the back of a topless brunette, whose sleek skin suggests that she is likely young, as does her luxuriant, shoulder-length hair. The very top of the cleavage of her buttocks shows within the “V” of a low-riding garment, the exact nature of which defies definite identification.

The background is black, suggesting night (or evil), and her head is surrounded by an eerie aura, from either side of which projects a pointed beam reminiscent of a horn. Hands lie upon her shoulders—her own, it seems, and yet, inexplicably, they look old, and they end in sharp claws, two of which puncture her flesh, just below her right shoulder, producing blood that trickles down her back.

Below the figure, blood-red letters spell “Possession”; the dot over the “i” is vaguely like a Valentine's heart.

Is the film about demonic possession, as indicated by the horns, the demon's hands, and the blood, or does the movie concern romantic possession, as suggested by the half-naked woman and the Valentine's heart? The caption, below the image of the woman, suggests that both views are correct: the picture shows “Inhuman ecstasy fulfilled.”

However, there are also other possibilities, the words, in white, above the female figure, suggest: "Is it desire? Or violation? Devotion? Or bondage? In any case, “our hidden fears will be aroused,” the text promises.

Probably, we will wonder who the woman is. Or, perhaps what she is. Some of the possibilities that might spring to mind are:

  • Mother of the Antichrist

  • Succubus

  • Witch

We might also ask what “hidden fears” are tapped by the image of evil, of sensuality, of dark devotion, of deviltry, of sexuality, of seduction. Are we afraid of being seduced by darkness, by the devil, by our own improper carnal desires? Maybe all of the above?

By raising several possibilities, the poster makes viewers curious, but it also confuses, just as potent temptations and seduction and a variety of interpretations as to just what a woman represents (and what opportunities she presents) may make one feel confused, even afraid. One is overwhelmed by possibilities, some of which may be appealing and desirable, others of which may be disgusting and terrifying.

As is often the case, the poster's images are ambiguous, multivalent, even conflicting. Ultimately, they may be unsettling, alarming, and frightening.

Perhaps a novel that takes a similar approach would, transcending the merely possible by multiplying the possibilities of interpretation, would achieve artistic respect. Sometimes, rather than being taught a lesson, it might be better if we were taught that an experience, fictional or dramatic, might reflect actual life experiences which, likewise, are open to several interpretations. 

Life, such a work might teach readers or moviegoers, is complicated and, often, mysterious or ambiguous, if not meaningless and full of angst. Such fiction is horrible, indeed, like some of the situations real people actually do face in their everyday lives.


Tuesday, August 4, 2020

Talking Pictures: Plotting through Image Analysis and Imaginative Elaboration

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman

Characters, incidents, settings, processes, and motives are among the persons, places, and things that inspire horror. Pretty much anything can, as long as it is eerie or lends itself to an eerie interpretation.
 
For moviemakers, images often suggest horror. (They also horror to many writers of other genre fiction as well, of course; C. S. Lewis, the author Christian and children's fantasy and science fiction, for example, said his stories often began with images.)

When examining a picture—never merely look at a picture, whether it's a drawing, a photograph, a painting, or some other visual representation; study it in detail; then, wait a while and study it again—ask yourself, Which question do I first ask myself about the picture: who? what? when? where? how? or why?

The right picture will speak to you. How can you be sure the picture you're studying is the “right picture?” Easy. If it is, it will let you know; it will speak to you.

Not literally, of course. Not out loud. But it will suggest questions, imply ideas, elicit emotions, show relationships between one of its elements—color, perhaps—and others—texture, maybe, or shape. One thought, one intuition, one feeling will lead to another and another.

Before you converse with pictures, it's helpful to know what sort of things to study. Remember, too, that, in the Western world, people are taught to read from left to right and from top to bottom. The most important part of the image will be positioned close to the center of the image.

Here are some basic elements to consider: contrasts, colors, distance, intensity, overlapping of objects, placement, position, shapes, sizes, structural pattern (e. g., horizontal, diagonal, vertical, sectional), text (if any), and textures.

