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. When you’ve been writing for half a century, you l

Too Much Writing?

Has this ever happened to you? Have you written a story that you’ve completely forgot? Not only completely forgotten, but made unfindable? I play games with my stories and sometimes the joke’s on me. Okay, I suffer from graphomania. I write constantly. I do try to keep organized—I use a spreadsheet that has all my submissions on it. It has rejection/acceptance dates (mostly rejection). Lots of information. I decided to list on it every story, whether finished or in process. There are far too many (mostly in process). When I finish a story I often submit it. If I get burned, I’m shy about resubmitting. I often rewrite at this stage. Then, when I feel brave enough, I try again. The spreadsheet is color-coded. There, in the color that indicates finished and ready to submit is a story cryptically titled “The Password.” I don’t remember this story. I can’t recall what it was about or why I thought it was ready to publish. Looking through my electronic files,

Gothica

The other day I asked a friend to define “gothic.” Heavy, dark, supernatural—these were a few of the words suggested. When autumn comes my thoughts turn gothic, and I’m always looking for good gothic things to read. I have blogged in the past about how reading literature that isn’t great is good. I’m serious about that. You can learn a lot by reading poor writing. Some gothic literature is more the former than the latter. Like Dark Shadows novels. Dark Shadows was running on daytime television when I was a child. As a teen I began to read the novelizations, by Marilyn Ross, whenever I could find them. Belles lettres they’re not. Gothic, most decidedly so. That’s why I keep coming back to them. They aren’t scary. In fact, they’re formulaic and predictable. But so, so gothic. Spooky mansions, the Maine woods, forlorn vampire, faded wealth. Even, yes, dark shadows. The stories create a mood I find difficult to locate elsewhere. Inspired by the most r

K. Marvin Bruce

Search This Blog