I was asked recently what I think makes a good monster, a scary monster. This is my answer:
One of the first things I employ in creating a monster is giving the
reader just enough detail that they can use their imagination, but not
so much detail that they don't have to. Stephen King's book "Danse
Macabre" relates an analogy of a closed door with a strange sound coming
from behind it. If you open the door and have a ten-foot bug, part of
your reader's mind will say "Oh thank god, I was afraid it was a
HUNDRED-FOOT bug!" If you give your reader a hundred-foot bug, part of
your reader's mind will say "Oh than god, I was afraid it was a SWARM of
bugs!" Point is, your reader's imagination will always create a monster
that is contoured specifically to them, and is infinitely more
terrifying than anything we could craft. Our job is to give them the
(heh) bare bones.
Next, the monster has to serve as a vehicle for
the main character's dual confrontations. One is Man vs. The Unknown,
and the other is Man vs. Himself, if you're familiar with the types of
conflict. The Monster represents the unknown on a literal level, but on a
symbolic level represents the main character's journey that has been
taken to bring about that climactic moment of confrontation. I subdivide
horror thusly: Fright. Terror. Horror. If a monster eats some poor
shlub at the end of a dark alleyway, that's fright. When the monster
eats the guy standing right next to you, that's terror. The moment in
which you realize that you're next, that's horror. Good use of a good
monster is employed when the character (note that I am not using the
word "hero" anywhere here) is taken through a journey of discovery,
choice, perhaps revulsion, and finally confrontation not just with the
monster, but with who that character is and/or has become/has to be.
Taking away that journey will simply leave a hero (Ta-da!) rushing to do
battle with a dragon, and the reader is spending the whole time in the
story rooting for the final battle rather than going along for that
journey with the character. The monster should help take the reader
along for that same journey and force that same confrontation in the
reader as it does in the character.
Thirdly, a monster should be
created first, then that information used to inform the specifics of the
main character. Whether it's a hero, an anti-hero, a tragic character,
or anything else, the situations and circumstances surrounding that
character's rise to significance (after all, they are your main
character) are all informed by the hell which you as the author choose
to unleash upon them. Clarice Starling's character wouldn't have had
that story about running away if it wasn't for Dr. Lecter's ability to
see so deep into her psyche. The crew of the Orca would never have gone
shark hunting if it wasn't for Quint's story about being predated upon
by sharks off Japan's coast, but he wouldn't have told that story if the
monster wasn't a killer shark.
Stephen T. Asma's book "On
Monsters" talks about the purpose that monsters serve as moral
compasses, as well as with issues of angst and catharsis. He relates a
story of Eli Roth's "Hostel" being shown to troops in Iraq which is a
fascinating perspective on catharsis. Jason Zinoman's "Shock Value"
deals with some of the same issues, but also a lot of social and
political influences on the use, style, and deployment of monsters. But
nothing has yet touched the import or significance of Lovecraft's essay
"Supernatural Horror in Literature" for me.
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That's quality information, there. It could be a grad lecture on the discussion boards. Thanks for sharing. :)
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