A good horror story fascinates most of us. There’s something attractive about feeling a bit of fear in a controlled, safe manner. This also explains the lasting relevance of Gothic fiction. In today’s article I’ll show you how to write a good horror story.
I’ll start with a brief outline of what a horror story is (and what are the differences between a horror story and a Gothic fiction story). I’ll then tell you what are the secrets of a successful horror story, and how to make sure to include them in your own text.
Personally, I like to focus on the aspect of ambiguity and in-betweenness. In this, I draw from Tzvetan Todorov’s definition of the fantastic, as I will explain below.
Examining the differences between the ways Todorov and J.R.R. Tolkien define the fantastic is a fruitful task, as it allows us to pinpoint the ontology of the various expressions of the fantastic. Furthermore, it provides a great theoretical framework for researching more general aspects of otherness.
Recently someone left a review on my Narrative Nods android app. Part of their review was about that user’s narrative not having a narrative antagonist, and therefore, as he said, he didn’t need the option.
That review got me thinking. I realized that there must be many authors out there who probably don’t understand the concept of a narrative antagonist. As I explained in my article on the types of fiction characters:
The antagonist, as the name implies, functions as the force keeping the protagonist from achieving the given goal. The antagonist actively keeps the protagonist from achieving his/her/their goal. In other words, the antagonist’s opposition is not a result of error, tragic irony, or other such literary device – see information on the character type of the opponent, below.
This seems straightforward enough. However, I also mentioned in that article that:
In most complex narratives, the author can achieve the most powerful effect by having a character play a dual role. For instance, the protagonist and the antagonist can be one and the same actual character. Imagine someone who half the time works toward some goal (say, to find peace of mind over a past trauma), only to undermine his own efforts due to fear or suspicion.
This is probably the part about a narrative antagonist that many authors misunderstand. So, let’s take a closer look at this.
A narrative without a narrative antagonist is like a chess game with only one side. Sure, you can play a bit in a silly way, figuring out movements and combinations, but it’s all pointless.(more…)
