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

Monday, March 23, 2020

Writing Blurbs That Sell

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman


According to Tomasz Opasinski, a fifteen-year veteran of movie poster design, a movie poster focuses “on the movie's main plot twist.”

In developing summaries designed to sell their books, writers can do the same thing. Indeed, they should follow Hollywood's example and point their readers toward their own story's “main plot twist” because Hollywood spends considerable money in testing the effectiveness of this approach.


As Opasinski points out, “Poster design is increasingly driven by empirical research, not artistic intuition.” This research involves tagging “the tone and content of posters with keywords” and then tracking which keywords “performed well in the past on similar movies.”


Most writers don't have the financial resources to hire social scientists to conduct original research, so how can writers learn what keywords work for their genre? The solution is simple and effective, but entails a bit of “research” on the writer's part.

Using a web image browser (I like Bing myself), type something like “horror movie posters” (you might also include a time frame, such as “2020” or “2010 through 2020,”) You can also enhance your search term by specifying a subgenre or a particular theme: “horror movie posters 2020 forest setting.” Results are apt to be a bit general, despite the use of such qualifying terms, but it's a start.


Now, a pad and pen beside you (or an open word processing program before you), keep track of words in the movie posters' taglines that are used more than once (and preferably several times). Your resulting list should give you the keywords that researchers have blessed as effective. Use as many of these keywords as possible (and as relevant) in your own story's blurb. (You might practice on familiar movies, writing new [and improved] blurbs for classics such as Frankenstein or The Mummy.)


A poster, Opasinski says must sell a movie within “one or two seconds.” For that reason, in addition to pointing potential audience members toward the film's “major twist,” leaving “them wanting more” and using research-validated keywords, Opasinski says, poster designers also focus on a single “icon” and the use of conflict, both visual and emotional.


Although Opasinski doesn't define “icon,” presumably he uses it in its traditional, denotative sense, as “a sign whose form directly reflects the thing it signifies.” For him, it appears, the leaning bridge over which Tom Cruise, as Jack Harper, walks in the poster Opasinski designed is the “icon” he selected to sell the film. Its meaning is intended to symbolize the protagonist's survival of the catastrophe represented by the “ruined bridge.” It is this moment, presumably, that Opasinski sees as the movie's “first major twist.” He relies on it to sell potential audience members on seeing the film; his poster has led them here, leaving “them wanting more.”

Opasinski says studios provide the keywords that appear on the poster, so we may assume that the copywriter employed them in the poster's tagline, “Earth is a memory worth fighting for.” Earth is home to everyone; the word “memory” suggests that it is of the past. If it has not ended altogether (which, the poster suggests, it has not), it is in some way significantly altered. Perhaps it is to the memory of the Earth as it was, before the catastrophic event, that the tagline alludes, although it's unclear how such a state of existence, now lost, can be “fought for,” unless such fighting involves revenge.

From Opasiniski's observations about his art, we learn several principles to keep in mind as we develop the blurb to sell our own stories:

  1. Select a “single icon” that represents the story's “main plot twist” and the protagonist's emotional conflict.
  2. Keep the blurb as short as possible, and do the targeted readers' thinking for them. (The summary should suggest the theme of the story.)
  3. Use research-based keywords to describe the book's plot.

Sunday, March 8, 2020

Damsels (and Villains) in Distress

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman 

 
Horror movies often put characters in compromising situations—circumstances or conditions in which they are, for one reason or another, vulnerable, if not, indeed, helpless. Often, these characters are young women, both because many devotees of the genre are young men and because people, in general (at least according to horror maestro Edgar Allan Poe), find “the death of a beautiful woman the most poetic woman . . . unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world” (“The Philosophy of Composition”).


