Talk about dreams coming true…
Note: Take that middle school
English teacher who sent me to the guidance counselor for my violent, and
possibly overly sexual, vampire story.
To me,
horror is, and has always been, about survival. Yeah, that’s right—I don’t care
about the size of your machete, or how you use it; I care about what it’s going
to take for me to survive you. See, when I write, a storm is raging in my head
as I plan motive, vice, and virtue. I play hour-long games of “what-if” and I
pull from memories and personal experiences and then juxtapose them with
nightmares and fantasies. I push my characters to the brink of heartbreak and
insanity, and then I push them some more. I want my work , my horror, to make
people think and question themselves and their morals. Where is your line? At
what point will you fight? What has to happen for you to walk away? To me,
personally and creatively, there is nothing more terrifying than believing in
someone/something wholeheartedly only to find out that beneath their/its person
suit (thank you, Hannibal) waits a
stone-cold monster. Both myself and my characters have danced with darkness and
made love to madness, and some of the most truly horrifying scenarios in my work
have come from the relationships where someone trusted or loved a little too
much.
Vice and
Virtue.
Cause and consequence.
At what
point do we/our characters snap?
At what
point do our/their hearts break?
Stephen
King has a quote that says: “Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English
tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.”
And he’s right. As humans, we all want to connect with someone, and often the
journey to doing so is full of shattered glass and bullet wounds. Writing about
the bad, about the tragic, is cathartic—almost like putting a tourniquet on in
an attempt to stop the bleeding. It lets you sort out anger and betrayal, and
it helps you understand pain and fear. Writing horror poetry is a visceral, raw
experience where you’re honed in on emotion and image, waltzing with the
beautiful grotesque.
Vice and
Virtue.
Death and survival.
At what
point do we spread our legs to passion?
At what
point do we shed blood?
In my
workshop, I’m asking you to dance the dance with me. We’re going to talk Freud
and Bataille. We’re going to write and explore why Edgar Allan Poe only felt
that he was truly insane in the moments where his heart was touched. We’re
going to look at art, and project ourselves into stories and paintings where
we’ll perform psychological autopsies to decipher the sweet spot between our pleasure
and our suffering, between the manifestation and exorcism of our emotions.
We’ll
create characters with love and motive.
We’ll
build monsters and see what happens when they form relationships.And then at the end…we’ll see who is strong enough to survive.
Vice and
Virtue.
Kill or be
killed.
Between you and me, though… I always
bet on the underdog.
They love to burn the world down.
See you in Sin City.
-Stephanie M.
Wytovich
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