Memory Corner #12

Static Voices

I used to live in an apartment unit that was separate from all the other apartments. It was dead center of the complex, like a dot in a square. I was on the second floor, directly above the laundry room, adjacent to the parking lot. It was like having my own home. The four walls, floor, and ceiling belonged to me; I shared no space with any other tenant. For some reason, this particular position of my unit brought in good reception for the TV and radio, and as I was to learn later, other frequencies as well. 

After work, I'd get home and prepare dinner, turn on the TV, turn off the lights, and eat my dinner by the TV light. I taught night classes at the college, so I'd be home around midnight. All the other tenants were fast asleep as they worked morning hours. So no noise. Just me and the TV, dinner and a six-pack of beer. I usually watched the news, then One Step Beyond, and lastly I'd put on a VHS movie. When one night, during the news, the TV spoke to me.

"I can see you, you know," it said. 

I stood up quickly, looked around, pulled back the drapes and glanced around outside the window. No one. Nothing. Just the quiet of sleeping neighbors. 

"You won't find me outside," the static voice said, like a it was barely managing to speak. 

I turned off the TV and turned on the radio. I sat there in the dark till I was sure the voice was gone. Then I went to sleep. 

The following night, the voice returned. 

"I can still see you, you know," it said coldly. The static was heavier this time, more fuzz than human voice. Like it was breaking up or a car radio going into a tunnel. 

"I'm almost gone, but I'll be back," it said with a proud promise. 

The next night, it was gone, and it never came back. 

I never mentioned this to friends, co-workers or family. "Still drinking?" they'd ask, so why bother. I figured it was a game of "blind man", something truck drivers liked to play at night when they were bored. We had a freeway about half a mile from the apartment, so the reception for my unit was pretty good. I would have been a good candidate for the prank. 

You see, the truck driver would try different frequencies on his short wave radio and say things like, "I can see you" or "I know where you live". This prank was played when the trucks were passing through residential areas, so they only had a short window to play the game before the signal was lost. That, of course, had to be the answer. Because science, you know. If it weren't science, what else could it be?

The Angry Princess (13 Ghosts 2001)

The Corruption of Horror

By

Anthony Servante

Horror is a state of aversion when we do not look away. What repulses us attracts us as well. That accident on the freeway where the body parts liter the lanes. We crane our necks to catch a glimpse as the police wave us by the crash scene cordoned off by several glowing red flares. It is at once horrific and beautiful. The lovely lights of flares and headlights covering the awful scene. It is a voyage by Marlowe down the beautiful Congo River that leads to the “horrors” experienced by Kurtz in HEART OF DARKNESS (1899) by Joseph Conrad. As readers, we take a trip via beauty to reach horror when we read works of the Grotesque. 

Allow me to elaborate. 

When balanced with Beauty, Horror becomes a work of Romantic Grotesqueness. Since the Age of Romanticism (late 1700s to mid 1800s), the literature of the Grotesque exemplified Nature and Imagination paralleled. Nature defined as that lovely mountain, but also that tiger ripping a man apart, for both are part of nature. Add Imagination as the exaggeration of nature, the writer describing the haunted mountain or the demon substituted for the tiger. In the author’s hands, nature takes on Grotesque elements, namely, Horror and Beauty, for both become as one in the work of the writer. This is the literature of the Romantic Age. 

In the writings of E.T.A. Hoffmann, Mary Shelley, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, we can see the original concept of Romantic Horror (or the Groteque). In DER SANDMAN (1817), Hoffmann juxtaposes a mysterious figure who steals the eyes from sleeping children with a love triangle between the narrator and a potential victim. In FRANKENSTEIN: The Modern Prometheus (1818), Shelley compares the beauty of birth and life with the creation of a human being from dead body parts. In RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER (1798), Coleridge contrasts the wisdom of agedness with the teachings of Life in Death (a beautiful woman skeletal in appearance) and Death (appearing as a skeleton) who gamble for the life of the aged mariner. Here are the elements of Horror (child abuse, graverobbing, and man’s random relation to death). Here, also, we have a woman finding true love, a monster blessed with high intelligence, and a man who escapes Death to grow wise and pass along his wisdom to the younger generation who’ve yet to meet (that is, understand) inevitable death. 

Today, however, Romantic Horror has been stripped of its element of Beauty. For the sake of clarity, I can list many authors who continue the tradition of the Grotesque (e.g., the Bizarros carry on the tradition, especially writers like Gina Ranalli), but in this age of ebooks and shock value horror stories (from film to paperbacks), Beauty has been replaced with Gore and Sensationalism. In my interview with Sarah Karloff, daughter of Monster Icon, Boris Karloff, she told me that her father didn’t care for the word “horror” to describe his movies; he preferred the word “terror”, the subjective reaction to horror, that is, repulsion. Think back to our example of the traffic accident, a freeway strewn with body parts: A terrified person would not be attracted, only repulsed. Karloff saw his films as terrifying, designed to scare, not to provoke awe. The Grotesque provokes awe. Horror alone provokes repulsion. 