Writers employ an array of devices to render their damsels in distress vulnerable or helpless, including, among others, youth and inexperience (Carrietta White of Stephen King's Carrie), being disabled (Marty Coslaw of Dan Attias's film adaptation of Stephen King's Silver Bullet), being injured (Paul Sheldon of Rob Reiner's adaptation of Stephen King's Misery), being unconscious (Nancy Thompson of Wes Craven's A Nightmare on Elm Street), having an overly active imagination (the narrator of H. G. Wells's “The Red Room”), having sex (Tobey of Mitchell Lichtenstein's Teeth), being lost in unfamiliar surroundings (the Carter family of Wes Craven's The Hills Have Eyes), being confused (Emily Callaway of John Polson's Hide and Seek), and having a debilitating condition (Berenice in Edgar Allan Poe's “Berenice” and the narrator in his “The Premature Burial”).


Such conditions not only render a victim or a potential victim vulnerable or helpless, but these circumstances also make the characters in jeopardy sympathetic to readers or moviegoers. To be stalked and injured or killed is, of course, terrifying in itself, but to be hunted and attacked while one is inexperienced, disabled, injured, unconscious, in flagrante delicto, lost and disoriented, confused, or suffering from a debilitating condition only adds to the sense of panic readers and moviegoers experience on behalf of potential or actual victims.


Making a character vulnerable or helpless through circumstances, conditions, or situations isn't the only way that writers of horror heighten suspense. They can also create villains who are so unusual or who suffer from such extreme conditions themselves that their own compromising situations make them uncontrollable. Some of the ways that writers use to accomplish this end include making their villains psychotic (Jack Torrance of Stanley Kubrick's adaptation of Stephen King's The Shining), making them possessed by the devil or demons (Regan MacNeil of William Friedkin's adaptation of William Peter Blatty's The Exorcist), and showing them to be confused (Grace Stewart of Alejandro Amenabar's The Others). Of course, there are also the two traditional standbys: making the villain an extraterrestrial (Sil of Roger Donaldson's Species) or of supernatural origin (the ghost in Tobe Hooper's Poltergeist).

Tuesday, January 14, 2020

The Not-So-Gentle Sex

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman


Horace Walpole


Although Horace Walpole's 1764 novel of mistaken identities, The Castle of Otranto, is the first work of Gothic horror, women writers popularized the new genre.


Ann Radcliffe


Uncanny rather than marvelous, Ann Radcliffe's The Mysteries of Udolpho (1874) focuses on the attempt by her uncle to marry of the orphaned Emily St. Aubert to his friend, Count Morano, in a scheme to divest both his own wife and the count's bride of their property. Radcliffe (1764-1823) influenced several notable male authors, including Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849).


Mary Shelley 


Not only did Mary Shelley (1797-1851) create a horror icon when she penned Frankenstein, or; The Modern Prometheus in 1818, but she may also have kept a part of the body of her late husband, the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley, as a memento. 


Charlotte Dacre


Charlotte Dacre (pen name of Charlotte Byrne) (c. 1771-1825) shocked the literary world of her day with the publication of her 1806 novel Zofloya; or, the Moor, a feminine version of Matthew Lewis's The Monk. Lewis's novel was regarded as salacious; it included a lusty monk and a cross dresser; Dacre's book, which was full of the adventures of harlots and courtesans, was even more scandalous.

Other volumes, as lascivious as Zofloya, followed, including The Libertine (1807) and The Passions (1811). The former was published under the pseudonym Rosa Matilda, a reference to a women who, seduced by Lewis's monk, became a seductress herself.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07M9HGBGV/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1#reader_B07M9HGBGV
 
To read further about these authors of the not-so-gentle sex, check out the fascinating 2019 tome Monster, She Wrote: The Women Who Pioneered Horror and Speculative Fiction by Lisa Kroeger and Melanie R. Anderson.

Saturday, September 7, 2019

Check out my EXCITING NEW BLOG!

Check out my exciting new blog: Wild West Telegraph. (Subscribe to my FREE monthly Wild West Telegraph and get a FREE e-book, Bane Messenger, Bounty Hunter. (See the Wild West Telegraph blog for the subscription form or click here.)


Meanwhile, these great novels are available, as e-books or paperbacks, on Amazon!

Thursday, July 18, 2019

Plots That May Challenge of Change Common Perspectives

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

Not all of the examples in today's post are exclusively related to the horror genre, but each of the techniques could be or have been used by writers of horror fiction.

Usurpation: a minor character becomes the main character.


