Today is Halloween and in the blogosphere I’ve noticed some people are posting lists of the movies they consider the scariest. Not the books, but the movies. This made me think of something that Simon Strantzas discussed in a recent blog entry, specifically the purpose of horror fiction and whether or not the intent should be to scare the reader.

Have you ever been frightened by a horror novel, or do you feel there is nothing scary about a bunch of words, no matter how cleverly they’re put together? How about horror movies? Ever seen one that made you jump, or is it all just a bunch of silly special effects?

I know quite a few horror authors, but I couldn’t tell you how many of them write horror with the intention of instilling fear. I have heard readers describe certain books as scary, but I often wonder just how much it truly scared them. Is it the same kind of scare you get from a horror movie? It doesn’t seem so. A scene in a book describing a serial killer jumping through a window to grab someone from behind doesn’t seem to have the same punch as actually witnessing it in a movie. Some people jump in their seats, some people even scream out loud, and that’s not something you get in even the scariest novel. Fear in fiction seems to be a subtler fear, which is not to say it’s any less effective or frightening.

One of the scariest scenes I ever read in a book was in Stephen King’s Bag of Bones. The protagonist is standing at the top of the basement stairs listening to someone — or something — down in the dark rapping on bags of insulation. He begins to question the presence and receives replies — one tap for no, two for yes. A simple scene, but very creepy.

In terms of my own horror stories, I don’t tend to write with the intention of scaring my audience. I take it as a compliment when I do, but it’s strictly an added bonus.

Maybe I’m desensitized to these things, or maybe I’m just a product of my generation, but I find horror movies scarier than horror novels. Perhaps it’s because film is a visual medium and much more impressionable on the ol’ imagination. I’m sure some people will differ with me on that one, but it’s not meant to be taken as a slight against the written word. I simply believe that, when it comes to delivering the most potent scares, film is a much more effective medium than literature.

I think this is why I have such an aversion to the type of horror novels I think of as “blood and boobies.” The b&b books are the literary equivalent of slasher flicks, and when I meet someone who is taken aback by the fact that I write horror, it’s usually this kind of crap that they’re thinking of. I quickly mention that I don’t write “that” kind of horror, which sounds snooty, but it’s really not because, quite frankly, you don’t have to aim that high to be better than some of the tripe that qualifies as horror these days.

I think another reason I find horror films to be scarier is that I grew up on them. I read a lot of horror fiction as a youngun, too, but it didn’t have the same effect on me. A movie with frightening images seems to speak louder than words, especially to the young and impressionable. I recall having to turn off The Evil Dead the first time I saw it and finish it in the morning. Most recently my wife and I were suitably freaked out by a French horror movie called Ils and it’s American doppelganger The Strangers. So I do have the capacity to be scared by horror, but it doesn’t seem to happen that often in books.

To be fair to both mediums, I’ve listed below ten of my favourite horror stories and ten of my favourite horror movies. I’m not calling them my all-time favourites because I will no doubt forget one or two that don’t spring immediately to mind. It’s hard enough limiting the number to ten, so let’s just say these are my favourites at this precise moment. Fair enough?

Ian’s 10 Favourite Horror Stories (Novels/Novellas/Short Stories)

1. “The White People,” by Arthur Machen
2. “The Yellow Wallpaper,” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
3. The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson
4. I Am Legend, by Richard Matheson
5. IT, by Stephen King
6. “The Mist,” by Stephen King
7. Falling Angel, by William Hjortsberg
8. “Family,” by Joyce Carol Oates
9. The Keeper, by Sarah Langan
10. The Road, by Cormac McCarthy

Ian’s 10 Favourite Horror Movies

1. Alien
2. Jaws
3. The Shining
4. Eraserhead
5. The Evil Dead
6. Black Christmas
7. The Blair Witch Project
8. Halloween
9. Ils
10. Videodrome

Honourable Mentions (which means I had too many movies and not enough room on the list)

The Changeling
Don’t Look Now
The Exorcist
Jacob’s Ladder
Phantasm
Ringu
Session 9
Se7en
The Thing
The Village

And, a special bonus:

Ian’s “5 Movies That Freaked Me Out as a Child”

1. Alice in Wonderland

I was so afraid Alice would never find her way home and would be stuck forever in Wonderland, which I found to be an extremely disturbing place. The Cheshire Cat was an asshole and I thought Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dum looked like escaped lunatics.

2. The Dark Crystal

If Sam Raimi ever directed an episode of “The Muppets,” it might have looked something like this. Not as freaky now, but it scared the bejesus out of me as a kid.

3. Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

For some reason I thought the movie was going to end with some big reveal that Wonka’s chocolate was made from children, and that the ones on the tour would end up in the next batch. I probably shouldn’t have watched this right after Soylent Green. Also, Wonka himself kind of disturbed me; he struck me as kind of crazy, like he belonged in an asylum. Maybe in a cell next to Twiddle-Dee and Twiddle-Dum…

4. Poltergeist

Okay, so most people didn’t see this one when they were young. But I did, and I tells ya, I couldn’t go near a television for weeks afterwards.

5. The Wizard of Oz

Two words: flying monkeys.

• Currently reading: Ring, by Koji Suzuki

My friend Shell sent me a link to Salon.com with an interview on Stephen King discussing the 30th anniversary of The Stand. Some interesting stuff there, especially about how the situation in the seventies now mirrors the present (fuel crisis, an unpopular war, funky economy, etc.), and a comment from King comparing Sarah Palin to Greg Stillson in The Dead Zone. Niiiice.

Also, I think I forgot to report an interview I did with Nick Mamatas about Spicy Slipstream Stories, an anthology he edited with Jay Lake. Featuring a free story by E. Sedia , so be sure to check it out.

And finally, thanks to A.J. Brown for the very kind name-drop in his latest essay for the Horror Library, entitled “A Miserable Lot of Complainers We Are.”

Even though I take a certain pride in not complaining about other authors who are better than me, or authors who are doing better than me in the wacky world of publishing, it shouldn’t be said that I’m some sort of saint.

I don’t preach a New Age-y message of love among fellow writers. I believe that complaining hinders things in general, but especially in the world of writing. So why do we do it? (Because although I don’t do it often, and never online, I do my own share of bitching.) For the most part, I think it has to do with insecurities. Since most of the complainers aim their cannons at the successful authors, it’s kind of hard to not view their jibes as sour grapes, jealousy, etc. And although I have my own grumblings, I can say with complete honesty that I’ve never bitched about another writer being better than me, or another writer getting a sweet book deal even though my work is clearly so much better than theirs.

I simply don’t view myself as being in competition with other writers. Maybe I should, but I don’t. When I see a writer I know cracking a market that has given me nothing but form rejections, my first response has never been, Damn, how could they get accepted and not me. It’s just not the kind of thing that concerns me. In terms of publishing, you can’t waste your time worrying about “the other guy.” You will go insane if you do because there are so freaking many of them, and what they are doing has absolutely nothing to do with what you are doing. The only person you should be in competition with is yourself.

Speaking of fellow writers, I had a nice chat today in Bowmanville with a couple of excellent up-and-coming authors, Tiffany Maxwell and Shayne Winters. I always enjoy getting together with fellow writers, mostly because I get to do so only on rare occasions. I come away from these meetings feeling recharged. So thanks, ladies. Hope you had a good time, too.

• Currently reading: Darker Than Amber, by John D. MacDonald

Yesterday I received my copies of the Finnish magazine Spin, featuring a reprint of my first short-story sale, “The Tattletail.”

I was standing in the foyer flipping through the mag and saw not just one illustration for my story, not even two, but twelve freakin’ illustrations had been done for “The Tattletail.” The artist’s style perfectly complimented the light, comedic tone of the story.

I’ve posted a couple of images below.

Very cool to see one of my stories in Finnish, and even better to see one fully illustrated. Thanks to Hanna Sund for the great work.

Oh, and it’s snowing here. October 21st and it’s freakin’ snowing.

• Currently reading: "We're All in This Together," by Owen King

Thanks to Kat for giving me a great birthday weekend. Friday night she took me out for sushi with a couple of our friends, Paul and Elizabeth. Kat doesn’t like sushi, but she knows I do, and she found a teriyaki chicken on the menu that she liked. On the way out, Kat and Liz pointed out someone sitting with his back to the rest of the restaurant. I looked closer and saw it was Norman Jewison. Not there for my birthday, obviously, but still pretty cool nonetheless.

After dinner, we went to the Sapphire Lounge, which is Peterborough’s one and only martini bar, and the drinking began. After that, we headed home, had champagne, more martinis, a few shots, and played some SingStar. I almost never play this game, in part because I usually need to be drunk to do so, in part because my wife is extremely good and always kicks my arse. I didn’t do too badly, though. Here are some pics.

On Saturday, Kat and I went out to her sister’s farm to see the baby and for family b-day celebrations. The baby is still a cutie, as you can see below.

On Sunday, we went out for breakfast at our local greasy spoon, went grocery shopping, and came home to make pumpkin muffins which turned out extremely well (clearly because I helped). It was a crisp autumn day, so we let Thor out on his harness.

Kat ended up getting me The Office on DVD (the original British version), as well as a new dress shirt, and an iPod Shuffle to assist with my training for next year’s 10k run. An excellent haul and a wonderful birthday.

Thanks to everyone who sent wishes via comments, e-mails, and telephone.