In the Horror literature nowadays Gore has replaced Beauty. In what I termed the Aesthetic Grotesque, a subjective correlative, Horror and Gore have become its own oeuvre. It provokes morbid fascination rather than awe or respect. We have the Snuff genre, Extreme Gore, and Torture Porn. It has become a form of Gore worship that exploits gory pictures and stories for their own sake. The abandonment of Romantic traditions in the literature of the Grotesque has given way to an individual appreciation (aesthetic) of that which would otherwise be repulsive. Today’s horror reader celebrates excess in blood and mutilation as an end in itself. 

We witness this overkill in the cinema of violence where excess is a challenge that must be surpassed by each new film-maker who takes up the gauntlet (Japanese Manga horror gleefully ups the ante on the gore scale). It is more than “cult” literature and film; it seeks to replicate realism with its book descriptions and film special effects to tantalize both reader and film-goer to question the authenticity of the gory scene at hand. We’ve come to expect buckets of blood to gush from a wound Monty Python-style, even as our rational mind tells us there isn’t that much blood in the human body. It is a corrupted branch of the Grotesque that exaggerates the gore and relishes the deliberate elimination of Beauty. 

But let’s be clear about the definition of “Beauty”. By this word I do not mean only the attractive. I also include well-plotted stories, well-developed characters, Grand Guignol as an outlet for mounting suspense (as opposed to an entire work of Grand Guignol, which is a contradiction of its intent). It is Salome carrying the head of John the Baptist as opposed to Quasimodo carrying the decapitated head. It is heroism in a zombie apocalypse. It is sacrifice to save a young girl from demon possession. It is the ying to the yang in meditation. It is balance in literary exposition.

So, besides balance, what is missing in today’s Horror market that breaks with tradition? Simply put—Beauty. In the movie THE WILD BUNCH, director Sam Pekinpah paints a work of beauty with his gory finale, a bloodbath filmed like a gentle ballet. It is not an easy task to accomplish, but Pekinpah was a maestro. He made Gore beautiful. And that’s what’s missing today: An attractive goriness. What we have instead is gore for the sake of gore, bereft of beauty or attractiveness. A zombie eats a human face for two pages. The writer pads the work with gore rather than provoke the readers’ desire to glimpse the horrific scene and linger. It is pornography without love. It is aversion without romance. It is a creepy guy on a long long date, where the girl dreads being driven home by this person. Very unlucky girl. 

Lucky for us, the reader can simply close the book. And many a book of horror gets closed today. The lost art of creating the Grotesque by combining elements of repulsion and attraction remains elusive in the hands of self-published writers and small presses. There’s no perfect formula that I can give here for the perfect work of Horror. I can only observe and report the trends of Horror and Terror, for I very infrequently encounter a good work of the Grotesque. 

But just to show that there are a few who can accomplish what the Romantics created hundreds of years ago in literature, I shall name a few authors who should be sought out and emulated: Hank Schwaeble, Brian Evenson, John Langan, Philip Fracassi, Graham Masterton, William Cook, and Barry Lee Dejasu. I must keep my list small for the sake of brevity on this piece of nonfiction. Should you wish to learn more about authors who echo the tradition of the Grotesque, visit my blog and see what’s new.    

Fairy Tales and Horror: Fears in the Light

Welcome to the Darkness, dear readers, for our latest venture into the literary side of horror. This time out, we explore the terrors inherent in fairy tales, how these scares have been mollified for children, and how modern literary tales have reintroduced these horrors for adults.

I will discuss The Uses of Enchantment: The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales (1976) by Bruno Bettelheim and his assertions that these tales target children’s fears. Then we shall have a look-see at modern versions and interpretations of the fairy tale form, beginning with Spindle's End (novelization of Sleeping Beauty) by Robin McKinley; Enchanted: Dark Fairy Tales with a Modern Twist by Christine Sutton (I believe this has been retitled "Burkheart: Witch Saga");  Faerie Tale by Raymond E. Feist; and Once by James Herbert. Finally, we shall remember James Herbert and his influence on your host.


Let’s begin.

In The Meaning and Importance of Fairy Tales (1976) by Bruno Bettelheim, the author psycho-analyzes the subconscious effect that fairy tales hold for children, themes too intense to face without a cushion, the cushion that works such as the Brothers Grimm may provide. According to Karina Wilson in her June 1, 2012 Column, LURID: Grimmly Fiendish - The Horror in Fairy Tales, “These traditional fairy tales, with the darkness of abandonment, death, [supernatural creatures], and injuries, allowed children to grapple with their fears in remote, symbolic terms. For a child, the basic human predicament is terrifying. Children fear death, of a parent, of a sibling, especially a newborn infant. They fear abandonment. They fear the giant adults who tower above them. They fear the dark. They fear the things that lurk in [dark scary places: closets, backyards, new environments]. Fairy tales deal with all these fears, spinning them into a safe, fictional framework.”  

