I’ve been thinking about the art of writing, where I fit for genre, and what’s next.
No new story this week. It’ll be a while before I post a new one, which doesn’t mean I’m not writing. I am. This week, I got feedback that I couldn’t enter a contest because I don’t have any writing credits in journals. That’s because I’ve not tried to get into journals. Apparently, posting stories on this blog just won’t do it. I have to rethink my approach there.
There was a thread on a Facebook writers group asking how people keep their writing ideas. I scribble them down wherever I am, and whenever they occur. I told a story about how I’ve been known to use a stick to write down a quick story idea in the snow, so that I can capture it later. That’s true. Mostly, I email myself my story ideas, then put them into a Word doc that I email myself often, so that I don’t lose this so-important file.
That file is up to 51,000 words now. It’s like a novel of ideas. Some are really bad ideas. But others are pretty good. I’m sorting through this file currently, pulling out the nuggets and rearranging the information. Often, when a new great idea comes to me, I just write the story right away, but that’s not always possible, so this file is really important. I wonder if I should sell it or something. What’s a set of ideas for fiction worth? I never fear that new ideas will take their place. I never run out.
For the record, I have three written novels. The first is epic fantasy. The second is urban fantasy. The third is young adult. The next one will come from a bunch of ideas that are kicking around. I just think about the concepts that move me, and go with that.
I was having a discussion on Twitter, and an established, published author asked me what my genre was. Well, my short stories are mostly contemporary literary fiction. But the novels are in different genres. I did get to thinking about it, and I suppose I’m a cross-genre writer. I intentionally bend and blur, incorporating fantasy and science, literary writing, history, and characters that can’t possibly exist but might. Cross-genre writing. That makes sense to me. I’m not interested in pigeon-holing myself into one genre. I don’t even think about genre when I set out to write. Anyway, this is a nice self-realization.
This month starting tomorrow is my best month for writing. The snow starts to melt. The sun comes out. There’s meltwater on the road. There’re buds on the trees. That gives me renewal, and I write like a maniac. I hate statistics about writing, or making comments on WIP and the like. But I generally write between five and ten thousand words a week, depending on how crushing work is. In March, that doubles. I just let myself go. I simply express, and that’s a wonderful feeling. Welcome, March! I’ve missed you, spring.
Be well, everyone.