Are you itching and burning with ideas for your next story? Would you rather start that new novel than get medical help for the itching and burning? Are you obsessed with adverbs? Today we cover style, genre and creative writing in an extensive interview with author Tim Waggoner, who joins us to talk about his art and craft. A forthcoming book from Crystal Lake Publishing, Where Nightmares Come From: The Art Of Storytelling In The Horror Genre, focuses on the art of storytelling, taking an idea from conception to making it a reality. Tim is one of the contributors, and we let John Linwood Grant loose on him…

Waggoner on Writing

Tim Waggoner grew up in the Dayton, Ohio, area, and is the author of numerous novels, three short story collections, and over one hundred published stories in the Fantasy, Horror, and Thriller genres. He’s a professional author who also currently works as a professor of English and coordinator of creative activities at Sinclair Community College in Dayton, Ohio. Having enjoyed his work (and having published him in our Occult Detective Quarterly magazine), I asked him for some thoughts on the whole business.

John: Thanks for joining us on greydogtales, Tim. The main excuse for talking to you today is the forthcoming collection of essays and interviews, Where Nightmares Come From, but I’d like to start by asking a little about your own career and approach to writing, so bear with me. Firstly, you’re a professor of English and coordinator of creative activities as well as a professional writer. Was the teaching a deliberate parallel development, complementary to your writing, or one of those things that just happened?

Tim: It was deliberate. When I was an undergrad, and already dedicated to becoming a professional writer, I couldn’t believe how little my English professors – including the creative writers – knew about publishing. I decided then that I wanted to become a college writing teacher so I could help students like me, people who not only wanted to write, but wanted to do so professionally. After I received my bachelor’s degree, I went on to get my master’s. That degree allowed me to teach college writing classes part time while I wrote. I did that for ten years, then I landed a full-time, tenure-track job teaching creative writing and composition.

My teaching career has done more than provide a steady pay check and benefits, though. The act of teaching writing has taught me just as much about creating good writing as writing itself. The more I came to understand writing – what works, what doesn’t, and how to help others become better writers – the better writer I became. And I’m still learning.

John: You’ve also had experience in journalism and editing. Did that contribute to the development of your approach to fiction in any positive way?

Tim: I worked for a small-town weekly newspaper for a couple years in the mid-eighties, and that taught me to write to deadline, write fast, and write without second-guessing myself because there was no time to do it over. Back then, I wrote on a typewriter, not a computer, so there was almost no time for revision. I spend most of the week gathering information for stories, then I wrote them the day they were due to be typeset. Writing this way taught me focus, and how to write succinctly and to the point. There was no Internet as we know it today, so all my research consisted of interviewing people and gaining first-hand experience. It was a wonderful training ground for a writer.

I worked as an editor of my college’s literary magazine for a year, and after that, I did editing in my college’s publications office, where I wrote and edited various promotional materials. I took these gigs because I thought working as an editor would help make me a better writer by giving me insight into what it was like to work on the other side of the editor’s desk. Editors usually only ask me to do minor revisions of my fiction, and a number of them have remarked on how clean my copy is. I credit the experience I got from my editing gigs for this.

John: Some writers put on very different hats, depending on the project at the time. I can’t shift swiftly from Edwardian to contemporary, for example. You’ve crossed different genres quite a bit in your books and stories. Do you consciously change your approach for each, or do you write as ‘you’ whatever the area, and see what comes out?

Tim: I consciously change my approach when I write different types of stories, especially when I’m writing a media tie-in novel. I’m not going to write one of my original surreal horror novels the same way I’m going write an adventure of Sam and Dean Winchester or the way I’m going to novelize a script like Kingsman: the Golden Circle. For tie-ins, I work to capture the narrative style of the property. Writing tie-ins is similar to acting in some ways. You want to get the voice of the character just right. But at the same time, whatever comes out is still “me,” just another aspect of me. I find making the transition from one type of writing – say, pitch-black horror – to another – such as light-hearted adventure – to be a bit difficult at times. It can take me a few days to a couple weeks to get into the right mindset to start a new project. To help, I immerse myself in books and movies that are similar in content, tone, and style to the type of fiction I want to write, and that usually gets the job done.

John: You were awarded a Stoker in 2016 for The Winter Box. Are there technical aspects of the writing – choice of style, voice, overall structure, etc – in that particular book which you feel made it stand up, and be received, so well?

Tim: I think the concept – a couple haunted by the ghost of their dead marriage – was a big part of why the novella was well received. Whenever I write horror, I try to be innovative, to create new and different types of stories, and use different narrative approaches. I love the genre, and I do my best to add something worthy to it. Along with the concept of The Winter Box, I think the fact that the story delved deeply into the characters gave it a strong emotional core. And the motif of winter – snow, ice, cold – worked well to accentuate the conflict between the characters. I’m glad The Winter Box worked for so many readers, and I’m grateful that the members of the Horror Writers Association chose to acknowledge it.

John: Do you have a personal genre or sub-genre preference in which you would write, if you were free from any commercial considerations? Do you secretly yearn to be Agatha Christie or Tolstoy?

