In the Darkness... a reason to trust your instincts
The first story I actually completed was entitled "In the Darkness", which has been submitted already to one Canadian magazine (On Spec). At around the same time I was working on this story (and waiting for a response from On Spec magazine), I had a number of other stories floating around in my head, on my computer, and on paper, most of which I have still not finished. I now have a better understanding of where all those fragments of unfinished works that always seem to surface when an author passes away come from. How many stories go unfinished because the author set them aside, forget them, or simply didn't pursue them any further? And how many of those stories were later found by some relative amidst the author's belongings? Some of those stories no doubt make it into publication long after the author's passing, either in their incomplete form or completed at the hands of a relation or other "ghost writer".
At any rate, "In the Darkness" was the first story I completed since returning to my writing desk (which has evolved into a computer desk... my noisy old word processor has been replaced by a laptop, the giant three ring binders of paper supplanted by a USB drive that is smaller than my thumb; technology can be a blessing for a writer, though I admit at times I resort to the use of pen and notebook, simply for the enjoyment I get from writing stories out by hand!). I was immediately unhappy with the story; I felt it was "too commercial" and in some ways seemed like a timid approach to begin my return to writing with.
The original concept was very much my own, and hints of my personal writing style (inspired by my favorite horror writers) remained, but the general feel and nature of the story shifted. I compromised a great deal to make the story something I imagined the market of today would want, creating a story that had all those aspects that seemed to dominate the horror genre of this day and age: a group of teenaged imbeciles break into a creepy old house and meet a terrible fate at the clutches of some nameless horror that dwells within. I love that house and its nameless, lurking horror - they were the only part of the original story concept to survive at all, and the madness and death they unleashed upon my stereotypical protagonists was actually cathartic for me. At any rate, my wife and friends liked the story very much, and I decided to mail it off all the same, despite my misgivings.
I waited quite a while to hear back, which is not uncommon. I moved on to other stories, but couldn't concentrate on them for more than a few pages, wondering what the response to "In the Darkness" would be. In due time, the eagerly awaited and equally dreaded response arrived. My wife intercepted it, and admitted to me that she considered hiding it from me when she read the response.
The magazine editor didn't like it. It was, to paraphrase, too typical. An unoriginal story about a group of teenagers who went into a haunted house and met with terrible ends.
I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry. I'd twisted my story into a popular culture motif under the misguided belief that to get started I had to write what I thought the status quo would want. I had compromised my own style and preferences, written something that I myself would never choose to read, believing that it was better to get my name out there before trying to market the kinds of stories I would prefer to write. After all, my literary idol, H. P. Lovecraft himself, had received at best mixed reviews of his decidedly untraditional tales, becoming more popular in the years since his death than when he was still alive. How many music artists had told the tale of how they had to "work with the system", sacrificing artistic integrity in order to work their way to a position where they were free to exert their own creative license?
The irony that I had written a horror story and sacrificed its unique qualities out of some obscure fear of rejection only to have the publisher reject it on those very grounds was not lost on me. I couldn't very well take offense to the rejection letter: I hated the story for the very same reasons that the publisher sited. I'd earned that first rejection letter.
I think I may have since thrown it out, a decision I now regret. It may be tucked on a shelf or in a drawer somewhere. I rather hope it is, because if I ever find it again I plan to pin it up on my wall above my desk. It symbolizes the first attempt of mine to return to writing. It also serves as a reminder that writers, especially those who write horror, fantasy, science fiction, and their many permutations, should above all be bold, and not afraid to step outside the lines of conformity.
I still have copies of "In the Darkness", and will be likely mailing out at least one more copy as it currently exists to a different magazine, just to see the response. I may revise it, return it to the story it was meant to be and leave the hapless teen protagonists to the tender mercies of Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhayes and Michael Meyers. I may simply keep it as a momento of my attempt at conformity - perhaps one day it will be valued as an ironic piece from my "early works". The house, with its lurking, nameless horror, still stands, and still hungers for its tale to be told. It has not yet seen its full potential achieved, and like any story it will not rest easily until its tale is told in full, as it was meant to be. That house has a lesson to teach, and not the well trodden lesson of "teenagers who do things they shouldn't be doing will come to a bad end", either.
The house's lesson, to me and to any other aspiring writer who'd care to listen, is to not be afraid of your own voice. Write the stories you want to write, the way you want to write them, not the way you think someone else might expect you to write them, and certainly not the way you think a publisher, a teacher, or a reader would want it to be written. If those people wanted those sorts of stories, they would simply write them for themselves. Only you can write your stories, however, and only you can give the world that unique perspective, that singular tale spawned by your own imagination, experiences, and creative gifts.
My next story is in the style and nature that I prefer to write in, a style which flows more naturally from me, so that the story almost writes itself at times. Your stories will flourish if you allow yourself to be who you are, and don't fear the response of publishers or other critics. As long as you allow yourself to write the way you feel suits you best, at least those who read your stories will have the opportunity to accept, reject, praise, or criticize you based on the kind of material you enjoy writing. Not everyone will like it. Maybe only a few will; but at least you'll be one of them.
