DeepShadow
White Crow
"You might think the Twisting is a horror, that it turns men into monsters; most of us don't see it that way. Men are already the very worst kind of monsters, George. Out there, in your world, true evils lurk in innocent guises, hiding their blackened and venomous hearts behind pretty faces and pleasing smiles. Here in the Carnival, Isolde has made everyone equal, and everyone honest." Tindal--Carnival
Why I Write...What I Write....
I'm pretty open about my religious beliefs, and more often than not people are surprised and even confused to find that a writer who professes such a firm belief in the Gospel of Jesus Christ would write anything resembling gothic horror. Until people pointed it out to me, I never saw any contradiction or conflict in these two aspects of my life, but as my career as a writer has been picking up, I get more and more of these funny looks, so I figure I had better explain myself. This essay is as much for my own sake as for anyone who might read it, as I doubt I've heard the last on this topic, and I hope to have better answers prepared when it comes up again.
Perhaps it's best to start with why I write anything at all. I don't fully understand it myself, but spinning stories has always made me happy, and suppressing my urge to create them has always made me miserable. It's an outlet for feelings that are hard to express conversationally; if I could express them in a few words, I wouldn't waste time writing a lengthy parable! Being a Christian, it would make sense that most of these feelings center on internal issues--immortality, good vs. evil, the nature of the soul, etc. One way I focus on such issues is by removing other things the reader might identify with, a technique that lends itslef naturally to fantasy and science fiction. Consider the following passage from J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit, as the title character is scouting out a dragon's cave:
"Okay, But Why Horror?"
Over the past few years, fantasy literature has become increasingly disappointing to me. A few years back my wife and I were reading a fantasy book that remained mediocre despite engaging characters, demonic villains, dashing heroism, and terrible disasters. With all manner of demons wreaking their havoc on the "army of good" in a climactic battle, my wife sighed and said, "Wouldn't it be nice if the worst a demon could do is kill you."
This, we realized, was the core problem of the book: the looming threat that everyone was trying to prevent was death, and as a Christian, death just doesn't scare me like it used to! More and more fantasy stories are about people trying to save their lives rather than live them. There are always the wonderful exceptions, such as the Lord of the Rings, but people often refer to these exeptions as "dark fantasy." Although I accept this label for the sake of conversation, I've never quite understood it. By the same token, when I write fantasy, people invariably comment on the "darkness" of the tone. They are entitled to their opinion, but I believe this supposed "darkness" is only the shadow-side of the responsibility we all have to ourselves and our fellow-men.
The truth is, the fantasy genre is becoming the escapist umbrella that critics have long accused it of being. Writing that might cause the reader to look within himself for faults is rejected as "dark." The "heroes" of the fantasy genre concern themselves more with preserving life than with making it worth living. The "monsters" of fantasy are less and less a mirror of humanity's evils. Instead, they have become a safe way to have the "heroes" show off their muscles while remaining morally uncomplicated. After all, these are monsters, not human beings; they were born evil, and they are never going to change. How convenient. Even worse, the "monsters" of fantasy are more and more used to separate mankind from evil. If something evil happened, a monster is always at fault, rather than a human being. Human beings don't do things like that!
Of course, people are free to write what they want, but I strongly believe that reducing monsters into punching bags for the all-good humans will fail to satisfy the very need for which most readers turn to these works, and lately the fan base seems to be agreeing with me. Those in the Christian community who voice concerns about the rise of horror fantasy in modern culture might do well to take a better look at the works they find symptomatic of moral decline. A guide to one wildly popular fantasy horror TV series points out that the show's brilliance "...is not it's ingenious mythology, wonderful as it may be. Rather, it is the way the menacing creatures of legend mirror the monsters that mere human beings must face each day."
Readers of the horror genre enter the experience expecting a story that pulls no punches, that pushes boundaries, and upsets them, even if it's only at the most superficial level. Fantasy readers aren't always expecting this, and some of them make no bones about their low level of tolerance for the main character's suffering. The very world "tolerance" suggests they see this as a chore to be endured, rather than a learning experience to be cherished. What's to cherish in reading about someone's suffering? How about cherishing the fact that you don't have to go through it! The reader has the luxury of closing the book (or turning off the TV, as the case may be), collecting wits, and otherwise rejuvenating before heading back into the dungeon or the gauntlet. This places the reader in a better position to learn from these experiences than if he or she were actually living them, and that learning experience ought to be cherished.
Even in horror, not all writers would agree with my style. Many focus more on the horrors of the murderer outside your house trying to get in than on the murderer inside your heart trying to get out. Let others write what they will, and I say God bless them for it. As for me, I write what I write, and I can only hope it touches someone somewhere as deeply as writing it has touched me.
Why I Write...What I Write....
