by Writing Workshops Staff
A month ago
In the dimly lit corners of our collective imagination, horror lurks, beckoning us to explore its shadows. Enter Syr Beker, a master of speculative fiction whose work has haunted the pages of Michigan Quarterly Review, Joyland, Fairy Tale Review, and beyond. With their eagerly anticipated book, What A Fish Looks Like, on the horizon, Syr is set to lead a thrilling new course at WritingWorkshops.com: The Horror Imaginary: Writing Horror for Inspiration, Subversion, and Delight, a 4-Week Zoom Intensive.
Syr Beker is a Lambda fellow, a Tin House scholar, a graduate of Clarion West, and an associate editor at Pseudopod. Their theatrical endeavors as the co-founder of Queer Cat Productions have brought their chilling tales to life on ships, in cemeteries, and on stages across the Bay Area.
This class is an invitation to all—whether you’re a seasoned horror writer, a curious novice, or simply intrigued by the genre. Over four immersive weeks, Syr will guide students through the eerie landscapes of horror in fiction, theory, art, music, film, and popular culture. The course promises a treasure trove of horror ideas, theories, and tropes, alongside practical tools to craft your own spine-tingling tales.
By the end of this course, students will emerge with a solid first draft, several story beginnings, and a deeper appreciation for the mechanics of horror. They'll be inspired by contemporary horror luminaries like Tananarive Due and Jordan Peele, and grounded in theory from Freud to Kristeva.
Read on for our interview with Syr Beker, and discover the inspiration, subversion, and delight that only horror can provide.
Writing Workshops: Your upcoming class, The Horror Imaginary, is designed for all levels and genres. Can you tell us more about how this class can benefit writers who are new to horror as well as those who are already familiar with the genre?
Syr Beker: I LOVE this question! I want to reiterate that this class is open to all, whether you consider yourself a horror expert and you want a space to generate new writing and explore, or whether this is your very first writing workshop, and you thought you’d try this one.
Will you join me in a metaphor?
Here we all are in this opulently decorated house, the one with the fireplace, and the chandeliers, and all these staircases leading to many rooms. There are scary sounds coming out of those rooms. The outside doors are locked. The night is stormy. What should we do? We should separate! We should stay together! We can’t just stand here! And of course it’s only a matter of time before someone realizes: there’s a reason we’re all here. That reason is different for each of us. And we each have our own personal rooms up there to explore.
One of my favorite people in horror, Alasdair Stuart, said horror is what you see coming. I’m pretty sure that elsewhere he has also said horror is what you don’t see coming. The reason horror works is that both of those are true. The monster is always the same; the monster is different for all of us, every day. Maybe this is true for all genres, but it is true for horror especially. Horror is an investigation into our deepest fears, wants, curiosities, delights, our biggest what-ifs, and the best horror, to me, asks the questions that have no answer. This is an inexhaustible well, so the only prerequisite is curiosity or willingness to play!
Craft, reading, theory, they are all important, of course, and I love them and invite people to borrow from them at will. But they’re all really only here to get us writing, to help us splash around in shark waters until something with teeth grabs us from below.
So yes, we will talk about craft terms as signposts, we will talk about monsters, we will look at horror to ask why does this work on me today, and why, and what can I use in my work? But the purpose of this class is not to learn horror and be done. If you watch enough horror movies, you know that the character who thinks they know something tends to disappear fast.
The hope instead is to use these concepts and ideas, and redefine them for ourselves, to get to this place of possibility that horror is, that what if, where everything was possible.
Which is another way of saying: this room, the staircases, the chandelier, the scary things upstairs, we build them together, and they’re different every time. Whether you’re new to horror, horror curious, or a horror writer with years and years of experience, you are wanted in this class. Let’s go explore the haunted house!
WW: In the course description, you mention exploring horror in fiction, theory, art, music, film, and popular culture. How will this multidisciplinary approach enhance participants' understanding and appreciation of horror?
SB: Part of this is just uncontainable enthusiasm. There is SO much incredible horror out there in other artforms, from Louise Bourgeois’ Spiders (Giant spiders! Giant spiders called “Mother!”) to Tamar-Kali’s soundtrack to Shirley.
But we are here to define for ourselves this thing that is horror to us, and how it works on us. When you see it in other places, outside of writing, we can begin to find language, and hints, and inspiration, and ways to bring all of that into our writing, and we begin to sharpen that part of us that is ready to see horror (and story) inspiration all around us. What is it about Tubular Bells? Why is this coffee shop haunted? What’s so scary about a five course meal?