On the figurative level, consider whether the image alludes to anything beyond itself, such as a work of art or an historical period; look for visual metaphors; consider symbolism; and determine whether personification is used. Often, if the picture has symbolic or metaphorical significance and text, the text will act as the key to unlocking the literal meaning suggested by the visual figure of speech.

If figures are included in the image, consider their sex, gender, age, financial status, social class, costume, facial expression, posture, pose, body language, and relationships to other figures, if any, and to the objects, or “props,” if any, and the landscape or interior space shown in the image.

Now, let's try a simple exercise, using this image:


What question first addresses itself to me is, Why is the doll crying? In other words, I am most interested in the question of motive. If I am uncertain, I may hazard a guess, indicating it as such by following the guess with a question mark in parentheses; if, as yet, I have no answer, I will indicate this by using just a question mark.

Now that I've determined my chief interest in the image, I should answer the other, related questions:

Who? = doll
What? = crying
When? and Where = In the darkness
How? = magic (?)
Why? = ?

Next, I will “read” the image from right to left and from top to bottom, making notes concerning questions, ideas, emotions, and relationships between one of its elements of the image:

  • Right eye is half-closed; left eye, open
  • Right eye is dark; right eye, blue
  • A teardrop on the doll's left eye suggests the toy is crying
  • In comparison to the nose and mouth, the doll's eyes are exceptionally large—why?
  • There is no background, just a close-up of the doll's seemingly large, round face
  • The face is cracked and worn

These are my initial observations. I should ask what each is intended to suggest or mean. (In studying an image, especially if it was produced by a professional artist, we should assume that every detail is carefully thought out and is present for a purpose.)

  • The right eye suggests thought, reflection; it seems to look inward. The left eye is open; the doll sees, but it also cries: whatever the doll sees seems to make it sad.
  • There is only a single, large teardrop, which seems to imply that either the doll is no longer crying or has only just begun to cry; either it has cried itself out or it is only now being moved to tears.
  • The relatively large eyes focus the viewer's attention on them, rather than on its nose or mouth. Its vision, thought, and emotion and what it sees are the important things.
  • The setting is unknown, other than by darkness; the time and place are irrelevant. However, the darkness could symbolize fear, ignorance, or death, since black is often associated with one or all of these emotions or states of existence. The large size of the face also focuses the viewer's attention on the doll's face. Its face, the symbol of identity, like the doll's behavior—cryingare the focal points of the image, suggesting that these are the most important features of the picture.
  • The crack in the doll's right cheek and the wear on its face could symbolize its suffering; it seems careworn, tired, and slightly injured.

Add any additional observations:

  • The image makes use of personification and symbolism.
  • None of my observations answers my original question: Why is the doll crying? In other words, what is its motive?

At this point, we are beyond the image. We are asking ourselves a question that the image itself does not, and cannot, answer. Therefore, we must use our imaginations, our knowledge of human nature, and our own experiences as human beings to guess why a doll, if it were capable of crying, might weep. In doing so, we should also be true to the questions, ideas, emotions, and the relationships between the focus feature of the image (in this case, the doll) and the image's other, related elements.

We can start by listing facts known about dolls:

  • A doll usually belongs to a girl.
  • A doll may be given to a girl as a gift, perhaps by her parents.
  • A girl often invests her doll with a “personality” (personifies the doll).
  • When a girl is not playing with her doll, the doll is often left by itself, perhaps in a dark place, such as a closet or a toy box.
  • A girl may project her own emotions onto her doll.
  • A girl may assign the role she plays in her present life to her doll.

Based on these thoughts, we might construct a scenario to explain our original question, Why is the doll crying?

Melinda Jackson abandons her doll, Bessie—not to a closet or to a toy box this time, but to the alley behind her house, beside the trash cans to be collected, along with the other trash, by the city's sanitation crew. Melinda is sad to say goodbye to Bessie, who's been her dearest companion, her confidante, her best friend for most of her life. They've been through a lot, good times and bad. But Melinda is older nowtoo old for Bessieand, so, Melinda abandoned her doll. She imagines Bessie alone in the dark alley, frightened and in despair, crying, as Melinda herself is crying. But it is only a tear. She brushes it away. Besides, Bessie is just a doll. Bessie can't really cry.