I'm pretty open about my religious beliefs, and more often than not people are surprised and even confused to find that a writer who professes such a firm belief in the Gospel of Jesus Christ would write anything resembling gothic horror. Until people pointed it out to me, I never saw any contradiction or conflict in these two aspects of my life, but as my career as a writer has been picking up, I get more and more of these funny looks, so I figure I had better explain myself. This essay is as much for my own sake as for anyone who might read it, as I doubt I've heard the last on this topic, and I hope to have better answers prepared when it comes up again.
Perhaps it's best to start with why I write anything at all. I don't fully understand it myself, but spinning stories has always made me happy, and suppressing my urge to create them has always made me miserable. It's an outlet for feelings that are hard to express conversationally; if I could express them in a few words, I wouldn't waste time writing a lengthy parable! Being a Christian, it would make sense that most of these feelings center on internal issues--immortality, good vs. evil, the nature of the soul, etc. One way I focus on such issues is by removing other things the reader might identify with, a technique that lends itslef naturally to fantasy and science fiction. Consider the following passage from J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit, as the title character is scouting out a dragon's cave:
"A sound...began to throb in his ears, a sort of bubbling like the noise of a large pot galloping on the fire, mixed with the rumble as of a gigantic tom-cat purring. This grew to the unmistakable gurgling noise of some vast animal snoring in its sleep down there in the red glow in front of him.
"It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterwards were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait."
The character is a fictional member of a fictional race, walking through a tunnel that was never carved through a mountain which never existed. He's on his way to face a fire-breathing dragon--a mythical creature--to deliver the dragon's hoard into the hands of dwarves--yet another race of mythical beings. His circumstances in their most literal form have only the thinnest comparison to any real experience the reader might have. But don't you identify with his feelings? Haven't you ever been in a situation where you asked yourself 'What am I doing here?!' Have you ever wanted to turn back so bad you were practically fighting a battle with yourself? I have, and that's what touches me whenever I read that passage."It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterwards were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait."
"Okay, But Why Horror?"
Over the past few years, fantasy literature has become increasingly disappointing to me. A few years back my wife and I were reading a fantasy book that remained mediocre despite engaging characters, demonic villains, dashing heroism, and terrible disasters. With all manner of demons wreaking their havoc on the "army of good" in a climactic battle, my wife sighed and said, "Wouldn't it be nice if the worst a demon could do is kill you."
This, we realized, was the core problem of the book: the looming threat that everyone was trying to prevent was death, and as a Christian, death just doesn't scare me like it used to! More and more fantasy stories are about people trying to save their lives rather than live them. There are always the wonderful exceptions, such as the Lord of the Rings, but people often refer to these exeptions as "dark fantasy." Although I accept this label for the sake of conversation, I've never quite understood it. By the same token, when I write fantasy, people invariably comment on the "darkness" of the tone. They are entitled to their opinion, but I believe this supposed "darkness" is only the shadow-side of the responsibility we all have to ourselves and our fellow-men.
The truth is, the fantasy genre is becoming the escapist umbrella that critics have long accused it of being. Writing that might cause the reader to look within himself for faults is rejected as "dark." The "heroes" of the fantasy genre concern themselves more with preserving life than with making it worth living. The "monsters" of fantasy are less and less a mirror of humanity's evils. Instead, they have become a safe way to have the "heroes" show off their muscles while remaining morally uncomplicated. After all, these are monsters, not human beings; they were born evil, and they are never going to change. How convenient. Even worse, the "monsters" of fantasy are more and more used to separate mankind from evil. If something evil happened, a monster is always at fault, rather than a human being. Human beings don't do things like that!
Of course, people are free to write what they want, but I strongly believe that reducing monsters into punching bags for the all-good humans will fail to satisfy the very need for which most readers turn to these works, and lately the fan base seems to be agreeing with me. Those in the Christian community who voice concerns about the rise of horror fantasy in modern culture might do well to take a better look at the works they find symptomatic of moral decline. A guide to one wildly popular fantasy horror TV series points out that the show's brilliance "...is not it's ingenious mythology, wonderful as it may be. Rather, it is the way the menacing creatures of legend mirror the monsters that mere human beings must face each day."
Readers of the horror genre enter the experience expecting a story that pulls no punches, that pushes boundaries, and upsets them, even if it's only at the most superficial level. Fantasy readers aren't always expecting this, and some of them make no bones about their low level of tolerance for the main character's suffering. The very world "tolerance" suggests they see this as a chore to be endured, rather than a learning experience to be cherished. What's to cherish in reading about someone's suffering? How about cherishing the fact that you don't have to go through it! The reader has the luxury of closing the book (or turning off the TV, as the case may be), collecting wits, and otherwise rejuvenating before heading back into the dungeon or the gauntlet. This places the reader in a better position to learn from these experiences than if he or she were actually living them, and that learning experience ought to be cherished.
Even in horror, not all writers would agree with my style. Many focus more on the horrors of the murderer outside your house trying to get in than on the murderer inside your heart trying to get out. Let others write what they will, and I say God bless them for it. As for me, I write what I write, and I can only hope it touches someone somewhere as deeply as writing it has touched me.
