Hey Monster Maker,
Let’s talk about blood. And spit. And skin that sloughs. And mouths full of too many teeth.
Let’s talk about abjection—the messy stuff that makes us flinch, gag, or squirm. And let’s talk about how that makes monsters really stick in your reader’s brain.
Dracula’s been having a moment lately—again—and recent versions are leaning hard into the body horror. Think:
- The twisted, bat-like ghoul in The Last Voyage of the Demeter (2023)
- The corpse-like menace in BBC’s Dracula (2020), who sweats blood and smiles like a predator in a dinner jacket
- The haunting, silent nightmare creeping toward us in Nosferatu (2024)—all shadow and hunger, a whisper of decay wrapped in elegance
This Count is less cape and charm, more sticky and hungry. Less aristocrat, more oozing crypt meat with an exaggerated European accent.
And you know what?
It works.
Because vampires aren't just sexy and mysterious.
They're also abject: a reminder of the body’s inevitable breakdown.
When the real world starts to feel like a horror show, we turn to abject monsters—not to escape, but to survive it with our sanity intact. 🕯️
🩸 The Power of the Leaky, Reeking, Rotting Body
Philosopher Julia Kristeva (hello, Queen of the Unsettling) defined abjection as the horror of things that cross boundaries—things that shouldn’t be, that remind us of death, decay, and vulnerability.
Things like:
- Blood outside the body
- Skin that peels or slides off
- Eyes that don’t blink--or even notice that fly crawling inside them
- Smells that come from places that shouldn’t smell
Monsters thrive here. They’re bodies that misbehave—refusing to be clean, human, or socially acceptable.
Dracula drinks blood. That’s gross. But what if he dribbles it? What if it cakes on his chin and he smiles with it?
What if his fingernails fall off? And then his eyelids . . .
Yeah. That’s the good stuff.
Why We're Gagging for Ghouls Right Now
Here’s the deal with abjection in narratives, monster maker:
When the world starts to feel sick, messy, unjust—abject—we reach for stories that let us touch the grossness and purge it.
We want blood, decay, rot, filth—but fictional, theatrical, deliciously dark, and most importantly, safe.
Because it’s easier—and more fun—to stomach Nosferatu than face the monstrousness of the real.
Kristeva said it best:
Religion and art are both attempts to cleanse the abject.
And my dearest monster-lovers, we are filthy with it right now.
In a time when masked agents are snatching people off the streets without due process . . .
When human rights for our most vulnerable are being rolled back with the stroke of a pen . . .
When cruelty is marketed as “strength,” and hate is dressed up like patriotism . . .
We start craving villains we can fight.
Monsters we can name.
Creatures we can stab with metaphorical stakes—or natural 20s—and walk away cleansed.
So we watch movies.
We play D&D.
We binge the series.
We write the stories.
We need that catharsis.
We need to look into the face of something horrifying—and survive it.
And when we do, we’re not just playing with horror.
We’re exorcising something real. ❤️🩹
✍️ Writing Tip: Let Your Monster’s Body Tell the Story
Here’s your monster-making magic trick of the day: Don’t just describe the monster. Show how the world reacts to their body.
That’s where abjection lives—in the recoil, the gag, the flinch.
🦷 Instead of: “She had sharp teeth.”
Try: “The knight gagged when her molars wriggled like worms.”
🪰 Instead of: “It was rotting.”
Try: “Each step left a wet print of something thick and gray.”
Be brave. Be gross. This is a monster lab, after all. 😈
🤮 Prompt: Make It Ooze
Take a monster you’ve already written—or one you’ve been thinking about—and ask:
- What part of its body betrays it?
- What leaks, twitches, falls off, pulses, or reeks?
- How do others react to its body in space? What mark does it leave when it passes?
Then write a 3–5 sentence description of that moment.
Make it sensory. Make it disgusting. Make it deliciously wrong. 🧛🏻♀️
🧛♀️ Come Make Monsters Live with Me
👻 Join me this October for my LIVE "Build a Monster that Means Something" Workshop!
We’re gonna build monsters from the inside out—diving deep into story, burrowing into your villain’s psyche, and yes . . . definitely talking more about bodily fluids. 🧟♀️
Whether you write horror, fantasy, D&D campaigns, or monster-laced romance, this workshop will help you make creatures that crawl under your reader’s skin and stay there.
There will be prompts. There will be weirdness. There may be tentacles. 🐙
Want first dibs on a spot? Grab yours here!
🕷️ Over to you!
What’s the grossest body detail you’ve ever written for a monster—or the most unsettling one you want to write?
Tag me on IG @iliketododrawrings or hit reply with your juicy descriptions. I am SO ready to squirm.
Until the next organ drops out,
Heidi
Monster Mentor | Narrative Necromancer | Scribe of the Sticky 💋🖤
