This Book’s About What?!

Using Content Warnings to Write Horror Responsibly

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Warning: Includes discussions about a number of topics that some readers may find distressing. 

It is inevitable that an essay about content warnings and writing horror responsibly will upset someone. After all, we are continuously told by many respectable and tenured voices in the genre that horror, by its very nature, should be both confronting and serve to show us where the boundaries are. 

But I’m not writing this to upset or antagonise anyone. I have zero interest in telling anyone that their opinions are wrong, and I am certainly not an authoritative voice when it comes to horror. If you’re a writer who has decided including content warnings in your work isn’t for you, then this essay probably isn’t for you either. And that’s one hundred percent okay. 

What I want to do is try to reach out to those writers who are perched on the fence right now, wondering about the pros and cons of content warnings. I want to show how they might approach some extremely complex and polarising topics head-on, while allowing them the space to write compassionately and responsibly without dimming the impact of their work. 

To help me out, I asked a lot of people if they would share their thoughts on content warnings, and I was delighted by the number of authors, readers and reviewers in the horror and speculative fiction community worldwide who responded. This piece is a collaboration of voices and opinions. 

 

Horrormeister Stephen King says in DANSE MACABRE (1981) that: “I believe horror does not horrify unless the reader or viewer has been personally touched.” If you really want your work to be effective you need to reach deep into your readers’ chests and tear out their still-beating hearts.

Metaphorically, of course. 

But does that mean that writers should adopt an “anything goes” attitude? After all, if you’ve decided to start reading a horror book, you know what you’re letting yourself in for, right? It’s pretty logical to assume that horror readers want to be horrified. 

Let’s begin by looking at what content warnings are not. 

Despite many cynics trying to equate the two, content warnings are not censorship. Absolutely no one is putting a gun to your head and forcing you to include them anywhere in your work. They are an optional extra. The condiment with your meal. You have complete control about how to add them, where to put them and how much you want to reveal.

They are not an age rating like a BBFC certificate, although they can act as an advisory for some mature content. Books do not, and in my personal opinion should not, come with age limits. In most cases how a book is sold, shelved and marketed acts as a form of rating guide. Movies, however, are rated to help parents determine appropriate content for their children to watch, not to protect adults from adult content. We are fully aware that horror books aimed at adults are more likely to include mature subject matter such as sex, violence, death and/or profanities. 

Content warnings, when done right, are not spoilers, and they don’t ruin a story. It’s quite easy to write a mindful content warning that doesn’t spoil a plot twist or surprise and your readers can still enjoy the story without knowing what’s to come. 

“Regarding the argument that content warnings are spoilers, I have two thoughts. 

1) You can add content warnings in a location that isn't front and centre, such as the back of the book, so no one who doesn't want to see them will see them. 

2) If the basis of a book is so flimsy that having a single item from the book mentioned without context or detail is enough to "spoil" it, that says more about the author's work than it does about content warnings.”

Sam – horror lover and reviewer at Sci-fi & Scary 

So, if that’s what content warnings are not, let’s look at what they are.

“Good content warnings have the power and responsibility to save consumers from potentially triggering work, save creators from having their context misread, act as accurate content tags, and spare communities from potentially volatile discourse over any of the above.”
Brandon O’Brien – poet and writer of SFF and speculative fiction

Content warnings in literature are written notices that precede potentially sensitive or distressing content. They allow readers to adequately prepare themselves for an emotional reaction, and to decide for themselves if they wish to continue reading or disengage from the material for their own wellbeing. 

These warnings show that you, the writer, have considered your audience, the reader, and acknowledge that some aspects of your work may be of a sensitive nature to certain people. They show that you have an awareness of your power as a creative; that your words can hurt and traumatise as much as they can delight and excite. That you’re not the sort of person who will share a jump-scare clown video with a friend you know hates jump-scares and is terrified of clowns just because you want to see their reaction. Because, let’s be honest, that kind of behaviour is just not cool. 

“To make an analogy, horror is like spicy food. Some people enjoy ghost pepper level of heat or hotter. Others can only handle black pepper or maybe garlic level heat. It would be wrong to surprise the 'black pepper' level person with ghost peppers.”

S.D. Vassallo – horror writer and owner of Brigids Gate Press

King tells us, again in DANSE MACABRE, that, “we make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones … we grasp the very elements which are so divisive and destructive and try to turn them into tools – to dismantle themselves.” This idea is the very reason why so many of us turn to horror as a form of catharsis; an escape from the real evils of the world, or the traumas we have faced. 

