I had a very limited view of what 'horror' meant for a long time. To me, it was the slasher/scare-me-to-death films of the 80s. Jason. Freddy. The stuff we watched at sleepovers that was probably a subconscious ploy to ensure we would stay up all night, because we couldn't sleep, not just because we wanted to.
In truth, I have to credit my husband for expanding my understanding of some genres. I'd make some remark about horror or another genre and he'd round up a stack of anthologies related to the topic and tell me to start reading.
The result was that my understanding of horror as a genre expanded. The Cabin in the Woods isn't Nightmare on Elm Street, although I may or may not* have still jumped when the title sequence started.
Now, I recently noted some submission guidelines from a publisher, and I took offense to them. There's been a long-standing argument between literary and genre fiction that involves the perception that literary writers look down on genre writers as being beneath them, and that genre fiction isn't seen as having the same quality as literary fiction. (I'm sure J.K. Rowling is crying over how she doesn't sell like literary writers.)
One of the perceived differences between literary fiction and genre fiction is that genre fiction is driven by a plot, with a clear beginning, middle and end. Things build up to a climax with resolution. Things happen.
Literary fiction can be more introspective, with less focus on events and actions than on the impact events have on the main characters.
I was reading a set of submission guidelines, and the publisher was pretty detailed about what they wanted. That can be a very good thing for writers, because it can help them figure out if they're a good fit with that publisher. There's nothing worse than skipping to a set of submission guidelines and seeing a generic, "Only send us material that's similar to what we publish." That can be very ambiguous because over time a publication may evolve. What Spinetingler publishes today in terms of fiction is different than what it published initially. I always go back to the story, "Jessie's Toothbrush," which we published very early on. The mystery was why the guy was so enamored with that toothbrush, but it certainly wasn't crime fiction. It was memorable, though. However, if a comparable story was submitted today it would probably get rejected because the focus has narrowed over time, and also it can be determined by the preferences of the editor, and our editorial staff has changed over time.
Specific details can be good. When a publisher has identifiable genres or subgenres they publish, it's great to know this. However, when the publisher states that they are more interested in character growth than plot and then says that's why they aren't interested in any manuscripts about characters who are in law enforcement, they've demonstrated a prejudice.
Now, those aren't the exact words that I read. I've been reading a lot of submission guidelines lately, because when I do manuscript reviews I don't always stay within one genre. I've been working on an assessment of a non-fiction manuscript, and the one before that was some sort of horror/speculative fiction piece that didn't fit easily in one box. I'm rarely hired to review crime fiction manuscripts, which means I'm often researching different genres and publishing categories so that I can provide up-to-date examples to illustrate a point I'm making to the writer I'm working with.
As I read this set of submission guidelines, I felt my blood boil. I was offended and annoyed.
It's remarkably presumptive to assume that a character who happens to work in law enforcement doesn't have the capacity for self growth, or that their journey isn't worth reading about. It also suggests a certain level of ignorance. My mind automatically went to the brilliant works of James Sallis, and the John Turner and Lew Griffin books. Those books are the definition of a personal journey for the central character. The mystery in any Lew Griffin book isn't a case but is the man himself, and what prompts his limitations and relationships.
I clicked off of that site with cheeks burning and some inappropriate words mixed in with a vow to never read a dang thing by that publisher if they were so biased against a genre I love.
I'm not sure if it's an entirely fair response. Perhaps in another week or two I'll forget about it and even forget who said it. I understand if an editorial team has had a hefty percentage of their books be police procedurals and they want to see something else. Just say you aren't accepting police procedurals at this time. There's no need to piss on the whole genre in the process and suggest that it's so fucking beneath you that it can't say anything significant about the human equation or contribute any depth to our understanding about humanity, a person's motivations, or how it can prompt character growth.
My husband may or may not have been tired of hearing me rant about the subject, so I may or may not have needed to work this out of my system here. I also know that when I approached my latest manuscript, I wanted it to push deeper than a formulaic procedural, while still having a solid story. I don't believe the two are mutually exclusive. I don't want to live in a publishing era that suggests that's the case. I have always felt that what's more compelling about a Rebus book is the man himself than the specific crimes being investigated, and while those crimes may open the door for an examination of politics and personal views, they work best when everything from the crime to the investigation to the characters mirror the central theme of the story and amplify what the protagonist is working through.
