Fair play. Gaia Wakes is a book that explores the idea of planetary consciousness, and in doing so, violates the formal boundaries traditionally separating the natural sciences from the social, the scientific from the speculative, and the academic from the literary. It had posed a central question: What if the rapid rise of Artificial Intelligence were the first stirrings of a vast, emergent, interconnected consciousness—a brain capable of intentionally and rapidly coordinating the planet’s bodily functions? In it, I made the argument that such a development—something I call Gaiacephalos—would fit an evolutionary pattern of upgrades to the complexity of life that has already repeated four times over four billion years. It would be governed by a logic articulated in development economics, driven by the collapse of environmental services and systems.

How should one categorize such a treatise? A recent text from a friend wondered: “Is Science Non-Fiction really a genre?” No, but I like the sound of it. Or a not-quite-portmanteau perhaps: “Social Science Fiction”? Or just: “Speculative Nonfiction”?

The genre questions I was now fielding were the latest iterations of a lack of traditional recognizability that had plagued my book since it was no more than a disjointed collection of notes straddling platforms (bulleted Google documents and chicken-scratched notebooks) and time-frames (stretching 3.8 billion years in the past to the first life on Earth, and into a hypothetical and indeterminately proximate/distant future) and genres (Environmental Science, Social Sciences, Science and Technology, maybe Science Fiction).

A word then on what qualifies as “scientific”: There is an irony in the sciences, whether of the natural or social persuasion. On one hand, they are entirely geared toward prediction; if a hypothesis fails to improve our ability to predict the developments of our observable universe, it is rejected. Robert Pirsig famously observed that our capacity to generate hypotheses outpaces our ability to test them—a dilemma that forces science into a widening liminal space between the knowable and the known. But on the other hand, good (i.e. predictive) scientists are strongly cautioned against making prognostications: the foretelling of future events without ample caveats regarding all the parameters and conditions that must remain stable in order for their predictions to hold.

While my book did not claim to predict the advent of Gaiacephalos, it did claim to identify Gaiacephalos as one possible analytic outcome of current developmental trajectories. And it conjectured a scenario in which a scalar leap of organization had occurred, throwing into question many of the social parameters that we might otherwise deem fixed. I evoked the anthropologist Gregory Bateson’s analogy of a truck reversing to describe the challenge of understanding the mechanics of ever-higher levels of analysis: Add a trailer and the process gets tricky. Add a second and it becomes diabolically difficult for one to intuit the dynamics of control. Add a third and we are entirely adrift.

So here was another point in favor of my “Speculative Nonfiction” non-genre: I was loosening too many parameters at once to really be recognized as “science” at all. And yet, we can simultaneously acknowledge the pitfalls of forecasting, while nevertheless defending the need to do so. As historian David Christian writes in Maps of Time, humanity may be seen as hurtling into a dark, unknown future, and any light we can cast upon the road ahead, however dim, might help us avert disaster. 

Click to continue.

Even if a reader were to grant my book the moniker of “scientific” for the sake of finding a genre home, it wouldn’t be clear from which science it derived, or even from which family of sciences. My history of scalar upgrades itself crossed (or “trespassed, in Albert O. Hirschman’s evocative phrase) the disciplinary boundary between the natural and social sciences. And my next predicted upgrade would transcend our understanding of the “social”, as well: What we currently think of as interacting collections of multifarious individuals would be incorporated into a unitary superordinate entity.

In addition to genres, the book straddled markets. It was too irresponsibly speculative—too willing to conjure untested futures—to be embraced as a proper academic work. The university press with which I had published my last book advised: Take it to the trades. (They had recently published a similarly future-looking, speculative social science and technology book that had sold well, but which received some blowback for being ungrounded.) Even to consider it, the university press would need the sign-offs of three separate acquisitions editors who don’t usually work together. But the trade folks I spoke with thought the book too dense and scholarly to be widely accessible: I should take it to a university press. Neither fish, nor fowl. Much has been written about outsider hybridity in the context of ethnicity and culture, and I began to recognize my book as a different manifestation of the same interstitial phenomenon.

So I set about scanning the scene for recently released social science books that did something new or different, noting the publishers of each. In this way, I quickly alighted on a promising match: a boutique trade press with a thematic specialization in the social sciences, a director with a passion for sharp thinking and beautiful books, and a distribution arrangement with a top-tier university press. And not a word about genre. I would like to think that in resisting easy classification, Gaia Wakes demands that its readers—and its author—learn to accept the indeterminacy that is required in all moments of great change, and to struggle with conceptual synthesis. That, more than another marginal addition to a formal genre, is what I think these times require.

The thing is, of course, that all this nonsense about genre isn’t really nonsense. Bookstores, from the local haunt to Amazon’s vast online catalog, adopt categorization principles, usually based on genre.  (One bookstore I used to visit in Massachusetts famously organized its books by publisher rather than genre, subject, or author—probably easy for staff to stock, but delectably maddening for would-be buyers. It went out of business.) And this categorization may affect its visibility, ultimately determining whether one’s book is discovered or not. Gaia Wakes has been categorized by Amazon under “Environmental Science” → “Environmental Policy”. We’ll see.

In the event, I responded to my colleague’s question on stage that evening quite literally. On my bookshelf, thanks to a happy and completely idiosyncratic organizational scheme, Gaia Wakes can sit squarely between environmental studies, and technology and future studies. On the left: billions of years of slow evolution on Earth, from theoretical physicist Sarah Imari Walker’s treatise Life as No One Knows It on the origins of life, to veterinarian and legal scholar Charles A. Foster’s Being a Human about the neolithic self-domestication of our species through agriculture. On the right, a rapidly accelerating technological future: Benjamin Bratton’s The Stack about emergent global information architecture, Stewart Russell’s The Problem of Control about AI alignment, James Lovelock’s Novacene…

There’s a beauty in the fact that once books come home, we can re-wild them, incorporating their motley waywardness into whatever quixotic quest we are undertaking. Or vice versa: Walter Benjamin described a personal library as “a disorder to which habit has accommodated itself to such an extent that it can appear as order.” So when circumstances—horrible circumstances—compelled Benjamin to pack up and then again unpack his library, he saw these old friends re-individuated. And he recognized himself in them; they were long ago transformed by some alchemy:

“Not that they come alive in him; it is he who lives in them.”

Check out Topher McDougal’s Gaia Wakes here:

Bookshop | Amazon

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As a journalist and the author of two young adult novels, I’m always curious about how writers start in a new genre. The journalist in me follows my curiosities because there’s often a good story to uncover. When two books came across my desk to review, I thought the authors would be perfect to ask about switching genres. First, I spoke with Emiko Jean, whose debut adult thriller The Return of Ellie Black garnered a rave review from the master himself, Stephen King, but who started out in the YA space. I also chatted with TV writer and screenwriter Yulin Kuang, who penned her debut romance novel How to End a Love Story, to understand how a writer can make jumping genres seem seamless. 

For Jean, the idea for The Return of Ellie Black initially began as a young adult novel intended to be a follow-up to her debut YA psychological thriller novel, We’ll Never Be Apart. “It got passed on by my editor at the time, which was devastating. I thought I had written this really wonderful book, and she said it was not for the young adult market.” That stinging rejection turned into inspiration when Jean’s literary agent suggested she write the story as an adult thriller instead. Jean put aside the original manuscript for a few years to work on other projects, but when she returned to tackle a big revision on Ellie Black, she added a female detective point of view, which she says, “cracked open the whole story for me.” Adding Detective Chelsey Calhoun into the story took about a year and a half of work, and then Jean added Ellie Black’s parents’ points of view as well. 

After spending so much time adapting romance author Emily Henry’s People We Meet on Vacation for the screen, Yulin Kuang wondered if she had any original ideas left in her. That’s when she decided to write How to End a Love Story. During the Q&A discussion for her book launch at Vroman’s Bookstore in Pasadena, Calif., Kuang talked about how she wrote the draft for How to End a Love Story every day from 5 am to 10 am, then switched to 10 am to 5 pm to work on the screenplay, then spent 5 pm to midnight back on her book. 

