The Evils of Social Networking

Back in 2009, I started a MySpace page to promote my first (and still only) full-length novel, The Blackening. The reasoning behind it was obvious. As an aspiring horror/sci-fi author (and not-so-proud owner of an Ohio Directions card) I wanted to expose my work to the masses and hopefully get lucky; after all, these types of feel-good success stories we always hear about on the news are the kinds of rags-to-riches accounts that keeps us fools dreamin’, right?

After the MySpace page went nowhere in a hurry, I turned to Facebook, which I left in disgust about a month ago. Why? The first reason was that 94% of my Facebook friends really didn’t give a good goddamn about reading my material and helping spread the word; ditto to the dozens of other Facebook pages – mostly small-press publishers and horror-themed groups – that I contacted in a futile effort for exposure and opinions. But who has time to read anything when there are millions of videos to share, thousands of games to play, and hundreds of metaphysical beings to argue about?

Another of my motives for leaving? The lazy factor. Thinking, mentally constructing, and typing a uniquely individual comment based on critical thinking is a rarity on Facebook. If you agree with someone, just click the convenient “Like” button and move on to the next thing. Digital hedonism has a name…and that name is Facebook.

Which brings me to this: Facebook causes people to fall in love with their own lives and how they live them. I sure wasn’t above falling into this trap. I started my Facebook profile to promote my work, not myself, but promoting myself was precisely what I ended up doing; humorous status updates so I could relish in the jovial reciprocation of my friends became the norm. People nowadays are more interested in sensationalized personalities than a human being’s passion, accomplishments, or body of work. Just look at Charlie Sheen. Seriously, how many pictures of yourself do you have to post, how many useless status updates do we have to read, how many PetVille accomplishments do you have to flaunt, or how many music videos do you have to share? Piss off with it already.

All I tried to do on Facebook was use my talents to ascend out of the squalor I’ve lived in my entire life; all I wanted from my friends was a little boost, some input I could use to improve and write even better stories. Maybe my dreams aren’t meant to be. Perhaps those with bad luck act as the counterbalance to those who have better fortunes. But this struggle is all that guys like me have.

The final reason I won’t be on Facebook? I just don’t belong in the maddening crowd. I never have and I never will. Whenever I’m out in public, I go to an area that best allows me to see where everybody else is. Lurking outside of the tempestuous vortex of humanity – perhaps with a few other kindred souls – is right where I belong.

The Problem with America

When it comes to arguing political standpoints, I’ve been notorious for running my mouth longer than I should. That is exactly a large part of the problem in America these days; there is way too much lip-flapping, dick-flipping and bitch-slapping on social networking sites. Rather than using these tools as a method to orchestrate some GENUINE change, we prefer to sit in the comfort of our own homes and start shit with strangers, protected by our physical distance and varying degrees of anonymity.

As opinionated as I am, I’m finally grasping the fact that bitching amongst other people on Facebook leaves everyone involved with jack in one hand and shit in the other. Most of the time, I find myself arguing with people whose time would be better spent developing proper spelling skills and watching reruns of Reading Rainbow.

So I’ll keep this as brief as I can. I’m going to give you all a glimpse into what I believe is the source of most – if not all – of America’s problems. The Conservatives and the Liberals both will have you believe they’re fighting each other for a better country, but don’t be deceived by this staged act. As soon as the cameras are shut off, both parties are cashing their corporate paychecks and making us all look like the suckers that we are. It’s this type of misdirection that is causing such a massive division amongst the American public.

United we stand, divided we fall. How ironic…oh, how fucking ironic. As long as the political pawns in Washington keep making you focus on our differences rather than our similarities, the mass mind rape will continue unchecked and the faces of our true enemies will remain shrouded and amorphous.

Call me paranoid. Call me a conspiracy theorist. Accuse me of trying to cause further dissension, or blame me for royally pissing you off. Say what you will; it’s your opinion.

Be thankful you still have one.