It may be that a high number of police procedurals fall short on this account, but to suggest they all do is wrong, and the publisher could have picked a more tactful way to talk about what they wanted to see from writers, rather than making such a sweeping judgment against a whole subgenre... and I have to be honest, while I've only addressed the law enforcement restriction, that was just one of a number of careers that were excluded from submissions.
* I'm a jumper, so nobody questions when I have a strong fear reaction. This is also why I prefer to lie on the couch rather than sit.
Showing posts with label Literary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Literary. Show all posts
Monday, October 31, 2016
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Last Night by James Salter
By Steve Weddle
I'm going to do you all a big favor today--I'm going to get out of the way. You're welcome.
First, though, let me point you over to the new CD from Chris LaTray. His band, American Falcon, has new tunes out, which you can snag right here. I've been listening to the songs for the past week, and I guess you could describe them as a mix between Urge Overkill and The Cult. You'll want to listen for yourself, of course.
Now, please allow me to point you to some additional awesomeness. I was reading an article in TheRumpus called "Beyond The Measure of Men," about the alleged war of women's fiction vs literary fiction I mentioned last week.
Vying with works from Bonnie Jo Campbell and Alan Heathcock and a couple others, one of my favorite collections of literary fiction this past year has been THE NEW YORKER STORIES from Ann Beattie. A remarkable collection. The story called "Coping Stones," in particular, is amazing in its ability to exist as both crime fiction and literary fiction. Well, those New Yorker kids have done it again.
The Women V. Literature article at TheRumpus mentioned a James Salter collection called LAST NIGHT. This one could be my new favorite.
And as if that weren't enough, Thomas McGuane picked that James Salter story to read and talk about in a New Yorker podcast here. So if you'd rather hear Mr. McGuane read it and discuss it with Deborah Treisman, there you go.
By the way, The Paris Review recently celebrated Salter's writing here, including this interview.
I'm going to do you all a big favor today--I'm going to get out of the way. You're welcome.
First, though, let me point you over to the new CD from Chris LaTray. His band, American Falcon, has new tunes out, which you can snag right here. I've been listening to the songs for the past week, and I guess you could describe them as a mix between Urge Overkill and The Cult. You'll want to listen for yourself, of course.
Vying with works from Bonnie Jo Campbell and Alan Heathcock and a couple others, one of my favorite collections of literary fiction this past year has been THE NEW YORKER STORIES from Ann Beattie. A remarkable collection. The story called "Coping Stones," in particular, is amazing in its ability to exist as both crime fiction and literary fiction. Well, those New Yorker kids have done it again.
The Women V. Literature article at TheRumpus mentioned a James Salter collection called LAST NIGHT. This one could be my new favorite.
In another story, a group of friends catches up on their lives and at the end, we learn that one of them is dying, doesn’t know how to share that news, and so she tells a stranger, her cab driver, who in the wake of her confession, frankly assesses her appearance.That sounds like my kind of story--sad, awkward, with a glimpse of beauty. So I read "Last Night," as it was available at The New Yorker online. The story is soul-wrenching and can be found here.
And as if that weren't enough, Thomas McGuane picked that James Salter story to read and talk about in a New Yorker podcast here. So if you'd rather hear Mr. McGuane read it and discuss it with Deborah Treisman, there you go.
By the way, The Paris Review recently celebrated Salter's writing here, including this interview.
Friday, May 21, 2010
(Literary) Fight Club
By Russel D McLean
So here we go again. And before we start, let me state straight up that I am not about to pass judgement on any writer's output or value, but I am going to try and tear down an ongoing literary slanging match that is, in my opinion, becoming increasingly harmful to both sides.
For those who haven't been keeping up, it seems that bestselling thriller writer Lee Child has either made a horrific faux-pas or, worse, he genuinely believes that literary writers “know in their heart that we could write their books but they could not write our books.”