“When I first heard of the idea of placing content warnings on books, particularly with regards to works in the horror genre, my initial reaction was dismissive. I mean evoking terror and disturbing readers is sort of the point of horror, isn’t it? But after more consideration I realised there’s a distinction between providing a frightening experience and eliciting genuine distress. 

Fans of horror come to the genre as a safe place to explore fear and by employing content warnings we help reinforce that our community respects boundaries readers may have, while ensuring that horror books remain a refuge to traverse the darkness of humanity.”

J. A. Sullivan – horror writer and reviewer at Kendall Reviews.

Horror, just like any other genre, is a massive spectrum compiled of hundreds of sub-genres and thematic cross-overs, and everyone has their own preferred taste. There are some who enjoy gnarly, nasty, vicious stories that push the limits of revulsion and gore, while others like quiet and unsettling, despair and grief-filled tales. All aspects of horror are equally valid and elicit a varied number of reactions, but for writers, understanding that horror fiction is often seen as a safe space to explore those feelings is incredibly important. And that knowledge carries a responsibility. 

“Horror is a safe way to explore your fears, to let off stress, and feel that adrenaline rush. Nowhere is it written that you cannot write stories that allow these things while being compassionate to your readers. If you would spare your wife, your daughter, your son, or your brother from walking blindly into a situation that you know would bother them, why wouldn’t you do it for your readers? 

I think that too many horror writers pride themselves on being hard-asses because of the genre that they write in, and, quite frankly, that’s complete bullshit and not a good look for anyone.”

Lilyn George – author and reviewer at Sci-Fi & Scary

I’ll be honest, that sort of behaviour from horror writers puts me in mind of certain so-called “edgy” comedians whose routines often rely on making fun of marginalised people, but when called out on it claim they are simply being “challenging.” The argument of “Don’t like it? Don’t watch/read it!” gets thrown around a lot as an excuse for saying whatever horrible things they feel like and dodging the inevitable consequences. Quite frankly, those people need to come up with some better material. And just like punching down is never amusing, writing about trauma with the sole intent to shock rarely makes for good horror. 

“The idea that you're not a real horror fan if you need content warnings is gatekeeping nonsense. Horror should horrify, yes, but it should never be an author's goal to traumatize their audience.”

Sam – Sci-fi & Scary

The argument of “don’t like it, don’t read it” also ignores the fact that if we don’t know in advance what to expect, how can we make an informed judgement about whether we want to read it or not? If you have a food allergy, you check what is included in a dish before you eat it. If you have mobility issues, you need to know if the restaurant you plan to visit is accessible. It makes poor sense for writers to alienate potential readers by wilfully omitting a way for them to manage their expectations. Including content warnings is not about pandering to people nor having to do more work to accommodate their needs. Like accessibility, I’d argue that if you weren’t considering it already, you were cutting corners. 

“Content warnings are like closed captions, induction loops, and ramps – able-bodied people usually don’t stop to consider their value until they are personally inconvenienced by their absence. It sucks, but that’s the truth. On the other hand, nothing attracts the interest of teenagers and drives sales the way an EXPLICIT sticker does, so I guess it's a double win.”

Myk Pilgrim – horror author and horror enthusiast 

There is, of course, a massive scope to consider when adding content warnings to your work, and it is pretty much impossible to cover every possible trigger. The way a reader experiences a book is extremely personal and unique. Some things that might leave one reader distraught will have no impact on another.

The most common warnings are usually centred around incidences of:

Abuse and assault (physical, mental, emotional, verbal and sexual)

Excessive or gratuitous violence

Child abuse/paedophilia/incest

Animal cruelty or animal death

Self-injurious behaviour (self-harm, eating disorders, etc.)

Death, dying or suicide

Pregnancy/Childbirth

Miscarriages/Abortion

Mental illness

Any “–isms” (racism, sexism, ableism, classism etc.) 

LGBTQ+ phobia

As you might imagine, this is a short and inexhaustive list. A quick check on Google throws up hundreds of websites that list potential triggers. There are also a good number of resources that give detailed breakdowns for content warnings in books across a variety of genres. 

