Wow, What's That Splinter In Your Eye?

For many years I've told people that I don't particularly like horror. I don't read it and don't watch horror films. A couple of years ago someone lent me a Stephen King book and told me I had to read it, and although I enjoyed it (and he does write great dialogue), it didn't thrill me. So I find it rather ironic that my first publication will be in a horror anthology.

I didn't mean for it to happen like that. It happened by accident. You see, I tend to write SF - although I've written a couple of stories that were slightly supernatural based. In fact one of them, a ghost story, I didn't consider to be horror at all - but it did seem to fit into the Festive Fear format. And so before I submitted it to Tasmaniac, I e-mailed and queried to ensure I wasn't wasting the publisher's time. What I've slowly come to realise over the past six months is that my definition of horror was all wrong.  All the time I was telling people I didn't like horror, I was actually reading a lot of it.

One day I suddenly realised half the Twilight Zone and X-Files shows I've seen are horror and, of course, Buffy spends all her time battling demons and vampires. As for all those Jonathan Carroll books I've been reading and loving for 25 years? Turns out they're horror. (I just figured they were weird fantasy with a dark edge.)

I've just finished reading a few anthologies of horror stories - and most of them turned out to be not what I expected. What I realised I meant is I don't like the blood and gore horror - slasher stuff. And although I'm still not huge on the evil supernatural horror, one of my best friends has been working on me, making me watch old Hammer Horror films with him. Yeah, I know - they're pretty lame by modern standards, but it's a start.

So here I was accusing people of pigeonholing genre, saying they don't like SF while praising Avatar and so on - only to find I was doing it myself.

I promise to be more open to different genres from now on, OK? (Mills & Boon is still out, though!)

Flash Forward Gets Lost. Read The Book Instead.

On the recommendation of a couple of people, I started watching Flash Forward.

I should like it. But I don't. Even though on paper it seems to have everything I like in a show, it just doesn't work for me. I watched a couple of episodes and found I didn't really care. The actors were pretty average, the overlying romantic arcs, the cardboard characterisation (including the 'cutesy' little kid that speaks exactly like every Hollywood writer thinks normal children speak) and the poor dialogue and unrealistic response to the whole situation became quickly annoying.

It seems to me that it became overly polished, too Hollywood.  It should have been left closer to the original story, or perhaps made into a movie.  As it is I think it's heading towards another Lost. And although I really liked the idea of that program, it just quickly fell apart and became ridiculous.

Much like 2012.  Although I enjoyed the film, most of the characters were stock-standard. I must say Oliver Platt and Jimi Mistry stood out in an otherwise unmemorable cast. Amanda Peet played herself, John Cusack had trouble working up the energy, Woody Harrelson simply channeled Dennis Hopper through the caravan-conspiracy guy from X-Files.  Even though, it was a fun ride - until the last 30 minutes when it all became saccharine, soppy and ram-down-your-throat-preachy. Love one another, group hug. Did you know that spoilt evil kids can change simply because they hold a puppy?  Awwwwwww.

But I have a lot of respect for Robert J. Sawyer, and so I went and purchased the book, Flash Forward.  And boy, what a difference to the show. I can't put it down.

But if I were to flash forward, I wonder what I would see. I know what I'd like to see, but as many of the characters in the book soon discover, I think we're better off not knowing.

Unless I become a famous, rich, well respected author who has a successful show to my name.  Much like Flash Forward.