A New Ride

Every time I interview authors who write horror, I ask the same question, “Why do you want to scare people?” I’m joking a little. I fully understand the narrative power of fear and of the relief that comes when it’s lifted. But horror movies and novels generally creep me out, and so I avoid them, which is why I ask the question. “Teach me,” I go on to say, “why it’s awesome.”

The answer’s almost always the same: Because of how alive you feel when you’re scared, the way your heart races when you’re plummeting down a roller coaster. If I were grading my interviewees’ answers, I would give this one an A+. It’s always a good thing to feel alive, however you get there. Of course, I dislike roller coasters even more than horror stories. Riding one feels like punishment for the bored. I apologize if you love roller coasters or books about serial killers and murderous clowns. You’re certainly not wrong to do so.

In fact, I have a distant memory of a time when I did enjoy those heart-thumping rides. I was a boy, or at least a young man with a boy’s outlook on things. Then somewhere in my thirties, when I had children of my own, I found myself on The Typhoon at Seattle Center and realized midway through I just wanted the thing to be over as quickly as possible. I suppose I’d found enough other things to be scared about. However, I got off that ride feeling a bit disappointed in myself. I was now the kind of guy who didn’t like roller coasters. What a fuddy-duddy. It felt a little like saying I didn’t like fun.

Of course, I love fun, it’s just that what was fun yesterday is not always fun today. Strange how that works. It’s as if the pleasure does not come from what I’m actually doing. A crackling fire, after all, is just as warm no matter when you light it. Yet I appreciate a fire far more on a winter’s night than a summer’s day. It’s good to have one when I need it, though I must remember that I alone perceive that need. The worst fear I’ve known came not from scary movies but the belief I was trapped forever on a ride not of my own creation. I forget that I’m the one who bought the ticket, and that it will always take me back where it started, where I will be free to choose something else.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com