It’s the kind of quote that, even from its alleged context (a TV debate on literary vs genre, precisely the argument that's beginning to get me down) sounds childish, petulant and plain baiting.
Reading the full quote, things start out nicely. Child claims that since his and Ian McEwan’s books were released at the same time (Child's latest is 61 HOURS, Ian McEwan's is SOLAR), the media were trying to set up some kind of grudge match. Child asks “why should I be worried about Iain McEwan’s books?” which is a fair enough question. And, I assumed, was going to go down the “look, we’re aiming for two vastly different sectors of the market, like asking whether John Woo should be worried by the latest Judd Apatow flick” kind of response.
But no, he goes for the previously mentioned statement and proceeds to make crime and thriller writers sound particularly full of themselves in the worst possible way. In the same kind of way that many literary writers have sounded when claiming that thriller and crime writers don't need to work as hard at what they do and that we're all about formula.
It doesn't help that Child picked a peculiarly poor example when it came to McEwan because, let’s face facts, McEwan sells by the boatload even though his output is less frequent than Childs. McEwan also has five movies adaptions to Child’s zero. And yet Child makes the case – however indirectly – that McEwan should somehow be jealous of him?
Here are the publishers stats on Child (as reiterated across the proofs of 61 hours): one book by Child is sold in the world every second. But does this really mean anything? Do those sales make him better or more talented than McEwan?
Here’s the thing: I’m getting fed up of the literary/genre debate. From both sides. I do believe that certain literary types have stereotyped genre as being empty of brain and purpose (which is true in some cases) while some of us genre writers have come to regard literary as so much empty posturing with only the appearance of intelligence (again, true in some cases).
However, in amongst all this mud slinging we’re forgetting an important thing:
None of it matters.
No, seriously. Because we’re all in the same damn boat, us authors of fiction. Every kind of fiction is intended to have a different effect upon the audience. Hence, McEwan’s books are attempting to induce very different emotions and reactions than a Child thriller. But they share many common features, and come from a similar spring of inspiration and creation.
So why can’t the two co-exist? Literary and genre side by side, proud to be fictional?
Why do they have to be in competition at all?
And as to Child’s later assertion that why wouldn’t a starving literary writer write a “bestseller” in the vein of Child, or even just a crime novel, let me point out from experience that many crime writers are also starving and believe me, if we could hit on that magic and very lucky formula for bestsellerdom (which McEwan has as equally as Child, despite the protestations of Child) we would be doing it. Its not like we – or our literary equivalents – are saying, “Tell you what, we’re going to write an inadequate book that’s not going to sell”. Because all writing is about connecting with an audience, and the widest audience possible. Yes, literary writers may talk less about money and audience and more about art and theme, but when you think about what sales mean you’re connecting with an audience, so money and connection to readers are concepts which have to be linked.
I’m speaking here as a man more likely to pick up a crime thriller than a literary novel, but that’s not to say that literary novels are all without merit or that all crime novels are brilliant (in fact there are many, many shitty crime novels and some translucently wondrous literary novels as well as brilliance in nearly all genres). I think – I believe – that a good book is a good book, and one that connects with an audience will do so no matter who has written it or for what reason. Maybe I’m naïve, but I honestly wish any writer – yes, even James Patterson and Dan Brown – well in what they do because, even if I don’t approve of it, clearly their work is connecting with someone somewhere. And, frankly, getting bogged down in genre wars, in macho-bullshit posturing over whose work is more important or enduring, over whether or not a literary novel could be “written in three weeks” or any number of these petty arguments, distracts us from what’s really important: writing books for readers like ourselves, books that connect with readers, that slip into people's lives, that make them say, for whatever reason, "I am glad to have read that".
In the end, it doesn’t matter what you write. Or even how big your audience is. If we all wrote the same kind of books, then the world, believe me, would be a poorer place.
So here we go again. And before we start, let me state straight up that I am not about to pass judgement on any writer's output or value, but I am going to try and tear down an ongoing literary slanging match that is, in my opinion, becoming increasingly harmful to both sides.