10 Simple Rules for Making a Great Horror Movie

Horror movies today have left me disgruntled and disillusioned (or maybe I’m just always brimming with piss and vinegar). Paltry remakes, tedious sequels, and uninspired, formulaic retreads permeate the landscape of big-budget modern horror movies. If you want to see any kind of originality, you’re forced to sift through the independent circuit.

Even the horror masters have faded in recent times. George A. Romero, who merely five years ago proved he still had some of that zombie magic left after a twenty-year hiatus with Land of the Dead, has since released two sub par zombie flicks independently. These movies, Diary of the Dead and Survival of the Dead, contain interesting concepts that are never explored to their full potential, lack of character development (something George has always been well known for), poor CGI effects and silly, physics-defying methods of zombie disposal.

I know that my opinion will invoke the ire of Romero loyalists – who all believe that George can do no wrong when it comes to zombies – but I don’t hold back for anybody on God’s green earth. Hell, I’m a George A. Romero loyalist, but I think I know a classic zombie flick when I see it, and his last two movies left me with nothing more than a sour taste in my mouth.

But at least George is still plugging away; you’ve got to give him that much. John Carpenter – who as of this writing is finally filming another movie – has been mostly MIA since 2001, which was when the mediocre Ghosts of Mars was released. Sam Raimi, who brought horror, comedy, and comic book heroism together in Evil Dead 2, Army of Darkness and Darkman, has recently delivered the entertaining Drag Me to Hell, but will Sony Pictures and the Spider-Man franchise do the same to him?

Those are just a few of the maestros. But never fear, Hollywood; Daryl is here to save you from the kinds of horror movies that only spoiled teenage girls talk about at the mall’s food court. They are called Daryl’s 10 Simple Rules, and – if you obey each rule – the chances are good that you’ll finally make a horror movie that won’t be considered just a great horror movie, but a great movie. Period. Of course, these rules can be bent depending on what type of horror movie you’re making; a horror/comedy, for example, is never limited to any sets of rules. But if you want to make an all-time classic that really scares the bejesus of your intended audience for years to come…then you’ve come to the right place. Daryl’s Boot Camp is in session, and you don’t have to like it.

You just have to do it.

RULE #1: SET THE TONE. Hollywood…stop kicking off your horror movies with music video-like presentations, over-the-top opening credits or no opening titles at all. I love heavy metal music, but even I have to admit that it has its place and that is not at the beginning of a horror movie. A plodding opening sequence with haunting music and disturbing imagery interspersed throughout can do much, much more. A few examples of this would be Seven (1995), Dead Birds (2004), and Land of the Dead (2005). You can even mix up this formula, like the Dawn of the Dead remake did; start off fast, grab the audience by their collective throat, really suck them into the chaos…and then slow it down. Setting the tone for a horror movie is all too often overlooked.

RULE #2: ESTABLISH THE ATMOSPHERE. This is also disregarded by many modern horror movies. Dramatic camera angles that highlight long shadows, darkened crevices, ominous skies, claustrophobic stairwells and hallways, etc. slowly absorb your audience into the mounting tension. If you make your environments seem as menacing as your monstrous catalysts (whatever they happen to be), then the audience empathizes with your characters more and paranoia becomes communal. Examples can be seen in The Exorcist (1973), Halloween (1978), The Thing (1982), Prince of Darkness (1986), The Ring (2002), and Dead Birds (2004).

RULE #3: LITTLE OR NO MUSIC. Throw out the kind of loud music that mindlessly attracts your adolescent demographic and scrap even complex symphonic arrangements. High decibel levels always divert the human senses from the escalating suspense. You don’t want your music to be loud at all; rather, you want your music to be subtle and ambient, something that slithers through the ears and into the viewer’s subconscious. Bass, synthesizers and keyboards can do what no electric guitar, wicked rhyme or orchestra can do. This rule has a symbiotic relationship with Rule #2. When both are done well, they feed off of each other and augment the atmosphere. A shining example of this can be seen in John Carpenter’s incredible The Thing (1982). When MacReady throws the kennel door open and casts his flashlight on the abomination inside of it, listen carefully to the music in the background. As the dog-thing shrieks its rage at the stunned humans, that warbling, droning music crawls under your skin (kind of like the thing itself) and immediately tells you that the end was nigh for the inhabitants of Outpost 31.

