HALF WAY THERE

Hello everyone;
      I've finally got around the half way mark on my novel, about 45,000 words, woo hoo, as you can tell I'm quite pleased about that. I had two days off this week and so I've been scribbling like mad. Some of it has fallen into place quite well, while other scenes will require more work, but that's what editing is all about; get the basic story down in any form, even if it's crap, you can always improve it later, but you can't improve on nothing, so always write something, however bad.
     Being bad leads me onto my next point. I treated myself to a cheap horror dvd last weekend; it sounded good but as usual, turned out to be a big disappointment. I've amassed quite a collection of crappy horror films over the years. They always promise to deliver the thrills and chills, but for me, always fail miserably
     They are either buckets of blood and guts for the sake of it or they're so rooted in psychology, they're just too confusing. I like films that make you think . . . when you're lying in bed at night, in the dark, you dare not have that foot hanging over the edge of the bed, just in case something touches it. Or you're afraid to get up to go to the bathroom at a certain time, 'cos that's when bad things happen and if you do brave it; you best not look in that mirror, you get my drift. Horror just aint what it used to be; it's just not scary anymore.
     You get the 'jump' factor but not the creepiness of when the light goes out; what's in the darkness waiting, watching. I know horror, like everything else has to evolve, but sometimes we need to go back to go forward. (I was raised on the hammer horror films) and still have a 'thing' for Christopher Lee.
     But I don't want visual monsters rampaging through the towns ripping off arms and legs. I want the hint of the thing in the darkness; let my imagination do the rest, it's far more powerful than anything the films can show me.
     I can scare myself stupid if I let my imagination loose. Something scratches at the back door just before bed, both my cats are inside; okay, so it's probably just a fox or wind blown leaves, but my imagination won't let me believe the obvious and my poor long suffering son has to go and check it out, you know . . . just in case. One of my cats has a habit of growling at a certain spot on the wall or the cupboard, why? What's in there? I have to keep a tight rein on my imagination or else I'd be too scared to move, but that's horror for me, every day stuff that just isn't quite right.
     What's your idea of horror; I'd love to know. It can take so many forms, so many shapes, so until next time, I wish you all creepy dreams.