Genre Divide

Had a heated "discussion" with the hunk yesterday. He's reading one of my books and decided to tell me exactly what he thinks. ☺

Well. Let's just say I was really put out for a while. And then enlightenment nearly struck me blind. Every thing he didn't like about the book--every thing--had to do with genre.

He didn't care for the paranormal elements. The sex was "okay" but why'd they have to be so mushy? Why wasn't there more fighting and exciting stuff? In short, why wasn't it more like a John Sandford or Robert B. Parker?

Ummm. Because it's a fantasy/paranormal/romance?

It's actually kind of interesting, once I waded past my mad, because it illustrates one of the problems authors face daily. The great genre divide.

If I had a penny for every individual who said to me, "I don't read romance... mysteries... paranormal... contemporaries... historical... fiction... non-fiction", I could buy a Mercedes. Maybe even two. I wonder if we wouldn't be better off if there were no genres. Yes, there would no doubt be some people would wouldn't read across genres anyway, but I suspect more would find new stories and new authors.

If Dickens, Twain, Huxley, and Steinbeck were up and coming authors now, how would we classify their work? Where would we shelve Tess of the D'Urbervilles? Or A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court? What about 1984?

As more and more authors enter the self-publishing field, genres are blurring and most cross-genre stories are available. Are we narrowing the fields with our genre specific labels? I don't know. But it's interesting to consider the "what ifs".

anny

Knitting Socks

Some of my readers know I occasionally jog off the beaten path while researching odds and ends for my books. One of the things I like to do is give my heroes/heroines offbeat hobbies or interests. When I do, I make sure I know something about that facet.

And I start the "research" waaaaay before starting the book. For instance in the current wip~Copper Cauldron~the heroine will teach another one of the characters how to harvest and process acorns for food. If you're interested in my research adventures regarding acorns, check out the Acorn Adventures page on the blog column to the right or click HERE.

My current adventure involves knitting socks. I've knitted in the far past (more than thirty years ago) but never socks, and never have I knitted "in the round" or used double-pointed needles. Casting on was quite an experience. Actually, it made me feel like I had twelve thumbs. But as you can see from the picture, I'm well on my way to knitting a pair of warm ankle socks. I figure I can use them for slippers this winter.

I once had a reader ask why I get involved in my little reader projects. Why not just read about the stuff on the Internet?

I could. But there are always things you don't know unless you try it yourself. For instance, if I based my knowledge of shotguns on the movies, I would never know about the kick you get when you shoot--especially if you're a woman. The first time I shot one, I was fourteen and weighed about eighty pounds. That sucker put me on my butt in the mud about six feet from where I started. Bam! I had a bruise on my shoulder for a week.

If I never shot a handgun, I wouldn't know how heavy it is. Or how difficult it is for the newbie to hit what you're aiming for. And ammunition...a picture in a book doesn't tell you how it feels to hold it in your hand.

Riding a horse for the uninitiated can be terrifying. If you have height issues like I do, it feels like you're sitting on top of a house. And speaking of houses, how many writers have ever stood on their roof and looked out over the neighborhood? It's one thing to write about a burglar watching a neighborhood in the night. It's entirely different to crouch on your roof and check out the night yourself.

Watching an ultralight plane sail through the air isn't the same as being up there with the wind whipping at your face. Rolling down the runway, willing your motorized kite to lift, lift, lift off the ground or praying you won't crash when you land gives you a different perspective.

Touching a llama is not the same as looking at a picture. Starting a fire with flint is completely different than reading about it. Roofing or siding a house requires skills I'd never thought about until I did it myself. Fixing the toilet is simpler than I imagined. And climbing a mountain and looking over the land...well, trust me, there's a different feel to that.

Research aside, I'm insatiably curious. I want to know for myself. Feelings, touch, smell, taste all matter. Authenticity matters. How can you know how your back aches when you're doing backstrap weaving unless you've done it? How can you know the delicacy required or the hours necessary to create a calligraphy piece unless you've tried?

I'm always wondering. What about this? What about that? So at sixty-two, I'm knitting socks. I figure I'll have them finished by next month so I can wear them for my birthday. Sixty-three, here I come.

anny

Killer Smile

So. I had a dental appointment today to replace a crown with a cavity buried beneath it. And I've concluded the reason they call it a Killer Smile is because you damn near die from the pain incurred while getting it.

After MANY years, I've found a dentist who actually takes the time and care required to make sure I'm numb before he dives into the work. The fact that both he and his assistant are yummy looking guys is just a little lagniappe. BUT...then I have to go home. And the numby stuff wears off.