A few months later, we met for coffee at Tepito Coffee attached to Vroman’s Bookstore and the first thing I asked was about that hyperdrive writing process. “I was on deadline for the screenplay. I was writing the book in secret, so nobody knew about it. The deadline for the novel, in my mind, was November. … my secret goal became finishing this draft, however sparse, by the end of November,” says Kuang. The screenwriter-turned-author admits that for book two, she has not kept up the same feverish pace. “I don’t think it was a sustainable writing schedule. It’s not something I would recommend.” 

Even though Kuang had never written a book before, she cites writing fan fiction as a tween as a place that satisfied her love of books and adaptations. It allowed her to play with her visions for characters she had grown to love. “I remember being a fan fiction writer and looking at announcements for book adaptations. I was obsessed with movie adaptations and hoped that the creators didn’t ruin my childhood with their take.” Her childhood love of adaptations became a full-blown career. As a screenwriter, Kuang is also tapped to write and direct Beach Read, another Emily Henry book that is currently in development. 

When I asked Kuang about the pressure of adapting two of Emily Henry’s books, which are adored by many readers, Kuang nods. “I am very aware of how beloved they are. At the same time, I have to set all of that aside because you can’t please everyone. You have to trust yourself and your own taste. And also surround yourself with people who are smart and good partners.” 

Television writing and screenplays are certainly different mediums than fiction, and Kuang likens script writing to a team sport and novels to an individual competition. With her extensive experience in script writing, Kuang found herself gravitating toward the dialogue in fiction as something that came easier for her. Kuang says, “I accessed the part of me that would write fan fiction and the part of me that writes screenplays and just made them hold hands.” What feels familiar for Kuang is that book editors and movie producers have similar perspectives as “advocates for the audience or reader.” 

Both Kuang and Jean had their books selected for the coveted Reese’s Book Club and have seen the enormous impact of that experience. When Jean’s editor emailed her the good news, her publisher decided to move up the publication date for Tokyo Ever After, Jean’s young adult novel about a Japanese American teen who discovers her father is the Crown Prince of Japan, and unexpectedly, she becomes a princess overnight, to match the May 2021 book club pick announcement. Jean, who mentions she was a midlist author before the announcement, said she was unprepared for the level of publicity that came with the news.  

Having her debut novel chosen for Reese’s Book Club was a huge dream come true for Kuang, who shared that she loved Legally Blonde so much she transcribed the movie into her diary so she could read it back after returning the rental from Blockbuster Video. “I remember the night before they were going to announce it, they sent me an email to ask if I was ready. I downloaded a bunch of images from various Reese Witherspoon movies and TV shows and made little memes to post. I said, ‘OK, now I’m ready.’” 

If you’re considering trying out a new medium or storytelling style, Kuang and Jean have some great suggestions to consider before drafting and during the creative process. Based on Jean and Kuang’s experiences, here are nine tips they suggest for succeeding in a new-to-you genre.

Figure out where your interests lie.

What began as a fascination for Jean turned into the inspiration for The Return of Ellie Black. “I’m very interested in true crime. I think a lot of women are interested in it because, most often, we’re the victims in these stories and can empathize with them. … I have been specifically interested in stories about kidnapped victims who have returned, like Elizabeth Smart. What draws me to those stories is that they are about survival and endurance of the human spirit.” 

Read widely in that genre.

Before Kuang attempted to write romance novel, she started reading as many as she could back in 2016. She first read Private Arrangements, a historical romance by Sherry Thomas, which led her down a wormhole. “I read widely and eventually found my way to contemporaries. Reading widely in the genre helps you get a lay of the landscape. It will help you find your own little plot of land and tell the story you want to tell within that space.” 

Interview experts and anonymous sources.

The Return of Ellie Black is a novel about a detective trying to solve how and why a missing girl has returned. For Jean, research is essential for every book she writes. For this adult thriller, Jean interviewed several detectives, a medical examiner, and a DNA analyst for a blood-specific question. She spoke with a few kidnapping survivors who asked to remain anonymous. “I asked one survivor if some of the parts with Ellie were too graphic. She said, ‘There’s an urge as a survivor to make the truth gentle for people.’” This information gave Jean permission to write Ellie’s scenes with authenticity. “The readers see Ellie as very raw, but also she’s very much in control of her own voice, which I thought was important.” 

Use your experience as research.

With a hard deadline for a screenplay nipping at her heels, Kuang knew she had little time to conduct research for her novel, so instead, she pulled in her experiences she had from over a decade of working in film and television to create her main characters—who both end up in the writer’s room for the same TV show. 

Study the genre.

After Jean signed with her literary agent, she went through many revisions before it was ready for submission to editors. “I had written that novel by the seat of my pants. After that, I decided to be more intentional by creating outlines, and studying how to tell a story.” Her undergraduate degrees were in science and her graduate degree involved teaching, so Jean didn’t have a background in writing. “I started to outline every book. I come up with all the scene beats beforehand. I take copious amounts of notes. Once I have all my chapters outlined, I start plugging in those notes—anything from dialogue to sentences to words I like the sound of. From there, I can usually draft a book in three months.” 

Work with beta readers.

“If you look at the acknowledgments section of How to End a Love Story, every paragraph correlates to how many drafts I did,” says Kuang. She gave her first draft to her husband, a cinematographer, who she says has great storytelling instincts but also a light touch for feedback, which was ideal for her initial manuscript. Then, she sent it a high school friend, since the main characters had known each other in high school. From there, Kuang sent the manuscript to several friends. When she signed with an agent, she got her agent’s feedback. Lastly, she won a manuscript critique in an auction from Sarah MacLean, one of her all-time favorite romance novelists, who gave her incredible feedback. 

Write as fast as you can.

After Jean got her first advance payment, she went to a writing conference in Los Angeles. She went to a panel and heard an editor say, “You can’t fix a blank page.” That one mantra has helped Jean commit to writing as much as she can, often up to 2,000 words a day. “I’m not a big believer in writer’s block. You have to write through it. I’ve carried that motto with me, and it helps galvanize me when I’m writing.” 

Listen to interviews with respected authors in that genre.

Jean recommends two writing podcasts that helped her in her journey as a published author. She enjoys “The Publishing Rodeo” podcast, which features two hosts who had books published in the same year in the same genre, but had two different experiences. She also listens to “Deadline City” for her young adult novels. For penning her adult thriller, she read a lot of Lisa Jewell’s novels and studied how Jewell utilizes short chapters. “It’s important to study the techniques that are used, how authors are using sentences, and also the places where you’re holding your breath because the action is getting bigger.” 

Prove yourself in one genre.

Before Jean attempted to sell her thriller, she focused on developing a fan base in the young adult space. “I purposely waited to write adult books until I had a couple young adult books under my belt. If you get an audience, maybe they’ll follow you. … When we pitched The Return of Ellie Black to editors, I was very clear about the origins of the book, and I had written in the thriller space before. I wanted to assure editors that my writing in these different genres wasn’t scattershot.” 

*****

While it may appear like some writers are multi-hyphenates, they are building upon the skills they already have to pivot when an idea is better suited for a different genre. Jean and Kuang show that by staying curious, studying the craft, and being open are the basics for starting something new.

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(What Is a Split-Time Novel, and Why Do Readers Love Them?)

In fact, when my debut, The Keeper of Lost Things came out, it wasn’t even a recognized genre. These days, the term uplit is used to describe such a broad spectrum of fiction that it’s difficult to come up with a meaningful definition to cover it. 