The idea for the story suggests three parts:

  1. Melinda becomes aware that she is “too old” for a doll. (Maybe she has a sleepover and her friends make fun of her for still having a doll.)
  2. Melinda is sad to say goodbye to her doll, but, convinced the time has come to part with Bessie, Melinda places Bessie in the dark alley behind her house to be hauled away by the city's sanitation crew.
  3. Twist ending

We need to surprise the reader with an unexpected outcome to the story. With Melinda's new awareness that she is “too old” for a doll (Part I) and Melinda's abandonment of her doll so that Bessie can be hauled away by the city's sanitation crew (Part II), we have set up the expectation, in the reader's mind, that Bessie will be discarded. There are several ways the story could end with a twist:

  1. One of the sanitation crew could take Bessie home for his own daughter to “adopt.”
  2. A dog could carry Bessie home, where another girl could “adopt” Bessie.
  3. Bessie really could be magical, and she could return to Melinda, who decides to keep her, after all.
Adopt one of these twists or (or another possibility) and use it to write part three of the story's summary:

    III. Recovering from her fright, Bessie walks          back to Melinda's house, returns to the girl's       bedroom, with muddy feet, and takes her          customary place of honor on Melinda's bed.       Shocked, Melinda decides Bessie is magic          and decides to keep her, regardless of her          the taunts of her "friends."

The fifteen basic needs identified by advertising executive Jib Fowles should also be considered in relation to the image: the need to achieve, the need for aesthetic sensations, the need for affiliation, the need to aggress, the need for attention, the need for autonomy, the need to satisfy curiosity, the need to dominate, the need to escape, the need to feel safe, the need to nurture, the need for sex, the need for prominence, and physiological needs (food, drink, sleep, etc.). For example, in the sample story, Madeline feels the need for affiliation (she has a sleepover), and Madeline feels the need for autonomy (she feels that it is time for her to say goodbye to her doll). By appealing to one or more of these basic needs, a story is likely to allow readers to develop empathy for the narrative's characters—in the case of the sample story, for both Madeline and Bessie.

If you'd care to try this approach for a story of your own, you might use the following (or some other) image:



Saturday, August 1, 2020

Benefits of Alternate Endings: Pick One

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman

It was fashionable in Hollywood, at one time, to produce movies that have alternate endings. Hollywood executives hoped that, by trying out two or more endings for the same movie on test audiences, they could determine which one viewers enjoyed most, which might translate into more ticket sales (i .e., dollars) at the box office.

For short story writers and novelists, however, there may be other benefits to devising possible alternate endings. In doing so, however, authors should follow Aristotle's dictum (and Edgar Allan Poe's advice) that a story's ending should end in a manner that does not destroy the integrity of the rest of the plot.

Devising possible alternate endings to a story can also assist writers in selecting the most appropriate, effective, and memorable ending possible from an array of alternatives.

In addition, imagining possible alternate endings can, perhaps, improve the story, because a new possibility might round out, explain, or otherwise complete the narrative in a more believable or otherwise satisfying manner than the original ending. (We're speaking, now, of works in progress, rather than published, stories.)

Imagining alternate endings could also produce unexpected or better twist endings than the one a writer originally had in mind.


The Cone” by H. G. Wells

Current ending: Raut, who has cuckolded Horrocks, is doomed when a blast-furnace cone lowers him into the furnace, while Horrocks pelts the adulterer with hot coals.

Alternate ending: Horrocks seizes Raut by the arm, shoving him into the path of an oncoming railway tram. (This incident occurs earlier in the story, but, at this point, Horrocks is terrorizing Raut and, at the last minute, pulls him to safety; revised, the original story would end with this incident, without Horrocks pulling Raut from the tram's path.)


The Damned Thing” by Ambrose Bierce

Current ending: An entry in Morgan's diary reveals that the creature he hunts is invisible because its color is imperceptible to the human eye.

Alternate ending: Both Morgan's friend Harker, who witnessed Morgan's death and Morgan himself are insane, the former because of his fantastic testimony at the coroner's inquest concerning the cause of Morgan's death, the latter because, in writing of the incident in his diary, he described it in a manner that is consistent with Harker's account of the occurrence. On suspicion of having killed, and possible brainwashed Morgan, Harker is arrested and held for trial.