For those who haven't been keeping up, it seems that bestselling thriller writer Lee Child has either made a horrific faux-pas or, worse, he genuinely believes that literary writers “know in their heart that we could write their books but they could not write our books.”
It’s the kind of quote that, even from its alleged context (a TV debate on literary vs genre, precisely the argument that's beginning to get me down) sounds childish, petulant and plain baiting.
Reading the full quote, things start out nicely. Child claims that since his and Ian McEwan’s books were released at the same time (Child's latest is 61 HOURS, Ian McEwan's is SOLAR), the media were trying to set up some kind of grudge match. Child asks “why should I be worried about Iain McEwan’s books?” which is a fair enough question. And, I assumed, was going to go down the “look, we’re aiming for two vastly different sectors of the market, like asking whether John Woo should be worried by the latest Judd Apatow flick” kind of response.
But no, he goes for the previously mentioned statement and proceeds to make crime and thriller writers sound particularly full of themselves in the worst possible way. In the same kind of way that many literary writers have sounded when claiming that thriller and crime writers don't need to work as hard at what they do and that we're all about formula.
It doesn't help that Child picked a peculiarly poor example when it came to McEwan because, let’s face facts, McEwan sells by the boatload even though his output is less frequent than Childs. McEwan also has five movies adaptions to Child’s zero. And yet Child makes the case – however indirectly – that McEwan should somehow be jealous of him?
Here are the publishers stats on Child (as reiterated across the proofs of 61 hours): one book by Child is sold in the world every second. But does this really mean anything? Do those sales make him better or more talented than McEwan?
Here’s the thing: I’m getting fed up of the literary/genre debate. From both sides. I do believe that certain literary types have stereotyped genre as being empty of brain and purpose (which is true in some cases) while some of us genre writers have come to regard literary as so much empty posturing with only the appearance of intelligence (again, true in some cases).
However, in amongst all this mud slinging we’re forgetting an important thing:
None of it matters.
No, seriously. Because we’re all in the same damn boat, us authors of fiction. Every kind of fiction is intended to have a different effect upon the audience. Hence, McEwan’s books are attempting to induce very different emotions and reactions than a Child thriller. But they share many common features, and come from a similar spring of inspiration and creation.
So why can’t the two co-exist? Literary and genre side by side, proud to be fictional?
Why do they have to be in competition at all?
And as to Child’s later assertion that why wouldn’t a starving literary writer write a “bestseller” in the vein of Child, or even just a crime novel, let me point out from experience that many crime writers are also starving and believe me, if we could hit on that magic and very lucky formula for bestsellerdom (which McEwan has as equally as Child, despite the protestations of Child) we would be doing it. Its not like we – or our literary equivalents – are saying, “Tell you what, we’re going to write an inadequate book that’s not going to sell”. Because all writing is about connecting with an audience, and the widest audience possible. Yes, literary writers may talk less about money and audience and more about art and theme, but when you think about what sales mean you’re connecting with an audience, so money and connection to readers are concepts which have to be linked.
I’m speaking here as a man more likely to pick up a crime thriller than a literary novel, but that’s not to say that literary novels are all without merit or that all crime novels are brilliant (in fact there are many, many shitty crime novels and some translucently wondrous literary novels as well as brilliance in nearly all genres). I think – I believe – that a good book is a good book, and one that connects with an audience will do so no matter who has written it or for what reason. Maybe I’m naïve, but I honestly wish any writer – yes, even James Patterson and Dan Brown – well in what they do because, even if I don’t approve of it, clearly their work is connecting with someone somewhere. And, frankly, getting bogged down in genre wars, in macho-bullshit posturing over whose work is more important or enduring, over whether or not a literary novel could be “written in three weeks” or any number of these petty arguments, distracts us from what’s really important: writing books for readers like ourselves, books that connect with readers, that slip into people's lives, that make them say, for whatever reason, "I am glad to have read that".
In the end, it doesn’t matter what you write. Or even how big your audience is. If we all wrote the same kind of books, then the world, believe me, would be a poorer place.
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