There’s something wrong with me. There must be.
I mean, other than writing horror stories – in both senses as I’m not much of a writer – I look and act, for the most part, relatively normal. Well, as normal as normal goes I guess.
I’m quite boring. Ordinary. You’d find talking to a lump of coal just as interesting and probably more memorable. Yet here in this place, I spew out horror stories. Or horrific stories if you prefer. Am I actually a monster inside? I don’t think so. But then again, ask any murdering axe killer and they would say the same.
Ever been struck by how pleasant and downright normal the most heinous of serial killers appear when interviewed by the media? Intelligent, erudite and charming. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Think you know someone? Think again.
A reader once asked me if I read a lot of horror stories to get my inspiration. I was embarrassed to say, no, no I don’t. I don’t search out the genre at all. Never have. I don’t much like horror films either. They upset me. Disturb me. So I avoid them. As a teenager, yes, great excitement, but as an old man, no, no thank you.
These days, the pleasanter things in life appeal more. When I told my dear enquiring reader this, she looked at me terribly askance and then, hand over mouth, started slowly backing away. Instinctively, she had sensed that there must be something wrong with me. Inside me. Had she a crucifix to hand, she would have quickly brandished it to protect herself.
Yes, she’s right, the horror must be inside me. It must. It’s clear. The proof is I’ve allowed it to drip out through wounded words, their blood leaking and spreading stickily over virginal and pristine pages. Or more correctly, screens. The horror. Maybe I’m another Colonel Kurtz. Sane but insane.
No I’m not. But then I would say that, wouldn’t I?
Where do my fellow horrid horror writers get their inspiration I wonder? (answers please in the comments)
Where does all this visceral horror come from? Do we – and by that I really mean I – simply like to tell scary stories that delight and surprise our reader in the safety of their home? Sure! Honest, I’m not really a secret axe murder. You can believe me. Come into my parlour and have a nice cup of tea and a piece of cake. You know it will do you good. You’ll enjoy it. You’ll never want to leave. I promise…
Threads that Bind 
3 responses to “I’m Not Normal”
Okay, first of all, you need to quit saying you’re not a writer, unless you’re in hiding from the HWA mafia. Your stuff is superb! And this is a pretty good description of writers and killers, too. I’m going to be looking at my fellow authors with a jaundiced eye after reading this. Come clean, now; how many of you are writing autobiographical stories?
LikeLike
I relate to this a lot. Like you, I don’t seek out a lot of horror. I do read some. I do watch some films, but I probably read and watch more science fiction, especially science fiction about bright and positive futures. However, sometimes a terrifying image comes to mind or some deep dread and I just have to write it down. Maybe it’s my way of exorcising those mental demons so I can get on with a more positive outlook.
On a similar note, I went to my first horror convention earlier this year. Afterwards my daughter and I compared notes and realized that the crowd was incredibly nice, one of the friendliest groups on the whole we’ve met at a convention.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Interesting… Where do I get the warped ideas for some of the horror/sci-fi I’ve dabbled in? My stock answer for anyone who asks is always, ‘I read a lot’ (and watch the occasional movie or TV show). But when I first started writing that kind of story, I remember being determined to throw all caution to the wind and just do whatever came to mind. What comes to mind is sometimes rather disturbing, but what does that mean? Is it a way for me to exorcise subconscious demons? Do I simply enjoy being a bad boy now and then? Or am I someone Jack should keep an eye on? 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person