"Once upon a time" worlds, therefore, offer a sanctuary for children, a place where their subconscious fears dissipate like a mist in fog, or a droplet in the ocean.

Mother Goose rhymes also provide a similar place for children to feel safe from normal fears of youth and innocence. As adults, we understand that these rhymes tell dark tales in sing-song rhythms, with carefree characters. In London Bridge is Falling Down, the common interpretation has it that children were sacrificed to prevent a bridge from falling, but other meanings have it that “London Bridge” was simply in need of repair and may collapse at any moment, killing hundreds. In either case, the nursery rhyme offers a safe retreat for children to control their possible deaths by offering up sacrifices (think Children of the Corn) or by protesting the bridge’s ill condition to adults. “Jack and Jill” also has dire interpretations. The scariest has it that two children fetching water from the well were kidnapped and possibly killed; the Norse version of the poem has the kids taken away by the moon (Wiki).

Karina continues, “Fairy tales are horror stories at heart, not fantasy action adventures. They function on a deep psychological level, tapping into our primal selves. Good struggled against Evil, but always won in the end. Victory came through intelligence, not brute strength. Those who sided with Good lived happily ever after, but those who cleaved to Evil were burned, pierced, broken, transformed and condemned, never to be seen again.” The grotesque elements inherent in the fairy tales were circumstantial to the kids (and still are—consider that children today view Family Guy and South Park innocently, without the horrors understood by adults); for every prince and princess, there was an evil witch or dangerous dragon.

The balance of good and evil, and the inevitable happy ending shone like a lighthouse for the imagination of the child on stormy seas. Adds Wilson, “Children over the aeons have made no objections to the macabre details: the cannibalism, the bloodshed, the amputations, the kidnappings, the murders, or the red-hot iron torture devices. The more monstrous the threat, the more grotesque the punishment, the easier the lesson was to understand and remember. When we read horror, we’re tapping into the things that fairy tales taught us, re-experiencing the powerlessness of a child.” Here we must visit the horror novels at hand and discuss the elements that make them attractive to the child in adult readers.

Let’s begin with Robin McKinley. Her fairy tale retells of the story of Sleeping Beauty.

Summary: Renowned fantasy writer Robin McKinley, author of the lush "Beauty and the Beast" retellings Beauty and Rose Daughter, has produced another re-mastered fairy tale, this time about the dreamy Sleeping Beauty. Much like in the original story, the infant princess, here named Rosie, is cursed by an evil fairy to die on her 21st birthday by pricking her finger on a spindle. That same day, Rosie is whisked away into hiding by a peasant fairy who raises her and conceals her royal identity. From that point on, McKinley's plot and characterization become wildly inventive. She imagines Rosie growing up into a strapping young woman who despises her golden hair, prefers leather breeches to ball gowns, and can communicate with animals. And on that fateful birthday, with no help from a prince, Rosie saves herself and her entire sleeping village from destruction, although she pays a realistic price. In a final master stroke, McKinley cleverly takes creative license when the spell-breaking kiss (made famous in "Sleeping Beauty") comes from a surprising source and is bestowed upon the character least expected.


Book review: McKinley enjoys refashioning traditional fairy tales to suit an empowered heroine, rather than one who relies on her prince to rescue her. In essence, she pumps her children’s tales into adult stories by pumping them full of feminist steroids, so to speak. This is a welcomed retelling as young girls need a hero to identify with. My sister and I often complain about boys being issued toy guns and girls given toy dolls to play with, a case of the environment shaping the child, of assigning roles that the kids can grow into in a male-dominated society. By reaching into the childhood psyche of the adult with the fairy tale medium, Robin reverses roles with seamless ease within an entertaining story.

As young boys and girls begin to feel different about their roles as assigned to them by society, it is good to see literature that teaches them that “different” is okay. Girls can play with guns, and boys can play with dolls. In McKinley’s fairy tale world, her Sleeping Beauty flexes a bit of muscle and still remains attractive. That’s fine by me.

Summary: Kayla Burkheart has had a hard life. When she finally decides to clean up her act and get her life back on track, she believes that she has it all. A new job, a man that she loves, and finally, a feeling of peace.
As she embarks on a journey down a California highway, she finds herself being trailed by a menacing figure in a black car. This is only the beginning.
She finds out that there is more to her life than she ever imagined possible.
Join her on her journey through four tales, tinged with fairy tale magic and filled with werewolves, vampires, witches (good and bad) and all other manner of magic and monsters.
With nods to Little Red Riding Hood, Snow White, The Three Little Pigs, Hansel and Gretel and a few more, these are not the fairy tales you read as a child. Kayla's life is sometimes dark, often frightening and always, enchanted.

This book contains some language and adult situations. Not recommended for children.