There was another birthday yesterday, on the 19th. My website turned six. I had planned on posting a free story, something fun I’ve been working on, but it’s not quite ready. Maybe for Halloween…

Every year my birthday rolls around, I tend to look back and take stock of the things in my life that have changed. One year ago, I was living somewhere different. Three years ago, I was working somewhere else. Stuff like that.

There are some things about me that have changed over the years, some things that haven’t. Some of the things that have changed include my job, the place where I live, and my marital status. Some of the things that haven’t would be my pursuit of a writing career, my love of milkshakes, and my weight.

Or so I thought.

I have always been a skinny guy. Until I was about fifteen years old, I was small and skinny. Then, seemingly overnight, I shot up to my present height of about six-two. But my weight never changed. For the past fifteen years or so, I’ve been a steady 130 pounds. No matter how much I ate (or didn’t eat, for that matter), my weight never fluctuated. That’s what happens, apparently, when you have a metabolism like a nuclear blast furnace.

It might not seem like a big deal to some people, but it’s quite frustrating having no control over one’s body. Especially when you get people saying things like, “You should really eat more” or “Don’t worry, I can fatten you up.” Trust me, many have tried, and many have failed. I joked with Kathryn’s cousin when I first met him that I wasn’t really a person, I was an optical illusion: if I turned sideways, I’d disappear.

So you might understand my surprise over the last few months when I started to notice myself filling out in certain areas. My arms. My chest. My legs. I wasn’t looking quite as scrawny as I normally did. I couldn’t see my ribs or my hip bones anymore. I started getting the odd comment about it, too, so I knew I wasn’t imagining it.

I hadn’t stepped on a scale in a year or more, so I decided to find out how much I had actually packed on. I was so used to seeing the dial swing around and stop on 130 that it took me a moment to process the new number I was looking at.

165.

That might not seem like much, but when you compare it to what I weighed before, it turns out to be a solid thirty-five-pound gain.

Yes, It took awhile but it seems my monster metabolism has finally started slowing down. A birthday present from my body to me.

This can be dangerous to one who has spent his entire life eating whatever he wants without worrying about the consequences. My metabolism is still pretty strong, but my appetite has increased, and now I’m a bit more aware of what I put into my body. I watch what I eat, I don’t indulge the snacks or the beer too much, and I started going to the gym. The last is due to the fact that next July I’ll be taking part in a 10k run. I’m hoping I don’t drop all my new-found weight in the training process. The idea is to replace it with muscle, which the experts say is heavier than fat. We shall see.

At the very least, I think I’m going to look better in my Spider-Man suit this Halloween.

Two years today! And many more to come!

Jen had her baby this morning – a Thanksgiving baby! Say hello to Hannah Jane Elizabeth Loch!

She’s a real cutie and doesn’t look like an alien baby at all the way most newborns seem to. It was more than a little surreal to hold in my hands a human being who was only four hours old.

Hannah is actually the second baby of Kat’s sibs, but as Kat pointed out it’s almost like the first because her brother and his family live out west and we see them once or twice a year, so it’s really not the same as having a baby around all the time. This baby will be much easier to corrupt with my Stephen King novels and Alien movies.

After visiting with the baby for a bit, we headed off to Oshawa for Thanksgiving Day Part 2 with my family. Much bird and candied yams were consumed, and on the way back to the ‘Borough, I took the following picture.

In other baby news, this past weekend Kat’s younger sister Carrie and her hubby Glenn announced that they are pregnant! So the baby train is moving right along. Kat and I are really pumped about being aunts and uncles to the growing brood, but now that all the sibs either have kids or are expecting, we’re now on deck for the inevitable comments that it’s our turn next! To quote Charlie Brown: “Good grief.”

Time to go stand in front of the microwave…

This is a great time of the year. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing me say that, but you won’t have to hear it for much longer since fall is the shortest of all the seasons (or maybe it only feels that way). Some of the things I like about this season are, obviously, the leaves and the fires and the smell of woodsmoke. But there are other things, some of which might not be available in your neck of the woods. Like pumpkin glaze donuts at Tim Hortons and… eggnog. Yes, it’s true, I found and bought a carton of this liquid goodness today.

Yesterday, Kat and I went to Burnham Woods and saw 25 garter snakes. Some of them were quite big, including one that didn’t want his picture taken when he suddenly coiled and snapped at me. First time I’ve seen a garter snake do that. Guess I shouldn’t have talked all that trash about invertebrates. Here are some pics.

After that we came home and watched Mantracker, a great show in which a guy on a horse hunts people (he calls them “prey”) through the Canadian wilderness. During a break we saw a commercial for Bowflex featuring a guy who bragged that since he is now in such great shape he ended up giving all of his fat clothes to his fat friends (his words). To which my wife coolly responded, “He may have a good body, but he’ll be an asshole for the rest of his life.”

That’s my Peaches.