Warning: this post contains morbidity. Skip to the last paragraph if you're feeling excessively chirpy. Like most scribo-blogsters, I don't particularly see this as a forum for a great deal of personal stuff. It's mainly about the writing. But sometimes personal stuff sheds light on our writing, and vice versa. So...
I'm really not a big fan of death. In the grand scheme of things, it just strikes me as A Bad Idea from whoever the universe's creator(s) happened to be. Admittedly, only suicide bombers are death afficionados, but over the last few years (especially since my close friend
Ray Palmer died unexpectedly, in 2002) I've become aware that I'm perhaps more preoccupied with the subject than most folks. Your average person seems able to push death to the very back of their brain alongside tax returns and merrily get on with life like it'll last forever. While I envy that ability to a certain extent, it's possible that my preoccupation might make me appreciate life - and people - a tad more, from time to time. Swings, and indeed, roundabouts.
Since high school, I've recognised horror films as positive cathartic therapy. A good friend of mine's father died, and I had no idea what to say to him. We never spoke directly about his loss, but the very day he returned to school, he said he wanted us to have a horror movie marathon. We would watch the goriest, nastiest films available, mostly courtesy of third-generation VHS copies of Demons, Zombie Holocaust, Cannibal Ferox or whatever the most forbidden, hell-spun flicks seemed to be at the time. It clearly made my friend feel better, even though we had yet to discover booze.
Yesterday was a family funeral for me, which was thankfully less grim than I'd feared - partly due to meeting some very cool Arnopps who I'd never met in adult life. But as I watched that coffin being lowered into the ground, I was vividly reminded why horror is my genre of choice. It helps people like me deal with unpleasant, troubling subject matter, bringing it out into the open, red-raw and dripping. Confronting the dark side in a vicarious manner makes it far less intimidating. Perhaps that's why I often get defensive about horror censorship or people deriding the genre. I'm basically saying, "Leave my therapy alone".
So that helps explain why most of my writing will always revolve around death, fear, obsession and indeed wanton destruction. Now, I'd like to know which themes/genres/sub-genres you're preoccupied with, along with any reasons you'd care to give. Fire away...
Very sorry to hear that special effects genius Stan Winston died on Saturday, aged just 62. I never met or interviewed the man, but always got the impression that he was very nice and approachable. Despite having worked on blockbusters, and receiving four Academy Awards, he had a real affinity for the horror genre, being a longstanding Partner of LA's Screamfest event.