Review: Christine retells a number of fairy tales while reworking them into a modern day setting. She foreshadows what Feist and Herbert will do in their tales. The fear element emerges through Kayla’s encounters with the creatures and situations reserved for fairy tales. It is the tale of an adult reliving childhood anxieties, only in real backdrops, so that the dread becomes real as the fantasies taking flesh. Our heroine must drive a “red” car worth a lot of money to Texas; on the road she is followed by a “black” car, whose drive begins to menace her. Using the Red Riding Hood story, Sutton delves into the childhood fears one experiences when confronted by the unknown. Who hasn’t been unnerved by a prank call from a silent caller? With Snow White, our author touches on how fragile the truth can be for youngsters. A “mother-in-law” bewitches her son into canceling his wedding to Kayla (which is why she needed a lot of money) by lying about the future bride. Kayla must set the truth right to win back her man. In the third tale, Kayla takes on The Three Little Pigs tale with themes on some very gory alienation. Hansel and Gretel rounds out the quartet of novellas. I don’t know if Ms. Sutton plans to continue Kayla as a series; she has created a fine character here, and with the continued use of fairy tales to backdrop her adventures, it would be a series I’d recommend highly.

Summary: Raymond Feist-Faerie Tale: Phil Hastings was a lucky man-he had money, a growing reputation as a screenwriter, a happy, loving family with three kids, and he'd just moved into the house of his dreams in rural of magic-and about to be altered irrevocably by a magic more real than any he dared imagine. For with the Magic came the Bad Thing, and the Faerie, and then the cool. . .and the resurrection of a primordial war with a forgotten people-a war that not only the Hastings but the whole human race could lose.


Review: Feist poses the question: What if you placed real children in a real fairy tale? The creeps and fears kids experience in fictional tales would become real, I would think. This is the premise of Faerie Tale. The horrors in such tales invade the real world, converge on a real family. This is Disney by way of Gullermo Del Toro. The cushion for childhood fears has been lifted. It reminds me of seeing Arachnophobia for the first time at the Cinerama Dome. There were two kids in the row in front of me giggling and mocking their parents’ choice of movies. They hemmed and hawed throughout the film, causing more than one theater-goer to shush them. When the finale of the movie came, when the “general” spider fights to the death with Jeff Daniels, the two rowdy kids are cowering in terror, tears running down their face. This is what happens without the cushion of suspension of disbelief. The fears run rampant without sight of a happy ending. Where “once upon a time” leads to “happily ever after”, one can face the anxieties brought on by monsters and evil adults; however, in a world such as Faerie Tale, life exists between Once and After, there where only monsters exist without the hope that they will be vanquished.

When the creatures from Irish Lore make their appearance, it is not magical fantasy but terrific horror. As with Kayla’s adventures, the Hastings family enters fairy territory. Cute gives way to corruption. I always enjoy tales where fiction breaks the fifth wall, as it does here by having fairies living side by side with humans in New York, although they are generally unaware of their fantastical presence. When the Hastings become aware of their existence, the real fear begins, both for the family and the reader.

As a fan of Raymond Feist, I was dying to include this work into this piece about fairy tales and horror, but it itself is not a fairy tale; it takes elements of the tale and incorporates them into a modern story. The monsters in this horror book are fairies. I’d recommend the book to any reader of any age, even though there are those who may say the book is too intense for children. But, hey—fairy tales are for children.

Summary: James Herbert-Once: Remember the faery stories you were told as a child? Tales of tiny, magical, winged beings and elves, wicked witches and goblins. Demons ...What if one day you found out they were true? What if, when you became an adult, you discovered they were all based on fact? What if you met the fantasy and it was all so very real? That's what happened to Thom Kindred. The wonders were revealed to him. But so were the horrors, for not far behind the Good, there always lurks the Bad. And the Bad had designs on Thom. The Bad would show him real evil. He would see the hellhagges and the demons. He would be touched by perverted passion. And corruption. And he would encounter his own worst nightmare. The Bad would seek to destroy him. And only the magic of the little beings would be able to help him. Once, James Herbert's masterful novel of erotic love and darkest horror, will take you to a realm where fantasy and reality collide, where faery tales really can come true.


Review: James Herbert in his novel “Once” also combines fantasy and reality, fairies and humans in a modern setting, reversing the fairy tale structure so that the fair tale comes to us in our lives rather than we going to them in our story books. We are confronted by the unreal and must overcome our suspension of disbelief in fairies to deal with the real creatures. Often fans will romanticize encounters with vampires, the living dead, even Jason Voorhees, because they imagine meeting them would excite the senses, when, in reality, these creatures would terminate one’s senses. Only religious fanatics romanticize death.

Here in Once, Herbert demythifies the romanticizing of true horror. Feist does the same thing, but limits the extremes of the fantastical creatures, whereas Herbert does not. His fairies are rabid sexual animals. Witches have insatiable appetites, as do Pixies and Fairies. This adult element takes the mythic element into the human realm. If these creatures eat, drink, sleep, and fornicate, as we humans do, then they are not only similar to us—they are like us in good and evil. That’s what is scary about this book. It makes us look at ourselves a little too closely. Unlike the fairy tales of yore, which filter children’s fears through its story structure (Once upon and time to Happily ever after), here one’s confrontations with our fears only reveals the perverse in ourselves. What else is one to make of a masturbating fairy?