Tim: While I enjoy writing tie-in novels, if money wasn’t an issue, I’d exclusively write surreal, nightmarish horror like in The Winter Box. Not only is horror my first love, but I consider those kind of stories my truest artistic expressions.

Where Nightmares Come From

John: OK, on to the new book – which should provide a wealth of information and viewpoints for other writers and critics. Your contribution to the book is entitled ‘Horror is a State of Mind’. Maybe I can start by asking you to tell us about what you cover in that, just a few clues.

Tim: The idea behind the article is that since we experience reality through the filter of our particular consciousness, knowing your character’s consciousness – trying to experience the story from your character’s perspective – will help you write more effective fiction.

John: Should Where Nightmares Come From be seen as a primer for new and mid-career writers, or do you see it more as a set of reflections to be dipped into?

Tim: I’d say it’s a combination of both. Back when I was starting out, I got my hands on every book and article on writing horror that I could find, and whether it was a strict how-to approach or an interview with a writer talking about his or her craft, I always learned something from it. My hope is that people will have the same experience from this book.

John: When it comes to a volume like this with so many different contributors, have you had a chance to read any of the other sections? Or do you have to trust the editors that your contribution sits comfortably alongside the rest?

Tim: With a book like this, you never get to read the other contributions until after it’s been published, so you definitely have to trust the editors! But given the list of contributors, I feel confident the editors have covered a wide spectrum of horror writers and writing – and I’m looking forward to reading it!

John: There are many networks – Internet, association based or localised by geography – for writers. Do you generally interact with other professional writers much to discuss matters of technique and style? How much ‘shop talk’ can you endure?

Tim: As a teacher and mentor of writers, I spend a lot of time discussing aspects of writing, but that’s not exactly shop talk since these writers aren’t usually as experienced as I am. But when peers get together, we usually don’t talk about matters of craft. We more often talk about the business side of writing – which editor is acquiring what kind of manuscripts for what publishers, etc. When I was first starting out, I heard it expressed like this: Beginning writers talk about characterization and exposition, more experienced writers talk about agents and editors, and old pros talk about their kids, health, and world events. At this point in my career, I’m probably edging into the old pro category.

John: It’s talking about dogs, for me, but I agree. For others not so far down the line as you, what would you say are the key characteristics of the professional writer?

Tim: Making writing a regular habit. Learning to improve from feedback. Learning what feedback to listen to and what feedback to set aside. Always trying to improve as a writer. Learning as much as you can about the business of writing – whether you want to publish traditionally, publish as an indie writer, or as a hybrid writer. Conducting yourself like a professional when interacting with others in person and online. Learning how to network. Learning how to be a contributing member of the writing community.

Teaching Creative Writing

John: And I’ll throw in an age-old question, given your role as an educator – is writing an art or a craft? I tend towards craft, but that’s probably because I hack away at it every day.

Tim: It’s both. Craft gives you techniques to express whatever ideas you wish to express, but it can’t give you the ideas themselves. That’s where the art comes in: having something to say in your work that’s uniquely you, something that no one else in the world could ever say in the same way, something that adds to the overall field you’re writing in. Craft can be taught, but Art needs to be nurtured, encouraged, and organically grown. This can be a natural process, one self-directed by a writer, or one guided by a teacher or mentor.

John: I have a thing about excessive adjectives. Stephen King (who is in the book) famously said “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” Any bugbears you’d like to share, tremulously?

Tim: Regarding adverbs, I tell my students that they’re generally lazy, inefficient methods of communication. I ask any of them to show me “angrily.” They slam their fist onto their desk, shout, grind their teeth . . . and then I tell them that none of those actions is “angrily.” They’re specific ways of demonstrating anger. It’s always better to give readers a distinct image instead of using an adverb.

Large chunks of unnecessary exposition bug me, as well as stories that have no focus, stories that wander all over the place without going anywhere. I really get irritated by characters – especially in horror – who don’t have realistic reactions to events. I can’t tell you how many student stories I’ve read where a character is confronted by a threat, such as a ravenous monster running toward them, fangs bared, claws outstretched, and the character has no emotional reaction to it whatsoever. That drives me insane! It throws me right out of the world of the story.

John: Obviously, you’ve had a lot of experience of guiding early writers and suggesting, or exploring, approaches. When you teach creative writing, do you find that people come to classes/groups with realistic expectations, or do they have some idealised view of being a writer?

Tim: Beginning writers sometimes believe that “creative” writing means free expression, and they’re resistant to the idea that they need to learn specific techniques to make their stories effective for an audience. “I didn’t know this class was going to be work!” A lot of beginning writers lack confidence in themselves and think everything they produce is crap. It may well be crap, but that doesn’t mean they’re doomed to write crap forever, but it can be hard to convince them of that. Some beginning writers believe that every word they write is golden and are highly resistant to making changes. A number of the graduate students I’ve worked with were the worst offenders when it comes to refusing to make changes based on feedback. It puzzled the hell out of me. Why would someone pay thousands of dollars to enroll in a graduate program and then refuse to learn and grow from the experience?