WW: One of the course takeaways is a "toolbox of horror ideas, theories, and tropes." Could you share some examples of what might be included in this toolbox and how writers can apply them across different genres?
SB: YES! I believe we have a lot to borrow from horror. For just one fun example out of so many, take the horror trope of the face-revealing turn. You’ve seen this before, usually in zombie movies: A secondary character is looking away, so that all you see is the back of their head. The main character approaches. So does the camera. Slowly. Sometimes the characters talk, sometimes they don’t. We know the secondary character is going to turn around. We don’t want them to. We already know something is terribly wrong. By the time they’ve turned and revealed whatever horrible thing has happened to their face in the makeup department, we’re already terrified.
But what are we scared of? Zombies? Liquid latex and red paint? The effect of change on the people we love? Aging? That we can’t ever really know one another? And what happens when you bring this exact structure to a story with no horror elements at all? (Try it! Let me know!)
And what makes this really effective to you? Is it the slowing down paired with the inevitability of the turn? The close focus on these characters? The structure, the conversation they are having, in which both of them are probably lying? And could you try one of those in your novel?
There’s so much more to explore: Stephen King’s theory of The Bad Place, the Lewton Bus, Freud’s concept of the uncanny, monster theory, werewolves, generally… Come find out!
WW: Your course covers a wide range of horror elements, from monsters and haunted houses to jump scares and endings. What techniques will you teach for creating these elements, and how can they be effectively used to evoke fear and tension in a story?
SB: Each class will center on a general element of writing: image, character, place, arc of story. We will begin each class by looking at examples of how these work in horror, define what excites and inspires us, and then I will give you writing experiments where you can try these elements out on your own.
WW: You mention studying works by horror artists and writers like Tananarive Due and Jordan Peele, as well as horror theorists from Freud to Kristeva. How will these readings inform the class discussions and exercises, and what unique perspectives do these figures bring to the understanding of horror?
SB: Horror theorists have given us names for things that are in the shadows of understanding. These names are their names, but I believe we can still be inspired by them: Freud gave us the idea of the uncanny. Tananarive Due has given us the notion that history is horror. Having these concepts is like having neatly labeled knobs on a sound panel. You can turn up the uncanny, turn down the abjection, allow in context, and decide how you want to remix your work.
WW: The course promises that participants will leave with a first draft and at least two new starts of creative work. Can you walk us through the writing process you'll guide students through to achieve these outcomes, and what kind of feedback and support they can expect?
SB: This is a generative class for all writers. To me this means that writers can show up empty handed (I love to say “just show up, the writing will take care of itself.”), or with an existing project. I always give homework with the understanding that it’s helpful for some people, but that other people need to do all or most of their writing in class. Parents, caregivers, and people with full lives are welcome, as are people who have been able to set aside time between classes. Whatever your time looks like, we’ve got something for you.
Each class will contain 2-3 writing experiments writers can use to explore. Before class 2, I will ask people to commit to something they want to take to completion, whether it’s a horror story draft, a poem cycle, a new scene in your novel. We will check up on that as we go.
I’m here to support you! I will hold weekly drop in office hours and co-writing hours. There are two turn in deadlines: class 1-2 (first start), and class 3-4 (first draft). Writers who turn in will get exploratory questions they can use to explore further. But better than that, we are all here to support each other. Our four weeks together will function like a mini writing community, with opportunities to have your goals witnessed and your work supported and seek out like-minded folks.
My greatest hope is that writers will leave energized and with new ideas and a draft. My even greater hope is that writers will cross paths with other writers they are excited to be in community with.
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Avoid the waitlist and sign up now for Syr's upcoming class, The Horror Imaginary: Writing Horror for Inspiration, Subversion, and Delight 4-Week Zoom Intensive.
Instructor Syr Beker (they/them) is a speculative fiction writer. Their book What A Fish Looks Like is forthcoming from Stelliform Press. Their stories are found in Michigan Quarterly Review, Joyland, Fairy Tale Review, Spunk, Foglifter, Gigantic Sequins, Home is Where you Queer Your Heart (Foglifter Press, 2021), and on ships and in cemeteries and on stages across the bay area. They are proud to be a Lambda fellow, a Tin House scholar, a graduate of Clarion West, and an associate editor at Pseudopod. They are the co-founder of Queer Cat Productions theater company.