This one I cannot recommend for children, but adults will appreciate the grotesque extremes of fairy land.

[As you all know by now, James Herbert passed away on March 20, 2013. As a teen I read his first book, The Rats, and became an instant fan, reading his every book thereafter. As I attended college, I studied “horror” because of authors like Herbert, F. Paul Wilson, and Graham Masterton, for they represented the second wave of dark fiction after the first wave, Lovecraft, Bradbury, Matheson, Bloch and others. To me, and in my writings, James Herbert ushered in the Silver Age of Horror, and I write on the subject today because of him. Thank you, sir, for the body of horrific work you leave us fans today and future fans. Rest in Peace.]



The Servante of Darkness has explored the horror inherent in the traditional fairy tale, discussed the latest in fairy tales that maintain the element of “innocent fear”, where childhood anxieties are mitigated through metaphoric situations and creatures, analyzed the adultifying of fairy tales, focusing more on the drama than the fear, and examined the invasion of the fears in fairy form into our adult world. Join us again soon dear readers as we discuss a new topic in literary horror. Till then, leave the darkness on.

 

* Another find in the Archive Treasure Chest: My Halloween Interview with author Franklyn E. Wales in 2015.

Servante of Darkness Blog: The Halloween Gathering 2015*

1. When did you begin writing? What was the driving force?

FEW: I’ve always written stories, even as a child. It was never a conscious thought, it was just a part of who I was. A big fan of Horror living in a small NH town, my allowance was spent on the Warren publications FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND, CREEPY, EERIE and every horror themed comic that showed up at “The Newspaper Store.”  I loved those magazines. They filled my imagination to the point where it wouldn’t all fit in my skull. I couldn’t draw beyond stick figures, so I wrote a slew of one to two page stories as cheesy as those comics were and gave them to my mother to read. 

Instead of criticizing my subject choice or my childish work my Mom (never a fan of spooky stuff) subscribed to Writer’s Digest for me.

2. What writers were your early inspiration? And who are your inspirations today?

FEW: I read everything I could get my hands on growing up. When the Scholastic Book flyer came out in school, Mom always made sure I was able to buy a few titles. I discovered the works of S. E. Hinton there. Later I was inspired by the fanciful worlds of Ray Bradbury.

Because I was always reading, Mom used to bring home a bag of books from her job, mostly men’s adventure from authors like Ross Macdonald, John D. MacDonald, Don Pendleton, and such. To her credit, Mom was so happy I was a reader, I don’t think she actually cracked a cover. That was probably a good thing, considering some of the subject matter.

As I loved horror, I read whatever I could find in the field, but most of it was gothic and bland to me. And then Stephen King released ‘Salem’s Lot. Finally I found Horror that lived in a world of rock and roll and shopping centers. I was hooked. Horror could be told in the world I lived in. 

Later, as an adult, I found an author named Billie Sue Mosiman whose work drew me in. She wrote thrillers, not horror, but her work was as sharp and deadly as a razor across the throat. I read her work as a fan first, then went back and reread every section that stood out as exceptional to me, studying how it was written and why it worked so well. 

I had a chance meeting with Mosiman shortly after I discovered her work, thanks to romance author Jackie Weger whose work I study as well. I’m not a big romance reader, but Weger’s work draws me in. Her characters are as real as the people who live next door.

Lately I’ve been studying the works of Noir author, Paul D. Marks as well. His work brings me back to the masters I grew up reading.

3. What are the themes you like to write about?

FEW: Conflict, suspense, danger and relationships. A good horror tale encompasses all of those.

4. Compare yourself to the early writer then and the writer you are now.

FEW: I wrote horror then, I write horror now. I’d like to think my work has improved over the years. I read every day. Things that catch my eye, I stop and study, learn and try to encompass into my work. I try to never stop sharpening my axe. Writers who tell me they are too busy to read are writers I have no interest in reading. 

  

5. Halloween brings out the best in many writers. Why do you think that is? If you don’t agree, tell us what holidays bring out the best in you.

FEW: Halloween is a mindset for me, not a calendar date. Some writers may find inspiration in October 31st , but I write novels and it takes me months to finish one. Besides, if you ever see my office, it’s Halloween all year long in here.

6. What genres do you prefer writing in?

FEW: I’m a horror writer by trade. I have written a thriller and a western I’m happy with, but if you pigeonhole me, I’m a horror author. A good horror tale contains action, romance, drama, humor and scary stuff. Show me another genre that contains all that.  

