How to Write Scary Ghost Stories that Terrify Your Readers Fear - TopicsExpress



          

How to Write Scary Ghost Stories that Terrify Your Readers Fear is one of the hard­est things to pro­voke in writ­ing. Just flip through the pages of any ghost story an­thol­ogy; how many of them are gen­uinely scary? It takes more than tor­tured groans and rat­tling chains; any­one can throw gore at the reader and call it a day, but the art of rais­ing goose bumps is an elu­sive one in­deed. If you can write a scary ghost story, you can write any­thing. Are you ready to in­spire night­mares? Then fol­low me… Fear of the Unknown Peo­ple don’t fear death. No one’s afraid of ghosts. Mon­sters, mur­der­ers, dark­ness—none of the hor­ror sta­ples are re­ally ter­ri­fy­ing. If you rely on your au­di­ence being scared sim­ply be­cause your story in­cludes any of the above, you’re doomed to fail. In­stead, you must un­der­stand where ter­ror truly lies. Every­one fears the un­known. Peo­ple don’t know what comes after death, so they get scared. They don’t know what’s mak­ing that noise in the other room, so they call it a ghost and get scared. Dark­ness could be hid­ing any­thing—what ex­actly, we don’t know—so we get scared. Get the pic­ture? We fear what we can­not un­der­stand. That’s why feel­ing a touch on your shoul­der when you’re all alone is so fright­en­ing: it should be im­pos­si­ble. The best ghost sto­ries take full ad­van­tage of this. You won’t see the ghost; you’ll only hear it, smell it, feel it. A ghost is like the wind; you’ll only see a cur­tain flut­ter, and the ques­tion will re­main in your mind, what is it? When writ­ing your ghost story, don’t be afraid of with­old­ing in­for­ma­tion. Re­mem­ber: your read­ers, by the very act of read­ing, have ac­ti­vated their imag­i­na­tions. Use this against them! Don’t bog them down with long vi­sual de­scrip­tions of a grue­some specter; I guar­an­tee what­ever you de­scribe will not be nearly as scary as what they come up with on their own. After all, they know what fright­ens them most, you do not. My most ex­treme ex­am­ple of this is The Mor­gan House, in which the en­tire cli­max is left un­clear. I offer only a few words of ex­pla­na­tion, just enough to guide the reader’s imag­i­na­tion down a suit­ably dark path. A less se­vere ex­am­ple can be found near the end of The Room with the Dolls. A Dreadful Descent There are likely in­fi­nite ways to struc­ture a scary story, but one thing will hold true for all of them: the fear is built up grad­u­ally. Think of it like you’re tak­ing the reader on a jour­ney from the safety of their world to the night­mare of yours. Like any jour­ney, it is a tran­si­tion from point A to point B. If you come out right away with your scari­est scene, it won’t have any ef­fect; the au­di­ence is still com­fort­ably rooted in a soft arm­chair by a warm fire. That’s not to say you can never start with a spooky scene—in fact, it’s a good way to catch the au­di­ence’s in­ter­est and en­tice them to keep read­ing. Just make sure you save the best for last. Wait until the reader has got­ten out of their comfy chair; wait until they’re curled up in the cold, damp cor­ner of the base­ment. Once a reader is primed, they’re that much eas­ier to scare. I use this steady pro­gres­sion of dread in The Ex­pe­di­tion of Howard Rick­son. The ex­plorer goes from dis­miss­ing the sounds as those of his team­mates to the grad­ual re­al­i­sa­tion that he is the only liv­ing soul in the place. Do You Believe in Ghosts? We all know your story is fic­tional. Ghosts aren’t real, and there’s noth­ing hid­ing under our beds. For­tu­nately, your au­di­ence is gra­cious enough to sus­pend their dis­be­lief, but you have to meet them halfway. Your plot has to make sense and your char­ac­ters have to be­have ap­pro­pri­ately. Give your read­ers enough de­tail (with­out vi­o­lat­ing the “fear of the un­known” prin­ci­ple) that they can im­merse them­selves in your world.
Posted on: Thu, 21 Nov 2013 19:09:02 +0000

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