A pivotal point in my novel “Deliver Us” involves the characters traveling to other worlds. Three doorways are opened up to allow the characters to travel to a gothic horror, a proper-manners romance, and a dystopian scifi world. Illustrator Dan Johnson has captured this moment perfectly. I’m proud to present it here.
On November 7, 2022, my story “Dermis” was published on Havok. This is a story I started many years ago in high school when I met a new friend, Len. Len was an artist, I was a writer, and we were both excited about horror comics. Together, we decided to put together a comic book in the spirit of E.C.’s “Tales from the Crypt.” I came up with five stories and he illustrated three of them.
This was my first collaboration, and it taught me something at an early age. Being a teenager, I thought I was God’s gift to writing. If I could just break out, I knew I’d write best selling novels, be successful at everything I tried, and have millions of fans. When I gave my stories to Len, his illustrations brought them to life as I expected. What I didn’t expect was that he added captions to shape the tales in a visual way. He increased the level of quality of the stories, and to this day, my hat’s off to him.
This made me realize a few fundamental elements of writing. The first is that the author doesn’t work alone. Even if writers don’t elect to have their stories illustrated, they still collaborate with fellow writers, editors, and their readers to make a stronger story. Len taught me some basics of writing a comic book that I’ve applied to general writing for the rest of my life.
The other element was humility. We all want to be the best at our craft, but you can always find someone better. And it’s not that simple. Someone may excel at dialog but have less skills in sensual detail. Others may have solid foundational talents but less creativity. No matter what you do, don’t compare yourself. Learn instead. You may think you are better at something than someone else, but that shouldn’t inhibit you from growing. Even the best soccer player in the world can learn from the second-best.
Getting back to “Dermis,” I wrote a similar story for our comic book collaboration all those years ago. This was one of the three Len illustrated, and I remember the last panel perfectly. That one-pager was ridiculous but a ton of fun and always somewhere in my memory. While the original story has changed quite a bit, the bones (sic) of it remain the same. In tribute to its early origins, I asked my collaborator now, Dan Johnson, to illustrate the final panel like a graphic novel (see below). He did a fantastic job. And I consider “Dermis” incomplete without his contribution.
Havok site: https://gohavok.com
Lovers and Other Monsters, an anthology edited by Marvin Kaye presents suspense and horror stories centered on the theme of love, in particular, eros love. Kaye is well known for putting together unique and interesting anthologies, and he’s collected some of Weird Tale’s best stories in his other anthologies. This offering consists of approximately forty-five short stories (it’s how you count them, one is contained in another), six poems, and one play. Most of the stories are short, including a handful of flash fiction, which is surprising when one considers the author had to set up a “love/lust” story as well as a horror story. The anthology is arranged in clever sections: Odd Couples (mismatched characters), Worldly Love (non-supernatural, often suspenseful, relationships), Not of this World (supernatural creatures/themes), Out of this World (often, scifi), and Fatal Attractions (often femme or homme fatale). As Marvin Kaye writes in his introduction, this is not an anthology for the romantic as a vast majority of the stories have a tragic ending.
So what can you expect? Kaye’s selection of authors varies from the expected (Edgar Allan Poe, Ray Bradbury) to the surprising (Arthur Conan Doyle, Dashiell Hammett, Mary Higgins Clark). Unlike some anthologies, you’ll find some gems here like a rare short story by Anne Rice; a short story by Ray Bradbury from his Dark Carnival collection, long out of print; a lust story by Isaac Asimov; an original, unedited poem by Christina Rossetti; and a translated erotic story by Guillaume Apollinaire. There’s even a story that Kaye had collected but lost a few of the pages. The backstory was he tracked down the author, Dan Potter. Mr. Potter also did not have the original or a copy, so he rewrote the pages strictly for the anthology (“Tripping the Light Fantastic”). In this last case, this background is more interesting than the resulting narrative.
You’ll also find authors who are the staples of suspense and horror here, but not perhaps their best known work, including Edgar Allan Poe, Theodore Sturgeon, and H.P. Lovecraft.
The anthology works best as a collection of widely varying stories. You must have an eclectic taste in genres to truly enjoy it. If you are strictly a horror aficionado, you’ll have trouble with the more literature-based contemporary stories. On the other hand, those who love Alfred Hitchcock but could care less about monster tales will find themselves skipping many sections.
