Ramblings from the Desert

The man who trades freedom for security does not deserve nor will he ever receive either. ~Benjamin Franklin

My Photo
Location: New Mexico

Author of the urban fantasy novel, The Music of Chaos, and the paranormal romance, The Canvas Thief.

Friday, May 20, 2005

It's All Sex, It's All Good

The looong posty of the day. The shorty follows this one.

Thinking about the definitions of genres and specifically, Those Who Think It Is Their Job To Make The Definitions.

Fantasy and SF has this whole originality thing going on, pushed hard by an intrepid group of Originality Police (OP). Vampires, elves, quests, peasants who become kings? "Too trite, too tired," cry the OP, "Such drivel must be culled from the genre." They're a pretty nasty bunch, the OPs are.

My run-ins with the OP, have been at the hands of critiquers, not editors. (Although the OPs will tell you that "no editor will look at stories with those elements in them." In general, my opinion of editors is often higher than that of some of my fellow writers.) Most notable was the critiquer who derided me for not "challenging myself" and listed his publication credits and pay rates as proof that He Knew of What He Spoke. Right.

Newsflash, buddie. I don't read Asimov's or whatever market supposedly bought your stories. I've never heard of you. If my little dog took a shit on a sheet of paper, I pay her poop more credence than your "advice." Don't tell me what to write; tell me how to improve what I wrote. So, um...bite me.

Still writing vampires, elves and their ilk. And yeah, sometimes, I'm selling stuff. In my experience, "Original" means weird-ass shit.

So is romance immune to the Genre Police? D'Nope. The debate, probably fueled by the Internet and us bloggy types, rages as to what constitutes romance: No sex? Wild Sex? Butt-sex (BTW, ew)? Kinky? Sweet? Virgin? Slut? Monogamy? Menage a trois? And there are the inevitable complaints about "tired" genre elements--secret babies, etc.

Meanwhile, over in Mystery land, some argue that cozy mysteries aren't gritty enough to be real mystery and ergo, not worthy of Edgar consideration.

Missing in all this? The reader. Anybody ask him/her? Don't have to. They make their opinions known by buying what they like. And surprise, surprise, they have a nasty tendency to buy the stuff that makes the OP opine much.

My Mommy is coming up for a visit. So probably not much this weekend.



Graphics and Content Copyright © Patricia Kirby 2005