“Content warnings are a kindness to your readers, and I've yet to hear a compelling argument against them. To me, they are the easiest way for an author to make their work accessible to those who may live with trauma, regardless of the genre. Of course you're never going to cover off every potential trigger, but I always appreciate and respect when an author at least makes an effort to include warnings for the "big ticket items" like sexual assault and child death. 

You’ll never catch every trigger and readers know that. It isn't what readers expect. Obviously, an author can't know that mentioning a certain song or movie, or even a particular smell or taste, might trigger a traumatic response for someone. Triggers are always going to be very personal, but there's a common sense approach to be taken to providing content warnings for things that are widely understood to be traumatic events or occurrences.”

Sam – Sci-Fi & Scary

However, content warning sceptics often argue that their inclusion is pointless, an argument that a 2020 study published in the journal Clinical Psychological Science appears to support.

The research by Payton Jones, a researcher at Harvard University, and his colleagues, suggests that trigger warnings have little or no benefit; rather than help soften the potential blow from disturbing content, in some cases, they might even make it worse. 

During the study, a series of distressing passages were read to two randomised groups of people. The members of both groups had experienced a serious trauma in the past, but one group was given content warnings while the other was not. Afterwards, each member rated how they felt. The researchers found little differences in the emotions of both groups, regardless of if they had received a warning or not. In fact, Jones found evidence that content warnings actually served to increase an individual’s belief that their trauma was an important part of their life-story, in particular, finding emotional strength and being a survivor. 

It’s an interesting study with a perhaps surprising outcome, and it would be reasonable to argue that if content warnings don’t actually do much to help, why bother wasting time putting them in your work in the first place? To answer that I want to circle back for a moment to where I started and reiterate what a content warning is:

Content warnings … allow readers … to decide for themselves if they wish to continue reading or disengage from the material for their own wellbeing. 

This quote from author Kit Powers explains in ways much better than I can why making that choice to engage with or reject a text is so incredibly important.

“There's a juvenile train of thought that says the idea of 'writing horror responsibly' is absurd; this is the genre that no less a horror master than Ramsey Campbell said 'has permission to sometimes go too far'. And he's right; if horror's worth a damn, it has to have permission to go too far - way too far. And then a little further. Ah, but check it; there's a key word there - 'permission'. 

When I sit down to watch a horror movie or read a horror story, I am granting the writer permission to scare the piss out of me. My consent is in the act of selecting that work, knowing the genre, knowing the artist, etc. And where I've gotten to with this is that the key, the golden key that unlocks all the tangled chains and locks around trauma and triggers (both real things; both issues I struggle with myself) is that of permission, and specifically informed consent. 

As in any adult relationship, informed consent is key. It's not censorship to let your readers know the kinds of themes they are going to encounter in your work - it's a combination of courtesy and advertising. I want to scare the piss out my readers. I don't want to traumatise them. The solution - for me - is absolutely not to self-censor, or avoid the darkest subject matter, the foulest slurs; I don't want to look away from any of the dark corners we choose to live in, and part of my job is to report back honestly on what I see and hear in those corners. The solution is to make sure I'm offering up informed consent. And content warnings get the job done just fine.”

Kit Powers – horror essayist and author of A Song for the End

That content warnings might be linked to consent might seem strange to some writers, especially those who seek to push boundaries and tackle more complex or disturbing subjects, but it’s a concept that every writer needs to consider. Do we have the right to traumatise and shock our audience merely because we feel our art demands it? I would say not.

“I think horror is a genre which is designed to shock and, as such, I think writers are entitled not to provide content warnings, should it be against their values. That said, I believe that the shock I personally want to prompt in my readers is not a revisiting of lived traumas.” 

Kev Harrison – author of The Balance

I was given a great piece of advice recently by writer Mark Matthews (author of The Hobgoblin of Little Minds) about including slurs in stories. He suggested that one way to think about a potentially offensive word is to see it as an exclamation point – if you really need it to make the point, then try rewriting until the same point is made without said word/exclamation point. Often, the further writers want to push boundaries in their work, the greater skill is needed to pull it off successfully. I argue that the same applies to writing about any potentially triggering subject. 

“If giving a content warning about something like rape “ruins” or “spoils” your book, then chances are you’ve not written a good enough book. Something like child death or rape is often an inciting incident, and said incident should never be the most important thing that happens in your story. Do better, write better, and you have nothing to worry about.”