So perhaps it’s easier to look at some of the common denominators. Many of these novels have the themes of kindness, community, and inclusion at their core. They often explore intergenerational and unexpected friendships and chosen families by bringing together people who are different in some way or who inhabit the fringes of society as a result of personality traits, past experiences, or some kind of “otherness” that sets them apart. Within the realms of uplit, inclusion and a sense of belonging are possible for even the most isolated of characters as they struggle to find their place in the world. 

But it isn’t just about acceptance for some of these characters. It’s also about understanding and valuing their differences. In my books I have written about characters with Down’s Syndrome, Asperger’s, Tourette’s, and severe social anxiety, and all of these people have had something unique to offer and have made positive contributions to the narrative because of rather than despite their differences.

There’s a popular misconception that uplit is fluffy, disposable fiction with nothing much of any import to say. It’s sometimes dismissed as a saccharine literary confection—life seen through rose-tinted spectacles—with predictable or unfeasible plots and inevitable happy endings. But in reality, the genre has far more to offer. 

Uplit doesn’t shy away from darker themes of loss, death, grief, social isolation, and past trauma. In The Keeper of Lost Things, I wrote about domestic violence, bullying, fraud, arson, child abuse, mental health, assisted suicide, and murder. And yet this was the book that earned me my uplit author reputation! The essence of uplit is not fairytale endings but something much more valuable—hope.

Uplit characters are ordinary yet extraordinary people who display resilience and determination to overcome the obstacles that life throws at them and try in some small way to make the world a better place. They are everyday heroes that we can recognize and relate to, and much more diverse in every aspect of their identities than the women and men we are accustomed to seeing in literature’s leading roles. 

Older protagonists abound in uplit fiction, often learning in later years to live their best lives and taking others with them in their wake. Older women in particular are given a voice and celebrated. In my latest novel, The Phoenix Ballroom, my leading lady, Venetia is 74, and she takes her inspiration from Cher!

Check out Ruth Hogan’s The Phoenix Ballroom here:

HarperCollins book page

As a child, books were always my escape into another world. They still are—both reading and writing them. And these days, when it often seems that good news is a scarce commodity and real life is tough, escape to a fictional world, however briefly, provides a welcome respite. 

Perhaps this is why uplit is so popular. It offers a blueprint for a better world. A place where hardship and disadvantage can be overcome by ordinary everyday folk. A place where acceptance and inclusion are attainable, and family, friendship, and community are the cornerstones. A place where it’s never too late to turn things around and follow your dreams. There is enough darkness and difficulty to avoid a cliched utopia, but not enough to make us miserable. 

Uplit offers readers a way into a kinder world populated by people they can recognize and root for. It makes them laugh and sometimes shed a few tears. But most of all, it offers them hope.

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(7 Things I Learned While Writing Across Genres.)

One of the lost messages was from a prestigious literary magazine that wanted to publish one of my short stories, and it took me a while to find it. Ouch. Did that ever hurt. Aside from kicking myself for not checking my spam folder more frequently, I tried to put a humorous spin on the recurring situation by imagining a place in the upper stratosphere that was harboring lost messages. But until that prompt during a writing workshop, I’d never considered turning that idea into a story.

An initial short film script morphed into a TV pilot script. And finally it became a major plot line within my new novel, Universe of Lost Messages. In the book, there’s a metaverse—a vast, virtual space that looks like the cosmos. And it’s filled with messages that never reached their intended recipients. The novel’s eclectic band of characters is desperately trying to find a few of those trapped messages, which can help stop an epic catastrophe for just about everybody on planet Earth.

Yeah, I’m talking sci-fi thriller, here.

Ideas for stories can develop like that: Writers can start out small, in one format, and then transfer the concept to much larger formats if the ground they’re sowing proves rich enough.

For another example of that, look no further than N.K. Jemisin’s Great Cities book series, which includes The City We Became and The World We Make. The first book’s prologue was derived from a short story, “The City Born Great,” as Jemisin’s copyright notice explains.

However, choosing a format can involve a lot more than that.

MARKET REALITIES

Some choices involve practicalities. I first wrote Universe as a script because I love film and TV. But as I plunged deeper into the business, I realized that I was facing some really big impediments.

First, a lot of TV shows and films are adaptations of existing intellectual property (IP)—articles, short stories, books—that have gained popularity. This gives the people who greenlight productions a level of security, that a given show has a chance of success. That holds true for all genres. Hollywood types are also attracted to stories based on real-life stories and events that will resonate with audiences. If you have written a script in one of those categories, terrific!

However, that isn’t me. My chosen genres are sci-fi and fantasy—original stories I’ve written myself. And that poses an added challenge, largely due to the accepted screenplay format standards. Scripts have extremely short descriptions of characters and visuals. They are skeletal in nature. The world-building that goes into a sci-fi or fantasy story can be vast, as book series like Dune or His Dark Materials make clear. It can be difficult for producers to fully grasp—and get excited by—the writer’s vision, if their only encounter with a sci-fi or fantasy story is in the screenplay format.

Those realities eventually led me back to my first love, prose—which I find liberating. It allows me to build entire stories. Needless to say, there are lots of people who add creative layers to TV and film productions—from film actors and directors to makeup artists and costume designers. With novels and short stories, I get to create the entire story.

Check out Janet Stilson’s Universe of Lost Messages here:

Amazon

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CREATIVE DECISIONS

Other factors that writers need to consider involve creativity. Among them is the amount of detail that a writer envisions. Is the story just a brief moment in time that can be conveyed in flash fiction (under 1,200 words) or is it more like War and Peace? Figuring that out can relate to:

• The number of characters with vibrant personalities and challenges who undergo change.
• How the world around the characters changes.
• The number of subplots. Maybe the main plot is a murder mystery, but there’s a secondary storyline that relates to romance. And a third subplot focuses on the protagonist’s fight against some mental demon.
• The intricacy of certain questions that need to be resolved.
• How long a certain chain of events plays out.

Aside from those variables, writers need to consider what formats they enjoy. Is script writing the only thing that blows your hair back? Then, go for it.

The early stages of writing a story can be like standing before a body of water that you intend to swim. You can see the waves that reach shore, but there’s mist obscuring your view. It’s impossible to tell how long it will take to reach the other side, and how much energy you need to expend. Is this a Diana Nyad swim from Cuba to Florida? Or are you backstroking across a pond? Regardless, the water is so inviting you just have to figure that out. Sometimes you can only tell by paddling around a bit.

That paddling might take the form of journaling; researching aspects of the story that have captured your curiosity; or testing out various outlines. And sometimes you just have to start writing the story in order to figure out how much there is to tell.

Even highly successful writers can have difficulty figuring out the best format for a story in the early stages. In the acknowledgements section of his novel Ocean at the End of the Lane, Neil Gaiman explained that when he started the story, he didn’t realize it was going to be a novel. He was responding to a short story request from Jonathan Strahan, an editor and publisher. “Jonathan was forgiving and kind when I finally admitted to myself and to him that this wasn’t a short story, and I let it become a novel instead,” Gaiman wrote.

To quote Theodore Roethke: “I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow … I learn by going where I have to go.”

The critical aspect, in figuring out the ideal format, is to have a story idea that stirs passion and curiosity inside you. With enough of that precious energy, and a whole lot of tenacity, you’ll be able to go the distance, no matter what format you choose.

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(7 Things I Learned While Writing Across Genres.)

Categorization simplifies life. The publishing industry is no exception. It has created and promoted a system to help you get right to the menu that matches your mood at the moment. Knowing, for example, that you never had a taste for fantasy and just satisfied your hunger for paranormal romance, you might head directly to memoirs.

In fact, most people read only a fraction of the available genres. Some stick to a single genre. I encountered this when someone I don’t know asked for an advance reader copy (ARC) of my novel The Die, a book about saving democracy in a wild near-future world. He’d seen it listed as science fiction. A day later, he was apologetic: “I started the first chapter, and it isn’t real sci-fi. I’m so sorry, but I’m unable to read any further.”

