A Story Torn in Two: Revisiting The Shining
It’s no secret that Stephen King isn’t a fan of Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation of his novel, The Shining. King has been critical of the film ever since its release in 1980, and has reiterated that statement as recently as 2021. Despite this, many viewers and filmmakers, including Jordan Peele, director of Get Out, cite it as one of the greatest horror flicks ever conceived. When looking at both the novel and film, it isn’t hard to see why King derided the direction Kubrick took his story in.
In the novel, the members of the Torrance family have a warmth to them, laughing and making jokes with one another, and showering each other with affirmations of love. Kubrick opted for a much colder depiction of the characters, imbuing them with more disquieting personalities that provide the impression that they aren’t that comfortable around one another. Jack Torrance, the patriarch of the family, in particular, feels like a ticking time bomb from the onset of the film before finally exploding into murderous rage towards his wife and child at its climax.
King himself has noted this difference in tone when discussing the film stating, “In my novel, the hotel burns. In Kubrick’s movie, the hotel freezes,” citing the divergent endings of the book and film. For King, the horror of The Shining stems from the gradual disintegration of a happy family as they’re attacked and influenced by malevolent spirits, while Kubrick’s interpretation posits that the true terror of the story comes from being trapped with a father figure seeking an excuse to harm his family.
So, is one take on the story inherently better than the other? I was certainly of the opinion that Kubrick’s stab at the material was the superior take, likely owing to the fact that it was the first version I was exposed to. When I went to read the book, I was disappointed and taken aback: Why was this family so damn happy? Why is Jack explicitly possessed by a ghost to kill his family? Am I really supposed to think that animated hedge carvings of animals are scary? These were the thoughts that raced through my head as I made my way through the novel, and I ended up pawning off my copy to Half-Priced Books out of frustration once I’d finished.
Recently, I decided to reread The Shining, attempting to assess it on its own merits, and I found myself surprised. I still didn’t find the book all that scary, owing largely to its more campy tone that is a staple of Stephen King’s style, but I found myself more invested in its characters due to how likable they were, and it was heartbreaking to see Jack Torrance, once a loving father and husband, be manipulated by evil spirits to murder those he loves most.
After finishing the book, I revisited the movie, and while it still succeeded in being just as haunting as the first time I watched it, it felt like something was missing. The horror of being trapped with an abusive patriarch remained, sure, but I found myself only rooting for Wendy and Danny Torrance to escape, not because I particularly liked them, but because I didn’t want to be around Jack anymore.
So again, I ask the question, which version is better? Well, this may feel like a cop-out, but I think that attempting to do so is an exercise in futility. While the premise of both versions is the same, the effectiveness of their approaches will differ from person to person. If someone is seeking a more chilling, psychological, and disquieting story, then the Kubrick version will be for them. But, for those that want a more character-driven and tragic tale, then the novel will likely do more for them.
I’m personally glad that both versions of The Shining exist, and I think that attempting to prop one up over the other ultimately discredits the merits of both, because sometimes, the book isn’t inherently better than the movie, it’s just a little different.
Meet the blogger:
ETHAN McCLANAHAN is a Creative Writing major at Hamline University. When he isn’t agonizing over the third draft of a short story, you can find him jamming with his bandmates around the Twin Cities, and catching shows at the Trylon Cinema.
Writer’s Support Group—Today’s Lesson: Terminating Characters
As writers, we all know there will come a time in our fiction when we must end the life of a beloved character. So when is the right time to kill a character? It’s hard to pinpoint the exact moment when a writer knows it is time to end the storyline of a character. For every writer it is different. Some of us like to plan ahead who will die, when and how. Others go based off of a feeling. They wait until the major impact will be felt by readers to kill someone off and it will often leave readers as well as the writer ugly bawling into the pages of the book. And for those like me, well we have a harder time letting go… This is primarily why I have never killed a character in any story. I end up feeling too much guilt.
So this is for those of us who struggle with letting go. Welcome to the Writer’s Support Group. Today’s lesson will be on terminating characters in your writing and how to deal with the emotional backlash of it. The first thing is your feelings are valid. The guilt or reluctance you feel is normal. The distress you will undoubtedly feel is all part of saying goodbye as well. They are your creation and you are ending their existence. It happens. In fact you may even experience the whole 5 stages of grief, and that is perfectly normal. Healthy even.