John: Has anything that came up whilst you taught creative writing to others ever changed your mind about your own approach?

Tim: I’m sure there are thousands of things I’ve learned through teaching that have changed my writing, probably in ways that I’m not even aware of. The act of trying to figure out what a student is trying to do in a story, and then trying to figure out specific ways to help that student achieve his or her goals sharpens and clarifies your approach to your own fiction. In my case, the old saying “those who can’t do, teach” should be “those who teach learn to do better.” I learn something new from every class I teach, every story I give feedback to, and every writer I mentor.

John: I write professionally, but I’ve never taken a writing class, paid much attention to books on writing, had a mentor, or studied any aspect of the craft seriously. I don’t take any pride in the fact – it simply happened that I honed what moderate abilities I have by writing, again and again. What would you say I might have missed out on?

Tim: Reading and writing a ton are always the best ways to grow as a writer. No one needs a class to do those things. But a good class or writers’ group can provide a sense of community and make you feel like you’re not alone. You can start building a support network of fellow writers, too. You get a chance to put your work before an audience and see what sort of response it gets. It helps make the concept of an audience concrete rather than abstract. Classes and how-to-write books can help give you different perspectives on your work, open you up to new possibilities, or simply provide you with some new tips and tricks to add to your writer’s toolbox. Those are the positives.

There are some potential negatives too. You might get bad advice from teachers and fellow students. A bad teacher can end up discouraging a student to the point where he or she stops writing altogether. Other beginning writers don’t know any more than you do, so you can get a situation of the blind leading the blind. And a story that’s been workshopped to death, that’s been revised to please everyone in the class – teacher and students alike – can become bland, unremarkable, and likely end up unpublishable. If you want to take a class, find out as much about the teacher as you can. Does he or she write? Can you check out his or her work? Can you Google the teacher and find out what past students think of him or her? For how-to books, see if they’re written by people who actually publish fiction. A lot of how-to’s are written by people who’ve published little or nothing. That’s what’s so great about Where Nightmares Come From. Everyone in it is a pro who practices what they preach.

John: And as you’re here, feel free to update us with anything new or forthcoming from you that people might like to know about.

Tim: My monsters-attack novel Teeth of the Sea is just out from Severed Press, my next story collection Dark and Distant Voices should be out in December from Nightscape Press, and my horror novel The Mouth of the Dark will come out from Flame Tree Press sometime next year.

John: Many thanks for joining us, and may your writing prosper.

Tim: You’re welcome and thanks!

WHERE NIGHTMARES COME FROM

Full Table of Contents

IT’S THE STORY TELLER by Joe Lansdale
A-Z OF HORROR of Clive Barker
WHY HORROR? by Mark A. Miller
PIXELATED SHADOWS by Michael Paul Gonzalez
LIKE CURSES by Ray Garton
HOW TO GET YOUR SCARE ON by S.G. Browne
STORYTELLING TECHNIQUES by Richard Thomas
HORROR IS A STATE OF MIND by Tim Waggoner
BRINGING AN IDEA TO LIFE by Mercedes Yardley
THE PROCESS OF A TALE by Ramsey Campbell
GREAT HORROR IS SOMETHING ALIEN by Michael Bailey
A HORRIFICALLY HAPPY MEDIUM by Taylor Grant
INTERVIEW WITH JOHN CONNOLLY by Marie O’Regan
THE STORY OF A STORY by Mort Castle
WRITING ROUNDTABLE INTERVIEW with Christopher Golden, Kevin J. Anderson, and Silvia Moreno-Garcia
HOW I SPENT MY CHILDHOOD LOOKING FOR MONSTERS AND FOUND POETRY INSTEAD by Stephanie M. Wytovich
BITS AND PIECES INTERVIEW WITH JONATHAN MABERRY by Eugene Johnson
THE REEL CREEPS by Lisa Morton
THE MONSTER SQUAD by Jess Landry
WHAT SCARES YOU by Marv Wolfman
PLAYING IN SOMEONE ELSES HAUNTED HOUSE by Elizabeth Massie
CREATING MAGIC FROM A BLANK PIECE OF PAPER: Del Howison interviews Tom Holland, Amber Benson, Fred Dekker, and Kevin Tenney
Z NATION: HOW SYFY’S HIT SHOW CAME TO LIFE by Craig Engler
LIFE IMITATING ART IMITATING LIFE: FILM AND ITS INFLUENCE ON REALITY by Jason V. Brock
WHERE NIGHTMARES COME FROM by Paul Moore
STEPHEN KING AND RICHARD CHIZMAR DISCUSS COLLABORATING by Bev Vincent
CHARLAINE HARRIS DISCUSSES STORYTELLING by Eugene Johnson
WHAT NOW? by John Palisano

Where Nightmares Come From: The Art Of Storytelling In The Horror Genre will be out on November 17^th. You can keep up to date by checking the Crystal Lake site:

21314682_497870440547186_6146671627347809401_n http://www.crystallakepub.com/