David Downey's Blog, page 4

Literature vs. genre fiction

I’ve been subjected to this sentiment throughout my life: “Horror, science fiction, mysteries, and the like, are fine for beach reading, but they’re not literature.”

Then a few years ago, I stumbled across an essay by Anne Rice (author of Interview With A Vampire, among other works) where she dared argue that genre fiction was not only just as good as literature, it was better.*

And I wholeheartedly agree.

I literally read hundreds of literary short stories in Harpers and the New Yorker.  Yes, most are masterfully written.  But most are also slice-of-life stories.

Everyday, I live a slice of life.  But unlike the literature I’ve read, my daily life’s experiences are far richer in senses and thought than can ever be conveyed in words (though Ulysses comes close).  My slices-of-life carry real consequences for me and those around me.  And perhaps greatest of all, my slices-of-life are fleeting; they never occurred before, and they’ll never occur again in the entire history of the universe, and thus, are infinitely precious.

Literary fiction strives to capture what it is to be human.  So what’s the point of reading it?  Just live it.

But in my life, I know I’ll never be London’s finest detective.  I’ll never ride a monstrous sandworm on a far off desert planet.  And I’ll never swoon in the embrace of a vampire.

Genre fiction allows us to experience fantastic delights and horrors that are impossible in our normal daily lives.  That’s what makes it great, and I contend, superior.**

 

* For the life of me, I can’t find the essay again.  If anyone knows where it is, please point me to it.

** Granted, I’m a genre fiction writer, so I’m a bit biased.

Free treat! (Not a trick.)

To celebrate the most terrifying month of the year, a selected commenter to this blog entry will receive a free copy of The Alpha And The Omega!

Talent vs. Character

While I was reading Ender’s Game (as chronicled in my previous post), a friend informed me that the author, Orson Scott Card, was an active opponent of same-sex marriage.  Though I’m not gay, I support gay rights.  So when I heard this, I was torn: I was in awe of Card’s undeniable talent, but I was repulsed by his bigoted actions.

And Orson Scott Card isn’t my only “Talent vs. Character” dilemma.  I like some of Woody Allen’s films, but I think he’s a dirtbag for marrying a woman who was virtually his adopted daughter.

So what do I do?  Do I picket Orson Scott Card’s house?  Do I create www.woodyisadirtbag.com?

As it turns out, I resorted to nothing so grandiose: I decided not to support their actions with my money.  A simple financial boycott of their talent.

But who am I really hurting with my boycott?  I don’t get to read Speaker for the Dead (the highly-praised sequel to Ender’s Game), while Orson Scott Card loses only a couple of dollars in royalties.  I don’t get to experience a Woody Allen movie, while the filmmaker is only deprived of a single ticket sale.

Well, I’m not above bending the rules a bit.  The same friend who told me about Card’s intolerant deeds also came up with a way for me to skirt my boycott: buy Speaker for the Dead used.  That way, I get to enjoy the book while not contributing money to its author.  And I confess, I still read Woody Allen’s occasional pieces in the New Yorker, consoling myself that I already paid for the magazine subscription, so why not?

By taking this stance, I know I open myself up to the same judgment.  I have controversial beliefs I’m sure many people don’t agree with (for example, my pro-gay rights stance, as mentioned above).  And I’ve done things in my past I’m not proud of.  So if a potential reader is turned off by my views or history, I shouldn’t be surprised if she decides not to buy my book.  (I just implore that she shouldn’t deny herself the splendor that is The Alpha and the Omega and purchase the novel used.)

What were some of the “Talent vs. Character” quandaries you’ve faced?  And how did you ultimately deal with them?

Everything has been done before

When I was originally working on my “first novel” (mentioned in my blog post below), I was in a couple of writing groups.  Submitting my book’s first few chapters to the groups to critique, I was surprised to get the same feedback from most of the groups’ members: my novel reminded them of Ender’s Game.

At the time, I hadn’t read Ender’s Game, but I knew it by shear reputation; it was the most critically-acclaimed bestselling sci-fi novel of the 1980s.  To be compared to such a monumental work was a tremendous compliment, or so I first thought.

I soon began to worry that my “magnum opus” had already been written.  I resisted the urge to read Ender’s Game, fearing that I’d learn that that my game-changing, mind-f*cking, breathtakingly-original novel was cliche.

Well, I finally grew some and recently read Ender’s Game.  And I can see why it’s so popular: it’s a game-changing, mind-f*cking, breathtakingly-original novel.

And I can see why my fellow writers compared my “first novel” to Ender’s: Both are sci-fi.  Both have young protagonists.  And both involve an alien invasion.

But that’s where the similarities end: Ender is a child; my “first novel’s” hero is in high school.  Ender’s Game occurs in the far future; my “first novel” happens in the present.  Ender’s takes place on various worlds and space stations; for the most part, my novel unfolds on Earth.

So thankfully, not everything has been done before.

Product vs. Passion

In 2003, I began writing my first novel.  Out of all my story ideas, it was the one I felt most passionate about.

No, it wasn’t The Alpha And The Omega.

Unlike A&O, this “first novel” was sci-fi.  But like A&O, it also had elements of horror and religion.  In other words, it was so “out there”, I decided no agent or publisher would ever consider it from a first-time author.