You have to do it anyway. Let go, I mean. Go ahead, terminate that character and their storyline. They have after all contributed all they possibly can to your project and are now just hindering any progress. Take Mufasa for example, was his death traumatizing and sad? Yes, of course! But it was necessary. Without Mufasa’s death, Simba would have never run away, learned Hakuna Matata with Timon and Pumba, reunited with Nala, and gone back to Pride Rock to kill his traitorous uncle Scar. In other words, it is okay to delete the rest of their storyline when it reaches the end of their story arc. Let go! Kill them, kill them now! Let them go!
How do you notify your character that their role has come to an end and you have decided to move in another direction? Well, there are a number of different ways. You can go for the classic and just blindside them with their demise. While this is kind of cruel, it is very effective and you save yourself the uncomfortable ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech. Or you CAN choose the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ and then suffer through the awkward situation because you BOTH will know it really is them. Another classic is the pink slip or in this case, the death notification, but maybe throw in a cupcake and some balloons to soften the blow. It’s hard for a character to hold a grudge when stuffing your face with frosting and sprinkles. Everyone loves a good cupcake.
No matter what approach you decide when ending a character’s storyline, know that you are doing what needs to be done to further your story and give your readers that wild rollercoaster epic adventure they deserve.
Meet the blogger:
PALOMA GONZALEZ GOMEZ is a Latina writer working toward a BFA in creative writing at Hamline University. Her favorite activity is walking through bookstores and adding books to her endless TBR list. She hopes one day it will be her books in bookstores and readers will be adding them to their lists.
On the Merits of Borrowed Words: A Celebration of Blackout, Found, and Collage Poetry
Blackout, erasure, found, collage—these are all forms of poetry that find themselves through use of pre-written words. (For this post, I’ll use “found” as an umbrella term). While sometimes diminished as lesser literary forms—either due to their simplicity or to the oversaturation of underdeveloped, fake-deep snippets on social media (who can forget “sbeve”)—found word poetry is perfect for shy beginners and experienced authors alike. With the styles’ flexibility and inherent interconnection, found forms can prompt and challenge through restriction, add to cultural conversations through the selection of source material, and empower writers to be vulnerable.
From the very beginning of the creative process, found forms subvert writers’ block. Existent works fill intimidating blank pages, and limited vocabulary inspires a focus on theme. Once your brain adds the lens of found poetry to its toolbox, inspiration is everywhere! I am often inspired by words and phrases gathered from overheard conversations, flyers, articles, etc. I collect these snippets in my notes app for inspiration and future use.
One might also seek out inspiration more actively. In a writing class I took through local gem, The Loft Literary Center, the teaching artist directed us to browse magazines or web articles in search of odd and interesting headlines. By erasing one word at a time, we created evolving stories through increasingly sparse reinterpretations.
Caption: Note the crediting of the publication in the title. Even though I took a critical stance on the headline itself, I still need to acknowledge its origin.*
This method is perfect for warm ups or writer’s block. Simply flip through a magazine, scroll through your collection of quotes or new words, or keep your eyes peeled for potential inspiration as you go about your day.
You don’t have to just stumble into inspiration for these forms though. You might be looking to respond to a certain piece or to add your voice to an existing dialogue. You may select a piece whose themes compliment your own, or a piece you wish to engage with critically. In the example above (“Never Feel Hungry Again!”) I use erasure and repetition to criticize the unhealthy implications of the selected headline, such as the idea that hunger, a natural bodily process/signal, is the enemy. By repetition, the reader is led to turn the phrase over in their mind. With erasure, I cut filler words and use empty space to intensify focus on the words that remain. Together, the repeating and slowly deteriorating lines create a monotonous cycle of depletion, representing the possible effects of following ‘health’ fads that attempt to reduce the body instead of nourishing it. When “erased” words are still readable, whether lightly crossed out or removed gradually (as seen above), you as a writer are able to walk readers through your critical process such that they come upon your intended conclusion organically.
Finally, perhaps you want to share something personal, but writing out what happened in your own words feels too raw. Expressing your feelings through another’s words can provide a sense of protection. You didn’t need to say it; the words were already there. This emotional distance from the audience—or even from your own thoughts!—can be a powerful tool when starting to write about trauma and painful memories. You can have a voice without having to speak a word yourself.
You may have heard the idea that no art is truly original; I say, embrace it! Openly seek inspiration from the world and words around you! And next time you’re afraid to speak, or ready to engage, or just plain stuck, consider trying someone else’s words on for size.