Rating each story 1-10, I have stories on either end of the scale. Ironically, my favorite remains that most underrated Poe tale, “Berenice.” I believe this is one of his best. Every time I read it, I get a thrill, and it remains just as chilling without the gore and relativism that dominates modern horror.
The other standouts include “Teacher” by C. H. Sherman. In the Odd Couples category, the story teases a “Legend of Sleepy Hollow” narrative but shifts gears suddenly. Well-written and suspenseful, it was my favorite discovery. “The Fiend” by Frederik Pohl was a surprising sci-fi story that fit the theme of the anthology perfectly. Intensely creepy but with definite science fiction overtones, this one won me over. And “The Maiden” by Ray Bradbury was a guilty choice. Likely written in under an hour and dismissed by Bradbury later (he didn’t re-publish it in his October Country collection of Dark Carnival tales), it’s a rare insight into a younger, more vicious Ray that people don’t often read.
The majority of stories are worth reading. A rock star’s fan is a winged creature (Songs of my Young), a love story between an adventurer and a female minotaur (Minotauress), a woman driving her car while dragging her husband’s corpse around (The Woman Who Dragged Her Husband’s Corpse), an astronaut discovers a flower on Europa with horrific results (Moonflower), a being that lurks in your dreams and uses seduction to kill you (Let No Man Dream), the perfect match upsets the reality of a man’s life (The Deadly Ratio), an updated lady-and-the-tiger story set at the time of Jesus (“The Lady and the Tiger”).
Overall, an interesting anthology. I have many similar ones on my bookshelf, but none so creatively themed. Recommended.
This blog series wraps up exploring haunted attractions and how scary attractions must have story elements. We’ve examined perspective, alternate endings, setting, and “the hook” (or, the promise). This last in the series looks at characters.
Dead Man’s Pier: Winter’s Wake is an attraction not based on an existing intellectual property but imagined by the team at Universal Studios – Florida. This was the last—and best—house I visited the one night I was at Universal Studios. The group in front of us entered and I heard one say “Oh, wow.” Walking in, one enters the middle of a town square set somewhere in an imaginary New England coastal town. The sound of water and the noticeable drop in temperature only added to the immersive setting.
But this house is about more than setting. It tells the story of a dead sea captain summoning ghosts / zombies from the sea. Also, a violinist is connected to the onslaught of the undead in its cold and icy surroundings.
This house was both thrilling and awe-inspiring. The sets were picture perfect, the effects were a great deal of fun, and some of the images—especially of the violinist—will stick in my mind for a long time. I loved every minute of this house, and it will forever be the best haunted attraction I ever walked through! (Note the word “walked through.” “Rode through” belongs at the theme park down the road).
Note: The image below is from inside the attraction as you enter. The picture is actually cutoff—far more of the town is present. Notice the detail of the setting and the statue of the violinist, promising what lies ahead. Amazing.
But how does this relate to story telling? As in the best of attractions, including a certain mansion down the way, it gives you only glimpses of a story without spelling it out. Your mind fills in the details. It also has characters that are distinguishable and central to the plot. The sea captain makes an early appearance. His presence warns you of what is to come. And what about the siren-like violinist perched atop the scenery! Nowhere did it say that her melody is what raised the dead, but it’s strongly implied. The use of multiple actors throughout the set really lends to the story and atmosphere. The instant I exited, I wanted to write a story about “Dead Man’s Pier.” And doesn’t that happen with most good stories? To retell them with your additions or embellishments?
Good stories require a strong character. The plot alone cannot generate enough interest to get the reader to the end. Most haunted attractions are based on plot, but when one goes above and beyond and creates its own memorable characters, then you have something truly special. As in writing, when you combine interesting characters with a well-designed plot, it’s a one-two combination that has the reader spinning with joy.
This blog series continues exploring haunted attractions and how even spook houses must have story elements. The first two entries examined perspective and setting. The third in the series looks at “the hook.”
In 2022, I was fortunate enough to visit several haunted attractions in Universal Studios – Orlando’s theme park. I will briefly describe and review the house and then dive into how it uses storytelling techniques (plot, setting, hook, characters) to enhance the mood.
Today’s blog reviews a house called “Bugs: Eaten Alive.” It’s the 1950s and you’re taking a tour of the house of the “future.” This house has been treated with bug repellent to keep the creepy-crawlies away. As you enter, something goes terribly wrong.