Dracula's Guest” by Bram Stoker

Current ending: Horsemen frighten off the werewolf guarding and keeping an English hotel guest warm in a forest and take him back to the hotel; they were dispatched at the request of a Transylvanian count named Dracula.

Alternate ending: The horsemen arrive to find the Englishman's throat torn out by the werewolf feasting upon his corpse.
 
"The Signalman" by Charles Dickens

Current ending: The narrator learns that a signal-man, seemingly mesmerized by something he saw, was struck and killed by an approaching train after ignoring the engineer's repeated warnings to get off the track.

Alternate ending: The train strikes the signal-man, but investigators cannot find his body; on the anniversary of his supposed death, the signal-man again appears on the track and is struck, but, afterward, investigators cannot find a body.

Thursday, July 30, 2020

Secret Motivations

 Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman

Often, in horror stories and films, a secret, past or present, drives and directs protagonists' or antagonists' actions:


Schizophrenia (Norman Bates [Alfred Hitchcock's 1960 film adaptation of Robert Bloch's 1959 novel Psycho], Brian De Palma's 1980 film Dressed to Kill, and David Calloway [John Polson's 2005 film Hide and Seek]);


crimes of various kinds (Marion Crane's adultery and theft and Norman Bates's murder in Psycho; Grace Newman's murders in Alejandr Amenábar's 2001 film The Others; Freddy Kreuger's murders in Wes Craven's 1984 film A Nightmare on Elm Street; the teenage friends' murder in Jim Gillespie's 1997 film adaptation of Lois Duncan's 1973 novel I Know What You Did Last Summer; Horrocks's wife's adultery with Raut in H. G. Wells's 1895 short story “The Cone”;

deceit or betrayal (Marion Crane's adultery and her theft of her employer's money in Psycho; the adultery of Horrocks's wife and lover Raut in “The Cone”; the teenage characters' attempt to cover up what they believed to be their killing of a man in I Know What You Did Last Summer);


sexual deviance (voyeurism in Michael Powell's 1960 film Peeping Tom, Victor Zarcoff's 2016 film 13 Cameras, and Psycho; lesbianism in Daphne du Maurier's 1938 novel Rebecca and Shirley Jackson's 1959 Gothic horror novel The Haunting of Hill House; transvestism in Hitchcock's Psycho, Brian De Palma's 1980 film Dressed to Kill, Jonathan Deeme's 1991 film adaption of Thomas Harris's 1988 novel The Silence of the Lambs; and transgenderism in Robert Hiltzik's 1983 film Sleepaway Camp; and sadism (Robert Harmon's 1986 film The Hitcher);


past psychological trauma (the denial of Angela Baker true sex and gender in Sleepaway Camp and Carrie White's victimization by high school bullies in Stephen King's 1979 novel Carrie and Brian De Palma's 1974 film adaptation of the book);


vengeance (many horror stories and movies, including Edgar Allan Poe's 1846 short story “The Cask of the Amontillado,” “The Cone,” A Nightmare on Elm Street, I Know What You Did Last Summer, and a host of others); and

suggestibility (the narrator-protagonits's runaway imagination in H. G. Wells's 1894 short story “The Red Room” and, possibly, the protagonist of Bram Stoker's 1891 short story “The Judge's House” and his 1914 short story “Dracula's Guest”).


As we can see, the same story or film may contain multiple instances of secret motivators: Hitchcock's Psycho contains two characters, Marion Crane and Norman Bates, who, between them, are driven by no fewer than four types of secrets: schizophrenia, crime (murder), sexual deviance (voyeurism) (Bates) and deceit or betrayal (adultery), and crime (theft) (Crane).


On the surface, such characters appear to be normal and to be motivated by ordinary drives, such as the need to nurture, the pursuit of profit, affiliation, pleasure, leisure, generosity, and kindness. The normal, apparent motivations of these characters seem to “explain” them; in reality, however, they merely disguise their true desires, aims, and purposes; they are red herrings, not clues, to the nature of the characters, fictitious personas that allow the characters to act without arousing suspicion. Marion Crane is a thief, but she poses as a traveler. The protagonist of Peeping Tom and the landlord in 13 Cameras are both voyeurs and murderers, but the former poses as a photographer, the latter as nothing more than a landlord. Horrocks, in “The Cone,” is a vengeful victim of adultery, but he poses as a tour guide of sorts. The schizophrenic in Hide and Seek poses as a nothing more than a psychiatrist who has his daughter Emily's psychological welfare at heart.