Of course that’s his prerogative. Likewise, an author can say, “I write exclusively small town and rural fiction.” Yes, that’s an official genre subcategory.

So what’s the problem?

It’s the constraints imposed on those of us whose minds don’t naturally think or create within tidy boxes. We chafe against the limits placed on our ability to publish books that don’t fit into a highly structured system.

Growing up, I had friends who loved mysteries, others who gravitated toward biographies. Even so, these kinds of genre distinctions were more like wavy chalk lines than the chain-link fences now constructed on the terrain of publishing. Books were, well, simply books.

The advent of print on demand and other technologies changed all that. About 4 million books are published per year. That’s an 8,000% increase over the 50,000 published in 1990! The industry has handled this deluge by expanding its system of BISAC (Book Industry Standards and Communications) codes to encompass more than 5,000 subcategories. Notably, all fiction books fall under one of the 54 main categories.

These categories make it easier to find a book. They facilitate marketing. But at what cost to the creator?

Check out Jude Berman’s The Die here:

Bookshop | Amazon

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I intentionally wrote The Die as a genre-defying book. It has elements of utopian fiction, political fiction, metaphysical fiction, sci-fi, and techno-thriller. I knew it would enter the marketplace tagged with three BISACs, which would fluctuate based on the whims of online algorithms, and that some categories could appear contradictory.

Your typical sci-fi reader may balk at a story that doesn’t feature space travel or aliens or a dystopian world but instead highlights a metaphysical angle. Case in point, my ARC reader. Another reader chose The Die based on its designation as a techno-thriller. Their response: “Too much philosophy, too little technology.” Ironically, that captures my intentions as the author, even if it may be a legitimate gripe by a techno-thriller fan.

All of this spells frustration. For me, writing or revising The Die to conform with one or another genre was never an option. That would have crushed the creative spark from which it came. I’d be fine calling it cross-genre, but that isn’t an official subcategory. And as I’ve just described, trying to strike a balance between its various BISACs doesn’t necessarily work well with individual readers, who tend to zero in on one category, regardless.

Even so, I don’t regret writing a book that crosses genres. It reflects how I think, how I write, and how I reimagine the world. It’s also how I like to read. My favorite books buck the system of genre in one way or another. Not that I abhor all genres. I especially welcome some of the newer ones, such as climate fiction (Cli-Fi) and hopepunk. Of course, publishing a book in a not yet fully recognized genre could be its own source of frustration.

I suspect genres may lose their stranglehold over time. That could happen if more authors assert their creativity. I mean, it’s possible. More likely, though, the industry will add so many subgenres that they begin to cancel each other out and become meaningless.

AI may juggle 10,000 subgenres in less than a second, but the human mind doesn’t work that way. Yes, it wants to find your peach pie on the dessert menu. But doesn’t it also want the freedom to write books that can find their audience, without the risk of being pigeonholed or misgenred within the expanding universe of the publishing industry? 

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Meet the Master of Disaster—from foreshadowing pandemics to dreaming up demon apples, author Chuck Wendig juggles multiple genres like a seasoned carny. Step right up for some tasty urban fantasy … a side-show of horror … a sci-fi circus … or a middle-grade book with plenty of thrills and chills. He’s got all amusements covered. With New York Times and USA Today bestsellers to his name, Wendig shines across numerous readerships. How does he balance all his acts? In a candid conversation, he shares insights on writing productivity, finding your voice, and embracing process over product. We discuss how the real world always impacts fiction, especially the scary things. It turns out, facing fears can be frightfully productive. Already a writer’s writer, Wendig also explains why craft books aren’t necessarily bullshit. Let’s get to it.

We met at my first-ever writing conference in Fort Collins about seven years ago. You told the participants a story about your dad cutting off his finger. I have yet to forget this.

[laughter] True story.

You had the audience completely mesmerized. Not because of the creep factor—that would have been gimmicky—it was how you laid out the story. You did it carefully and slowly … you had us all there till the very end. How do you do this as a storyteller? Does it happen organically? Can we learn this?

Part of the irony is my dad was, himself, a fairly good storyteller. I don’t think it’s genetic or something you can’t pick up. Storytelling is like writing in general, you learn by doing it and often doing it badly. I used to run role-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons, so it’s kind of the same thing—you’re telling a collaborative story for people. You can see on their faces when you’re losing them or exciting them, or it’s time to drive the knife in, or flip it around so they don’t see what’s coming. You develop a rapport and rhythm. You get it by practice, practice, practice.

A lot of great storytelling in writing depends on voice. And to be honest, I’m not a huge fan of sci-fi or dystopian or horror genres. But I read your books because of the Wendig-esqueness of them all. Your voice establishes trust with readers in a very honest and inviting here-I-am-come-along-for-the-ride-we’ll-have-some-fun type of way. Did you always have this or has it developed over time?

It’s something I’ve always had but not something I always knew how to use. When you’re a baby writer you don’t know you have a voice. You’re always trying to find the voice of what the market will buy or other writers. We do things by imitation, which is a form of flattery obviously. Hey this sounds like the writers I like and they’ve sold books, maybe it’s a good thing. But I do think we chase our voice only to circle back around and realize we’ve had it all along. It’s who we are as people. And a combination of all our weirdness and our fears and the crazy things we like and love. It all gloms together into how we experience the world and then how we translate the experience onto the page.

You’ve had six books out in the past three years: Dust & Grim; You Can Do Anything, Magic Skeleton!; The Book of Accidents, Wayward, Gentle Writing Advice, and Black River Orchard arriving this fall. How do you stay so productive?

Some of it’s down to routine. I used to work freelance and if you don’t make the deadlines, you don’t get paid. And if you don’t get paid, it turns out there’s these things called MORTGAGE COMPANIES and they get mad when you don’t give them their money. That’s the sort of cold, calculated answer. But.… I really, really, like writing. I’m not one of those writers who says I don’t like writing, I only like having my book on my shelf. I just enjoy the process. I like it and editing more than I like having the book out. I mean it’s obviously awesome about an audience who reads it. The fact I get to do it is reason enough. But the pandemic was a challenge in that regard. It threatened my routine and expectation to commit words to paper.

A lot of writers were suffering—either you welcomed the opportunity to be at home and do something different or couldn’t conjure up a creative thing to save your life.

Yeah, that was me. I had nothing in the tank.

The energy for doing the work just fizzled?

It really had never happened until the pandemic. And it’s ironic because before the pandemic, I wrote a book about a pandemic. And then during the pandemic, I was supposed to write the sequel about what happens after a pandemic. It was emotionally jarring to go back to this thing. I went back to the page and I had nothing. It was a hard time—it wasn’t an energy issue so much as staring into a void.

In terms of that, you have a lot of contemporary issues …

Is that an accusation or …

No, [laughter] but we all have very long lists by now. What I mean is you include contemporary issues in your work—divisive politics, the environment, societal concerns, even A.I.—all significant concerns in our world right now. How important is this to you as a writer and your audience? Is this something you feel is a responsibility?

Not at all. It’s these fears. Things I’m worried about. Wanderers for me … I could’ve written about 10 books based on the anxieties I harvested with that. I took all my anxieties together to form this massive epic robot of a book. I call it my Anxiety Voltron. For me it’s not about any perceived responsibly, or feeling like I have to talk about these things, but it’s what’s on my mind. They worry me and entice in a weird sort of way. I can’t help but want to write about the things that fascinate me.

You’ve written about everything from sci-fi, fantasy, horror, dystopian, to paranormal. Why do you like to mix it up so much?

