Susanna here, and in the spirit of the season I’ve been thinking about tales of haunted houses—and not only as a reader, but a writer. I’ve been thinking of the stories—what it is that makes one work for me, and when I first began to fall in love with them
I’m fairly certain it was Edward Mulhare’s fault.
I loved the television series of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1968-1970) and spent countless childhood hours glued to his performance of the grumbling, charming, ghostly Victorian sea captain forced to share his home with a modern-day widow and her children. I’m certain that’s where it began.
Later I discovered The Ghost and Mrs. Muir was originally a novel, written by Irish author Josephine Leslie (writing as R.A. Dick) in 1945, and that it had been made into an equally brilliant film in 1947, starring Rex Harrison and Gene Tierney, which I also came to love, though Edward Mulhare remains “my” Captain Gregg.
But by then I was already entranced by the idea of haunted houses, and unable to resist most stories that revolved around them.
Here are five things that help make a good one, in my view:
1. Make the main character the biggest skeptic.
Most of us, finding ourselves sharing a house with a ghost, wouldn’t simply accept it. We’d question our sanity. In the book The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, when Mrs. Muir first begins hearing Captain Gregg’s voice in her mind, she sensibly consults a psychoanalyst to rule out the possibility of mental illness. Even in the film High Spirits (a 1988 effort by Neil Jordan that, while arguably not good, is at least good fun, featuring Peter O’Toole, a young Liam Neeson, and such memorable lines as: “Look, you’re a ghost, I’m an American—it would never work out”) Steve Guttenburg’s character has the sense to be skeptical. When he encounters a ghost, he puts it down to the effects of his late-night binge drinking, and then a potential nervous breakdown, before he begins to accept that she’s real. By having your character react like a normal person would to an abnormal situation, you earn them the reader’s respect. And as you carefully convince your character that the impossible is happening, you might convince your reader, too.
2. Start small.
One of my favourite haunted house films of all time is 1980’s The Changeling, starring George C. Scott as a very recent widower who moves into a very creepy mansion. That film works so well for me on so many levels, but one of the things I love best about it is how it begins with the smallest moments—a piano key that plays when no one else is there, a door that opens quietly. Small things, that slowly build to larger ones that can’t be easily explained or ignored, like rhythmic banging on the walls. And then it hits you with the…well, I won’t spoil it, but watch it. It’s really well done. And it wouldn’t work nearly as well if the large thing had just been flung out at the very beginning. It pays to start small.
3. Give the ghost a purpose.
Preferably this will be a purpose other than getting rid of the people in the house, because while admirably single-minded that’s not very original. The ghost in The Changeling, for example, is driven by a need to have his true identity revealed. Blackbeard’s Ghost, in the Walt Disney film from 1968 with Peter Ustinov playing the titular ghost with his usual flair, must break a curse by performing a good deed, and Sir Simon de Canterville in Oscar Wilde’s The Canterville Ghost needs someone to perform specific tasks for him before he can find his own peace. Giving your ghost an agenda can lend the plot interesting angles.
4. Create a personal attachment or connection between the ghost and the main character.
Often the main character is the only person who can see the ghost, or with whom the ghost chooses to interact, which can cause complications. This is often used for comedic effect, as it was in Blackbeard’s Ghost and the television series of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, but it also helps to humanize the ghost and allow the reader to engage emotionally.
5. Provide a twist, if possible.
Don’t do it to be clever, but if something clever comes to mind, then do it. The haunted house tales I remember most are those that walk me furthest from the doors I think they’re going to lead me to. The film The Others (2001), with Nicole Kidman, was one of those stories, as was Just Like Heaven (2005), with Reese Witherspoon and Mark Ruffalo. Haunted houses have many doors—don’t be afraid to try opening odd ones. You never know where they might take you.
So those are five tips for you, if you’re a writer. You may find them useful.
But if you’re a reader, I’m curious—what makes a haunted house tale work for you? What are your favourite ghost stories, in any format—TV, books, or movies?