Once upon a time, a horror writer had one job:

Scare the hell out of people.

Okay, technically we still have that job.

But today’s horror audience wants something else along with the severed heads, creepy children, demonic possessions, and basements nobody should ever go into.

They want to feel something.

That may be one of the biggest lessons for anyone writing horror right now.

Jordan Peele uses horror to explore race, class, identity, and social anxiety.

Ari Aster built Hereditary and Midsommar around grief, guilt, relationships, and emotional fragility.

The Substance wrapped anxieties about aging, beauty, and bodily autonomy inside some truly spectacular body horror.

These movies aren’t scary instead of being about something.

They’re scary because they’re about something.

Here’s a useful question when developing your next horror story:

What is my character afraid of before the monster shows up?

Losing a child?

Getting old?

Being abandoned?

Losing control?

Discovering the person they love isn’t who they thought they were?

That’s your real horror story.

The ghost, killer, creature, cult, demon—or extremely suspicious little girl standing at the end of the hallway—is the delivery system.

If we care about the person being chased, the chase becomes terrifying.

If we don’t…

Well, at least the monster gets some exercise.

Here’s another interesting lesson, especially for writers targeting American and British audiences:

Horror doesn’t have to be relentlessly miserable.

Moments of humor can actually make horror work better.

Think about the absurd deaths of Final Destination, Hugh Grant cheerfully wandering into theological tangents in Heretic, or Dennis Quaid attacking shrimp like they personally insulted him in The Substance.

None of those moments turn the movies into comedies.

They give the audience release.

Tension → relief → tension.

That rhythm can make the next scare hit even harder.

So if you’re writing serious horror, don’t automatically delete the funny line because “this isn’t a comedy.”

Sometimes laughter is exactly what makes the scream that follows work.

The monsters change.

The anxieties don’t.

Today’s audiences remain frightened by killers, possession, ghosts, cults, psychological breakdowns, bodily transformation, isolation, and loss of control.

But those fears can also become metaphors for whatever is happening outside the theater.

Technology replacing us.

Our bodies betraying us.

Relationships becoming controlling.

Institutions collapsing.

People we trusted suddenly seeming untrustworthy.

That’s one reason horror continually reinvents itself.

 Every generation gets the monsters it needs.

Your job as a storyteller is figuring out what today’s monster looks like.

And finally, don’t underestimate dread.

You don’t need something jumping out of a closet every eight pages.

Sometimes the most effective horror simply plants the suspicion that something is wrong…

…and refuses to explain it.

Atmosphere. Ambiguity. Character. Anticipation.

Make the audience lean forward.

Make them wonder.

Make them dread opening the next door.

Because the horror stories we remember aren’t necessarily the ones that made us jump the highest.

They’re the ones that followed us home 🩸

This blog provides a springboard for writers/creators/storytellers. Remember, consistency is the key!

By incorporating these tips and tricks into your routine, you can have a rewarding hobby or career.

Until next time :)

-E

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