That’s a good question. I think ’cuz I’m greedy. I think I’m really greedy. I will always want the tasting menu or the buffet. I don’t need one whole meal—I want to taste a lot of different things. Also in my generation, we grew up reading multiple genres. It wasn’t like I’m a science fiction reader. I started off reading Douglas Adams and Ray Bradbury, Arthur Clarke and then Stephen King. Then I moved on to epic fantasy … Robin Hobb. Then crime fiction … I loved it all. So greedily, I’m like, Why can’t I have all of it? In fiction, we tend to silo writers. Especially if they get successful very early. Which is one of the weird fortunes I possess—I started slow and built a career which lets me play around a bit and establish a circuit board in multiple areas. It’s not like I’m hard-coded into one direction. For me, it’s a joy of getting to play in all those spaces. It’s too much fun not to do.

You’ve said the horror genre is a safe place to fight monsters. I love that idea—can you elaborate more?

Horror is a great place to contextualize all the things we’re actually afraid of. Sometimes you put them in the form of monsters, supernatural, or otherwise. It’s a place to conjure your anxieties and fears and deal with them in a way that’s removed from reality. It’s almost like a simulation and I can mess around with it. It’s a safe place to do that while still allowing you to grapple with the realities of things and treat the subject matter as seriously as you’d like.

That’s a great perspective for a writer, but what about a reader? Is it the same thing?

Yes. The same thing. When I was a kid—when we were told at any moment we could be obliterated by missiles in the middle of the night?

And hiding underneath my math teacher’s desk was going to save me from a nuclear bomb?

Exactly. I was notably not happy. Good night, you may be dead in the morning by nuclear fire. The first horror novel I read was Robert McCammon’s Swan Song, which is about people surviving an epic-horror-nightmare-nuclear-winter-hellscape, and it made me feel a lot better after I read it. People get in their heads they shouldn’t read things that scare them (different from trauma obviously), but you miss an opportunity to confront the fear in a safe place. For me it’s showing the subject matter I’m afraid of, but doing it in a way that tells me I’m not crazy. Because when I read someone else saying “This is scary stuff,” I’m like, Oh yeah, I also think it’s scary. So right there you feel seen. But also, they’re telling a story and the sheer existence of a story—characters surviving and talking and occasionally joking, moving from point A to point B—feels grimly optimistic. Even if the characters lose in the end, you feel, well, they had a shot. It’s comforting in a number of ways.

What scares you?

What doesn’t scare me? Just opening the news tab on any website will give me a doomscrolling infinity loop of anxiety. Wanderers is a pretty good encapsulation of it all. The politics, the social issues happening in the country, cruelty at local school boards. Artificial intelligence is freaking me out right now. Fungal diseases. I got a long list … we don’t have enough time.

Does writing help?

Yes, it absolutely does. And reading. Medieval sorcerers of old would summon demons into a summoning circle in order to control and extract favor from them. I’m definitely summoning demons with my books. I make them fight like Demon Fight Club.

Earlier you mentioned you like the process of the writing. What part is your favorite?

It’s actually finding the weirder, slower moments. The plot stuff is good, but it always feels a little more on track. I know the story needs to move from A to B and there’s things I can do to mix it up. But it’s always in the quieter, stranger moments when the story does things you don’t expect. When it has a moment to breathe on its own … and the book gets to make its own decisions. Obviously, I know books aren’t literal, but there are times when it feels like literal magic.

Can you give an example from one of your books?

In the Miriam Black series, I learned very explicitly if I was writing a super, super, supplemental character (like a third-tier, z-grade nobody—a cab driver, or someone at a hotel), if I find there’s something interesting there or a relationship or dialog, I will turn them into a character who stays until the end of the book. Basically, I didn’t plan for you to be here but I really like you so I’d like you to stay.

You have this uncanny knack to write authentic characters, no matter their age, race, or gender. For example, in Wayward, characters Pete Corley, Ed Creel, Shana, and Benji—they couldn’t be any different. With such a diverse cast, what work do you do to get it right?

I try to treat them seriously—where they’re coming from and what their problems are. I bridge myself to them but knowing at the end of the day, there’s no way to write a character that isn’t in some way me. I would love to be able to conjure a literal new person.

How do you inform your characters? Do you have to be careful about well, only this person is going to be funny and only this person is going to drink whisky? How do you split the atom of you among all these people, or is it a calculus you don’t have to perform?

I generally try to turn the screw so there is enough away from me. Build the artifice. But my experiences in the world certainly inform. It’s difficult not to. But still, I’m not someone who works with rats at the CDC … it’s an opportunity for me to research and talk to people. I think the notion ‘we must write what we know’ is a dubious one. It has value at a simplistic level, but after unpacking it, there’s a lot of nuance that goes into a piece of writing. For me, it’s building characters out so they’re serious and I’m taking them seriously only as much like me as they need to be.

You said you were fortunate to build your career slowly. Was it helpful with setting future expectations?

For people who get six or seven-figure advances, they have to sell a lot of books. As a new author it’s very difficult unless you’re getting the full weight and scope of the publisher behind you and happen to hit a certain zeitgeist. An underperforming book can kneecap your career right out of the gate. But then, even success essentially brands you as the cow who has to stay on that farm because you wrote a hard, sci-fi epic. And if it succeeded really well, what if the next thing you want to write doesn’t? Good luck, but it’s what you do now and that’s what they’re going to want for the next 10 years of your life, if not forever. So, expectations are set and you’ve been branded.

You have several popular craft books: The Kick-Ass Writer, Damn Fine Story, and the recent Gentle Writing Advice. Yet, you’re the first to say any craft writing advice is bullshit. So, why write craft books at all? Why bother?

I like to read craft books myself and I find value in them. Whether you’re talking Stephen King, Lawrence Block, Anne Lamott … these are books that even if I don’t agree with every piece of, that’s fine. It’s weird that people who don’t agree decide it’s bad advice. It’s just advice that isn’t for you. When I started my blog TerribleMinds over 20 years ago, it was me yelling at me about writing. It was a way to vent and talk about the challenges I was facing. Putting my thoughts into a form I understood. You don’t always understand what you’re thinking until you get it out. Like magnetic poetry, you need to barf out those words and put them in order. But, when I saw people were reading, it was terrifying. It was like turning on the lights in a dark room where you’ve been talking for an hour and you realize you aren’t alone.

And you’re naked.

[laughter] Yes—but the advice was ultimately for me and by me. I don’t know what works for anyone else. There is no guaranteed way. Writing isn’t math where you plug in the numbers and get a result … it’s squirrely. It’s not how you do it. But this is how I do it today and it might not be the same tomorrow. Ultimately, it’s to have people think about what they’re doing. Anything to help people write and read more intentionally. That’s the whole point of the craft books. Give them a perspective, not the perspective.

What advice would you give to new writers or those struggling to break in?

The advice is stupidly simple … you just have to keep going. Trying to become a published writer is like putting a bucket on your head and trying to headbutt a wall. Either the wall is going to fall or you are. You have to love what you do because there is no promise of reward beyond the doing. So, if you find love in the doing, it’s probably why you do the thing in the first place.

In You Can Do Anything, Magic Skeleton!, you talk about “Do the Thing.” It basically sums up all writers’ struggles to move forward. Why do we need this constant motivation? What is it about us as human beings and creatives that we need this? Do we have a finite well?

It’s because IT’S REALLY HARD. Writing and telling stories, painting pictures, making songs. I think the myth is that somehow art is easy … it just comes to you … the muse moves you. But it doesn’t. It’s like moving narrative earth, it can be hard and challenging because there’s no instant result. As a writer, you get questions like: Is your book a bestseller? Being made into a movie? Is it like Stephen King? Huge questions. And if the answer is no, you feel like you’re failing.

I get it. So, writers need to laugh and get lots of hugs?

There’s definitely a lot of feeling lost in the woods. And we can use a flashlight. And a hug when we get out.

We talked earlier about fears and I want to end with it too. You have a great line in The Kick Ass Writer I’m going to paraphrase, “Fear will kill you dead … you have nothing to be afraid of that a little preparation and pragmatism cannot kill … fear is nonsense.” On that note, can’t fear be helpful when it comes to writing and publishing?