The disguise of normality is also disarming. It suggests that dangerous characters are either harmless of beneficial: a motel owner, teenage friends, scientists, a camper, a mother, a doctor. The disguise of normality makes it easier for such characters to stalk and slay their prey. Indeed, such characters can even appear to be the victim, rather than the victimizer, to him- or herself, if not to the public (although they often appear to be the victim to the public as well, at least for a time): David Calloway and Grace Newman are examples.


Stories and films in which a secret is at the heart of one or more characters, whether protagonist or antagonist or both, suggest a threefold division of plot: Part I: Appearance is maintained through the adopted persona; Part II: the character's secret is discovered or revealed; and Part III: reality is exhibited as the character's true identity is perceived.

Paranormal vs. Supernatural: What’s the Diff?

Copyright 2009 by Gary L. Pullman

Sometimes, in demonstrating how to brainstorm about an essay topic, selecting horror movies, I ask students to name the titles of as many such movies as spring to mind (seldom a difficult feat for them, as the genre remains quite popular among young adults). Then, I ask them to identify the monster, or threat--the antagonist, to use the proper terminology--that appears in each of the films they have named. Again, this is usually a quick and easy task. Finally, I ask them to group the films’ adversaries into one of three possible categories: natural, paranormal, or supernatural. This is where the fun begins.

It’s a simple enough matter, usually, to identify the threats which fall under the “natural” label, especially after I supply my students with the scientific definition of “nature”: everything that exists as either matter or energy (which are, of course, the same thing, in different forms--in other words, the universe itself. The supernatural is anything which falls outside, or is beyond, the universe: God, angels, demons, and the like, if they exist. Mad scientists, mutant cannibals (and just plain cannibals), serial killers, and such are examples of natural threats. So far, so simple.

What about borderline creatures, though? Are vampires, werewolves, and zombies, for example, natural or supernatural? And what about Freddy Krueger? In fact, what does the word “paranormal” mean, anyway? If the universe is nature and anything outside or beyond the universe is supernatural, where does the paranormal fit into the scheme of things?

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word “paranormal,” formed of the prefix “para,” meaning alongside, and “normal,” meaning “conforming to common standards, usual,” was coined in 1920. The American Heritage Dictionary defines “paranormal” to mean “beyond the range of normal experience or scientific explanation.” In other words, the paranormal is not supernatural--it is not outside or beyond the universe; it is natural, but, at the present, at least, inexplicable, which is to say that science cannot yet explain its nature. The same dictionary offers, as examples of paranormal phenomena, telepathy and “a medium’s paranormal powers.”

Wikipedia offers a few other examples of such phenomena or of paranormal sciences, including the percentages of the American population which, according to a Gallup poll, believes in each phenomenon, shown here in parentheses: psychic or spiritual healing (54), extrasensory perception (ESP) (50), ghosts (42), demons (41), extraterrestrials (33), clairvoyance and prophecy (32), communication with the dead (28), astrology (28), witchcraft (26), reincarnation (25), and channeling (15); 36 percent believe in telepathy.

As can be seen from this list, which includes demons, ghosts, and witches along with psychics and extraterrestrials, there is a confusion as to which phenomena and which individuals belong to the paranormal and which belong to the supernatural categories. This confusion, I believe, results from the scientism of our age, which makes it fashionable for people who fancy themselves intelligent and educated to dismiss whatever cannot be explained scientifically or, if such phenomena cannot be entirely rejected, to classify them as as-yet inexplicable natural phenomena. That way, the existence of a supernatural realm need not be admitted or even entertained. Scientists tend to be materialists, believing that the real consists only of the twofold unity of matter and energy, not dualists who believe that there is both the material (matter and energy) and the spiritual, or supernatural. If so, everything that was once regarded as having been supernatural will be regarded (if it cannot be dismissed) as paranormal and, maybe, if and when it is explained by science, as natural. Indeed, Sigmund Freud sought to explain even God as but a natural--and in Freud’s opinion, an obsolete--phenomenon.