However, some scenes demand no music. In The Exorcist (1973), the only music needed during the climactic exorcism was the fearful screams and hollow commands of the two embattled priests.

RULE #4: DEVELOP THINE CHARACTERS. Character development? In a horror movie? What a staggering concept. But did you ever wonder why so many people cheer on the murderous exploits of Jason Vorhees in the Friday the 13^th films? With Tommy Jarvis being the sole exception…IT’S BECAUSE THE CHARACTERS SUCK. They’re shallow, sex-crazed teenagers with no other thought or compulsion but to get intoxicated and screw like rabbits eating whole ginseng roots. Hell, I support Jason as he rampages through Crystal Lake like a homicidal Hulk, because he has more charisma wearing a mask and brandishing a machete than the 1,786 (or so) horny teens he’s brutally killed…combined.

Developing your characters is vital to making an effective horror movie. If the viewer doesn’t care about the main characters or their plight, then how do you expect the audience to ever be scared for them? Total immersion in fear is the most necessary ingredient in a horror movie, and these rules are aimed to cover fear at any and every angle. When Roger is bitten by a zombie in the original Dawn of the Dead, I’m willing to bet most of you were pretty upset; I sure was when I first saw it. Why is that? Because his character was pretty well embellished before that point…but the role was also well-acted by Scott H. Reiniger. Struggling and relatively unknown actors usually have something to prove, which is why I would prefer casting them rather than big-money actors if I were making a horror movie. But well known actors can also surprise you; John Cusack’s role in 1408 (2007) comes to mind. His acting made that movie and gave the character of Mike Enslin a great deal of substance. Pick the actors that can best bring your characters to life and utilize those talents to properly flesh those characters out.

RULE #5: KEEP THE “JUMP” MOMENTS TO A MINIMUM. You want to tease your audience, not desensitize them thirty minutes into your film. If you litter your movie with too many “jump” moments – whether they’re justifiable or not – your audience won’t give a rusty you-know-what when the genuine scares begin. Here’s an example of an effective “jump” moment: Heroine hears strange noise upstairs. Heroine goes to investigate. After a lengthy sequence that’s full of tension and expectation, the heroine discovers…absolutely nothing. The heroine goes back downstairs so she can go to bed. She brushes her teeth. She gurgles mouthwash and spits it into the sink. She looks at her face in the mirror. She puts on her nightgown. She opens her bedroom door. She walks past her closet AND SOMETHING GRABS HER FROM INSIDE THE CLOSET! A successful “jump” moment happens out of nowhere, especially after a sense of normalcy has been established (or re-established) in a particular scene.

Many horror fans fondly recall Jason erupting from the waters of Crystal Lake at the end of the original Friday the 13^th as one the greatest “jump” moments of all time. I agree, but I think I have a better one in mind; anyone who’s seen The Exorcist III will know exactly what I’m talking about.

RULE #6: GET RID OF THE SHAKY CAMERA. Shaky camera shots are fine during a scene of intense action, but I don’t want to get seasick while I’m watching a simple exchange of dialogue. It seems that shaky camera shots are littered across the landscape of both the silver and small screens nowadays. My only theory is that this current trend has been inspired by reality TV…and if you’re turning to reality television for any sort of new ideas to implement in your horror movie, you need to go back to the drawing board.