Pain.

Fortunately, I possess a variety of pain killers. And a comfy pillow on which to rest my head. By tomorrow the swelling will go down and the pain will fade. And I'll almost forget by the time I go back to the dentist.

Am I wuss? No doubt. But we all have flaws...and mine is the quest for the Killer Smile.

anny

Keepers

I've been savoring some of my favorite books over the last few weeks in between various authorly chores and household obligations. And I've been thinking about what exactly makes one book a keeper and another not.

I have a few favored authors. Some have written hundreds of books. So why are fifteen or twenty books cherished favorites while other aren't? Oh, they're excellent stories, but not the favored story I choose to curl up with on a rainy day...or a sunny day...or just about any day I have free.

Not too long ago a friend wrote to me, indicated she'd read a certain book of mine and very apologetically explained she just couldn't finish it--and she knew almost immediately it would never be one of her favorites. I appreciated her honesty even while I pondered why this book did not speak to her.

The house hunk read one of my books in the last few days and we had a lot of discussion about the book. He wanted to know why...why...why? Basically, he was not pulled in to any part of the story. I think in the final analysis, it was the genre. Those of us that write in the paranormal/fantasy/sci-fi genres know there will be readers that will never be attracted, never enjoy our books simply because they aren't contempories.

For myself, a contemporary is my least favorite genre--probably because I want a story that challenges my imagination. I believe I write stories that challenge me and that's why I enjoy the writing process. When I'm no longer challenged, then the story just stops--which is probably why there are certain stories that are languishing on my computer half finished.

What is your standard for a keeper? Is it because you enjoy the characters? The story? Why?

anny

One Minute!

That's me. Some people require total quiet for their reading. Not me. Once engaged, I can read through riots, loud TV, kids fighting, annoying women discussing their medical issues in the doctor's waiting room, the house hunk yelling for me to check the oatmeal, and any number of other distractions.

I went to college full-time while working full-time and rearing four teenagers. My course work had a lot of required reading. I read at lunch, on my breaks, in the car, in restaurants, waiting in line, in the park, in fact everywhere I had sixty seconds of uninterrupted time.

Over the years a lot of people have questioned how I could tune out my surroundings like that. I think it's just a matter of internal focus. We used to do the same while listening to the radio. Since television came along, all our focus has shifted to the visual. And that may be why a large share of the population has difficulty with focused reading. Different media.

Oddly enough, I find myself bored with most movies and television simply because they do all the work. They tell the story, provide the visuals, and control the pace of the work. I find it irritating. I want to decide what the hero/heroine looks like. I want to determine what the surroundings are like. And of course, I can read as fast--or slow--as I wish, unhindered by someone else's timing.

If you ever believe the visual is not important when watching television or a movie, try listening to one from the other room. The visual shortcuts are two-thirds of the story. Without them, the production often makes no sense at all. That's okay. I enjoy a good visual. I'll always remember those first magical moments when the Harry Potter world came to life. But. After that, I found I quickly grew bored with the rest. After all, I'd already read the stories. That was where the magic was for me.

I read every evening. Usually, I read a book I've already read in the past. Every evening the hunk will urge me to go to bed a little earlier and get some sleep. Yet I still find myself immersed in the current story, lured on by the author's words, until I suddenly surface only to discover it's after midnight.

That's the magical world of books. I just want to finish this chapter!

anny

On the Boat

  For the last week, in between dental appointments, shopping, finalized edits and other chores, I've been researching "stuff" for my next book. Some of the topics were Hy-Brasil, Japanese yari, Apache wickiups, and pre-historic boats. My usual mode is to narrow down the possibilities via the Internet, then track down more extensive reading materials via libraries and bookstores.

Now about the boats. When you read--or hear--the word canoe, what do you visualize? I bet it's one of those boats you can rent at the lake on summer vacation.

Prior to my initial research, that’s what I thought, too. Specifically, I was considering the use of a dugout canoe for my story. Maybe eight to ten feet long…capable of carrying three or four people. Then I spent some time looking at prehistoric boats and discovered I vastly underestimated our ancestors’ boat building capabilities.

A dugout boat depends on the size of the tree used. Some boats fashioned from ONE tree are capable of carrying sixty people. Whoa! That’s a big boat.

Back to the planning board, right? Since my fantasy world has giant Sequoia type trees, if appears my characters (at least the boat builders) could build any size boat I could possibly dream up, complete with sails, oars, or other necessities.