Meanwhile, among skeptics, there is an ongoing campaign to eliminate the paranormal by explaining them as products of ignorance, misunderstanding, or deceit. Ridicule is also a tactic that skeptics sometimes employ in this campaign. For example, The Skeptics’ Dictionary contends that the perception of some “events” as being of a paranormal nature may be attributed to “ignorance or magical thinking.” The dictionary is equally suspicious of each individual phenomenon or “paranormal science” as well. Concerning psychics’ alleged ability to discern future events, for example, The Skeptic’s Dictionary quotes Jay Leno (“How come you never see a headline like 'Psychic Wins Lottery'?”), following with a number of similar observations:

Psychics don't rely on psychics to warn them of impending disasters. Psychics don't predict their own deaths or diseases. They go to the dentist like the rest of us. They're as surprised and disturbed as the rest of us when they have to call a plumber or an electrician to fix some defect at home. Their planes are delayed without their being able to anticipate the delays. If they want to know something about Abraham Lincoln, they go to the library; they don't try to talk to Abe's spirit. In short, psychics live by the known laws of nature except when they are playing the psychic game with people.
In An Encyclopedia of Claims, Frauds, and Hoaxes of the Occult and Supernatural, James Randi, a magician who exercises a skeptical attitude toward all things alleged to be paranormal or supernatural, takes issue with the notion of such phenomena as well, often employing the same arguments and rhetorical strategies as The Skeptic’s Dictionary.

In short, the difference between the paranormal and the supernatural lies in whether one is a materialist, believing in only the existence of matter and energy, or a dualist, believing in the existence of both matter and energy and spirit. If one maintains a belief in the reality of the spiritual, he or she will classify such entities as angels, demons, ghosts, gods, vampires, and other threats of a spiritual nature as supernatural, rather than paranormal, phenomena. He or she may also include witches (because, although they are human, they are empowered by the devil, who is himself a supernatural entity) and other natural threats that are energized, so to speak, by a power that transcends nature and is, as such, outside or beyond the universe. Otherwise, one is likely to reject the supernatural as a category altogether, identifying every inexplicable phenomenon as paranormal, whether it is dark matter or a teenage werewolf. Indeed, some scientists dedicate at least part of their time to debunking allegedly paranormal phenomena, explaining what natural conditions or processes may explain them, as the author of The Serpent and the Rainbow explains the creation of zombies by voodoo priests.

Based upon my recent reading of Tzvetan Todorov's The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to the Fantastic, I add the following addendum to this essay.

According to Todorov:

The fantastic. . . lasts only as long as a certain hesitation [in deciding] whether or not what they [the reader and the protagonist] perceive derives from "reality" as it exists in the common opinion. . . . If he [the reader] decides that the laws of reality remain intact and permit an explanation of the phenomena described, we can say that the work belongs to the another genre [than the fantastic]: the uncanny. If, on the contrary, he decides that new laws of nature must be entertained to account for the phenomena, we enter the genre of the marvelous (The Fantastic: A Structural Approach to a Literary Genre, 41).
Todorov further differentiates these two categories by characterizing the uncanny as “the supernatural explained” and the marvelous as “the supernatural accepted” (41-42).

Interestingly, the prejudice against even the possibility of the supernatural’s existence which is implicit in the designation of natural versus paranormal phenomena, which excludes any consideration of the supernatural, suggests that there are no marvelous phenomena; instead, there can be only the uncanny. Consequently, for those who subscribe to this view, the fantastic itself no longer exists in this scheme, for the fantastic depends, as Todorov points out, upon the tension of indecision concerning to which category an incident belongs, the natural or the supernatural. The paranormal is understood, by those who posit it, in lieu of the supernatural, as the natural as yet unexplained.

And now, back to a fate worse than death: grading students’ papers.