John Garner uses this approach in his novel Grendel (1971), a retelling of the Old English epic poem Beowulf, in which the villain of the poem, portrayed as an anti-hero, becomes the main character.


In Gregory Maguire's 1996 novel Wicked: The Life an Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, a retelling of L. Frank Baum's novel, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

Altered History: a sub-genre of speculative fiction, alternative history is based on the premise that historical events occur differently than they actually took place. There are many examples of this sub-type, including:


Ward Moore's novel Bring the Jubilee (1953), in which Robert E. Lee wins The Battle of Gettysburg, paving the way for a Confederate Civil War victory.


1945, a 1995 novel by Newt Gingrich and William R. Forstchen, wherein the United States defeats Japan, but enters a Cold war with undefeated Germany, rather than with the Soviet Union.

The-Future-Is-Now: visionary predictions of things to come form the basis of this type of plot.


George Orwell wrote a Future-Is-Now dystopian novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), in which a totalitarian government uses science and technology, propaganda, revisionist history, and other techniques to control its citizenry.

Intersection Stories: explorations of the crossroads between two opposites or extremes.


Gore Vidal's Myra Breckenridge (1968), a novel featuring a transgender protagonist, meets male and female and masculine and feminine binaries as it lampoons and challenges feminism, gender, sexual orientation, and social mores.

In Vice Versa: A Lesson to Fathers an early (1882!) comic novel by Thomas Anstey Guthrie, magic causes a father and a son to switch bodies, the father revisiting adolescence as his son experiences maturity.


Of course, Robert Louis Stevenson's Gothic horror novel, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886), investigates the intersection of good and evil.

Alien Archaeologist: an alien or some other type of fish out of water (who may or may no be an archaeologist) studies human society and culture, often interpreting his or her experiences in an altogether unfamiliar manner.


My short story, “One Dilemma After Another” (in One Dilemma After Another, Volume II) (2018) is an example: an extraterrestrial military scout tries to hide among us, but his attempts to mimic human beings confronts him “one dilemma after another.”

Schizophrenic Studies: a subject is examined from a variety of points of view.


William Faulkner's 1929 novel The Sound and the Fury tells the history of the Compton family from the perspectives of Benjamin, Quentin, and Jason, whose stories touch on many of the same incidents, but provide their narrators' own peculiar interpretations of the vents.

Using these techniques often results in a truly “novel” (i. e., fresh) novel, since each technique offers a way to challenge or change readers' perspectives on the subjects of the books that are based on these approaches.

Saturday, June 29, 2019

Showing Off the Neighborhood

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

Stephen King is known for the small-town settings of his horror novels, but other novelists also find plenty of horror in small-town settings, including Dan Simmons (Summer of Night), Robert R. McCammon (Boy's Life), Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child (Still Life with Crows), Dean Koontz (Phantoms), and, of course, Ray Bradbury (Something Wicked This Way Comes).



It's not hard to see the appeal of such stories.

Small towns are, in a way, an extension of home, as the term “hometown” suggests. In the past, especially, whether realistically or naively, many families left their doors unlocked at night and allowed their kids to roam the neighborhood at will, the single caveat “be home by dark.”

A community, we like to think, is a safe place, like home. It's a place full of friends, we like to believe. It's a place where everyone knows everyone else. There are, in small towns, interrelationships of many kinds: familial, romantic, friendly, neighborly, commercial.

One of the challenges that writers face when a small town is the setting of their novels is familiarizing readers with the community. Lots of people live in the town, people of various statuses, living on different streets, and performing different functions. Sometimes, those we think we know are actually strangers—perhaps dangerous ones—and those we don't know all that well turn out to be heroes. In a small town, anything is possible.

But how to introduce the town and its people, the townspeople? How to show their relationships to others? How to indicate their own hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties?

In other words, how may readers be shown about town?

Writers tackle this task in several ways. Here are a few.