So 200 pages into the first draft, I abandoned it.  Rifling through all my other story ideas, I chose the one I judged to be the most “commercially accessible” and began writing it.  And that’s how A&O became my debut novel.

Did I sell out?  I rationalized that I didn’t, that I would’ve eventually written A&O as my second novel.  (But aren’t rationalizations just lies, giftwrapped with pretty bows?)

Have you ever “sold out” (artistically or otherwise)?  Have you ever chose “product over passion”?  If so, was it ultimately worth it?  (In regards to A&O, I guess time and book sales will tell…)

PS – I’m currently back to writing my “first novel”

Fangoria

An ad for The Alpha And The Omega is slated to appear in issues #313 – #316 (May – September 2012) of Fangoria magazine:

(Super thanks to Su Kopil at Earthly Charms for designing this!)

Windows of opportunity

I originally came up with The Alpha And The Omega in the 1990s.  Back then, the time was ripe for an apocalyptic thriller.  It had been 2,000 years since Jesus walked the Earth, and many felt something big was about to happen to mark the event, be it a global computer crash, the Reckoning, or a party to end all parties.

But I was young, and I didn’t have the discipline to sit down and write A&O.  2000 AD came and went.  And nothing happened, both globally and with my writing.

For years, I lamented that I missed a historic window of opportunity.  A&O was perfect for an End Times-rattled audience.  I was sure it would be another 1,000 years before the world would again be gripped in such a cataclysmic frenzy.

Yet, I decided to press on with A&O.

And as I wrote and edited away, protests began brewing.  Revolutions toppled dictators.  The world fell into economic ruin.  And according to the scientific experts, it was only a matter of time before zombies would be feasting on all our brains.

And the capper: A&O was released on May 21, 2011, coincidently the day Harold Camping predicted the end of the world.

Yes!  Another window of opportunity has opened.

Writing what I like vs. what others like

I recently joked with a friend that I should have made Christ and the Devil hunky shirtless teenagers in my novel, to cash in on the latest young-adult-paranormal-romance craze.  (“I’m on Team Jesus.”  “Go Team Lucifer!”)

As is, The Alpha And The Omega is episodic, yet whole.  It’s religious, yet secular.  It’s mostly horror, with elements of drama and geopolitics, and a dash of sci-fi.  In short, it has no set demographic, except for, well, me.

And that’s why I wrote A&O, because it was the kind of story I so desperately wanted to read, but couldn’t find anywhere on the shelves.  But by writing a story particular to me, I created a work with no mass built-in audience.

So should I write what I like, or what I think others like (e.g. young-adult-paranormal-romance)?

As with too many things in life, the answer lies with money.  If wealth’s my goal, then my next novel will be called The Alpha And The Omega: New Moon.

However, I love writing.  If I was destined to never sell another book, I’d still write.  Plus I’m brimming with gobs ‘o other tales I’m dying to tell.  And those other tales are even more unconventional than A&O.  (In fact, I chose A&O to be my debut novel since it was my most mainstream story.)

So be warned: more religious/secular/sci-fi/horror (and utterly unmarketable) strangeness is coming soon.

Amanda Hocking

In case you haven’t heard of Amanda Hocking, she is the self-publishing phenom, who at the age of 26, sold more than a million Kindle ebooks.  (As a 40-something author who’s only sold a tiny fraction of that amount, I hate her.)

To me, what makes her story even more compelling is that she ultimately signed with a traditional publishing house, foregoing potentially more money by continuing to self-publish.  She cited that she didn’t “…want to spend 40 hours a week handling e-mails, formatting covers, finding editors, etc.”

Though I’m sure I don’t have as many writing-related demands as Ms. Hocking, I can completely identify.  Since the release of The Alpha And The Omega, I’ve spent all my spare time updating this website, schmoozing local bookstore owners to feature my book, promoting my novel on message boards and blogs, creating and placing print and online ads, etc.  And I’ve been doing all this on top of my fulltime+ day job.

I miss writing.

And lately, my only opportunity to write is this blog.  So thank you, dear reader, for giving me a respite from the necessary evil of marketing.

Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award

About a month back, I entered The Alpha And The Omega in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest.  Today, Amazon announced the novels that would proceed to the second round of judging.

And The Alpha And The Omega didn’t make the cut.

So why am I blogging about it?  Because rejection is an integral part of being a writer.  For more than two decades, I’ve received a slew of rejection letters from magazine editors, agents, and book publishers.  And each and every one of them smarted.

And today, when I realized my name wasn’t on the list of authors progressing to the writing contest’s second round, it likewise stung.  But I was surprised to feel another new reaction creeping into my psyche:

“I’ll show them.”

It wasn’t a vindictive sentiment.  Quite the opposite, it was triumphant.  I’ll show those judges that they missed a staggering opportunity by passing on my novel.  I’ll show those agents.  I’ll show those publishers.  And if the entire literary world somehow overlooks The Alpha And The Omega, I’ll kindly point out their mistake with my next novel.  Or the novel after that.  Or the novel after that…

I’ll never embrace rejection.  But I think I’ve finally learned how to gain strength from it.