My Cup of Blood

Anyone who becomes an aficionado of anything tends, eventually, to develop criteria for elements or features of the person, place, or thing of whom or which he or she has become enamored. Horror fiction--admittedly not everyone’s cuppa blood--is no different (okay, maybe it’s a little different): it, too, appeals to different fans, each for reasons of his or her own. Of course, in general, book reviews, the flyleaves of novels, and movie trailers suggest what many, maybe even most, readers of a particular type of fiction enjoy, but, right here, right now, I’m talking more specifically--one might say, even more eccentrically. In other words, I’m talking what I happen to like, without assuming (assuming makes an “ass” of “u” and “me”) that you also like the same. It’s entirely possible that you will; on the other hand, it’s entirely likely that you won’t.

Anyway, this is what I happen to like in horror fiction:

Small-town settings in which I get to know the townspeople, both the good, the bad, and the ugly. For this reason alone, I’m a sucker for most of Stephen King’s novels. Most of them, from 'Salem's Lot to Under the Dome, are set in small towns that are peopled by the good, the bad, and the ugly. Part of the appeal here, granted, is the sense of community that such settings entail.

Isolated settings, such as caves, desert wastelands, islands, mountaintops, space, swamps, where characters are cut off from civilization and culture and must survive and thrive or die on their own, without assistance, by their wits and other personal resources. Many are the examples of such novels and screenplays, but Alien, The Shining, The Descent, Desperation, and The Island of Dr. Moreau, are some of the ones that come readily to mind.

Total institutions as settings. Camps, hospitals, military installations, nursing homes, prisons, resorts, spaceships, and other worlds unto themselves are examples of such settings, and Sleepaway Camp, Coma, The Green Mile, and Aliens are some of the novels or films that take place in such settings.

Anecdotal scenes--in other words, short scenes that showcase a character--usually, an unusual, even eccentric, character. Both Dean Koontz and the dynamic duo, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, excel at this, so I keep reading their series (although Koontz’s canine companions frequently--indeed, almost always--annoy, as does his relentless optimism).

Atmosphere, mood, and tone. Here, King is king, but so is Bentley Little. In the use of description to terrorize and horrify, both are masters of the craft.

A bit of erotica (okay, okay, sex--are you satisfied?), often of the unusual variety. Sex sells, and, yes, sex whets my reader’s appetite. Bentley Little is the go-to guy for this spicy ingredient, although Koontz has done a bit of seasoning with this spice, too, in such novels as Lightning and Demon Seed (and, some say, Hung).

Believable characters. Stephen King, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, and Dan Simmons are great at creating characters that stick to readers’ ribs.

Innovation. Bram Stoker demonstrates it, especially in his short story “Dracula’s Guest,” as does H. P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Shirley Jackson, and a host of other, mostly classical, horror novelists and short story writers. For an example, check out my post on Stoker’s story, which is a real stoker, to be sure. Stephen King shows innovation, too, in ‘Salem’s Lot, The Shining, It, and other novels. One might even argue that Dean Koontz’s something-for-everyone, cross-genre writing is innovative; he seems to have been one of the first, if not the first, to pen such tales.

Technique. Check out Frank Peretti’s use of maps and his allusions to the senses in Monster; my post on this very topic is worth a look, if I do say so myself, which, of course, I do. Opening chapters that accomplish a multitude of narrative purposes (not usually all at once, but successively) are attractive, too, and Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child are as good as anyone, and better than many, at this art.

A connective universe--a mythos, if you will, such as both H. P. Lovecraft and Stephen King, and, to a lesser extent, Dean Koontz, Bentley Little, and even Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child have created through the use of recurring settings, characters, themes, and other elements of fiction.

A lack of pretentiousness. Dean Koontz has it, as do Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, Bentley Little, and (to some extent, although he has become condescending and self-indulgent of late, Stephen King); unfortunately, both Dan Simmons and Robert McCammon have become too self-important in their later works, Simmons almost to the point of becoming unreadable. Come on, people, you’re writing about monsters--you should be humble.

Longevity. Writers who have been around for a while usually get better, Stephen King, Dan Simmons, and Robert McCammon excepted.

Pacing. Neither too fast nor too slow. Dean Koontz is good, maybe the best, here, of contemporary horror writers.


Popular Posts