Horrible Writing

As a writer of horror (and the greatest horror is in trying to get published) I watch horror movies. Part of the fun is that some poorly made movies can be quite good while some studio productions can be awful. The difference is in the writing.

I’m sure we’ve all seen horror films that are dashed together startle scenes and gory with no plot or storyline. Good escapism they may be, but they leave you hungry. The mind craves a story to follow, even in horror. Especially in horror.

I’ve recently entered the market for buying a house. I’m a first time buyer. Probably it wasn’t a good idea to binge watch the Amityville trilogy. The first film is okay, being loosely based on the book. The second film is more disturbing than scary and that’s because of an evil father. The third is pure tripe.

Amityville 3-D has plot lines raised and dropped like fire bombs over Dresden. So spare in its writing that actors are frequently given no lines, they stand stupidly watching things that’d make a warrior scream. No wonder the screenwriter was billed under a pseudonym.

I’m not picking on this film alone. The point is that what makes a film good is the writing. Of course, if you’re reading this blog you probably know that few people like to pay for writing. Literary magazines sometimes try, book publishers actively try to avoid, and some movie producers abhor paying writers. They are, however, the ones who spin and weave the threads that make whole cloth.

It’s a curious state of affairs that those who come up with the ideas, the story line, the narrative arc, are devalued in the process. Perhaps its because we struggling writers yearn for whatever we can get. Society prefers cheap entertainment. When it gets what it pays for, as in some horror movies, it will complain. After all, it’s less costly than paying a writer.

Comments

Dusty

My, this thing is dusty. My fans—hi, Mom!—perhaps believe me to have perished in the pandemic. No, it was nonfiction’s fault. Since the pandemic began I’ve had two nonfiction books published and have written a third. With a nine-to-five job something’s got to give. Unfortunately it’s been fiction. Well, the groundhog didn’t see his shadow yesterday, so it must be safe to come out. I shuffled away the rejection notes and began submitting again. I’ve got a backlog of weird stories and maybe some new publishers have emerged? The thing is, don’t you just hate it when you’re in the mood to submit and some lit journal has its window for submissions firmly shut? My last story, “ The Hput, ” was published about three years ago. Oh, I’ve submitted since then, but with no traction. Well, it is winter. I’ve got a lot of stories lined up. I’ve been sending them out again, dreaming of making a dime at what I love doing best...

Creative Righting

Rejection of my writing is a rejection of my imaginative world. That’s why I was cheered by the acceptance of one of my stories this week. That makes number 31. I’ve been working on a lot of fiction lately, even as nonfiction book number 6 is going to press. The ideas are still there, and bizarre as ever, but publishing venues just aren’t welcoming. The other day I had lunch with a professor whose wife is also a professor. She just had her first novel published, and so he pointed me to her indie publisher. I went to their website to learn that they’re closed to submissions. I have to admit that my latest accepted story, “Creative Writing Club,” was probably given the green light because I know the editor. That seems like a pretty dicey way to get any notice, doesn’t it? You have to know the right people even in the low circulation world. My fiction is difficult to classify. It’s got speculative elements to it. ...

Patterns

There’s a pattern I’m noticing. For fiction publishers. Even if you aim low you’ll find it a struggle. Part of the reason is the pattern. Lots of websites list publishers. The smaller, hungrier presses either eventually close or get to a place where they require an agent to get in. That’s the kiss of death. Although my stories have won prizes, and been nominated for prizes, I can’t get an agent interested. I’ve queried well over a hundred, so the agent route is one of diminishing returns. This too is a pattern. Back to the smaller presses. I check many lists. What I write, you see, is highly idiosyncratic. It’s literary but it’s weird. Publishers don’t know what to do with it. If a smaller press published stuff like this, I’d find it. The pattern includes writers who never get discovered. Ironically, a number of editors of fiction literary magazines (mostly online) tell me they enjoy my wor...

K. Marvin Bruce

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