7. Tell me how art and/or photography influence your work, especially when picking a cover or an illustration.

FEW: When it comes to art, I suck. I’m a stick figure artist, remember. I hire my covers out. I have found Jeffrey Kosh Graphics for that. I can tell Kosh what I’m thinking and he can produce a cover in a few days that is worth twice what he charges. He’s amazing and conceptual. Kosh brings my written words into a visual fruition with one email of what I envision.  

8. If you could write lyrics for any music artist or band, who would they be? And why?

FEW: THAT question is why I read your blog religiously. No one else working today would have pulled that one for this group. In answer to it I guess in a perfect world, I’d write an entire concept album for Alice Cooper.  

9. Tell us about your new book or the book you are working on. If appropriate, share a link where we can purchase the book or a link to your website or Facebook page.

FEW: SAILOR’S COVE is my latest release. You can pick up a copy on Amazon.  Currently I am tossing ideas around for the next release. Anyone interested in following me can find me on Facebook , or Twitter. Feel free to drop me a message there or through my website: FranklinEWales.com  

10. Let’s close things with a few words for struggling or upcoming writers. What obstacles can they look forward to overcoming and how have you overcome them?

FEW: Let’s go with the bad first. If you want to make money, get a job selling shoes. You can make living doing that, I did for years. Writing is a fickle mistress. But, if you have the Calling, if you’ll keep writing no matter if you make any money at this gig or not, I’ll give you three quotes.

1. “The stars are yours, if you have the head, the hands, and the heart for them."—Ray Bradbury. Don’t you EVER give up on your dream.

2. “I'd rather feel bad than not feel anything at all.”—Warren Zevon. The only sin in writing is boredom. Make me feel something, even if it hurts me. Bore your reader and they are gone forever.

3. “Writing equals ass in chair.” That one I read somewhere but I’ve used it so much when I Google it, my name comes up, so it’s now mine. Put your ass in the chair and write, no excuses. If you have the Calling, you won’t need any.

 

Has the Glass Ceiling Been Removed 

or Merely Moved?

I did a series on the Glass Ceiling in the Literature of Horror in 2015. These two pieces from the archives were part of that article. The first by Billie Sue Mosiman (June 5, 1947-December 26, 2018) addresses the subject of women writers hiding their gender behind a "male" pseudonym, while the second is a woman writer who uses a male name to avoid such practices of bias against women in the world in literature. I have left the two pieces as originally published to let them speak for themselves. 

Anthony Servante

**********

LITERATURE’S GLASS CEILING

by Billie Sue Mosiman


Colleen McCullough died January 29th at 77. Despite having sold thirty million books, being a bestseller, and having a career spanning decades with some of the best Roman historical novels ever written, in her obituary they started out in the newspaper saying, "Though plain of face and overweight, Colleen McCullough, author of THE THORNBIRDS, wrote a lot of books." I was infuriated. If she'd been male and a bestseller and died would the obituary mention his looks? His weight? Hell to the no. This second class treatment of women writers must stop. McCullough could write circles around many males, but they have to mention her looks? It's shameful is what it is.

Some might say why stir the pot? It was one single obit writer so why not ignore the disrespect shown Colleen McCullough? (Number 1- it was SHOCKING disrespect. Number 2-that one obituary points to problems that haven’t gone away when it comes to the gender of the author.)

I’ll tell you why it shouldn’t be ignored. Because it was also so blatantly sexist that it shocked just about everyone who read the obituary. It’s as if women writers haven’t really moved an inch toward that glass ceiling if a woman who achieved so much in her lifetime as did McCullough can be remembered in an obituary in a newspaper this way.

I had to make the decision, back in the 1980s, whether to use my real name that left no question about my gender or not use it. I thought of using my maiden name as a non de plume and initials instead of a name. I pondered this well before I ever submitted my first stories and novel. Today nearly 35 years later women are still making this decision. Do men ever think about hiding their gender as writers? Certainly not in most fiction and that’s proof things have not changed in decades. Decades! Why must we hide behind fake names and subterfuge?

I decided, and not without much contemplation, that I would be brave and write under my own name no matter the consequences. I would stand tall and be myself. I would use my married name because my husband was so instrumental in me becoming a writer. His name deserved the credit, if there was to be any. I knew, yes, I knew it was going to make things harder for me. Billie Sue is very Southern, for one thing, and readers would have to get past that. Then it’s obvious I’m female by that name, strike two. Why was it a strike at all? Because I’d determined my chosen genres were suspense and horror. Both genres overlap and both are dominated by male writers.

You see, it’s all right a genre is dominated by men. Because more men write in those genres and more men submit work to editors in them than do women. Why wouldn’t they dominate? The point isn’t that more men publish works than women. The point is women have little power and have to strive harder. Women have to believe there is a little prejudice among editors leaning toward taking the work of men over women only because it’s traditionally been a man’s world in those corners of literature. Some women broke out and busted through the glass ceiling. Most didn’t. In horror I don’t know of many who ever reached the bestseller list beyond Anne Rice. She deserved it! She wrote a spectacular, classic novel with INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE. But where are all the others in the past three decades? Not one of them could reach that pinnacle.

