When it came time to
choose a genre to write in I chose fantasy. As a longtime reader of Fantasy,
Scifi, and everything in between, it seemed a natural fit. I was a latecomer to
women's literature and romance. It didn't hold me the way fantasy did, although
I like some romance in my fantasy, and not just Mage/queen/plucky necromancer
meets heroic other, falls in love, and produce intrepid little sorcerers.
I love the big,
sprawling messiness of a good fantasy story. The world so different from ours,
yet populated by the same type of people with the same problems. How to escape
evil, which magical academy to attend, how to pacify rampaging dragons, and oh
yes, love among the smoking ruins of a just razed village.
Not a big fan of
dystopian fiction, I must admit. It's depressing to think of all the ways
civilization could go wrong. The survivors - because it's always lucky by birth
survivors - trudging through a ravaged landscape, rummaging through
hollowed-out Wal-marts for food and bullets. Fighting off others of their kind
to rise to the top of their pathetic food chain. No groups ever join together
to try to make their lot in life better, to try and jump-start an improved
civilization unlike the one that got them into this mess in the first place.
Are we that narrow-minded a species?
Don't answer that.
I do have a space
opera novel I worked on and it's sitting in limbo. It falls prey to the things
I hate about dystopian novels, hence my reluctance to go on with it. Time to
strip it down for parts. Apparently, though, doom, doom, doom makes for good reading.
I do like exploring other worlds and cultures in sci-fi also. Big problem there
is the vastness of space and zooming around in it. I get hung up on the
technical (im)possibilities because I know just enough science to be skeptical,
but not enough to make everything plausible. Which is probably why I chose
space opera rather than hard science sci-fi. Much easier to hand-wave the
science like a Jedi excusing droids than get lost in the physics. Even though I
do love me some physics.
Romance novels both
fascinate and repel me. There's something to be said for the formulaic model
and a HEA (Happily Ever After) at the end. Maybe it's the optimist in me,
wanting the world to turn out for the better. The cynic whispers in the back of
my mind, you think real life is like
this? Ha! Have I got news for you. Romance dies under the weight of children,
laundry, and whose turn it is to mow the backyard.
Which leaves women's
fiction, formerly called 'chick lit'. About women, mostly written by women. A
lot of it is depressing as hell, chronicling modern-day problems in a long, and
death marchy manner. Dead/missing children, cancer, parents with dementia. Why
do I subject myself to that? Because it's real. I guess I can't live on fantasy
alone, and sometimes need to come down from my dragon-patrolled castle and deal
with life before I scurry back to my fairy fortified citadel.
All of these genres
figure into my fantasy writing, however. I like building worlds, I like
creating creatures, but I also like my characters to want love along with their
magical abilities. Perhaps love helps or hinders their abilities. Or captures
the unicorn. Or saves a kingdom. Or destroys it utterly. The people in fantasyland
have the same problems you and I have; we just can't use magic or a sharp sword
to solve them. Although it would be oh so satisfying to turn your boss into a
spotted hog-sloth.
My heroines and
heroes are your everyday folk who just happen to be caught up in something
bigger than they are. Reluctantly shoved into saving the world, they rise to
the occasion or give it their best shot while dodging death. This is what I
want out of the real world. Since we, as a society, currently can't have nice
things, I want to write stories about a world where it can happen. And once my
letter from Hogwarts gets here, watch out. I'm going to change the world.
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