RULE #7: TONE DOWN THE GORE FACTOR AND CGI. Gore and violence should be kept to the barest minimum possible in a horror movie. Why? Go back up to Rule #5 and read it again. Desensitizing your audience too quickly will make them more apathetic when beloved characters start to get maimed later on. When gore and violence does happen in a movie, it should happen like how it does in real life…short, sloppy, and vicious. Have you ever seen a real fist fight? I’ve seen plenty – and been in more than a few myself – to understand that real violence is not a fluid arrangement of physical sequences; a fist fight is a rough, bloody tangle of flying limbs. Whether it’s a physical altercation or the brutal death of a character, keep it short and simple…like a punch in the stomach.

Now, about CGI. STOP RELYING ON IT SO DAMN MUCH. CGI should be used to enhance tried and true effects and/or cover up flaws in its design. While there are a few exceptions to this rule, it angers me whenever I see sloppy CGI instead of remarkable animatronics or puppetry; I can spot shoddy CGI effects from a mile away…and I’m blind in one eye. CGI can’t replace a good squib when a zombie gets its brains splattered all over the wall. CGI can’t replace the realism of a hideous creature built by a dedicated FX team who adore their dying craft. CGI can’t replace excellent makeup or gruesome masks…but CGI can supplement some – or all – of the above. Construct your effects before you bring in the computer geeks to help out.

RULE #8: AMBIGUITY. Audiences today demand explanations. Let me tell you something: as a horror writer, I hate trying to come up with believable – or, at the very least, halfway plausible – explanations to otherwise unexplainable phenomenon. That’s why I’ve stuck with short stories and novellas recently, because writers are still allowed to make a hasty exit when the reader is expecting complete clarification. In a movie, ambiguity is the best bet. Explain some things but leave other questions unanswered. An example would be to explain what your horrific catalyst is, but never reveal where it came from. Then the question of where becomes the quandary of each and every person in your audience. They will find their own answers, and that kind of interactivity with your intended audience will flourish into loyalty for your creation. When it comes to answering who, what, when, where, how, and why, resolve only half of those queries at the most.

H.P. Lovecraft said it best. “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.” All aspiring horror creators should take his words to heart.

RULE #9: END IT ALL. This is horror, and in horror, the good guys rarely win. If they do win, if they manage to defy the odds and overcome the unspeakable horrors they must face, it should always come with a heavy price that’s usually paid with their sanity or their souls. Halloween (1978) has a climax that alarms the viewer even though Laurie Strode and Dr. Loomis survive. The ending troubles you because you know next to nothing about what, exactly, Michael Myers really is, but you know that he’s still alive and you know that he could be anywhere, watching and waiting in the shadows.

Classic examples of effectively disturbing and nihilistic climaxes can be found in Night of the Living Dead (1968), Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978), The Thing (1982), Saw (2004), 28 Weeks Later (2007) and The Mist (2007). The ending of The Mist was the last movie I’ve seen to have a soul-crushing finale that kicks you in the gut. Repeatedly.

RULE #10: TO HELL WITH SEQUELS. Sequels are mostly wastes of time. I liked the first Saw because it was one of the few movies to come out over the last ten years that I couldn’t accurately predict at the 40 minute mark. Saw II, however, was much more predictable, at least for me. I lost interest halfway through Saw III, and I haven’t bothered to watch any of the latter sequels. Some of them may even be good (or have good qualities to them), but my motivation for watching them is nil because I’m tired of the formula. When you make a horror movie, you’ve got to have a balls-out mentality with it. Don’t plan for any sequels or cater your story for a potential sequel. Implement your best ideas and hardest effort now. If sequel opportunities do come along, and if you genuinely care about your creations, you’ll be forced to raise the bar that you’ve already set for yourself. Just try to keep the sequels at one or two, please. When a franchise hits four movies long, you’re asking for creative self-implosion.

That’s it, Hollywood. Obey Daryl’s 10 Simple Rules and horror movies can stop languishing in the purgatory of remakes and unoriginality you’ve put them in. Just mention my name somewhere in the credits.

I’m starving here.

