Genre jumping

I’ve always been bothered by the word genre, not by the word itself but by the expanded definition that meant a writer had to fit his or her words into a singularly defined category.

My mind doesn’t work like that. The people who live in my head come from outer space, from little towns, from all over the world. They’re romantics, killers, demons, maniacs, ancient ones.

But agents and publishers and even booksellers don’t want that. They want writers who can stick to be creative within a formula – or at least that’s how I understand the world of publishing.

That kind of thinking makes me wonder. 

What would it be like if Stephen King wrote a titillating romance book? Could Jonathan Kellerman pen a hard-hitting western? Would Danielle Steel like to write an edgy science fiction tome? Could Mehmet Oz pen an epic poem?

Would they even try?

I think not.

I think they’ve written themselves into a genre corner and can’t get out because someone (and not the invisible “they” and definitely not their fans) would not accept it.

I’m thinking this whole requirement that a manuscript fit into a genre before it fits on the printed page could come crumbling down now that ebooks are appearing everywhere. I’m betting King could write that historical romance, Kellerman could do the western, Steele could venture into science fiction – and their fans would gobble them up. (I’m reserving judgment on the Dr. Oz question.)

I believe good writers can cover a wide spectrum of plots and scenarios and would do so if not for skeptical handlers and unwritten but strictly followed definitions. I believe we might even see some genre jumping by noted authors some time in the near future.

What do you think?

Character building, sort of …

In another life, I worked a service job, the graveyard shift, a gig that left me with plenty of down time. One day the swing shift worker left behind a romance novel, a short thing, maybe 180 pages, by a major romance publisher.

Having studied literature in my post-graduate days, I’d never read this genre before so I picked it up and started reading, finishing it before the day shift arrived. Didn’t like it. Didn’t think it was trash. Thought it was simple-minded. Was intrigued. How, I wondered, did someone write something so ordinary and get it published.

I left a note for the book’s owner to tell her I’d appreciate it if she would leave the book for one more night. It was sitting on the desk when I returned to work. I’d already decided I could write a better book; all I needed was to look at the formula.

I tore that book apart. I counted the words in each chapter then broke each chapter down. It didn’t take long. All I had to do was read the first paragraph and the last paragraph of each chapter.

I thought about this for the weekend.

Understand, I wasn’t trying to diminish the craft of romance writing. I was thinking the world deserved a better romance book.

So, on Monday night, armed with a pen and two legal yellow pads, I started my novel. It was a slow week at the desk. I wrote the last sentence on Friday morning just before checking out to go home.  Over the weekend, I took my trusty old manual typewriter and committed the words to bond paper, not changing a single word.  (Actually, it took two weekends to finish.) Then I looked up the publisher’s address, bundled the manuscript in a large manila envelope, tucked in a self-addressed envelope and stuck it in the mail.




Now for the surprise. Three weeks later I received a response, a personalized letter of rejection from the publisher (I still have that letter somewhere in my cluttered home office.)
How  she liked my work but that it needed spiffing up (my words, not hers). The major criticism was about one character she thought was too stereotypical and that one of the acts committed by my heroine didn’t fit the model. She explained both points in detail and suggested I do some rewrite and then resubmit.

I didn’t. I wasn’t really interested in being a romance writer but even weirder, I might have accepted the challenge but I just didn’t relish having to retype the whole manuscript. Also, I was young, had dreams of writing the Great American Novel (don’t we all?) and didn’t know any better. (If I got that kind of rejection today, I’d glue myself down in front of my laptop and start following the letter’s advice.)

The upside of all this is that I learned a lesson about writing, a lesson about developing characters.

Stay tuned ….