That's easy to say...unless of course this is the shit in your head
Yeah.
Exploring this kind of stuff is pretty daunting. This is what happens when I close my eyes. My dreams are violent, blood-soaked, terrifying nightmares. For real. It's fascinating to me mostly because I'm not a big horror fan. I don't do particularly well with gore or "torture porn" as they call it these days. My skin crawls just remembering the films that are burned into my brain. I mean, I'm scared of the dark for crying out loud. Like...petrified!
So tell me, why is my subconscious so stabby?
It's no secret that I have been praying for a certain someone's death for many years now. No joke. I would go to the bastard's funeral in a red dress. And yes, I did threaten to stab him dead once upon a time but that was because he was my abuser and his threats got the better of me in the end. So while it may seem obvious where my rage comes from...it started well before he ever entered my life.
I've written dark characters before. Saoirse, who sought out victims to ease her insomnia. Chloe, who murdered her little friends and filled their dainty tea cups with their blood. But Heather is different. There is no clear reason for what she does. I don't know why I'm expecting her to reveal her motivations given that she came to me in a dream. As we all know, dreams rarely make any kind of sense. The brutality that permeates my subconscious usually ends with me waking up in the dark...scared, shaky, and praying to Jesus that I don't go back into it. Which I always do. Of course.
The visual is so clear. The scene plays out vividly behind my eyes. The nightmare refuses to leave me so I figure the only way to rid myself of it is to get it down on paper. It seems easy enough but it's been so much harder than I thought, man. I'm having difficulty allowing her to butcher Gretchen when there is no clear motive. How do you let a character take a life so recklessly? Shouldn't she be somewhat sympathetic?Shouldn't she be explaining herself? Like, what the fuck, Heather...open your mouth and speak. If I'm going to open myself up to the darkest part of myself you should help a girl out. I'm not asking to have my hand held but she could at least pretend to care that I'm struggling.
I can barely watch films like this so writing out the monsters that dwell inside me is one of the biggest writing challenges I have ever faced.
I can feel you staring at me, Nicole and Elspeth. ;-) I know what you're both thinking, that resistance is a huge factor but isn't that understandable given the subject matter?
Did I mention that my biggest fear after heights is being stabbed to death? Hmm...interesting. I avoid gory films because they scare me but I embrace shows like The Following and Hannibal. It's fucked up to admit this but I like when Joe and Hannibal kill. I am drawn to their primal side, their darkness, their love of the kill. They live for it...the knife sliding in, the ritual of it...it has a romance to it that I totally understand.
I'm a walking dichotomy.
I haven't walked away from Heather, even though she is a mute at the moment. I usually do by now, I throw in the towel unless it all comes spilling out onto the page in one sitting. This is a whole new experience and I refuse to succumb to the quitter in me. Fuck that.
I haven't been writing regularly in so long that it's easier to give up but instead I decided to revive the blog and see if maybe that draws Heather out into the light. Maybe she won't start talking until her knife finds Gretchen but I'm sticking around until she lifts the burden for me.
Like Stephen King said, "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win."
We are both waiting for me to stop being afraid of my inner killer.
Maybe it's time to let the monster win.