“Made to Order” Writing

I’m not a big fan of what I refer to as “made to order” writing. I’ve written a novel and eight short stories thus far – not to mention a novella and two other short stories in varying degrees of completion – and I usually write whatever the hell I feel like writing about. Usually, an idea strikes me, I say, “Holy crap! That’s awesome!’ before firing up the laptop that has a screen held precariously to the keyboard by copious amounts of electrical tape.

However, I recently discovered that a small press publisher is taking submissions for an upcoming zombie anthology book. Yes, you heard me right. Zombies.

Zombies – at one time – were cool. But ever since 28 Days Later, the Dawn of the Dead remake, and George Romero’s Land of the Dead, zombies have done little more but piss me off. They seem to be an excuse to throw together a cheap capitalization of their popularity, usually in the form of uninspired remakes. From what I’ve read thus far, zombies in horror fiction haven’t fared much better.

I never wanted to write a zombie story. Never. Nope. No way. I like to stick primarily with the supernatural and Lovecraftian horror elements such as fear of the unknown, insanity, extra-dimensional abnormalities and unimaginable monstrosities from beyond time and space. But opportunity is opportunity, right? How can I ever achieve my dreams of writing horror fiction for a living if I reject this latest chance for exposure? How can I ever hope to get my mangled teeth fixed up if I spit in the face of opportunity? How can I ever hope to afford that elusive Cleveland Browns coat I’ve wanted since I was ten years old? I guess you get the idea.

So I grudgingly sat in front of my crumbling laptop and started to write…a zombie story. A zombie story, so help me God. And you know what? It’s turning out much, much better than I dared to dream. These characters have developed lives of their own and refuse to do what I planned for them to do. These unpredictable and damaged characters are the central focus of the story, not the zombies. I also think I’ve created a unique twist to how these zombies are made that is firmly rooted in reality.

So what am I trying to say? Sometimes – but not all the time – writing a story “made to order” can be a good thing. You never know what the imagination can do unless you use it.

If You Can’t Write…Then Don’t

I don’t believe I’m the greatest writer who ever lived nor do I think I’m the greatest writer alive today. I do have enough faith in my talent to say that I’m a good writer, which should be enough to prevent those rejection letters from piling up faster than cat shit in an untended litter box. Right?

I’m sure that the rags-to-riches success of writers such as J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer have led to thousands – if not millions – of people taking up writing in hopes of emulating their accomplishments. Of course, I’ll save my nasty opinions of Meyer’s Twilight series and its myriad of rip-offs for another day; that isn’t what this particular post is about. No, what I’m ranting about here are the people who are cluttering up the desks of editors all over with drivel such as this:

He opened the door. There, staring back at him, was the Hook Man. He shot the Hook Man with his gun, but the Hook Man screamed a scream of such crotch-tingling rage that he threw his gun at the Hook Man in hopes of distracting him so he could run away from the Hook Man, which he did. He ran down the hall. Turning right, he saw a crumbling wooden door that may or may not have promised him safe refuge from the fury and murderous intentions of the horrible scariness of the Hook Man. He opened the door. The Hook Man was already there! His balls shriveled up and he screamed and ran back into the hall. Not knowing where to go, he screamed for help but no help would come. He was in the lair of the horrific and diabolically homicidal Hook Man…

I don’t know about you, but if I were an editor having to read through hundreds of those types of submissions over a small span of time, I’d be looking for a shotgun so I could attempt self-inflicted brain surgery. I can’t help but wonder how many good stories and good writers are overlooked because of long-suffering editors who are worn down from the crap they have to read day-to-day.

What I’m trying to say is this…if you can’t write, then don’t. Don’t waste your time or the time of others by deluding yourself with fantasies of being the next J.K. Rowling. There’s nothing wrong with learning writing as a new skill and trying to make yourself better at it. But if years go by and you still can’t eliminate those run-on sentences, grammatical errors, typos, and formulaic plots without the aid of Microsoft Word and a handy copy of Writing Amazing Plots for Dummies, then maybe it’s time you move on. Find something else that you are good at and shoot for the stars…

…or else the Hook Man might find you.