*Important! A Note On Plagiarism: While this piece assumes good ethical practice on the part of the writer, it is important to respect the work of fellow writers by giving credit to the source of the words you use. As noted in an article on blackout & erasure forms in Writer’s Digest, your work should also be distinguished from plagiarism by being transformative. “There is a line to be drawn between erasure/blackout poems and plagiarism. If you’re not erasing more than 50% of the text, then I’d argue you’re not making enough critical decisions to create a new piece of art.” Remember, admitting to taking inspiration from the world and art around you does not make you less of an artist; in fact, giving credit to these sources builds your artistic credibility!
Meet the blogger:
Maxwell Lakso (or just Max, to those who know him) is a junior undergraduate at Hamline University with a major in Psychology and minor in Creative Writing. He has a soft spot for unique (and concise!) forms, clarity balanced with eloquence, and joy as rebellion. Maxwell writes poetry and creative nonfiction, and plans to someday put out a chapbook. He enjoys collecting strange and delightful words in an ever-expanding list in his notes app.
Roleplayers and Writers: Why So Many Writers Love Playing Tabletop RPGs
I got into Dungeons & Dragons because I was too scared to publish. Like many writers, I have a paralyzing fear of wide scrutiny, of my love and hard work being torn apart or rejected out of hand before an audience can even see it. Some of us have even experienced that first-hand and know the dull sting of a journal rejection or the pain of a draft covered in red marks. It’s a demoralizing experience, especially when the world of literary publishing seems so unapproachable. For many, like me, tabletop roleplaying games (TTRPGs) were the outlet they desperately needed.
There are a lot of misconceptions surrounding what a tabletop RPG is supposed to feel like. If you’re more familiar with them through play podcasts like Critical Role, Dropout’s Dimension 20, or Not Another D&D Podcast, you may perceive them as theatrical, a game for theater kids and actors to play out grandiose stories of fantasy and adventure. If you only know it from some scant references in popular media, like Stranger Things or Community, you might see it as a board game where you imagine the board. The truth, as well as the ultimate appeal of tabletop RPGs, lies between these two extremes. It’s a game that takes form entirely within the collective imagination of your table, and that collective fantasy is given structure by game mechanics. Nowhere is this dichotomy better represented than in the role of every table’s most vital member: the Dungeon Master, or DM (or Game Master—GM—for any game that isn’t D&D. Which, I’ve been told, do exist).
The DM’s role at the table is, essentially, to be the game for their players. They are the non-player characters (NPCs), the combat encounters, the roleplaying encounters; they are each and every element that creates a scenario for their players to interact with. This takes a substantial amount of time and effort, and, as one might expect, a lot of writing, and the enticing challenge of writing as a DM is that it’s an entirely different beast from penning your big fantasy novel.
Now, my experienced TTRPG players reading this may be bristling in recognition of the exact struggle I’m describing. All of us have heard or experienced one horror story about a DM who treats the table like an excerpt reading, using his NPCs like the main cast while you’re all left to spectate and bask in his storytelling skills. The rest of you may be a bit confused; isn’t my whole point that TTRPGs are supposed to be like writing a book? Isn’t the entire goal to make your players feel like they’re experiencing their own personal Lord of the Rings?
What these kinds of DMs don’t understand about these games is that they are, in fact, games. The stories we’re telling aren’t traditional narratives, showcasing our personal mastery of prose, character development, and subtext. Furthermore, it isn’t just us creating this story: it’s everyone who decided to sit down, grab a paper and pen, and roll some dice. TTRPGs aren’t just a game; they’re a collaborative storytelling project between you and your nerdiest friends. And since you have no expectation of audience, editors, or sales, that story can be anything you want.
That is what attracts writers like me to these games. These stories my players and I create together exist solely for us and our friends. The only scrutiny I’m beholden to as a writer is that of the people I care about most in the world. You may think that sounds almost cowardly, but in my mind, the reason I put pen to paper—why I can’t help but write—is that there is no greater act of self-fulfillment for us humans than creating. No matter what it is, we all have that drive inside us to bring something beautiful into this world. Maybe you want the whole world to see it, and I wish you luck. But for me, I’d be happy with just showing it to all my nerdy players.