Which just shows that even minimal research can change and rearrange the wonderful possibilities in storytelling. Now…I’m off to board the boat!

anny

Monday When It Isn't

Today is probably one of the most disputed holidays we have in the USA. Columbus Day. Revisionist history now declares Columbus anathema blaming him for all sorts of crimes against the native population of the Americas. I think it's all bologna sausage.

He was one--ONE--of many explorers that came to the Americas. ONE. Not the first. Not the last. Nor even the most important. What he did have going for him was a fantastic public relations campaign.

Others arrived in the Americas with little fanfare. As a matter of fact, North and South America have been populated by succeeding waves of settlers for thousands of years and our shores have been visited by folks from both the east and the west.

Some left evidence of their visits in the form of ceramics, art, the exchange of plants and even animals. Indisputable evidence of their visits--DNA--proves they had SOME interaction with the populations that dotted the coasts.

This pattern has been repeated world wide for centuries stretching back before history. To single out one explorer for vilification at this point is unjust. Hindsight is a fine thing, but we cannot go back to change history, nor can we change the results.

Exploration is often based on greed, regardless of the ethnicity of the explorer. Migration follows exploration. And that is based on the basic desires for food, shelter, water, and homes. Neither are peaceful. When you look back through history, you find waves of warfare followed by new settlement. And regardless of the location, the individuals with the more advanced technology usually win.

To impose our twenty-first century values on the past is a mistake. We cannot go back. That way is to direct our energies to an impossible goal.

What we CAN do is go forward. We can work to eliminate hunger, thirst, homelessness, poverty, illness, and pain.

Do we need Columbus Day? Nah. We could call it Explorer's Day. Or maybe we could call it Reparation Day. Both of those choices look back, though. Maybe we should call it National Sales Day. That would be more honest.

anny

Buy! Buy! Buy!

There is a disturbing trend in the social media world, a trend that may accomplish what other trends failed to do. I may fold my tent and sink back into my dark cave.

What is this I terror?

It's the despicable practice of the hard sale by drive-by authors, Tupperware and Pampered Chef ladies, health food practitioners, artists, and other assorted desperate salespersons.

Understand me. I'm not talking about the folks that post on their own "walls" or whatever that particular network calls it. I'm talking about the ones who post on MY wall. You know who I'm talking about. They're the ones who FRIEND you or ADD you to their group without your permission.

No by-your-leave. Just BAMM! And then they pepper you with stuff you don't want, care about, or need to know.

Now, personally, I think the constant posting of materials you're trying to sell on your own wall is counter-productive. I know your shtick. If I want to buy your books, beads, shoes, records, I'll find them. A post when your book is released or when you have a new cover is fine. After that? I'm not paying much attention.

There are a couple circumstances that will absolutely guarantee I will unsubscribe from your posts. And possibly even unfriend you.

Let's see...

#5) Posting offensive posts making fun of religion. Any religion. You don't believe? Fine. Find a little group of like-minded people and discuss it on your page. Otherwise, you're gone.

#4) Offensive political posts. Again. Everyone is allowed an opinion. But my page is open to my grandchildren and family. Whatever is posted there will reflect that reality.

#3) Offensive language. See #4. I write erotic romance. That doesn't mean I have to use filthy language to get my point across. My page is not a porn site.

#2) Bullying in any form. My grandmother was a lady. One of her favorite sayings was, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." No individual out there has the right to arbitrarily decide how another should behave, look, talk, write. Certainly not on my wall.

#1) Badgering me to buy something. It's telemarketing on the Internet. You know...those folks who ambush you over the phone just when you're sitting down to dinner? Yep. That's what it is. Telemarketing via Facebook, Twitter, or a host of other sites. Set up a webpage and quit posting your crap on my page, blog, wall, etc.

Rant over.

anny

Unidentified Flying Objects

On Facebook a fellow author posted a question, asking if anyone had witnessed a UFO. It reminded me of my two encounters--separated over a fifteen year period. Now before we get started, I just want to clarify something. I am NOT saying I saw a space ship. Or a flying saucer. Or aliens.

What did I see? I don't know.

My first encounter was at three o'clock in the morning in the late 1970s. I worked at McDonald's at the time and I was driving home from work on a very lonely, very dark country road north of Houston, Texas. Out yonder in the sky in front of me I noticed something, lit up like a convention of cop cars. I slowed down as I tried to figure out what it was. Very abruptly, it started spinning, then whizzed toward me. I slowed down even more, absolutely positive it was a bunch of emergency vehicles racing toward me and in some weird optical illusion, they just appeared to be in the sky.

