Inspired to Scare: Sick Stuff

by Jeamus Wilkes —

“Sick Stuff”

Inspired to Scare (ItS) is a bimonthly column by writer, artist, and actor Jeamus Wilkes. ItS is designed to help horror and dark fiction writers plant the seeds of inspiration and nurture its resulting creativity.

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Sick Stuff.

Those words were scrawled–and I mean scrawled–onto a torn-to-size piece of Post-It Note and crookedly slapped onto a cassette of mine. The words hurt, as I could see both dismissal and repugnance in them. At the time that those words were scrawled, “sick” did not enjoy its current synonymic partnership with words like “badass” or “cool” or plain ol’ “good.” Sick, in this context, meant “sick in the mind” in as adverse and judgmental fashion as you can imagine. The word scrawler was a years-ago partner of mine. For the purposes of this story, their identity is not relevant (I’m not saying they are irrelevant, but their exact identity remains in the realm of my business); and for those who know me, please don’t even try to guess, as more than one partner of mine shared the same sentiment and intolerance regarding my tastes in music and my general preference for a horror aesthetic or dark groove.

Before the torn Post-It moniker, the cassette wasn’t labeled, as it was a mixtape-in-progress of music I enjoyed. My then-partner wasn’t snooping so much as just organizing cassette tapes that had been laying around. The only songs that were on the mixtape were gathered from other CDs and vinyl in my music collection: “London” by Queensrÿche, “I Want It All” by Eve’s Plumb, and “Low” by Cracker. Those may be extremely mild examples of music that’s “not for everybody,” but it was deemed as evidence to my ex-partner of me being sick in mind. There’s a lot of history behind that relationship that’s unnecessary to go into here but understand I’m not claiming any innocence in that relationship’s destruction. At all. What you do need to know is that those words hurt. They were a statement about me.

Today, in this column, I’m here to reclaim those words as a badge of honor for me and you, fellow horror writers and creatives. It’s time to create more mixtapes (even if they’re Spotify playlists or other modern incarnations) and title all of them Sick Stuff, and make more than one, complete with fancy-ass Roman numerals for our Sick Stuff series or saga. Yes, wear that title Sick Stuff everywhere you go, with your head held high. The following quote is one variation on a popular meme many have taken credit for (and I don’t know it’s true or primary source) but it is an incredible amount of wisdom packed into one sentence:

Stop explaining yourself to those who are committed to misunderstanding you.

This may seem melodramatic, but it’s the truth: When I first read the above quote/meme/oracle, I felt simultaneously punched in the gut and unshackled from a great weight. It truly was a revelation. Its principle may seem oh-so-simple to many, but to me (and I’m sure many others) it isn’t. It’s a commitment to being okay with yourself as a horror fan. It’s okay to be in horror culture. It’s okay for the horror aesthetic to be a lifestyle. It’s okay to engage horror at any level with little-to-no explanation owed from you to any other person or group on this planet.

Now, in fitting this with the creative vision of this very column: Use it. Use your experience of being branded Sick Stuff as motivation and realization in your horror-themed writing and creative output.

A short but incredibly poignant scene in Salem’s Lot (1979) sees teenager Mark Petrie get confronted by his father for Mark’s own “obsession” with monsters and magic and weird things (oh my) that naturally informs the whole vibe of Mark’s bedroom. Mark’s response and door-closing of the conversation indicates a peace Mark made with himself we should all be jealous of (in a good way). I won’t recite the dialogue here as you should enjoy it for the first time or rewatch it for yourself (the ’79 Salem’s Lot is easily available on streaming and physical media). That whole scene came about as you can bet your sweet goth ass that Stephen King and Tobe Hooper (creator and director of Salem’s Lot, respectively) have had that same conversation with someone in their lives, and probably more than once. And in Salem’s Lot, it means everything to the story since Mark is well-versed in the mythology of vampires, making him one of the story’s most valuable players. Mark wore the badge of Sick Stuff proudly. King goes much more in depth in the novel as to how Mark Petrie wears and defends that badge.

Fiction and film are loaded with stories of the individual or group ridiculed for loving horror, whatever that looks like: the goth lifestyler, the monster movie lover, the ghost hunter nobody believes, the monster hunter written off as insane, the obsessed writer, the artist nobody “gets,” and even the “monster” itself.

Take those experiences of ridicule and criticism and get them onto the page. Yes, you can change the names and circumstances to protect the not-so-innocent, but get that experience out there and into your work. True experience and emotion leap from a page or creation and grab the reader and viewer like nothing else. They are palpable when related honestly.

Get that Sick Stuff out there. I’ve even created a badge for you that you can print up and wear to get Inspired to Scare. See what I did there? It all rhymes with dare:

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