In suspense more women made it than in horror. It was a pleasure to see it and made me believe one day it wouldn’t matter who wrote the book, man or woman. So in that genre, though dominated by men in the 1980s, has come a long way, while not so much in horror. It’s true not as many women write in the horror genre and not a majority of women read it. Still, believe me it’s easier for a woman just to take a male name and be done with it.

It’s not the lopsidedness that is still so dispiriting. It’s the notion that a woman, Colleen McCullough, could spend her entire life making money for publishers, and hold her place alongside the male writers of her time and still be sited for having a plain face and being overweight. This tells us a great deal about the ceiling and how it hasn’t budged a bit. It’s still in place, a thing to overcome, and denying it won’t make it go away.

Women get together (at conferences, online groups, and Facebook) and talk. Women hide out in private groups and discuss this problem. No one knows what to do about it except to write the best fiction we know how and keep on competing with one hand tied behind our backs.

To be honest I had no trouble selling a new suspense novel a year to publishers in New York, but then I had high-powered agents pushing things through, and I was gaining a reputation for writing smooth, clear prose that needed little vetting or editing. Without the help of the agency (William Morris Literary Agency), I’m not sure I could have had it so easy. The agent believed in me and once I got nominations for prestigious awards, I was able to write and sell novels.

I don’t know today how female writers not using a male’s name will fare because obviously male writers who have had it easier to publish will be the first to be asked to anthologies, the first to sell to publishers, and the first to reach the audience who reads genre fiction. It’s almost imprinted in the readers’ minds that if the book was written by a man, it must be good. If it was written by a woman, who knows? It’s a risk, or so they think because tradition has it women writers are weaker writers of suspense and horror. That’s emphatically not true, of course, but the perception has been there for 35 years, at least.

Is there sexism in certain genres? You betcha. Is there sexism in all genres? Sure. Ms McCullough didn’t write suspense or horror.

How do you change a perception? You write as well as the boys and you submit to the same venues. You knock it out of the park and see if anyone, no matter the gender, can catch up. You work harder, longer, and with as much dedication as you can muster. When you’re passed over, remember it might be the work, not the gender that hinders you. Be fucking realistic.

But sometimes...sometimes it’s because you’re just a female and you’re bumping your head on the glass. If you’re female I’m hearing a hallelujah. Go out and do it, Ladies. Forget your gender, go beyond your gender, get to the nub of what storytelling is all about and in another 35 years the prejudice might disappear. That is my hope for the future of literature and for all female authors. One day you won’t be sitting wondering whether you should use a male name or initials. One day all women will go forth with the names given to them at birth, you know those frilly, girly names like Billie Sue.

P.S. I loved every novel about Rome Colleen McCullough ever wrote. Not a single thing about those books can be called “feminine.” She was simply a superb writer.

*********

The Glass Ceiling in the House of Horror: The Invisible Authors

Compiled and Formatted by Anthony Servante

Anthony: What name shall I use for you in this interview?

Rowan: You can use ‘Rowan Morrison’ as my name

Anthony: Can you give us a bit of a general biography: what genres do you write about, for instance?

Rowan: I write all kinds of genres though I learn toward darker stuff, horror and crime. But I write humorous and light genres as well. I don’t like being pigeonholed too much but horror is where I started when I first got published.


Anthony: Did you originally write under your real name? If yes, was it a bad experience? Can you elaborate? If no, why didn’t you bother to use your own name?

Rowan: I used my own name to start with and then I started to use genre-specific names just to distinguish them because the majority of readers don’t like to cross genre borders at all.


Anthony: Why then did you choose to use a pseudonym for your books?

Rowan: As I mentioned, it started as a way to distinguish genres, but for the darker stuff I’m writing at present I use a male nom de plume.


Anthony: Please describe the factors which led you to use a nom de plume.

Rowan: An awful lot of men won’t read a book with woman’s name on it, even men who write in the same field unless the woman is 1) already famous or 2) conventionally attractive. They don’t review books and the writers in the genre don’t share news for female writers (e.g. RTs on Twitter or sharing links on Facebook) like they do for males.


Anthony: Was there any one example or experience that exemplifies why you use a male moniker or a non-feminine name or initials to hide your gender?

Rowan: There’s not one experience, just an accumulation of many. Being at cons and seeing all male groups drink together. Listening to guys in the darker genres sneer at “chick lit” and romance as “girly” while they tell homophobic and misogynist jokes. It’s the kind of male bonding that leads to blurbing each other and inviting each other to submit to anthologies.


Anthony: How successful have you been with your pseudonym?

Rowan: It’s hard to tell as it’s still rather new. I had a publisher contact me to ask to look at my next novel. That’s never happened before.


Anthony: Is it an “old boys’ club” in your genre of writing? Or do you feel readers prefer male writers over female writers? Can you give an example?