Each of us has an "old house" inside us, waiting for its story to be told. That house has been there for a long time. It has the patience to wait until you're ready to tell its tale the way it was meant to be told.
At any rate, "In the Darkness" was the first story I completed since returning to my writing desk (which has evolved into a computer desk... my noisy old word processor has been replaced by a laptop, the giant three ring binders of paper supplanted by a USB drive that is smaller than my thumb; technology can be a blessing for a writer, though I admit at times I resort to the use of pen and notebook, simply for the enjoyment I get from writing stories out by hand!). I was immediately unhappy with the story; I felt it was "too commercial" and in some ways seemed like a timid approach to begin my return to writing with.
The original concept was very much my own, and hints of my personal writing style (inspired by my favorite horror writers) remained, but the general feel and nature of the story shifted. I compromised a great deal to make the story something I imagined the market of today would want, creating a story that had all those aspects that seemed to dominate the horror genre of this day and age: a group of teenaged imbeciles break into a creepy old house and meet a terrible fate at the clutches of some nameless horror that dwells within. I love that house and its nameless, lurking horror - they were the only part of the original story concept to survive at all, and the madness and death they unleashed upon my stereotypical protagonists was actually cathartic for me. At any rate, my wife and friends liked the story very much, and I decided to mail it off all the same, despite my misgivings.
I waited quite a while to hear back, which is not uncommon. I moved on to other stories, but couldn't concentrate on them for more than a few pages, wondering what the response to "In the Darkness" would be. In due time, the eagerly awaited and equally dreaded response arrived. My wife intercepted it, and admitted to me that she considered hiding it from me when she read the response.
The magazine editor didn't like it. It was, to paraphrase, too typical. An unoriginal story about a group of teenagers who went into a haunted house and met with terrible ends.
I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry. I'd twisted my story into a popular culture motif under the misguided belief that to get started I had to write what I thought the status quo would want. I had compromised my own style and preferences, written something that I myself would never choose to read, believing that it was better to get my name out there before trying to market the kinds of stories I would prefer to write. After all, my literary idol, H. P. Lovecraft himself, had received at best mixed reviews of his decidedly untraditional tales, becoming more popular in the years since his death than when he was still alive. How many music artists had told the tale of how they had to "work with the system", sacrificing artistic integrity in order to work their way to a position where they were free to exert their own creative license?
The irony that I had written a horror story and sacrificed its unique qualities out of some obscure fear of rejection only to have the publisher reject it on those very grounds was not lost on me. I couldn't very well take offense to the rejection letter: I hated the story for the very same reasons that the publisher sited. I'd earned that first rejection letter.
I think I may have since thrown it out, a decision I now regret. It may be tucked on a shelf or in a drawer somewhere. I rather hope it is, because if I ever find it again I plan to pin it up on my wall above my desk. It symbolizes the first attempt of mine to return to writing. It also serves as a reminder that writers, especially those who write horror, fantasy, science fiction, and their many permutations, should above all be bold, and not afraid to step outside the lines of conformity.
I still have copies of "In the Darkness", and will be likely mailing out at least one more copy as it currently exists to a different magazine, just to see the response. I may revise it, return it to the story it was meant to be and leave the hapless teen protagonists to the tender mercies of Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhayes and Michael Meyers. I may simply keep it as a momento of my attempt at conformity - perhaps one day it will be valued as an ironic piece from my "early works". The house, with its lurking, nameless horror, still stands, and still hungers for its tale to be told. It has not yet seen its full potential achieved, and like any story it will not rest easily until its tale is told in full, as it was meant to be. That house has a lesson to teach, and not the well trodden lesson of "teenagers who do things they shouldn't be doing will come to a bad end", either.
The house's lesson, to me and to any other aspiring writer who'd care to listen, is to not be afraid of your own voice. Write the stories you want to write, the way you want to write them, not the way you think someone else might expect you to write them, and certainly not the way you think a publisher, a teacher, or a reader would want it to be written. If those people wanted those sorts of stories, they would simply write them for themselves. Only you can write your stories, however, and only you can give the world that unique perspective, that singular tale spawned by your own imagination, experiences, and creative gifts.
My next story is in the style and nature that I prefer to write in, a style which flows more naturally from me, so that the story almost writes itself at times. Your stories will flourish if you allow yourself to be who you are, and don't fear the response of publishers or other critics. As long as you allow yourself to write the way you feel suits you best, at least those who read your stories will have the opportunity to accept, reject, praise, or criticize you based on the kind of material you enjoy writing. Not everyone will like it. Maybe only a few will; but at least you'll be one of them.
Each of us has an "old house" inside us, waiting for its story to be told. That house has been there for a long time. It has the patience to wait until you're ready to tell its tale the way it was meant to be told.
posted by Shadow-writer at 3:38 p.m.
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