Why Thriller and Horror Writers Need Community

I was talking to my goddaughter recently about a work in progress. Now she was the one who asked about my writing. To be fair, this is the first horror that I'm penning. So she didn't know about this particular turn of events. But when she opened the door, I walked through and got "the look." The look every thriller and horror writer receives from the general public when they discover our work. The look that gets you uninvited from the next cookout.

Hoping to redirect my writing toward safer territory, she suggested that I read her favorite books, "The Bad Beginning" and the rest of A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket. I'm reading along and I realized that, although the tone is very light, the content is not. Now, if you haven't read it, I won't give away the details. But let me say those kids are going to be rocking in someone's corner or laid out on some psychologist's couch before it's all over.

This observation brings me to a larger point about how thriller and horror writers approach stories differently from the general public. We need to be there to discuss things like what would lead a woman to create a house of candy in the middle of the woods for the sole purpose of enticing and capturing children. But we also need to be there to make sure one of those characters shove her witchy tail into an oven.

Our community helps us navigate deeper questions: Why was she in those woods? Was it by choice or by exile? How did the candy not get stale? I know she's a witch and all, but that's a lot of sugar. And there is no mold?

Why Horror and Thriller Writers Need Community

Can you picture the Brothers Grimm at a dinner party: "What if the stepmother poisons her?"

"No, she's not going to take anything from the stepmother. Especially food."

"She might, if she's hungry."

"But she's in the castle. She's not hungry. That's the benefit of living in a castle—there's food."

"What if she doesn't recognize the stepmother?"

"Keep talking."

"And the food is a gift? You can't turn down a gift, especially if you're a princess."

"So a poisoned apple?"

"Yeah, that has to be the way to go."

Anyone overhearing that conversation would exit stage left. That's why I love all writing and publishing conferences because they address different versions of my relationship with writing. Whether it's the Independent Book Publishers Association or Chicago Writers Association's Chicago Writes conference, connections are made. It especially happens when I go to Killer Nashville (and yes, that's the name of a conference).

We discuss the craft of writing for sure. But I discovered something deeper: a room full of people who understood that exploring humanity's shadows isn't a solitary pursuit—it's a shared journey that creates some of the strongest bonds in the literary world and some of the best writing.

What makes these connections so powerful? There's something binding about writers who choose to spend their days crafting scenarios that keep readers awake at night. We're the ones researching forensics over breakfast and debating psychology at dinner parties. Most people think we're slightly disturbed. But among each other? We get it completely.

Why Darkness Builds Trust

From my psychology interest, I understand that authentic community forms when people can be genuinely themselves without judgment. Horror and thriller writers create spaces where exploring taboo subjects feels not only safe but necessary for professional growth.

For instance, when I'm developing an antagonist for one of my psychological thrillers, I need colleagues who can help me understand the nuances of predatory behavior without questioning my motives. These conversations require trust and psychological safety.

I've learned to value the collaborative nature of our writing community. Through my experience with professional writing organizations, I've learned that thriller and horror writers don't just understand fear—we understand the healing power of transforming fear into art and the community strength that comes from supporting each other.

The darkness we explore professionally creates light in our personal connections. We find each other across the shadows, and what emerges is community built on the deepest kind of understanding.