As a kid, I loved fantasy stories, particularly by the Grimm brothers. I loved the creepy plots, the obvious divide between good and evil, and especially the bungling, boastful fools. As an adult, I love Sci Fi movies, especialy the crappily hysterical, like Mansquito (best title ever) and Snakes on a Plane (second-best title ever). My husband has asked me that several times why I don’t write fantasy, and I’d tell him that I like to watch fantasy, but I don’t like to write it. What I didn’t realize was that I’ve been trying to write fantasy for a while now. The story I’m currently working on is very much a fantasy novel, with creatures that lurk in the woods and people that transform and one really vindictive frog. And what I’m finding, is that writing a truly craptacular laugh-fest is harder than it appears on first blush.
You think that in Mansquito they just shoved a man in a mosquito costume and let him terrorize the town? Well, yes they did. And you think that in Snakes on a Plane, they just put some snakes on a plane and let them terrorize a flight? Uh, actually that’s pretty much what happened too. But it really was more than that. It’s not just the monsters having a field day, it’s also the protagonist, and what they do, and how far they’re willing to go to get rid of said monsters, and more importantly what they say along the way. Who can forget Sam L. Jackson’s famous SoaP line? I can’t print it here, that’s for sure.
Well, I’m getting back to my roots. The creepy plots and silly characters that I loved as a kid, that I still love as an adult. Maybe I’m only now finding my groove. Maybe realistic fiction isn’t the path for me at all.
Now if I can only find a title as good as Mansquito.