Some thoughts on the writing of ghost stories and my personal objectives in doing so

Thursday 2/8/24

Writers of ghost stories often seem to have a need to set down their thoughts on what a ghost story ought to be. Algernon Blackwood did this, and certainly M.R. James, who had all of these rules, the following of which would direct the prospective ghost story writer down a narrow corridor. I write many things, of course, but I am doing this book of ghost stories right now, and I'm getting to the point where I may have to face that what I really have is two volumes. Over the last two days I've been working in my head on a new story for one of them, or learning about it, which might be the more accurate way to put things. I don't want to say figuring it out, because it's not really mine to figure out. The characters will tell you their stories.

That story got me thinking about what a ghost story has to be for me, as a writer. I think ghost stories can be almost anything. A ghost story can be funny. Wry. Emotionally devastating. But here is where I most differ from all other writers of ghost stories in my thinking: A ghost story has to be much more than a ghost story. For me, you could have the scariest ghost story ever, and it won't be art if that's all it is. If it's just the scariest story ever. That's not enough, in and of itself.

This volume--or this first volume, if one prefers--is called The Ghost Grew Legs: Stories of the Dead for the More or Less Living. The title is also the title of one of the stories, but it's more than that, too, in that it speaks to a larger aim and gives indication of larger purpose. These are ghosts with legs, meaning, they are ghosts that go places, and that includes beyond the bounds of ghost stories as others write and tell them, and into the world, into lives. Into the life of you, the reader. As for the subtitle: How many of us are ghosts in our own lives? How many of us are truly alive? If we're not truly alive, as in living fully, or close to it, what are we? We're ghost-like to some degree, yes? The "more or less" introduces a subtle sardonic note, which suggests freedom and probably not what we're used to expecting. The blood may be chilled here and, in some cases, turned to ice, but there will be more going on. And the "for" is important. The idea of stories being for people. Who are these people? We think about that and we realize, "Oh, the people in the book and...oh...people who aren't in the book." Then again, they sort of are.

Most ghost stories have a central aim: to be scary. We should tweak that, though--what they're really invested in is creating an atmosphere of discomfort. Now, the discomfort can be pleasing, but atmosphere rules the day of these stories generally speaking, and in terms of the author's intent. But matters can stop there. They frequently do. The atmosphere has been conjured, sensations have been produced, the story--which can at times feel incidental--is carried through to its conclusion, the atmosphere is thus broken. It's almost like being in a room with the air conditioner turned up too high and then stepping back outside. You go on with your day--that room was that room and you're not in it anymore.

In this regard, ghost stories lack for range. Emotional and thematic range. I don't want to ever write anything that does that. For me, it isn't art. Actually, I need not qualify that with the personal: It's not art. That emotional and thematic range is vital to art. Legs are vital to art. The ability to go places, go into lives, traverse, be in the world ranging.

I say all of this as someone who has read every ghost story in literature that he's been able to get his hands on for virtually his whole life. I'm always reading, which means I'm always reading lots of things, and one of those things is ghost stories. I can enjoy a "leg-less" ghost story but it is a reading experience of then and there and of itself. What I mean by that last part is that it doesn't become a part of me. I can remember the story, think about a creepy part of it, look over my shoulder in the dark, but it doesn't change how I view the world, myself, how I think, how I feel--that is, the very processes and mechanics of experiencing one's feelings--or set me down some road or cause me to reconsider or consider. It's not impacting my very being.

It's a question of utility, fundamentally, and value. A ghost story that is an excellent ghost story that is more than a ghost story and does this traveling and traversing is something else, something rare, something wonderful, without limit and no confinement to then and there. Then we're talking art and not simply category and classification.