This is the heart of what Gentle Writing Advice is about. It challenges some of these things like why you can’t have self-doubt … kick self-doubt in the butt and move on. But self-doubt is incredibly valuable. If you didn’t ever doubt yourself, you’d be a psychopath. Sometimes doubt is what helps me as writer say, This isn’t working right. A little bit of fear is good, too. Fear in general—well, there’s a good reason we have it. Hey, you should be scared of that van with the clown driving in it. DON’T GET IN THAT VAN. Only when fear stops you from writing, stops you from doing what you want, is it toxic. It can be paralyzing.

Like self-sabotaging? I’ll never be a bestseller, so I won’t write at all?

Yup. It’s easier not to try. And that’s scary.

Click to continue. 

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When writing my second book, The Hurricane Blonde, I could not get myself to get words on the page in the way I was used to. Second books are notoriously hard (well—writing is just notoriously hard), and writing one during the midst of a global pandemic does not make it any easier. But one way I found to get enough (terrible) words down on the page was to play against genre tropes.

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I write crime fiction, with a particular noir bent, and the use of the tropes of those genres have been very generative for me. Having something to write towards—or against—when I’m stuck always helps me get words down on the page, regardless of whether or not those scenes actually wind up in the book itself. I know I can fall into the trap of wanting to be the most efficient writer I can be–only writing scenes that I’ll use—but that’s not really possible. Sometimes it’s enough to get your fingers moving on the keyboard to loosen things up.

Here are my best tips for using genre tropes to break out of a rut and generate new writing. While I used specifically tropes falling into noir and crime fiction, I believe these tips can work for any genre (even literary fiction, which, yes, is a genre unto itself) as long as you’re well versed in the tropes that define it (and you better be, if you’re working in that genre!).

What’s your genre’s thesis?

What’s the central question or statement on life that defines your genre? For science fiction, it might be exploring the unknown. In noir, I think of two definitions from writers I like: “Dreamers become schemers” (paraphrased from Laura Lippman) and “Finding the truth is the most painful outcome” (paraphrased from Steph Cha).

I use these two thesis statements as tentpoles for outlining where I start and where I end my stories: Who is my dreamer and why must they resort to schemes? And what truths are they going to unearth by the end of the book that will hurt worse than not knowing? Even if I realize I want to take the book in a different direction than I started out, these offer me a starting point, and an endpoint to work towards in a first draft.

Flip the expected story beats.

Every genre has expected story beats. Think of a romance novel: the meet-cute (or the hate-cute, as the case may be); the first kiss; the declaration of love; the obstacle that keeps the lovers apart just before the third act; the resolution and happy ever after. These story beats are what readers will expect to see from your book, and you can use these beats as additional tent poles for scenes you need to write.

However, when you’re stuck, one of the most useful tricks I’ve learned is to write a scene that goes the opposite direction of the story beat. Using the example of the romance genre above, instead of writing a scene where my love interests finally kiss for the first time, I might instead write a scene they decide to rob a bank together. Or my main character kisses someone else. Or they discover a hidden library with magical books that link them to new worlds. It doesn’t matter; the point is that you’re trying to free yourself from your own expectations to get something on the page that feels real and alive.

Even if the scene can’t exist in your book’s final form, I’ve never done this exercise and regretted it. I always wind up with some nugget I can use elsewhere, some revealed truth about who my protagonist really is, or some new way of looking at a plot point that makes it easier to get back to my story. Sometimes you need to give yourself permission to break the rules to get some creative juice flowing.

Breathe life into stock characters or settings.

Your genre will have stock characters and settings that you can use to people your stories until you know them better. A question I like to ask myself when drafting is, What will my readers expect to see in this book? If I was picking it up from the shelf in a bookstore, what scenes or premises would I hope to have fulfilled?

For example, using noir, readers expect a private detective who is disillusioned at first blush, but believes in justice deep down; a femme fatale who is up to no good; and a bevy of side characters that might include crooked cops, the girl next door, and shadowy figures from my protagonist’s past, usually who skew to the wrong side of the law. You can use these characters as stereotypes while you figure out your story, learning intricacies that make them unique—or you can create a new character by adding something totally anathema to their character. What about a femme fatale who is also a policewoman? Or a private investigator who also teaches kindergarten? Putting these pieces together will help you form a unique character that makes your work feel more alive and original immediately.

In addition, your genre will have stereotypical settings that you may or may not want to use. Noir is frequently set in San Francisco, Los Angeles, or New York—deciding to set it elsewhere will immediately create new tensions and a tilt on the genre, and give you fresh takes on old scenes.

Plant some easter eggs.

Keeping yourself engaged long term in a project like writing a novel is like running a marathon, not a sprint. You need to find ways to keep yourself connected to the project. I play a game when I’m stuck, or uninvested in a scene, where I try to weave in as many noir genre allusions to other works I love as subtly as possible. You can turn this into an exercise to bust a writing slump by setting a challenge for yourself: Can you write five genre allusions into a 1,000-word scene?

Or how about creating a mashup for your protagonist? For example, if I were writing a science fiction novel, I might challenge myself to write a scene with my protagonist on the Nostromo spaceship from Alien, without ever once using the words Alien, Nostromo, Ripley, or face hugger.

Again, these might not be scenes that wind up in your novel—although you never know!—but the point is to free yourself to tap into new areas of creativity, while still staying engaged and open to your project.

Put your main character in a new genre.

When I’m truly stuck, I take my protagonist from my work-in-progress and drop them into a world completely opposite the one I want her to live in. Taking my private investigator into a gothic romantic suspense novel or a classic Western for a scene or two will of necessity unlock something new.

This practice also helps me understand my main character more effectively. Sometimes, when you get wrapped into genre tropes, it’s easy to write reactions or scenes that feel static because it’s hard to tell what is your character’s choice or drive versus the expectation of your genre. Moving your main character into a new place will help you better understand why she makes the decisions she does, and who she is at her core.

[Click to continue.]

The post 5 Tips for Using Genre Tropes to Generate New Work appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(Grammar rules for writers.)

Rather, we’re looking at bigger picture mistakes and mishaps, including the error of using too much exposition, neglecting research, or researching too much. This week’s writing mistake writers make is dismissing other genres.

Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Dismissing Other Genres

When I was a kid, I was kind of obsessed with Edgar Allan Poe. I was particularly fascinated by how he was able to write poetry and fiction, and both were equally as captivating.

So, when I first started with my own creative work, I wrote a lot of poetry. Most of it was terrible. But I had so much fun with it, and it was a nice break between writing longer works.

It wasn’t until I was getting my B.A. that I had the opportunity to really study the mechanics of poetry. In class, we learned a lot of standard poetic forms, wrote in those forms, and then were encouraged to take those poems and tweak them. I learned so much about word choice, dramatic tension, and especially how to engage someone’s senses from writing poetry. All of those skills strengthened my fiction writing.

I also did a fair bit of acting in high school and dabbled with acting in college. There was something about writing and performing monologues that I adored, and I was even able to take a literature class that focused on stage plays. I’d always loved writing dialogue, but when you’re reading script after script and discussing with others how they interpret a character based solely on dialogue and a few stage directions, it can be very eye-opening. For me, it allowed me to be more subtle with my fiction characters’ voices and helped me to include more than just speech to flesh out a character. Even small details like a character calmly setting down their beer bottle before getting up to join in on a bar fight can tell the reader so much about who that character is.

All this to say that I wouldn’t be the fiction writer I am today if I had only focused on reading and studying fiction. Even if you don’t have the opportunity to take classes or go to conferences to learn about different genres, there are plenty of ways you can branch out on your reading and open your mind to what you could be missing.

Mistake Fix: Branch Out!

When you’re looking to branch out from your comfort zone, it can be hard to find material at first. Then, when you do find the material, how can you translate it into something that will help you with your projects?

Here are some tips and tricks to get you started.

