I have an idea for a horror novel. It started as a nightmare - a real, honest-to-goodness nightmare where you wake up all sweaty and heart-racing and grab for the nearest dog or cat just to know something alive is nearby.
Once I turned on all the lights and checked the doors, I jotted down some notes. I saw potential.
But the story remains unwritten.
Those who know me will think this is just my normal procrastination kicking in. A little, but not as much as you might think. Fact is, after reading the wonderful book How To Survive a Horror Movie, I got the urge to write a humorous horror novel. I'm pretty sure I could do it, too.
Yet, I hesitate. Why?
My answer may amuse those of my readers who are familiar with my fictional work, but I don't want to put horrible images in people's heads.
Yes, I remember the slaughter of Laos in Star of Justice, and the vermin hunt from Elementals. Those are horrible images. I grin and apologize at the same time. However, a horror novel exists for the sole purpose of exploring horrible things. They aren't addendums or side trails. They're the whole point. I don't know that I want to do that to a reader, even one who picks up the book after seeing the scary cover or reading the ominous title.
TT: Oddly enough, I don't have a title for that story. I just call it "horror."
One image from my nightmare is so awful I get goosebumps thinking about it right now. Shudder. Do I really want to share that with another human being? Would that be okay? Even if it turns funny later? I don't know.
So, the story lurks in my file cabinet like an alien in a service shaft.
I'll let you know when it comes out.