Slasher gore-fests are the most popular form of horror films. Gore also shows up in an awful lot of the horror stories and novels written today. And I might add in a lot of books that aren’t classed as horror.
This fascination with blood and guts, I suppose, hearkens back to the gladiatorial contests of ancient Rome. And the blood sports of Victorian England. Today we have laws against such things, so I suppose we substitute fiction for the real thing.
So, if gore is that popular, why don’t I write it? After all, it’s a potential money maker. And who doesn’t like money?
The simple answer is — I don’t like it. I don’t like to watch it and I don’t like to read it.
I don’t think blood and guts is particularly terrifying. It’s just gross. Sickening. I don’t find it entertaining, nor does it have any redeeming value in my opinion.
Terror and fear are in the mind, in how we see the world. Terror and fear can produce lingering effects. Effects that blood and guts just can’t match. It’s one reason why I call 1984 by George Orwell one of the most terrifying “horror” novels I’ve ever read. The unease — the fear — lasts for a very long time after the story ends. So long, in fact, I probably will never re-read the novel.
But there is another reason. As a writer trying to sell books, I find there are a whole lot of people who are in the same boat with me. They don’t like gore.
When people ask what I write, and I tell them horror, and I see them cringe, I quickly add, “Not the slasher and gore stuff.” It is then that I see them begin to relax. They may still be wary, but now I at least have the chance to explain what I do write and why they might like it.
I write mostly cosmic horror with an action–adventure twist. Cosmic horror is philosophical horror. It’s the thinking person’s horror. It’s root is in Lovecraft’s materialistic nihilism. It posits the question: what if we don’t matter?
If we in fact do not matter, what does that mean for us? In what way do we relate to those around us? How do we see ourselves? Do we, as individuals, have any meaning? And if we don’t, isn’t that horror on a scale far greater than a bunch of guts?
Philosophical horror challenges the Judeo-Christian assumptions upon which Western Civilization was built. And surprisingly, upon which many contemporary worldviews are built that are supposedly non-religious.
But most of all, I think philosophical horror stays with us for far longer than a slash fest because it taps into our base fear of meaninglessness. Our fear that we, in fact, do not matter. That we have no existential meaning.
Our sole purpose, if we observe nature, is to reproduce and then die to make room for the next generation. And since reproduction in the first world is at an all time low, we truly are useless eaters. At least as far as nature is concerned.
Which is why we need to find our own purpose for living. A purpose that gives us meaning in an otherwise meaningless existence.
Unfortunately, the vast majority of us seem to have failed in finding meaning for ourselves. Which is one reason, I suppose, for the incredible mass ennui we see in the first world countries. The extreme consumerism. The epidemic use of drugs. The mounting suicide rate.
We are living a horror story of meaninglessness.
When it comes to true horror, revulsion passes. Exposing our deep-seated fears does not.
Comments are always welcome. Until next time, happy reading!
Threads that Bind 
4 responses to “Why I Don’t Write Gore”
Wow, C-Man, this is some cerebral stuff! As generally happens, you’ve sparked my thoughts down several paths. Personally, I don’t much bother with horror movies anymore. There is no horror. There is gore and jump-scares. I don’t necessarily want to see someone being dismembered alive. That isn’t entertaining. And modern directors have a love affair with jump-scares that I don’t understand. A director goes to great effort to build suspense over a number of cuts, then throws it all away when a cat jumps at the Final Girl, dissipating the tension and causing the audience to react with nervous laughter. By the time of the final confrontation, people are looking at their watches and wondering if they can beat the traffic.
In books, I view gore like sex: If it contributes to the plot, illustrates something more effectively than a mere description could, then I’m all for it. If it’s gratuitous, I’ll be moving on, thanks. That’s a general rule I follow while writing as well.
As to whether we matter, I invite anyone to read Carl Sagan’s essay, The Pale Blue Dot. It’s available under that name on Wikipedia along with the photo that inspired it. Then come back and lecture me on how much we matter.
Another great article, my friend, but be careful; you keep this up, people are going to come to expect it every time!
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Howdy, friend! As you know, I recently started dipping my toe into the deep end of the blood-stained splatterpunk pool. So, you might think I love it and the modern jump scare routine. Eh, not really. while I do like the Evil Dead franchise, I feel it is the height of splatterpunk’s aim, but that’s it. So I appreciate for that. But for me, the genre of horror has slipped into the derivative jump scare and slasher mentality for a few reasons, not that I expect anyone to agree.
First, horror in film became a teen angst/flee from sin thing back in the late 70s. Before then, The Omen, Night Of The Living Dead, the Universal films, Rosemary’s Baby and so many others offered the dread of evil lurking, even killing, slow, steady, unstoppable. And if one did thwart it, well, it would slither in through the back door for a sequel. Later filmmakers kept the first and last part, but didn’t really understand the middle. They only saw what they felt was lacking. And as such, they dove in to correct it. Hard.
Second, there were some very good films from this next generation in the 1980s. Nightmare On Elm Street. The first Friday The 13th. On the surface they’re teen sex romps, careless, reckless, but it introduced horror to a generation who had grown cynical and psychological horror had lost its power (more on that last). Cheap thrills, teen issues, and residue from the 70s grindhouse era powered this on. The successful ones made the big bucks. So, well, then came the demand for more. If anyone enjoyed how Sam Raimi filmed the first Spider-Man films, he learned all that doing Evil Dead, perhaps the top tier of jump scares and gore. Not trying to sell anyone on liking gore, just making a note.
Third and last is reality. Though I love psychological horror, most of that love is based on the acting, the atmosphere, the mood, the story. But the horror never hit me, or anyone from Gen X on down. Why? We could debate it for decades, but I think a swath of it is real life ground us slowly to where psychological anything just…feels like real life. This reminds us real life is a horror, so, why watch it? And so something as ridiculous, as visceral as splatterpunk, gore, shock horror is the more than the modern world’s taste for violence (though it plays its role). It’s the modern world’s escapism from the psych horror the way flicks about the rich in fancy suits, or murderous gangsters, were for the Depression.
For me, splatterpunk is a new punk to try, as I’ve sworn to write in all the punks. I admit, it’s challenging. But, I too, see many cringe at the idea of gore. It’s definitely an acquired taste.
Okay, the last sentence might have used less than choice words for this topic, lol.
Take care!
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I enjoyed this post. Like you, I’m not really a fan of blood and gore, especially when used to excess. I have occasionally used it in my fiction, but to me, gore is like an exclamation point or an adverb. Use it too much and it loses its power. Used at just the right point in a story, I think it can make a powerful point. In psychological or cosmic horror, it can serve to remind us that we’re only so much viscera and the line between being a living, thinking being and a lump of meat is all too thin indeed.
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CW, I agree with you regarding gratuitous gore (but I also agree with David that it can be used strategically). For me your post also had the side effect of highlighting perhaps the biggest threat to our first-world society – existential dread. Even if they’re not well enough educated to articulate it the way you (and Lovecraft) did, I think that may be the biggest factor driving so many people to use mind-altering drugs. “The pursuit of happiness just seems a bore… They’re so hard to satisfy, you can tranquilize your mind…” Jagger & Richards got it, and so did you in your gory way. 🙂
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