 
Still Life with Crows: The authors opt for description:

Medicine Creek, Kansas. Early August. Sunset.
The great sea of yellow corn stretches from horizon to horizon under an angry sky . . . .
One road cuts through the corn from north to south; another from east to west . . . .
A giant slaughterhouse stands south of the town, lost in the corn, its metal sides scoured by years of dust storms . . . .
The temperature is exactly 100 degrees . . . .
Twilight is falling over the landscape . . . .
A black-and-white police cruiser passes along the main street, heading east into the great nothingness of corn, its headlights stabbing into the rising darkness . . . 


Something Wicked This Way Comes: The author moves from character to character:

The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm . . . .
There's nothing n the living world like books on water cures, deaths-of-a-thousand slices, or pouring white-hot lava off castle walls on drolls and mountebanks.
So said Jim Nightshade . . . .

Watching the boys vanish away, Charles Holloway suppressed a sudden urge to run with them . . . .


Phantoms: The author uses an eclectic approach, using description, and skipping from one character to another, but employing the dramatic, or “showing,” method rather than the expository (“telling”) method to bot introduce his town and townspeople and to generate and maintain suspense:

The scream was distant and brief, a woman's scream.
Deputy Paul Henderson looked up from his copy of Time. . . .

During the twilight hour of that Sunday in early September, the mountains were painted in only two colors: green and blue. The trees—pine, fir, spruce—looked as though they had been fashioned from the same felt that covered billiard tables. Cool, blue shadows lay everywhere, growing larger and deeper and darker by the minute.

Jenny Paige had never seen a corpse like this one.

The Santinis' stone and redwood house was of more modern design than Jenny's place, all rounded corners and gentle angles. . . .

Whichever technique an author uses—and the few above are but a tiny sample—he or she must make the setting seem “real” (i. .e, believable), provide a sense of “thereness,” create and sustain suspense, introduce the characters (townspeople), and, of course, establish a mystery that's rooted in horror. If, in the process, they can establish theme or symbolism or tone or point of view bigger than those of his or her characters' individual perspectives on life, those are pluses—and big ones.

In a later post, we'll consider how horror movies that feature small-town settings show viewers around their neighborhoods.


Saturday, June 15, 2019

Modeling the Three-Act Plot Formula

Plotting a story is often difficult for many (most?) writers. This post may make the job a bit easier.

According to Aristotle's analysis, a plot consists of three interrelated parts, among which there is a series of cause-and-effect relationships. Every story (or play, which is what he was analyzing in Poetics) has a beginning, a middle, and an end. (The ancient Greek plays he watched were three-act plays.)

With this structure in mind, the basic plot formula of 1. CAUSE, 2. ACTION, and 3. OUTCOME can be used to generate many specific plot models. Any of the models can produce either a comedic or a tragic outcome, depending on its development.

Here are a few such models, some with an example from a book, a short story, or a movie.


  1. Problem
  2. Solution
  3. Outcome

Example: As Good as It Gets



  1. Seduction
  2. Sex
  3. Outcome

Example: Fatal Attraction

  1. Masquerade
  2. Unmasking
  3. Outcome



Example: The Crying Game

  1. Victimization
  2. Vengeance
  3. Outcome

Example: Sudden Impact

    1. Stalking
    2. Assault 
    3. Outcome

Example: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV series)

    1. Temptation 
    2. Resistance 
    3. Outcome


Example: Joan of Arc (LeeLee Sobieski)