Lilyn George – Sci-fi & Scary

I suspect every single one of us has, at some point in our lives, read something that has stuck with us in ways we rather wish it hadn’t. Perhaps we read a book that contained themes we were too emotionally immature to process properly. Or a story that described a traumatic event in gratuitous detail when we weren’t expecting it. It’s not a pleasant feeling, even if we might have come to terms with it now. 

I recall reading issue 100 of the comic series THE WALKING DEAD, which features the violent demise of two major characters. It’s an incredibly graphic series about zombies, so I knew what to expect. Except this particular storyline made me so furious and upset I threw the comic to the floor and refused to read any further issues for another six months. When the TV series caught up with the comics and season 7 began with “The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be,” I declined to watch it. I knew exactly what was coming and I refused to put my emotions through the wringer again. 

I have similar misgivings about Cormac McCarthy’s THE ROAD. It remains to this day one of my most favourite books, but good Goddess, I could have used some content warnings. Interestingly, when it was made into a movie, director John Hillcoat chose to cut one particular cannibalism scene that was so shockingly awful in the book. His reasoning was, “it all works in the book because it's in your head, when you visualize some of this stuff it just becomes too much. And it was overkill.” 

Sometimes you have to figure out where a line should be drawn and make a decision to either not to cross it or at least warn others of where that line is. 

“You expect some level of (shocking subjects) in horror, so it’s hard to know exactly what to warn about. But as a reader, you form an expectation of what the story is going to be like based on genre conventions, the story blurb, what you know of the author, etc. Subverting that can be good if done well, but if writers are doing it in a way that could be triggering, they need to handle it sensitively. It’s about honouring the contract between the writer and the reader.

I listened to a podcast recently which began like a murder-mystery story about small-town corruption but ended up as a story about suicide. I did not know that the main character died in this way before I went into it, and it was a massive shock. I probably would not have listened to the podcast if I'd known that in advance. For me, that was a violation of the reader/writer contract, because the actual story was about a very sensitive subject which was not how it had been framed and promoted.” 

Jen Doherty – horror reader and reviewer

The reality is, even if a writer only covers the Big Ones, subjects which are pretty obviously likely to be triggers, it shows they have an awareness of and a willingness to consider the emotional impact of their work. 

“When it comes to content/trigger warnings, I’ve ridden the fence on the issue for a while. On the one hand, I don’t see how they could ever be applied as a requirement of publishing – labelling gets awful close to censorship – on the other, I know there are many people, myself included, who have things that trigger severe PTSD. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s nothing that should ever be compulsory, but always considered. Put them in the back of the book so it’s the reader’s choice whether they read them or not and I’m fine with the idea.” 

Shane Keene – poet, book reviewer and co-founder of Ink Heist 

Giving your reader that choice is the most important aspect. They chose to pick up your book and read it, so they can also choose whether or not they want to read the content warnings. Just like the condiment that accompanies the meal: some people just want black pepper; others want the stronger spice. 

“By refusing to print the ingredients on the box you’re essentially stripping people of the ability to make an informed decision about their purchase. It costs nothing to do, and in all honesty, if you don’t “dig” trigger warnings, you can always turn the page and just not read them.”

Myk Pilgrim

Pretty much everyone I asked agreed that having optional content warnings at the back of a book was the best solution. 

“My only feeling is content warnings, if there, should be somewhere in the back and people can choose to look or not. Horror is meant to be confronting, and some people don't want any spoilers.”

Alan Baxter – horror author and president of the Australian Horror Writers Association 

But content warnings don’t have to take the form of a specific list; even a well-written blurb on the jacket of a book can give a reader all the heads-up they require to make an informed choice. It’s worth remembering that just as we all have different triggers, we all have different tastes and one reader’s reason for rejecting a book might be another reader’s reason for loving it. 

“From a reviewer/consumer point of view, I greatly respect authors and publishers who take the time provide a well-thought-out blurb. For example, seeing something on a back cover like “after the brutal murder of their [mother/child/sibling]” gives a clear heads-up to potential readers. 

I'll always remember starting Robert McCammon's MINE, which pulls a shocking switcheroo involving a baby, and putting the book aside for weeks. The book involves kidnap, but this was something far beyond that. The entire scene is still vivid in my mind almost a decade later, and just as upsetting whenever I recall it. A considerate blurb doesn't have to spoil the shocks, the twists, the horror – it just has to have enough about it to help people make a choice that won't force them to relive things they'd rather deal with on their own terms.”

