Ghost stories have always been popular with readers, and the tradition is a fascinating one in many ways. Surely one of the most accessible forms of storytelling, it spans all levels of literary achievement, from folksy campfire tales and urban legends to a proud literary tradition taking in Charles Dickens, Guy De Maupassant and many more. In this post, we’ll be exploring ghost stories and horror stories and looking at some great approaches in writing them. You might think they are both the same thing – and there are elements in common – but there are also vital differences that pull the two apart.
It can easily be argued that the ghost story is in fact a subgenre of horror fiction, but this still leaves significant variations: as ‘romantic comedy’ would differ from ‘comedy’ in its wider sense, and ‘urban fantasy’ might function very differently to ‘fantasy’. As acclaimed author Mark Morris puts it: ‘There’s always been the inference, I think, that ghost stories are more genteel than horror stories, and therefore altogether more respectable, but personally I don’t think that’s the case. I’ve always thought of ghost stories as simply being a sub-set of horror stories, in that horror as a genre has very wide parameters – almost limitless parameters, in fact – whereas, in order for a ghost story to be a true ghost story, there would generally be a supernatural element involved...’
One of the key difference between ghost stories and horror stories is in pacing, and in particular the timing of the ‘reveal’. The reveal concerns that pivotal moment in the story where the character is unequivocally faced with the uncanny. I’m not talking about the faint noise heard downstairs, or the hint of something moving in the mirror – this is the moment that absolutely cannot be denied, and the character has to admit they are in the midst of something beyond their understanding.
As a rule of thumb, the ghost story relies very heavily on atmosphere, as it tends to leave the reveal until late in the tale. Take two classics in the field – Dickens’ The Signalman and MR James’ Oh Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad, and it’s very noticeable how close to the end of the story the true moment of terror is. In horror fiction, this kind of reveal tends to come far earlier.
So, in the ghost story what we tend to have is a steady build towards a real crescendo, which I typify with four phases. It’s the slow escalation of terror, going from minor events to the lifechanging and terrifying finale.
The early phases of ghost stories will feature events that may be slightly unusual, but can be very easily written off . We’ve all heard those little noises our houses make once in a while – the house settling, the water pipes... We don’t instantly leap to the conclusion something supernatural is going on – why would we, and why would our characters? So you can have a few minor events at the beginning of the story to set things up and start establishing mood.
The second phase sees things take a step up the ‘weirdometer’ as characters might encounter the supernatural a little more closely. A sense of being watched, or another presence in the room; something caught out of the corner of the eye; TVs or stereos coming on unexpectedly; things that are unusual, but again wouldn’t prompt real fear. It might give our characters a little unease, but not enough to truly be afraid of ghostly events.
The third phase is important, as it sees the truly uncanny really impinge on the character for the first time. This might be the definite sight of a strange figure in the room, messages arriving on the phone, voices heard in the dead of night. It is worth remembering that characters will generally only accept the supernatural when it is absolutely irrefutable. Characters might think that they are imagining things, or even consider that they are becoming mentally unstable, before conceding that something genuinely otherworldly is happening.
This is where the reveal truly takes place – that moment that the ghostly element appears clearly, offering undeniable evidence of its existence. It may speak or interact with the character, offer a threat, or even resolution to some past issue. This reveal is also a key moment of terror for the reader, and if the build through the phases has been done well, the reader should be primed to be scared by this final revelation. This scene will tend to take place at or towards the very end of the story.
A patient build is an important part of any ghost story, but the other vital element is that the ghostly element MEANS something to the lead character. If your character happens to see a ghost at random, that might be frightening, but without context it’s not offering the psychological creep that ghost stories deliver so well. Many of the classic ghost stories featured characters who were professors or scientists, natural skeptics, and as such the nightmare for them was not just coming across the supernatural, but being forced to accept that their world-view was flawed or wrong. If the spirit means nothing to the character, then what you have is a shock rather than a scare.
And of course that context needs to be built in throughout the story. If the ghost plays into the natural fears and paranoias of our characters, then the story is bound to be more effective. If the ghost is a person known to the character in some way, that can be one good approach. If the ghost is ‘unknown’ to the character, is it important to build some context for the reader – this will often involve elements of history, perhaps books or diary entries (MR James is a particularly strong purveyor of this device) or might involve folk tales or myths. Make sure that the ghost means something deeper to the character, and the fear in the reveal stage will be magnified.
This importance of context – and character – is described brilliantly by horror author Mark Morris: ‘All good fiction is ultimately about character, and about providing insights into what it means to be a human being, to be mortal, to be living a life and facing the questions we each of us face on a day to day basis. What horror stories and ghost stories often do are expand our horizons, show us something beyond what we know and believe, and therefore challenge our perceptions and beliefs. Ultimately, though, as I said, good fiction is all about people – about characters we believe in and find interesting enough to accompany on their various journeys.’
A particularly great example of this in film format would be the superb Japanese film Ring – or even the US remake, The Ring – which for me is a masterclass in this kind of build. That’s evidenced by the fact that I still can’t bring myself to watch it again after two weeks of sleepless nights first time around...
The other key to great ghost stories is to establish strong atmosphere. As we are holding back the reveal, we can’t rely on big scares at every turn, so atmosphere is what keeps the reader hooked and develops the sense of unease we are looking for. Atmosphere in its more obvious forms may come from setting (dilapidated, middle of nowhere, disused, shadowy) or from weather in the form of pathetic fallacy, but there is far more to it than this. The key here is your use of language – with the right words, any setting can be scary.
What’s important to bear in mind is that words all have some kind of connotation, and it is these that help build atmosphere in your stories. This obviously features the adjectives, but perhaps more subtly takes in your verbs as well. The single word employed to convey an action can be very powerful. Take the five sentences below, and consider how slightly changing one word alters the implication of each.
She WALKED down the corridor.
She STRODE down the corridor.
She TIPTOED down the corridor.
She RAN down the corridor.
She FLED down the corridor.
The words in capitals are simply words for getting from A to B in some manner, but each carries its own impression of both character and situation.
Ghost stories have a long and fine tradition in literature, and undoubtedly retain a strong popularity to this day. Perhaps because we all encounter ghost stories in some form in our younger days we are more accustomed to the concepts that make these tales so great. However a final difference to pick up between ghost stories and horror is that the ghost story can often be something that harks backwards. The most prominent cinematic ghost story of recent years – The Woman in Black – harks back to another period of history. Ghost stories as a form can tend to depend upon a certain degree of nostalgia, but when delivered well can be effectively transported into modern settings.