1. Poetry

If you’re not used to reading poetry, it can be intimidating to figure out where to start. A site like Goodreads might be a good option for you! You’ll be able to browse user-generated book lists, see upcoming publications, and even read community reviews to figure out what books will be the most interesting for you.

Once you start reading poetry, I recommend keeping notes as you read. What images are particularly striking to you? What words or phrases make them stand out? How does the poem engage your senses? How does it make you feel?

If you want to get further into your study, writer and editor Matthew Daddona has an excellent article about creating tension, our Senior Editor and resident poetry expert Robert Lee Brewer takes a look at what makes a good poem, and Robert’s e-guide The Complete Guide of Poetic Forms: 100+ Poetic Form Definitions and Examples for Poets is for sale in our WD shop.

2. Nonfiction

Again, sites like Goodreads are a good way for you to see what others are reading and what they’re saying about what they’ve read.

When you read a nonfiction book, think about how the author makes a connection between the subject and the reader. Do they ask the reader to put themselves in a situation? What kind of language do they use when discussing difficult subject matter? Do they use humor at all? What do you like about how the author has approached the subject? Was there anything that alienated you?

And to further your study, here are just a few articles here on the site you can check out:

• “Memoir as Detective Novel” by Lilly Dancyger
• “A Few Tips for Writing Personal Essays” by Robert Lee Brewer
• “25 Ways Reflective Writing Can Help You Grow as a Writer (And as a Person)” by Jeanne Baker Guy

3. Scripts

Finally, scripts are another genre that I always encourage people to explore. As an actor, I got used to relying on Dramatists Play Service (DPS) to get scripts that I was most interested in. Actor copies are pretty cheap and unless you’re producing and performing the play, you don’t need to pay for performance rights. It’s also where I got one of my favorite plays of all time, The Curious Savage. While a comedy, it taught me a lot about balancing humor and pain in the same scene. But you can find plays of all lengths, genres, and cast sizes.

As you read scripts, try and visualize the scene as much as possible. Analyze the dialogue and stage directions; what do they tell you about the characters? How is setting used to further the plot? How are props used to flesh out the scene? Is there something specific about the way the characters interact that give you insight into their relationships? And how does the scene remain balanced if there are a lot of characters speaking in the same scene?

And, of course, if you want to view things through the lens of a script writer, don’t forget to check out ScriptMag.com! You’ll see interviews from a lot of screenwriters and directors, as well as articles about craft.

The post Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Dismissing Other Genres appeared first on Writer's Digest.

(75 grammar rules for writers.)

Rather, we’re looking at bigger picture mistakes and mishaps, including the error of using too much exposition, neglecting research, or trying to write for everyone. This week’s writing mistake writers make is labeling your book with an inaccurate genre category.

Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Inaccurate Genre Labels

I doubt it would come as a surprise to anyone that I read a lot. And, I enjoy reading books in lots of different categories: mysteries, literary fiction, contemporary fiction, historical fiction, memoirs. And I love reading romance.

Recently, I was given an advance copy of a book from a publisher that they had labeled as a romance. I read the premise and thought it sounded right up my alley. And the book hooked me from the very beginning. The story was interesting, the characters were multi-layered and had both personal and cultural conflicts they had to work through. I was ready to give it five stars on Goodreads and write a review on NetGalley for the publisher to use.

And then … I got to the end. There was no happy ending! There wasn’t a “happy-for-now” ending either. It broke the one promise that a book categorized as “romance” must fulfill—a happily-ever-after or a happy-for-now ending. It felt like I had been misled; when the publisher labeled the book as a romance, I believed them. Because, that genre label “romance” comes with certain expectations. All genre labels do. It’s why they exist: to help guide readers find more books that will, hopefully, resonate with them.

As I pondered my disappointment with the not-romance book, all I could think was, if this book had been labeled “contemporary fiction” or “women’s fiction” I would have walked away completely satisfied and that five-star rating would have happened. In this instance, maybe the author felt strongly about the book being categorized as romance, or perhaps the book changed in revisions but the romance label was more closely aligned with what the imprint is known for. But sometimes, as the writer, you have to look at the book you’ve written with objective eyes. Evaluate what kind of book you wanted to write vs. the kind of book you actually wrote. Manuscripts can change immensely from the time you start writing it to the moment you type “The End,” not to mention the changes on subsequent drafts and revisions. That might mean you started writing a contemporary fiction book but over time it ended up being contemporary YA fiction instead. Or you started writing what you thought was horror and it’s really more suspense.

Recognizing and acknowledging those genre shifts might be a challenge for some writers because these category labels can be closely tied to career goals and the way writers view themselves. You might worry that writing in one genre might pigeon-hole you into always writing in that genre. It’s something that has crossed my mind as I write and it’s why I ask that question frequently when I interview authors. The surprise has been, not a single one of them has said they’ve felt stuck with one genre (if they continuously write in one genre, it’s by choice) or have had to convince an agent or editor to “let” them stray into new territory. Rather, the agents and editors are curious and even excited to see what the writer can do next.

(It occurs to me that this idea of labels and career goals is probably also connected to the idea that some folks have about the worthiness of certain genres compared to others, but hopefully I don’t need to remind anyone here that each genre has value and a place in the publishing world. One is not inherently worthier than another. Literary fiction is not “better” than genre fiction; books for adults are not inherently “better” than writing for children or young adult. And one is not easier to write than another. Each requires a different set of finely-honed skills.)

So, as you think about how to label your book consider this: Would you rather have a book that readers love even if it’s categorized in a genre you weren’t expecting? Or, would you rather stick with your chosen, but inaccurate, genre and risk disappointing readers who are going to remember that when your next book comes out? If you think about it in these terms, chances are, you know where your book fits.

But if you’re not sure where your manuscript has landed, find beta readers who’ve read extensively in the genre most closely related to your book. Ask them for honest feedback and be prepared to listen to what they have to say. Understanding your book’s genre before it’s published can save you, and your reader, a lot of heartache. 

The post Writing Mistakes Writers Make: Inaccurate Genre Labels appeared first on Writer's Digest.

Children’s YA

Go Teen Writers
GoTeenWriters.com

Go Teen Writers is on a mission to deliver quality advice, free resources, and a community to teens who are passionate about writing. They feature a newsletter, private Facebook group, YouTube channel, and blog that cover everything from insights to traditional publishing to world-building tips and tricks.

Kid Lit
KidLit.com

Mary Kole, the face behind KidLit.com, is a former literary agent, editor, and author of the WD book Writing Irresistible KidLit, whose blog breaks down children’s literature by age (picture book, middle grade, YA) or info type (writing, queries, agents, revision, etc.) so you can easily sort through years of information for exactly what you need.

KidLit411
KidLit411.com

Sign up for the Weekly 411, a roundup all new articles across the internet related to writing picture books, middle grade, and young adult literature. These resources are archived on the KidLit411 website so you can search based on your area of interest, such as craft articles, contests, submissions, school visits, courses, author spotlights, and more.

The Open Books Blog
Blog.LeeAndLow.com

A great resource for writers, publishing professionals, and educators, The Open Books Blog is dedicated to exploring topics on race, diversity, education, and children’s/young adult books.

SCBWI
SCBWI.org

Find and connect with your local chapter of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, and read the SCBWI blog for all news related to writing and publishing literature for children and young adults. Additional resources are available for members.

Creative Nonfiction

Brevity
BrevityMag.com

A literary magazine dedicated to featuring brief literary nonfiction, craft essays, and book reviews, Brevity is proud to publish the work of both emerging and well-known writers. The Brevity Blog also features conversations about the craft and business of literary nonfiction.

Hippocampus
HippocampusMagazine.com

Hippocampus is an online magazine for everything in the fourth genre: new essays, flash nonfiction, and memoir excerpts; interviews with authors and publishing professionals; articles on the writing life and craft of creative nonfiction; book reviews; and an annual Remember in November writing contest.

