by Susan Griffith

arrived late to the horror genre. I avoided it like the plague because, honestly, it scared the crap out of me. When I met my husband, he was quite surprised that a woman of my age and genre knowledge had not seen a number of the classic horror movies that he adored and watched relentlessly.

Now, before I tell you how he introduced me into the genre, let me explain why I avoided it in the first place. Back in the 1970s, I was an unsuspecting, precocious child of seven or eight, and my mother looked for all intents and purpose like a normal housewife who loved going to church and worshipped naught but family values. Little did I know that she was also an avid fan of being scared to death by movies and television.

So when my mother said I couldn't watch television with her one day, I was stunned, and yes, a tad angry. It only made me more determined to be with her and find out what she was doing in the TV room. I masterminded a plan to sneak in under the ping pong table and then slip through the space between the couch and the end table, gaining a full view of what she was watching.

And what I saw on the screen terrified me. I was frozen in shock and horror! On the screen was a beast of terrible proportions! A living brain with a spinal cord for a tail, which had wrapped itself around its victim and was choking him to death. I think it even had a small mouth with sharp teeth and was biting the poor soul, but my memory has rescinded that particular morbid detail.

I stayed far longer than I should have and saw more than a small child could withstand. Sneaking out of the room, I fled to cower in my bedroom, seeing in every shadow a brain-like shape that would leap out and devour me! My mother, of course, had no idea what I had done and found my refusal to go to bed that night annoying.

It wasn't until years later did my mother confess to her love of scary things. But this I already knew. I wanted nothing to do with horror because it knew what terrified me. It understood and preyed upon my very basic fears. (No, not living brains!) But monsters in the dark, science in the control of madmen, death at the hands of things you cannot fight against! I never watched another horror movie again if I could help it.

So then I met my future husband and co-writer, Clay, and the first movie he took me to see, knowing perfectly well I had an aversion to horror, was Aliens. Granted, it wasn't horror in the sense of true horror, but he used my love of science fiction as a buffer. All I can say is thank God it wasn't Alien because I think I might have reconsidered him as husband material. And thank God, Michael Biehn and Sigourney Weaver made such a damn good fighting team with that delicious hint of sexual tension. For aside from being scared to death by all the "bugs" and clawing my husband's arm so that it left large welts, I really enjoyed the movie and the rush it gave.

Nor did Clay stop there; he began to insidiously include me in the movie nights with his friends, horror fiends all. We saw everything from Universal classics to 1950s giant insect fear films to The Reanimator to Night of the Living Dead, you name it. I flinched, I cringed, and I turned away often. But the thing was everyone was making comments on the movies. If they weren't poking fun at it, ala MST3K, then they were critiquing it, breaking it down into elements I could deal with. Horror began to fascinate me. I understood what it was trying to do, and with that knowledge I could fight against the overwhelming pull of fear it caused. It began to get interesting. We even found the movie that had so terrified me as a child: Fiend Without a Face. I'll confess, it still creeps me out. Brains just shouldn't do that!

And Clay, bless his sick, twisted heart, never let up. Pretty soon it became common to celebrate our anniversary with a bouquet of red roses and a horror movie. His excited claim of "look, what came out today! Just for us!" started to wear down my defenses. Secretly I took that as a great little quirk in our relationship and never thought more about it.

Until Clay announced that he had gotten a writing job for us with Pinnacle Entertainment, publishers of the award winning western-horror game, Deadlands. We were writing comic books at the time -- The Tick and Disney no less! Good wholesome entertainment! But he wanted me on board for this job writing Deadlands short stories, claiming that my flair for westerns would make me a natural.

I will admit here and now that the prospect of writing a western was what sucked me in, not the horror, not at first. But suddenly it turned out I had a flair for scary. I understood pacing, and most of all I understood fear. I know what terrifies me, quite a lot actually, and I draw on that in every horror story I write.

One of the things that terrifies me the most is being eaten alive, to be conscious and aware when flesh is being torn from your body. So I hate all things that do that, sharks, alligators, zombies...

Zombies. I hate them. I'm terrified of them. I can't stand to watch a zombie movie no matter the witty banter within or without. So what happens? Thanks to our work for Pinnacle's horror anthologies, we got another job from them. Not horror westerns, but horror science fiction (my other favorite genre). And not short stories, but a novel. A novel full of - you guessed it - zombies. It is called Banshee Screams.

I immediately announced to Clay, I didn't want to write any of the zombie scenes, but he pushed and pressed and soon I was writing zombie scenes - and it has been claimed that they were some of the most disturbing in the novel. I was surprised. But then I only drew on every fear I had and used them in the story. I would get sweats just writing them alone in my office. And that is the key to writing good horror. It's not about finding out what scares other people, it's about finding out what terrifies you. More than likely it will scare everyone else too.

Well, except maybe for Clay.

(Though I did creep him out and I consider that a monumental victory!)