The maze guides the visitor through a retro-setting as people affected by the repellent or the bugs act out the gruesome effects. You’ll also run into the insects themselves in a variety of sizes. I loved the twist on the theme as you’ll find no chainsaw-bearing maniacs here. My only critique was the house was a little too dark, so I felt I didn’t get the entire effect. Those who are afraid of bugs, beware. This one seriously plays with your mind.
The attraction has a threadbare plot and some nameless characters. The housewife/demonstration woman shows up multiple times providing a fun, fear-filled continuity to this house. But what really makes this stand out is its unique concept. All I have to say is “haunted attraction, but instead of people jumping out to scare, it’s centered on bugs,” and it sparks the imagination. Will there be real bugs? How will the house simulate insects? What will happen to the people inside?
A great hook is essential to a story people will want to read. The hook is the promise to your reader of what will happen if they spend time with your art. This summary should be complimented by a payoff that fulfills that promise. But it all starts with the hook. If you can describe your story, song, movie, painting, or haunted attraction in a sentence (or maybe two, but that’s stretching it) while firing up your audience’s imagination, then you have them.
“Bugs” is by far one of the unique ideas to come out of Halloween Horror Nights in Orlando, and I’m glad I didn’t miss it.
This blog series continues exploring haunted attractions and how even spook houses should have story elements. The last entry examined perspective, now we move onto setting.
In 2022, I was fortunate enough to visit several haunted attractions in Universal Studios – Orlando’s theme park. I will briefly describe and review the house and then dive into how it uses storytelling techniques (plot, setting, characters) to enhance the mood.
Today’s blog reviews two houses: “Descendents of Destruction” and “Hellblock Horror.” In Descendents, the human race has migrated underground because the upper atmosphere is too deadly (or something like that). In Hellblock, a prison break of monstrous humans is in process, and you’ve stumbled into it.
Descendents of Destruction was an enjoyable house. The deeper one proceeds, the weirder the creatures popping out at you. While fun, this was a typical maze with great costumed players. A few subway effects added to the enjoyment.
I admit, I wasn’t enthused by Hellblock Horror’s theme, but it drew me in and won me over. Gory and loud, the “regular” people warning you throughout the house left me with some chilling memories. Much better than expected.
But how do these two houses connect to a story? The plot is threadbare and no “character” stands out. They get the point-of-view right—you are basically an intruder and somewhere you really shouldn’t be. Where they both succeed is their excellent settings.
Most mazes are set in houses where zombies dwell, or compounds where a virus has escaped, or junkyards where maniacs roam. Most local scary attractions don’t have the budget to recreate a subway tunnel or a prison with such detail. This is where these two mazes shine. A setting shouldn’t be an afterthought or window dressing. If done right, it is as much a part of the story as the plot. Think of the factory in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It could’ve been ordinary with a few extraordinary touches, but Roald Dahl makes the setting intricately connected to its owner and the plot. Similarly, these two houses used abandoned railway trains and red lights, giant fungi and cell doors to their advantage. In like manner, a story should use its setting to its advantage. How much more romantic to have your couple fall into a bed shaped like a heart? How much more chilling when your character realizes the paintings in the room used human skin instead of canvas?
So carefully consider your setting when writing or revising your story. Use it to bring out emotions in characters, to reflect themes, or to convey atmosphere.
In early autumn, neighborhood spook houses spring up everywhere. Anyone looking for a thrill has several local options to wander through a darkened, enclosed maze while costumed people jump out at them. While the quality of these attractions vary, they are rarely associated with the basics of writing. However, haunted attractions should be an interactive story. This series of blogs examine haunted attractions from a storytelling point-of-view.
In 2022, I was fortunate enough to visit several haunted attractions in Universal Studios – Orlando’s theme park. I will briefly describe and review the house and then dive into how it uses storytelling techniques (plot, setting, characters) to enhance the mood.
Today’s blog reviews “When Legends Collide,” a mash-up of Dracula, the Wolfman, and the Mummy ready to scare the caca out of you. The back story is something about Dracula and the Wolfman going to Egypt for some artifact, but it doesn’t matter. The sets are amazing and the makeup spectacular. This is your typical haunted attraction where you’re stumbling down hallways in the dark while people dressed as monsters jump out at you. Overall, I had hoped for a bit more story and more atmosphere.
