Crossing Subgenres

I learned this writing exercise from Tim Waggoner’s instructional book “Writing in the Dark.” It’s a fun way to explore the muscularity and flexibility of story ideas, and a great way to uncover unique ideas.

First, pick one of those story ideas you’ve stowed away in a notebook somewhere. Here’s one of mine: What if a man discovered a strange alien monolith buried in the middle of the desert and becomes possessed by alien entities as he dabbles with it? Initially, it seems to fall in the science fiction/creature horror subgenre. But…what other areas could the idea cross into?

Step two is just that: crossing over. What if this were a psychological horror story instead? Perhaps he’s a professor who finds some Native American artifact, becomes possessed by his obsession with it, and the alien entities are the symptom of his madness instead. What other places could we take it? If this is a supernatural possession, we can cross over into the realm of cosmic and body horror as well, overlapping subgenres.

I highly recommend Tim Waggoner’s book, especially if you write in the genre of horror. However, I think some of the writing exercises from his book are applicable in other genres as well.

Let me know what you come up with using this exercise.

Working Title: Love Bites

I completed the rough draft of a new story! I am very excited.

So the rough draft of this story turned out far better than I expected it would. The plan: Allow it to rest for a couple weeks, and then it will rise for the revision process. In the featured image are the first lines of the story. This is a love story, a love story that turns in a very tragic direction. It’s also a story about how we relate experiences to one another, and how people respond to them. In other words, it’s a story about storytelling. The working title for this story was “Love Bites.” However, that sounds a bit gimmicky. Maybe I’ll change it to “A Piece of My Heart.” But that sounds so pretentious. I don’t know. Such decisions can be saved for the revisions.

The Story Continues…

An excerpt from my current work in progress:

Standing before the mirror, she gazes into her reflection. Pale skin. Small prickles of hair emerging from her head. There’s a large oval -shaped scar on her neck. She focuses on her eyes–windows to the soul. Staring into them is like falling into a dark bottomless pit. She sees stains of guilt within them. She sees a mind like a grotesque dungeon, a place where thoughts wander blindly like prisoners, wailing at walls of misgiving and despair.

“Who am I?” she asks.

She gets the same answer as always. It comes to her as a hissing whisper in the back of her mind: not Meredith. Meredith is dead…