  1. Options
  2. Selection
  3. Outcome
  1. Submission
  2. Dominance
  3. Outcome
Example: The Story of O


  1. Dominance
  2. Submission
  3. Outcome


Example: The Collector

  1. Role
  2. Reversal
  3. Outcome


Example: The Final Girl

  1. Curiosity
  2. Experiment
  3. Outcome

Example: The Moviegoer

  1. Anxiety
  2. Confession
  3. Outcome

  1. Opportunity
  2. Pact
  3. Outcome

Example: Faust


  1. Twins
  2. Swap
  3. Outcome

Example: The Parent Trap
  1. Twins
  2. Share
  3. Outcome

  1. Dissatisfaction
  2. Novelty
  3. Outcome


Example: The Wizard of Oz

  1. Change
  2. Adaptation
  3. Outcome

 
Example: King Henry IV, Part II



  1. Threat
  2. Response
  3. Outcome

 
Example: Alien

  1. Isolation
  2. Challenge
  3. Outcome

  1. Novelty
  2. Trial
  3. Outcome
 
  1. Process
  2. Change
  3. Outcome
 

Example: The Fly



  1. Perspective
  2. Violence
  3. Outcome

 
Example: Death Wish


Thursday, March 28, 2019

Plotting Board, Part 8

Copyright 2019 by Gary L. Pullman

Although there are several patterns of plots, one is the three-part structure described by Aristotle in his Poetics: beginning, middle, and end. We can think of this three-part structure as consisting of a cause of an action by which action an effect is produced:

  1. Cause
  2. Action
  3. Effect
Every effect, or outcome, can be either comic (end well for the protagonist) or tragic (end poorly for the protagonist).

With this in mind, many varieties of plots can thus be developed:

The Problem-Solution Plot
  1. Problem
  2. Solution
  3. Effect (Outcome)


As Good As It Gets (1997) uses this plot:

  1. Problem: Misanthropic Melvin Udall suffers from an obsessive-compulsive disorder
  2. Solution: Melvin falls in love with Carol Connelly, a server.
  3. Outcome: Through his relationship with Carol, Melvin reaches the point at which he can overcome his obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The Sex-Violence Plot

  1. Sex
  2. Violence
  3. Outcome


Fatal Attraction (1987) uses this plot:
  1. Sex: Dan Gallagher has an affair with Alexandra "Alex" Forrest.
  2. Violence: Unstable and possessive, Alex refuses to end the affair, attacking Dan's wife, Beth.
  3. Outcome: Dan rescues Beth, who shoots Alex, preventing her from killing her husband.

The Masquerade-Unmasking Plot
  1. Masquerade
  2. Unmasking
  3. Outcome



The Crying Game (1992) uses this plot:
  1. Masquerade: Dil, a transvestite, masquerades as a woman.
  2. Unmasking: Dil's true sex is revealed as she is about to have sex with Fergus.
  3. Outcome: Fergus and Dil remain close friends.

The Victimization-Vengeance Plot
  1. Victimization
  2. Vengeance
  3. Outcome



Sudden Impact (1983) uses this plot:
  1. Victimization: Jennifer Spencer and her sister are raped.
  2. Vengeance: One by one, Jennifer kills the rapists.
  3. Outcome: Detective “Dirty Harry” Callahan learns the serial killer's identity, but lets Jennifer walk.

The Temptation-Sin Plot
  1. Temptation
  2. Sin
  3. Outcome


Joan of Arc (1999) uses this plot:

  1. Joan of Arc is tempted to commit the sin of pride.
  2. Joan arrogantly insists on attacking Paris.
  3. Joan repents and receives God's forgiveness.

The Status Change-Adaptation Plot

  1. Status Change
  2. Adaptation
  3. Outcome


Shakespeare's King Henry IV, Part II uses this plot:
  1. Status Change: Prince Hal becomes King Henry IV.
  2. Adaptation: Henry IV adapts to his new status, becoming responsible and wise.
  3. Outcome: Henry IV defeats his enemies and rules well.

The Threat-Response Plot
  1. Threat
  2. Response
  3. Outcome


Alien (1979) uses this plot:
  1. Threat: An alien aboard the Nostromo space tug threatens Warrant Officer Ripley and the rest of the vessel's crew.
  2. Response: Ripley fights the alien.
  3. Outcome: Using her wits, Ripley defeats the alien, opening an airlock, which causes the creature to be sucked from the vessel, and blasts it with Nostromo's engine exhausts.

The Role-Reversal Plot
  1. Role
  2. Reversal
  3. Outcome


The Final Girl (2015) uses this plot:
  1. Role: Veronica poses as a helpless young woman, allowing four teenager serial killers to “lure” her into a forest as their next intended victim.
  2. Reversal: Actually a highly trained assassin, Veronica, the boys' intended prey, becomes the predator.
  3. Outcome: One by one, veronica kills her would-be killers.
There are plenty of other variations on this basic plot pattern. Perhaps we will consider others in a future post.

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.


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