Ben Walker – horror reviewer and owner of Sliced Up Press

Personally, I came to the content warning debate a lot later than I would have liked. I didn’t use content warnings in my first collection of stories as I genuinely hadn’t considered they might be needed, although I plan to rectify that in future releases. Nor did I include them in a charity anthology I edited with eleven other people, which in retrospect I wish I had. It was a very surreal experience being that “first line of defence” when reading blind submissions before sending them to the editing team and having absolutely no idea about what each story might contain. And some of them were indeed quite shocking. 

If I were to do it all over again, I would ask people to include content warnings in their submissions and I would definitely include them in the final publication. It’s also heartening to me to see other authors and editors come to similar conclusions. 

“I've really grown on the idea of giving people options when it comes to experiencing horror, as I believe the goal of most writers is to have someone enjoy the work they've created, regardless of whether that's simply by being disturbed, grossed out, or whatever. I've never used content warnings before, but I think I will going forward. Whilst I know that there are people who absolutely hate them, the option can just be ignored and won't take away from their enjoyment if they don't let it. 

Horror can go from being fun to extremely unpleasant quite quickly. Some people want to go in completely blind, and I'm one of those people, but I'd be annoyed at myself if someone read something of mine and was genuinely upset by a trigger in my work which – had they known it was coming – would've been easier to stomach or just skip over entirely.”

Thomas E. Staples – author of The Case of the Giant Carnivorous Worm

But while writers should respect the issue of consent when writing about potentially triggering subjects and including content warnings, readers and publishers should also consider writers’ concerns over enforcing content warnings in their work. Readers do still have some level of personal responsibility when it comes to choosing the art they want to enjoy. You can only warn someone that the spicy, ghost pepper is hot, you can’t stop them from checking if it’s true. 

If you’re a consumer of horror fiction as well as a writer: read the blurb. Google the author. Check out multiple, cross-platform reviews. Don’t assume that every book a horror author releases is going to be the same as any one you’ve read before. Explore websites such as booktriggerwarnings.com and the Content Warnings Database that have detailed information on potentially triggering or upsetting content. Use the warnings responsibly to determine if the book is right for you and decide if you are in a good headspace to engage with it. 

"I understand why some authors bristle at the idea of such warnings being mandatory, and why some readers don't want a story inadvertently spoiled, but in a voluntary system, why does it matter if other authors use them? The writers and readers who eschew content warnings are likely to find each other in the reading space, and same for those who support those warnings. 

For myself, I aim to evoke emotion and connection in my readers, but a panic attack or deep emotional suffering isn't something I'd want to cause for anyone. Reading is meant to be enjoyable."

Laurel Hightower – author of Crossroads

This, I feel, is the crux of the content warning debate – reading absolutely should be enjoyable. Even in a genre that is traditionally seen as confronting, pushes boundaries and tackles disturbing topics head-on. Horror holds up a mirror to the darker truths of the world, it asks uncomfortable questions of us which we are not always eager to face. Including content warnings means that authors can write freely about the themes they want yet avoid bringing potential trauma to their readers. It grants us all the opportunities and spaces we need to safely explore our fears. 

I would like to say a massive thank you to everyone who shared with me their thoughts about writing horror responsibly. This essay would not have been possible without the support of the following people:

Alan Baxter – https://www.alanbaxteronline.com

Jen Doherty

Lilyn George – https://www.scifiandscary.com

SKev Harrison – https://kevharrisonfiction.com

Laurel Hightower – https://laurelhightower.com

Shane Keene of Ink Heist

Brandon O’Brien – https://www.brandonobrien.space

Myk Pilgrim – https://www.pugnaciouspress.com/mykpilgrim

Kit Powers – https://www.patreon.com/kitpower

Sam at Sci-Fi & Scary – https://www.scifiandscary.com

Thomas E. Staples – https://www.wrybrain.com

J.A. Sullivan – https://writingscaredblog.wordpress.com

S.D. Vassallo – https://brigidsgatepress.com

Ben Walker – https://sliceduppress.com

Tabatha Wood lives in Aotearoa, New Zealand and writes weird, dark horror fiction and uplifting poetry. A former English teacher and library manager, her first books were guides for professional educators. She now teaches from home and writes in her spare time, usually under the influence of strong coffee.

You can read more of her stories, articles and blog posts at https://tabathawood.com