Genres That Don't Exist

Sometimes I fear my imagination might run out. Throughout my life it has been my experience that good things tend to run out while bad things seem to exist in amazing reserves. Imagination is a good thing.

Part of the problem, admittedly, is the ubiquity of work. Trudging back and forth to the office each day drains a writer of energy. At least this writer. When I’m in the midst of a big project (as one of the six novels I’ve finished) I’m full of ideas, ready to write constantly. When I finish, I can go months groping about for an idea that works. Meanwhile I work.

I was glad to read Tod Davies’ The Lizard Princess because it takes place in a fantasy land of ideas. Although I’ve termed some of my stories fantasies, the fact is I don’t really write in this genre. I think “magical realism” might be the more appropriate way to describe my work, or “fabulism.” Genres can be constraining.

The Lizard Princess makes no apologies for being fantasy. The usual tropes of princesses, dragons, encounters with mythical beasts, evil queens—it’s all there. And, of course, a voyage of transformation. We can learn a lot from fantasy.

Writing, it seems to me, is a fantasy. In a surfeit of joie de vivre I recently sent several stories out for publication. The rejections have been trickling in, and I wonder if publishing itself might be a fantasy.

I talked with a much younger co-worker recently. She writes fiction as well, but doesn’t try to publish. I’ve been writing fiction since at least 1976, but I grew up in a town where nobody really knew a thing about publishing. In consequence, I learned to write in genres that don’t exist.

Devoting full time to writing seems like a dream. Living from novel to novel is, perhaps, a fantasy. Still, a little encouragement goes a long way. If a place existed that eschewed genre perhaps I would stand a chance.

Like most writers, I believe in fantasy. If I could only classify myself, I might stand a chance of getting noticed. The price is only giving up how I taught myself to write.

Comments

Dusty

My, this thing is dusty. My fans—hi, Mom!—perhaps believe me to have perished in the pandemic. No, it was nonfiction’s fault. Since the pandemic began I’ve had two nonfiction books published and have written a third. With a nine-to-five job something’s got to give. Unfortunately it’s been fiction. Well, the groundhog didn’t see his shadow yesterday, so it must be safe to come out. I shuffled away the rejection notes and began submitting again. I’ve got a backlog of weird stories and maybe some new publishers have emerged? The thing is, don’t you just hate it when you’re in the mood to submit and some lit journal has its window for submissions firmly shut? My last story, “ The Hput, ” was published about three years ago. Oh, I’ve submitted since then, but with no traction. Well, it is winter. I’ve got a lot of stories lined up. I’ve been sending them out again, dreaming of making a dime at what I love doing best...

Creative Righting

Rejection of my writing is a rejection of my imaginative world. That’s why I was cheered by the acceptance of one of my stories this week. That makes number 31. I’ve been working on a lot of fiction lately, even as nonfiction book number 6 is going to press. The ideas are still there, and bizarre as ever, but publishing venues just aren’t welcoming. The other day I had lunch with a professor whose wife is also a professor. She just had her first novel published, and so he pointed me to her indie publisher. I went to their website to learn that they’re closed to submissions. I have to admit that my latest accepted story, “Creative Writing Club,” was probably given the green light because I know the editor. That seems like a pretty dicey way to get any notice, doesn’t it? You have to know the right people even in the low circulation world. My fiction is difficult to classify. It’s got speculative elements to it. ...

Creativity

Maybe you’ve noticed this too. When you step away from fiction writing for a while, your creativity becomes flaccid. I’ve had to step away from this blog for a while because I was writing my sixth nonfiction book. God, I’ve missed fiction! Now that I’ve entered that phase of waiting for publishers to respond, I’ve turned my limited writing time back to fiction. I submitted a couple of stories this week and am waiting to hear about those as well. When you’re a writer, waiting is a way of life. Opening my software where I store my fiction stories, I was amazed by how many I found. Some of them are bad—so bad that they’ll never (rightfully) be published. Some are surprisingly good and have been sitting around while I finished up my nonfic. The vast majority, however, are unfinished. Some years back I realized that when I’m writing in the heat of inspiration but don’t have time to finish a story that I need to write down where I...

K. Marvin Bruce

Search This Blog