But no...whatever it was zipped past me overhead, silently, but still spinning. Well, I stomped on the gas pedal, rolling down that dark road like a host of demons were on my tail. In the mirrors, I could see it pacing me and had the nasty thought it was herding me toward some specific destination. I sped along in the dark, right on the edge of danger as I reached my subdivision. When I pulled in my driveway and rushed into the shelter of my front porch, whatever it was shot straight up, moved over the roof and disappeared. Poof! Vanished.

Nearly fifteen years later, I lived in New York. I worked the evening shift at a warehouse--as did my friend and two sons. One night they sent us all home early. I parked in my driveway around nine-thirty and everyone bailed out of the car, pleased we had an unexpected free night. I was going to walk partway down the street with my friend.

Suddenly, my son exclaimed, "What's that?"

We lived in a small village. It was early enough that there were quite a few people still out and about. In the sky above us was an enormous SOMETHING with a row of flashing lights and it was slowly spinning in place. Many people saw it. It stayed in place for at least fifteen minutes. Then, it suddenly zipped away. What was it? I don't know.

Two days later the "authorities" reported it was a group of ultralight flyers pulling a prank. Uh, no. I've flown in an ultralight. One thing they do not do is hover.

So, they were both unidentified flying objects, but that's about all I can say with certainty. And both experiences were definitely strange.

What about you? Have you ever seen strange things in the sky?

anny 

Let the Ear Hear

Most folks in the U.S. are aware there was a televised political debate last night between the two "main" candidates. The house hunk watched it while I worked in my office, perforce listening to the give and take. Afterwards, I scanned the various commentary on Facebook and Twitter and read some of the blogs posted by the political journalists.

I learned something interesting. Most of the comments were visually based--what the candidates were wearing, their facial expressions, whether or not the commenter liked their smile, which was was obviously bored or excited.

I didn't get any of that. Sitting in the other room as I was, my experience was completely different. There were no extraneous distractions so I listened.

Listening is rapidly fading into a dying art. Our brains are so cluttered with the visual of TV, movies, even phone text, that we fail to use our ears anymore. Speech (and dialogue) is what makes or breaks our stories. Some authors had a terrible time writing dialogue. I wonder if that's because the art of listening has moved to the art of watching?

Do we hear the different cadences in speech? Can we tell anger from excitement, conviction from rage? If we listen to a speech can we discern humor from disgust without the visual cues?

I wonder how different the reactions would be this morning if the debates were broadcast over radio, rather than televised. Would anybody listen? And what would they hear?

anny

Plot, plot, plot

Usually, when I begin a new book I have a vague idea about the overall plot. Usually. Currently, I'm suffering from a case of brain freeze. Every time I open any of the FOUR wips I'm working on, my brain freezes.

Since my normal mode of working is kaput, I'm trying different ideas. First I'm writing down a list of actions, sort of like one of those charts with all the little arrows. You know--if the hero does "a", then "this" happens; if he does "b", then "that" happens.

Another thing I'm trying it to set the story up similar to a game. I've played a lot of games lately. So the hero sets out on a quest. The quest doesn't have to be a fantasy. Maybe he's trying to find a killer. Anyway, he sets out. He has to go to place "a" to discover a clue...which leads him to place "b" where he'll talk to the old lady who is always looking out her window. She'll tell him something important that will lead him back to the scene of the crime where he'll discover another clue. Yeah, you see my problem.

Then there's the "sticky note" approach. Write one fact on each sticky note and arrange them until you have a story. I don't do well with that. I lose half the notes, knock over the board, get frustrated with the aggravation of it all and stomp off to do the dishes.

Perhaps I should go on a vacation to Peru. Or go visit my friend in Alaska.

Maybe I'll just sit here, hands on keyboard and type. After all that usually works eventually.

How about you? Do you plot?

anny

Cover Story

Did you ever wonder how a cover is done? How does that particular guy or gal end up on your cover? I learned a lot about the time the cover artist spends looking for the perfect people when I objected to the initial cover for Spear of Retribution. The publisher allowed me to look through the pictures on their photo site and choose something that I believed would reflect my characters.

Well, let me tell you...four hours later, I found the couple on the cover. I now have a better appreciation for cover artists. And I'll never whine again that the people don't look like my characters!

I love this cover for Spear of Retribution, Tuatha Treasures 2.

What's your cover story?

anny

PS: Don't forget my chat tonight at Love Romances Cafe! See the upper right corner of the blog for details!