Freelance

All Freelance Writing
AllFreelanceWriting.com

All Freelance Writing offers a host of free resources for writers, including a freelance rate calculator, word count tracker, keyword density analyzer, and job board. Browse blog articles for advice on growing and organizing your writing business, or make use of their templates and worksheets to guide in goal setting and tracking, writing business plans, SWOT analysis, marketing plans, and more.

Freelancer FAQs
FreelancerFAQs.com

Whatever your questions are about working as a freelancer, this site has the answers. Search Freelancer FAQs for blog articles that answer everything about starting your business, managing money, marketing, staying motivated, tools for the job, and much more.

Freelancers Union
FreelancersUnion.org

Freelancers Union is a nonprofit dedicated to supporting freelancers through advocacy, education, and services. Membership is free, and they offer a range of services from access to insurance to community meetups with fellow freelancers to a blog that discusses important freelancing-focused topics.

Historical

Historical Novel Society
HistoricalNovelSociety.org

A community of writers, editors, and readers, the Historical Novel Society brings fans of history together to celebrate the past, hold conferences (often featuring some of the biggest names in historical fiction), swap book reviews, and manuscript critiques, for a yearly fee of $50.

The History Quill
TheHistoryQuill.com

While this site offers paid editing services for historical fiction writers, it’s their free blog and downloadable resources that caught our attention. Blog topics range from in-depth articles about historical bathroom habits to humor, swearing, and much more. Be prepared to get lost in this rabbit hole of unexpected information.

Horror

Dark Markets
DarkMarkets.com

Search this database to find anthologies, book publishers, magazines, and zines open to submissions of horror fiction. The not-so-scary part? The site only lists markets that pay writers.

Horror Tree
HorrorTree.com

A reference for all writers of genre and speculative fiction, Horror Tree is a free resource to discover open calls for submissions, a blog about the craft and business of genre writing, and interviews with publishing professionals.

Journalism

Nieman Storyboard
NiemanStoryboard.org

The Nieman Storyboard is dedicated to showcasing exceptional narrative journalism and the future of nonfiction storytelling. Read interviews with writers of these exceptional pieces, personal essays about the writing life, and deep analyses of recent narrative pieces that answer the question of why the storytelling is so great.

Quill, A Magazine by the Society of Professional Journalists
QuillMag.com

A magazine dedicated to the challenges, opportunities, and responsibilities of American journalism, Quill is published quarterly with free articles featured on their blog. A yearly subscription to the print magazine is $75. 

Mystery/Thriller/Crime

Crime Writers of Color
CrimeWritersOfColor.com

Crime Writers of Color is a group of more than 170 crime and mystery writers from “traditionally underrepresented racial, cultural, and ethnic backgrounds.” At the website, you can find new book releases from members, which members are available for speaking gigs (and what topics they like to speak about), and, if you’re a crime writer of color, learn how to become a member.

The Kill Zone
KillZoneBlog.com

The Kill Zone is a blog that features daily posts from industry professionals on the publishing, marketing, and craft of writing suspense fiction. They also offer a free first-page critique service in which an author submits the first page of their work-in-progress and the critique will be posted anonymously to the website alongside the first page. This way, both the author and blog readers can benefit from the critique without the author’s name appearing on the work.

Suspense Magazine
SuspenseMagazine.com

Subscribe to this digital magazine to get full issues in your email or visit the website for a collection of free interviews with bestselling suspense writers, excerpts from upcoming books, and writing advice specific to suspense writers (including a whole section on forensics). 

Playwriting

New Play Exchange
NewPlayExchange.org

New Play Exchange boasts the largest library of digital scripts by living writers, who can upload their scripts and connect with other users—such as script readers and theaters looking to produce new work—for $12 per year. 

Poetry 

Jacket2
Jacket2.org

Jacket2 is an online publication of all forms of discussion related to modern and contemporary poetry, including book reviews, interviews with poets, feature articles, and commentaries between multiple poets.

Power Poetry
PowerPoetry.org

Power Poetry is an online community for teen writers that features guides and tips for writing, a platform for poetry slams, and a lookup of local poetry groups. Their site also features a Poetry Genome, where poets can compare their work side-by-side with modern and classical poets to see whose work is most similar to theirs.

Trish Hopkinson
TrishHopkinson.com

Visit the poet Trish Hopkinson’s blog for an almost-daily dose of new poetry-related information, including writing prompts, publication and submission resources, poetry group and event listings, and “self-taught MFA” articles.

The VS Podcast
PoetryFoundation.org/podcasts

While we can’t fully endorse The Poetry Foundation right now, we also can’t ignore the work done by the poets without whom the foundation wouldn’t survive. In this bi-weekly podcast series, Dark Noise Collective members Franny Choi and Danez Smith talk to today’s greatest poets about their writing processes and the ideas that move them. 

Romance

Romance Rehab
RomanceRehab.com

A site dedicated to the romance genre, Romance Rehab features book recommendations and reviews, as well as an extensive blog that focuses on everything a romance writer needs to write a believable (and successful!) love story. For a fee, the site also offers assistance with writing book blurbs, creating animated social media graphics, and more.

WOC in Romance
WOCinRomance.com

Romance novelist Rebekah Weatherspoon founded this website in 2015 as a place to “promote women of color in romance fiction. This blog/movement is trans inclusive and open to gender fluid and nonbinary authors as well.” Visit the site to submit your book and learn about the services available for authors.

Science Fiction/Fantasy

Dan Koboldt’s Putting the Science in Fiction
DanKoboldt.com

The Putting the Science in Fiction portion of this site has been featured on this list for a few years now, but did you know there’s a Putting Fact in Fantasy blog as well? Learn the parts of the horse to make sure your unicorns look right, learn about woodlands to know how your fairy forests can stray from reality, and much more.

Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America
SFWA.org

The hub for all things science fiction and fantasy writing, you can enjoy multiple free blogs about the craft and business of the genres, including the helpful Writer Beware blog which deserves its own spot on the list. Or, purchase a full membership to receive additional benefits.

World Anvil
WorldAnvil.com

World Anvil is an all-in-one tool that allows writers to keep their world-building in one easily searchable location. Hosting everything from maps to timelines to family trees, this site will ensure that you never miss a beat while writing. Join for free or upgrade to a paid subscription for access to more features.

Screenwriting

Bang2Write
Bang2Write.com

Lucy V. Hay aims to ensure that screenwriters, novelists, and freelance writers have the tools necessary to make informed decisions about their work and how they present it to the industry. She does this through blogging on Bang2Write about genre, submissions, characterization, social media, and mistakes writers make.

Go Into the Story
GoIntoTheStory.blcklst.com

Scott Meyers has written more than 28,000 blog posts covering nearly every subject related to screenwriting during the 12 years he has hosted Go Into the Story. Browse through more than 100 subjects for help with your script, or send Scott a question if it’s not answered already.

Save the Cat
SaveTheCat.com

Based on a series of bestselling books by Blake Snyder, Save the Cat offers free beat sheets, tips and tactics, informative blogs, podcasts, and guidance for novelists and screenwriters of all genres. For a fee, they also offer writing coaching and classes.

Spiritual

Steve Laube Agency
SteveLaube.com/blog

Get writing inspiration and everything you need to know about book proposals, the business side of writing, rejections, and more from one of the top literary agencies focused on the Christian marketplace.

The Write Conversation
TheWriteConversation.com

Author, editor, and blogger Edie Melson shares craft and business advice for Christian writers. She also offers a collection of classes from how to engage with an audience on social media to how to improve dialogue and beyond. Inspiration always included.

Travel Writing 

Pitch Travel Write
PitchTravelWrite.com

Travel writers have had to find new and creative ways of working during the past year and Pitch Travel Write is an example of that—by offering advice to other travel writers for pivoting while still staying true to what they love. 

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