Through the Masters’ Eyes
In my first post, I talked about how Frankenstein and Dracula created the templates for modern horror fiction. Now let’s dig into the craft of horror writing and what the writers who’ve actually mastered the genre have to say about scaring readers.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately as I work on my own horror novels and experiment with new ways of telling scary stories. What separates horror that works from horror that falls flat? What techniques do the masters use to keep readers up at night?
Let’s find out.
Stephen King: Write What Scares You
Stephen King, who’s sold over 350 million copies and essentially defines modern horror for most readers, has always been clear about his core principle: write what genuinely frightens you. In his essential book On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, King talks about how writing helped him process fears and experiences, including his recovery from a near-fatal car accident.
King’s approach is deceptively simple: ask a “what-if” question that serves as the seed for the entire plot. What if a bestselling author was held captive by an obsessed fan? (Misery). What if a farmer conspired to murder his wife? (1922). He creates compelling characters to drive the plot forward, not vice versa, putting them in predicaments and watching them try to work themselves free.
The technical craft matters too. King writes actively, describing characters and settings through action rather than static description. He’s famously opposed to adverbs, saying they “pave the road to hell,” and warns against passive voice and unnecessarily complex vocabulary.
But here’s what really matters: King writes because it fulfills him, not for money. When failures outweigh successes, you need to remember why you wanted to write in the first place. That’s what carries you through.
Ramsey Campbell: Less Is More
British horror master Ramsey Campbell has been writing for over sixty years and has won more awards than any other writer in the field. His approach differs from King’s in crucial ways.
Campbell’s core advice: write about what frightens or disturbs you and what you feel might do that to somebody else. Tell as much of the truth as you can from your own experience and observations, and make sure the characters are believable–that’s the pitfall of too much horror.
Campbell learned intensity and prose orchestration from Lovecraft, but his first editor, August Derleth, advised him to study M.R. James for restraint. James conveyed more terror with a single sentence or phrase than most writers achieve in a paragraph, showing just enough to suggest far worse.
This “less is more” principle is fundamental to Campbell’s work. He doesn’t try to crank it up and force something to be more frightening–he lets it be what it is. Readers have told him they had to leave the light on after reading stories where almost nothing happens, just a sense of upcoming menace.
Campbell also learned from Fritz Leiber, who took urban supernatural terror forward with a leap of imagination–making the everyday environment not invaded by the supernatural, but its source. Good horror fiction achieves its effects through the selection of language and the timing of prose.
One more crucial piece of advice: Work on whatever you’re writing every day until it’s finished; to do otherwise is to court writer’s block.
Peter Straub: Literary Depth
Peter Straub, who passed away in 2022, brought a different sensibility to horror–one more literary, more concerned with prose as art.
Straub discovered through psychoanalysis that he had become a horror writer because the material of that genre gave him permission to work with images and emotions produced by childhood trauma. Once he understood this, he was free to use the same psychic material in more realistic narratives, able to work in more mature, developed, and insightful ways.
Straub was a master of crafting opening chapters that could virtually stand alone as fables or fairytales while perfectly encapsulating the themes and structure of the story to come. He couldn’t write his first chapter until he was absolutely sure he knew what the book was about–meaning the published first chapter was always the last thing he wrote.
On process, Straub made notes, pondered, cooked up schemes, and often created outlines–but the outlines faded away as he moved along. He wrote four to five hours a day, most of them in the afternoons.
His advice to his younger self: “Don’t be a snob. Acknowledge that work done in the genre can be just as beautiful and literary as any book by your favorite mainstream writer”. If there hasn’t yet been a Scott Fitzgerald of horror fiction, there ought to be one day.
What They All Agree On
Despite their different approaches, certain principles emerge across all three masters:
Make Characters Real
Make sure the characters are believable–they should behave as real people would. King wants readers to become emotionally invested in his characters before the horror hits them. Straub had a deft hand at writing multi-generational casts with authentic voices.
The horror works because we care about who it’s happening to.
Ground the Fantastic in the Real
The more realistic and specific your details, the more readers will accept the fantastic. Tell as much of the truth as you can from your own experience and observations.
This is something I learned writing Halo–Billy’s sociopathy is terrifying precisely because Christopher School feels like a real place with real teachers and real teenage social dynamics. The horror emerges from the mundane.
Write Daily
King writes for four hours straight every single day. Campbell insists you work on whatever you’re writing every day until it’s finished. Straub wrote four to five hours daily.
The consistency matters. Writing builds on itself, and keeping to a regular schedule is key.
Read Constantly
King famously says “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write”. Campbell learned from reading the classics of the genre–Lovecraft, James, Leiber–and encourages reading works from different periods and cultures.
You can’t write good horror if you don’t know what good horror looks like.
Don’t Force It
Campbell doesn’t try to crank up the fear or force something to be more frightening. Straub learned to trust the creative process, even when uncertain about what would follow.
The fear has to be genuine for the writer first, or it won’t be genuine for the reader.
What This Means for Your Writing
These masters are telling us something important: there’s no single way to write horror. King’s active, plot-driven approach differs from Campbell’s restrained suggestiveness, which differs from Straub’s literary sophistication.
But they all understand that horror isn’t about shock value or gross-outs (though those have their place). It’s about creating genuine unease, about tapping into authentic fears, about making readers believe in your characters enough to worry about what happens to them.
The craft can be learned. The techniques can be practiced. But the essential ingredient–the willingness to explore what genuinely frightens you and to tell that truth honestly–that’s something only you can bring.
In my next post, I’ll talk about my own journey in horror fiction and what I’m learning as I try something entirely new–collaborating with artificial intelligence to create horror stories. It’s an experiment that’s proving far more difficult than I expected, and it’s teaching me exactly how much of what these masters do simply can’t be replicated by algorithms.
But that’s a story for next time.
What horror writers have influenced your work? What techniques have you learned from reading the genre? I’d love to hear your thoughts through the contact page.
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