One expectation I had was to see some scenes with the monsters fighting each other. This is Universal Studios, for Pete’s sake. Many classic movies have the monsters duking it out, instead of scaring people. The problem is one of perspective. This house trumpets three monsters instead of one and even adds “collide” in the title. But, it seems to me, they should be colliding with each other, not with us. I would’ve appreciated a room with two monsters fighting near the end of the maze. I figure the designers of the attraction thought this wouldn’t be scary because the people aren’t the target, so they shied away from it.
An author may learn a lesson here. If the perspective of the story is wrong, the writing’s effect may be diminished, or even confusing. I’m often tempted to choose the perspective that will give me maximum shock effect, but that may lessen the readers’ connection to the material. A more interesting character’s perspective, even though they may not appear as the main character at first, may enhance the story.
Try an exercise and write a few scenes from a different point-of-view. If it bears fruit, discern whether to switch the point-of-view, or potentially use two POVs in your writing.
On a high note, the Legends Collide house has a different ending this week. This alternate ending is something impossible (or nearly so) to achieve in a novel, proving each media (and I consider these houses as a form of theater) has its own advantage.
By the way, Mummy won when I went through the house. Go Team Mummy!
We all know species in the animal kingdom are warm-blooded and cold-blooded. While it’s unfair to categorize warm-blooded mammals as nurturing and caring, and cold-blooded lizards as hard-hearted and vicious, we often fall into thinking this way. As it happens, I often view my own stories in the same way.
My “warm” stories have all the feels. They have characters that will likely survive, or if they perish, will do so in a blaze of glory. My characters are tender-hearted and caring, placed in a threatening situation. I purposely pull on the heart strings. My Kingdom fantasies and my flash fiction, “The Extra,” published by everydayfiction.com are warm.
My “cold” stories are entirely different. The characters in them will likely not live to see “The End.” If they do, they are changed forever (maimed, insane). The characters are threatened. They often don’t see their fates sealed until the final few sentences. The plots are usually very dark; the atmosphere is brooding. I purposely run a literal finger down the reader’s spine. My flash fiction published in Havok (gohavok.com) up to this point, has been cold.
My latest Havok offering, The Wick of Anger, is a decent balance between the two. While it has the premise of a campfire tale of a young man raising the dead to exact revenge, the short fiction veers into warm territory before the final sentence. I enjoyed mixing these two approaches together. So while the idea of someone who rights wrongs by bringing corpses out of their graves may entice you, I hope you also enjoy the consequences such an act has on one’s soul. “Revenge is a dish best served cold,” they say. In my case, it’s served warm.
Ye Olde Dragon Books’ second anthology of classic monsters targets Frankenstein and asks the question “Who’s the Monster?” Is it the ambitious scientist who goes too far? Is it his creation who, after being rejected, runs amok? Is it both? Or is it a society that can’t see beneath the layers of scars and stretched skin, tormenting those that are different?
Ten authors proffer tales of horror and tenderness, love and hate. Through historical fantasy fiction, twisted science fiction, and cautionary campfire tales, they provide an answer. Who is the monster?
(At this point, I must disclose that my story is included in this anthology and exempt from this review.)
Two of the stories in the anthology fall into the category of an interesting take on the theme of “scientists” and their creations. The first concerns characters who don’t trust their own bodies. “Fix and Refresh,” by Pam Halter, poses an intriguing perspective on Shelley’s tale. This story had me guessing at each page. The second is “Inertia” by Etta-Tamara Wilson. A fascinating portrayal of a so-called “crazed” creator of technology, and an ending that stays long after the last word.
Most offerings in the anthology included could be categorized as urban fantasy—our world with a monster or re-animation science present—except for Michelle L. Levigne’s “Patches.” Her tale explores a monster set firmly in a fantasy world. Levigne’s take on the theme is the most creative version of the monster of all the stories (I won’t spoil how). Humorous and quirky, it’s a “sunny afternoon” in the midst of many “stormy night” stories.
For a darker tone, Deborah Cullins Smith’s “Phillippe” is historical fantasy of what happens when a convent of vampire-hunting nuns come across a Frankenstein monster. Both a short story and an introduction to a novel, the story continues Shelley’s narrative to explore an expanded world of people and the supernatural.