Meet the blogger:
HUGH FLEMING is a third-year Honors student at Hamline University, a Direct Support Professional (DSP) for MTF Inc., an aspiring novelist, and a massive TTRPG fan. When he isn’t watching the cheesiest horror movies he can find, he’s writing his own, hoping one day to see his name on a hard-back cover.
Face Your Fears: Why You Don’t Need to Avoid the Horror Genre
How often do you find yourself perusing the horror section at the library or bookstore? When do you find yourself wanting to read something that disturbs and unsettles you? Unless you’re like me, with a sick desire to be forever scarred by the literature I consume, the answer is probably “not often.” And why is that?
A lot of us only find ourselves dusting off our spooky stories and checking out horror novels around Halloween—which makes sense. Autumn is the perfect time of year to get lost in a good, creepy book, thanks to the nights getting longer and the air getting chillier. Pair that with the obvious—Halloween, and its spirit of fright and darkness—it feels like the universe is telling you it’s time to get scared. So why wouldn’t you crack open that Stephen King book, or your favorite collection of horror stories?
As much as I would love to ramble forever about my love for autumn and Halloween, that’s not the main point here. In my opinion, the general population doesn’t consume enough literature designed to frighten and disturb, for a variety of reasons. Whether it feels like the wrong time of year, or if the genre just doesn’t seem to ‘click’ with you, there are a lot of reasons we stray away from horror. If you fall into this category, consider for a moment why you avoid the genre, and keep this in mind as you continue reading. Hopefully, by the time you’re through, I’ll have convinced you otherwise.
“Horror is too dark! I want books that cheer me up, and make me happy!” Well, my friend, allow me to introduce you to the sub-genre horror-comedy. Not every horror novelist is out only to scare you—a lot of them want to make you laugh along the way! While there are many different types of comedy, and all of them have been integrated into horror at some point, the genre most commonly makes use of black comedy. Through black comedy, also referred to as dark humor, authors take a dark, twisted situation and help us find a reason to laugh at it. With comedy, authors can shift the tone of their work from something grim and serious into something more playful and fun. From a writing perspective, comedy is an important tool for horror because of its ability to make a dark concept or scene more palatable to the reader. There’s a horror-comedy out there for everyone—if dark humor isn’t your style, there’s horror-satire, and parody, too!
“It’s not the right time for a horror book!” Going back to my original statement about horror and Halloween season going hand in hand, a lot of us are less inclined to pick up horror novels throughout the year because it simply doesn’t feel right. Thanks to mainstream horror franchises making a point to release their movies around October, and their popular characters being recognizable and festive Halloween costumes, we have a deeply ingrained association between the holiday and the genre. However, if you take a closer look at the genre, especially from a literary perspective, you’ll find that a lot of horror is better suited for different times of the year. Take Ring by Koji Suzuki. The Japanese novel laid the foundation for the well the well-known American movie franchise under the same name, but the two have drastically different themes. One of the primary themes of the novel is that of birth, and new life, making it a perfect read for springtime, when the flowers are beginning to bloom and wildlife returns. The short story “Hot Potting” from Chuck Palahniuk’s novel Haunted is a horror story revolving around frostbite, and bitter winter nights in the woods—just right for reading on a freezing winter night. There are horror novels, as well as short stories, that are very seasonal without taking place during autumn. Try taking a horror story with you to the beach this summer—I can guarantee you’ll find something that feels just right for the occasion.
“I just don’t like being scared. I don’t want to read something graphic and terrifying.” Fortunately for those of us who don’t like feeling afraid, there are a lot of novels that are creepy, but not outright scary. Sometimes, the best place to look for that perfect scary story isn’t within the horror genre at all. In fact, the fiction shelves are full of novels that are dark, unsettling, and spooky, but not to the extent that they can be considered horror. If the genre seems daunting, start with something a little gentler, like mystery or thriller novels. While not technically horror, the genres have a lot of overlap, specifically with their themes of suspense. If you’re not looking to feel terrified and disgusted, but still want to give the genre a try, look for novels that fall into the thriller category as well—you’d be surprised how many works fit into both!
Although I likely haven’t convinced you to become a total horror junkie like myself, I sincerely hope you’ll give the genre a try next time you’re picking up books at the library. The world of horror is full of incredible, unforgettable stories and novels just waiting for you to read them!
Meet the blogger:
LILY GIBBS is a Creative Writing and Education major who hopes to someday publish her own horror novel. When she’s not writing, she spends her time making jewelry and playing with her cat, Venus.
