Forrest J Ackerman's long career with FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND magazine captured many a' Monster Kid's heart and soul. One of those is a certain well-known movie director who goes by the name of Guillermo Del Toro. Mr. Del Toro grew up enthralled by all sorts of monsters, and when he found that his drawing skills weren't up to his standard, he turned to filmmaking, attending film school in Mexico, and producing some of the most imaginative fantasy and horror movies to be seen on the modern screen, including his two installments of the popular comic book character, Hell Boy.
Tucked away in Westlake Village about an hour's drive north of Los Angeles, Del Toro owns not one, but two homes within minutes of each other. One is where he and his family live -- the other he calls his "office". And what an office it is -- a veritable monster museum with props from his films and other monster memorabilia crowd the halls and rooms, much like his idol's "Ackermansion". It is in this ambiance where he concocts and develops his ideas. With his Netflix horror anthology series and a just-released version of PINOCCHIO (complete with monsters, of course), Del Toro shows no signs of his creative well running dry.
This in-depth article from THE NEW YORKER magazine (February 7, 2011) provides insight on his life and career, as well as a guided tour of his office/museum.
"The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o’clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 26th, but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took only about two hours, so it could begin at ten o’clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner."
This is the beginning of one of the most chilling horror stories ever written, and one generally recognized as the most famous in American literature. It can also fit comfortably within the category of folk horror.
One amazing fact about the story is that it was written in just a very short time. Writer and mom, Shirley Jackson came up with the idea while grocery shopping, came home and wrote it in a few hours! In a couple of weeks, it was sold and published in the THE NEW YORKER's June 26, 1948 issue.
Just goes to show you that fine writing doesn't have to be a laborious and time-consuming process. The article below, from lithub.com, explains the details.
Reminder: the most famous short story in American literature was written in one day.
By Walker Caplan | December 14, 2021 | lithub.com
Among writers, quality is usually conflated with effort, which is usually conflated with time. The work of writers who write quickly is often devalued: how hard could they really have worked? But you don’t have to toil over a piece of writing for however-many years for it to be good—or for it to find its readership. Shirley Jackson’s 1948 story “The Lottery”—arguably the most famous short story in American literature—was written in a single morning.
Yep: Jackson thought up “The Lottery” while grocery shopping, came home, put her two-year-old daughter in her playpen, and wrote the story in just a few hours—by the time her son came home for lunch, she was finished. In Jackson’s posthumously published lecture, “Biography of a Story,” she recounts:
I had the idea fairly clearly in my mind when I put my daughter in her playpen and the vegetables in the refrigerator, and, writing the story, I found that it went quickly and easily, moving from beginning to end without pause. As a matter of fact, when I read it over later I decided that except for one or two minor corrections, it needed no changes, and the story I finally typed up and sent off to my agent the next day was almost word for word the original draft.
Though this anecdote has been found to be true, Jackson did later exaggerate the ease with which the story was published; in “Biography of a Story,” she said The New Yorker published her story a mere few weeks after she submitted it, and that they only made one change—the date of the lottery. In fact, New Yorker editor Gus Lobrano suggested several changes to the story via phone, including additions to dialogue and action, which Jackson made. But that doesn’t change the fact that Jackson’s morning of work was the foundation for that editing process, and most of that original version of the piece remained. A possible lesson: no need to doubt your good first draft. That task is for everybody else.
CHARLES SAMUEL ADDAMS (American, 1912-1988) The Beam of the Lighthouse, The New Yorker cover, June 23, 1973
Watercolor, ink, and pencil on board
21 x 15 in.