Kaitlyn Emery’s “Monster Girl,” told from multiple perspectives, imagines the monster of Shelley’s novel living among us. A portrayal of loneliness (surprisingly not only of the monster), this tale is an affectionate view of everyone we spurn because they are different.
The next story continues a narrative begun in anthology #1, Moonlight and Claws. Stoney M. Setzer’s “The Sentinel” depicts a world of monsters created by evil geniuses. This one is action-packed, suspenseful, and clearly answers the question of who is the monster.
“Not My Fault” by C. S. Watcher is more science fiction than horror, though it definitely has horrific images. A surprise concept in this anthology, I enjoyed it from beginning to end. When you read the final paragraph, the reader realizes the “Frankenstein” element isn’t the only horror element included.
Lindsi McIntyre’s “The Fear of a Monster” is an encounter between a brutal monster and a quick-thinking girl. The tension is high throughout, but resolves with a satisfying ending. Her take on Frankenstein’s creation feels spot-on.
“The Man on the Train” by Abigail Falanga grabbed me from the beginning to the very last sentence. This story’s style, characters, and plot all blend together into one scary yet thrilling narrative. Really enjoyed this one. Great idea; great execution.
“Who’s the Monster?” with its patchworked creations, amateur software engineers, affectionate but misunderstood monsters, super-soldiers, time travelers, and many more, is like a fun house of an anthology. With its pastiche of offerings, someone is bound to find something they love.
Frankenstein. As you read that word, what do you think of? Likely images of a tall monster or possibly of a crazed doctor. Yet the word was intended to be a last name of a character in a story. The original novel had a subtitle of “The Modern Prometheus” in order to attract readers because, in 1818, no one knew what “Frankenstein” meant. Today, it would be similar to publishing a book named “Johnson.”
Yet both the book by Mary Woolencraft Shelly and subsequent movies have changed all that. Frankenstein the noun is a scary monster. Frankenstein the verb means “to cobble together with spare parts.” The novel is considered solid literature and the 1931 film is widely accepted as a classic. Frankenstein towers over his peers. In the book, the main theme explores what happens when man acts as a God. Compare that to Brahm’s Stoker’s Dracula which contrasts modern technology with superstition or Gaston Leroux’s Phantom which is mostly a crime thriller. Only Stevenson’s Jekyll/Hyde’s themes of duality rival Shelley’s. In film, Karloff’s portrayal is iconic; the sequel, Bride of Frankenstein is as well-known as the original (who here has seen Dracula’s Daughter?). The modern master of horror, Stephen King, included the monster in It. Even the spoof (Young Frankenstein) is better than any others.
What keeps Frankenstein on the top of the heap? (From here on out, I’m going to focus on the monster)
Eliza, a character in my short story “Frankenstein’s Manor” in Who’s the Monster?, doesn’t think the monster is relevant anymore. She openly mocks the movies in the middle of a spook house. Bad idea. Her claim is that modern monsters leave Frankenstein’s monsters in the dust. Yet the Jason’s and Jigsaw’s of the world have yet to stand the test of time to see if they endure. Sure, the movie Halloween has been out since the 1970s, but Frankenstein was written in 1818. From that perspective, Michael Meyer is still in his infancy.
Frankenstein is a creature of force and violence like most modern monsters, yet has a tragedy about him most serial-killer creatures lack. This makes him more interesting. Frankenstein looks creepy, lending to the initial shock of seeing him. Compare him to Dracula or human-appearing monsters. We think of Frankenstein’s monster as a zombie, a revived corpse. Yet most zombie films are frightening because of their number. And Frankenstein is not a mindless zombie eating brains. In both book and film, he is a child of a mistake, a wayward soul seeking peace.
Aren’t we all? And doesn’t this connect him with us on a personal level? Only the Wolfman (who is a variation on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde) has a similar connection (of our good and bad natures).
Each generation asks the same questions. Who is my creator? Why was I put here? I’m a loving person, so why do people hate me? Are these not the questions that cross your mind at times? These reflections are what connect us to the monster through the decades to now, and through the decades to come.
So is he scary? As immortal as Jason, hell yes. Is he sympathetic? In my opinion, as the androids in Blade Runner. Most importantly, the Frankenstein Monster is enduring, able to survive the comic hijinx of Abbott and Costello or misfire of many subsequent, inferior films. Frankenstein—in all media—stands the test of time.