Rowan: Yes, because the genre I mostly write in now is seen as dark and tough; there are still all-male anthologies which boggles the mind in the 21st century. It’s not even all actively anti-women, it’s just that most men are not friends with women, so when they help their friends they only help men. Women are just invisible to them.


Anthony: Can you discuss the essay by Billie Sue Mosiman? Feel free to add your thoughts to it, whether you agree or disagree, and cite specific passages.

Rowan: On the whole I agree with what she says. The McCullough obit may have been a misguided attempt at humour but it just emphasises how slapping down women remains the norm for many men. The era of the big publishers and the high-powered agents is never going to be a norm for people in the smaller genres, so it’s a different world. I rankle a bit at “go beyond your gender” which comes across as buying into the same assumption that what men write about is universal but what women write is only of interest to other women which is bullshit. Google Jennifer Weiner and Franzenfreude.


Anthony: Since we were children, we were taught girls should play with dolls and boys with guns, girls wore pink and boys blue. I’ve always believed these were and still are a factor in how males view females and how females view themselves, as the “weaker” sex, the baby makers, not the bread winners. Can you elaborate on this conditioning children receive from their parents who probably received the same conditioning when they were kids?

Rowan: I was the only girl with brothers. I became a feminist the day I was told I couldn’t do something just because I was a girl – when I could clearly do it. Pink was a boys colour as recently as the early 20th century. Blue was considered girlish. Most of our attitudes toward gender are taught and entirely cultural – and shift over time. I think the current frothing, virulent strain of misogyny has a lot to do with the erasure of lot of the inequality between genders. There’s a troglodyte minority who are terrified that they will have to prove themselves worthy of something and not rely on the mere fact of possessing a dick.


Anthony: How can we break the glass ceiling in the House of Horror?

Rowan: Men have to step up. Women are already writing great stuff. Men need to stop being such cowards and actually read women authors – in public even! I’ve edited anthologies: I’ve never had trouble getting a diverse group of authors and gender representation. Men always bellyache that there “just aren’t enough good stories by women” which is bullshit. They may not submit to your market because they see your anthologies never have more than a token woman or two. Consider blind submissions: as a recent study showed, male students get ranked higher on tests when their names are revealed. The cultural bias runs deep. Support women, not just your buddies. You won’t lose your balls if you praise a woman writer or a review her book. 

*********

 

Fear of Halloween

Tudie had a club foot and mismatched shoes

Betty got her arm smashed in a washer wringer

Payton lost an eye to a firecracker and wears a patch

Margie forgot who she was after nearly drowning

For Halloween we carve pumpkins for them

We bring them candy and candied apples

We do this every year because we are afraid

That they will remember how evil they were before. 

 

In Dream...#3

It is night. I drive into the parking lot of a multiplex movie theater that I recognize. I want to gauge my bearings. The lot is surrounding by a huge shadowy hedge, so I can't make out the streets. I exit my car to ask directions in the movie theater. The concession stands are empty but well-lit and well-stocked. Fresh popcorn is popping. No one mans the cash registers. There are five double-door entrances to the five movie theaters. 

I enter the movie theater to the far left, by the door leading to the parking lot. The movie is playing, but it is not familiar. There are a few people scattered throughout the huge seating area. I walk along the empty back row till I reach the other side, where a red curtain sways under a blast from the air-conditioner. The drapes part and I see another theater next door, a duplicate of this theater. I enter that theater, hoping for a familiar movie, but the lights go on. The movie just ended. I sit in the back row and wait for the next screening. 

Somehow, I know the theater is about to close, so I retrace my path back to the parking lot. My car is gone. I walk through the hedge until I reach the street. I wait for the bus. It comes quickly but its marquee has no destination listed, only a number 111. I ask the driver is this bus is headed to L.A. He nods yes. I don't believe him, but I decide to sit down. The aisle leading to my seat is too long for such a small bus. The farther back I walk, the more young people I see vandalizing the seats. I ring the bell to signal I want to get off the bus. 

The bus pulls over, and I get off. Those damn hedges reach all the way over here. No wonder I lost my car. I walk through the hedges and enter the same parking lot. There's one car parked in the lot. It's not my car, but my car key works to start the engine. I am low on gas. Once I figure out where I live, I'll know if I need to stop for gas. 

I drive past the bus. The vandals have their faces pressed against the glass, looking at me. I can't seem to pass the bus, no matter what I try. The faces start to protrude through the glass, twists and contorts into other shapes, but their eyes never leave me. That hedge is following me. The gas is almost at empty. It is best to wake up. 

I choose to leave the dream. I am in bed, but I don't recognize the room. At least I'm out of the car. I turn on my right side and dig my head into the pillow. The last thing I see in the bedroom before I leave my dream within a dream is that hedge. At that moment, I know where I am, but it's too late: I'm back in the car, back in the parking lot, the gas tank is on empty. 

The next thing I know is it is morning. Time for coffee. Time to write this down before I forget.