How To Write Fear

Not a scary story, but to really understand how fear is perceived differently by every individual. Have you ever noticed how people will become excited over different things on different levels. A kitten will send me into hysterical squeals and sobs, but my husband will only be interested for a short while. However, if we go to a comic book store, he will stand for hours in front of rpg figurines as I oh and ah as he holds up different ones in adorable excitement. Just like happiness, fear is perceived and expressed in different ways.

What sometimes happens is that writers will think of a scary situation and then write a story around it. In the storyline, there is the main character’s suspicion, the growing anticipation before a reveal that is supposed to knock the reader for a loop. But it often doesn’t. This is not because you are a bad writer, but because fear has not been expressed in a way that the reader directly relates to.

I was “today” years old when I realized most people have a deep fear of the woods. The dark, enclosed spaces, the heavy air, and the perpetual darkness has always been a sanctuary for a country girl like me, but I learned that a friend of mine from the city thought it was absolutely nuts that I slept in the woods all night. Alternatively, I have a perpetual fear of large, open areas. The first time my husband took me to the ocean, he had to slowly entice me out into the water as I clung to him, because I was terrified of being washed out into emptiness. And don’t even get me started on Kansas. I love and appreciate all my Kansas readers, but your home scares the crap out of me.

In order for a reader to empathize with a scary situation, the subject matter has to be a realistic situation the reader would have to have experienced at some time in their life. For example, I will wrote two short prompts. The first will be the incorrect way of introducing a fearful plot line, and the second would be my personal recommendation.

Example 1:

Julia sat with her father in the car. He was very silent, which was unusual for him. “What’s up, Dad? You aren’t saying much.” He gave a deep sogh, “I can’t keep lying to you.” Julia’s eyes widened. Her father continued, “Your mother and I, we’re actually... what I mean to say is... your mother and I are in a cult. A cult who murders hitchikers.”

Example 2:

Bobby pulled on his mother’s hand, “No, Mommy! I want to take the stairs.” His mother pulled on his hand a little too hard, “We are late, Robert Allen! Do you understand!? Pick up your feet! Act your age!” Bobby held back a sob and gripped her hand tight as he stepped on the escalator. His brother told him about how if you didn’t get off fast enough, you would be sucked down into the crack at the top, mushed into mashed potatoes. Bobby’ s heart thundered as they approached the top. He leapt off with both feet, and breathed a sigh as hihis mother pulled him forward. But one of his feet came out from under him. One of his shoelaces had become caught and was being pulled into the crack where the steps disappeared. Bobby screamed in terror and began tearing at his shoes with all his might.

A plot line about your parents being in a murder cult is very interesting, but difficult to create a sense of foebodeing, since most of your audience won’t be able to relate. However, they would be able to relate to having to choose between family tradition and going your own path.

I really enjoy your horror stories, and I always like to take a moment to be scared out of my wits. This advice is simply meant as a suggestion as to what I believe are the most successfully terrifying stories. It’s not always about blood and ghosts. Sometimes, reality can be terrifying, too.