Getting Over the Need to Please Fanboys in Genre Writing:

 

While the assertions by many genre fiction fans that literary fiction is dead or dying are ridiculous, the fact that genre fiction has attained market dominance is most certainly not.  In fact, a 2014 report issued by the German Book Office (GBO) New York ranked fiction and “Juveniles” in its top two for 2012 and 2013, adding that, “Fiction and Juvenile genres continue to dominate the market, accounting for over 27 percent of new titles and editions in 2013.” That trend has shown no signs of slowing down either, especially considering the enormous popularity of fantasy-based television programming and pop culture monoliths such as the San Diego ComicCon.

  With the popularity of genre fiction has also come the inevitable feeling of exaggerated importance on the part of those who feel responsible for its market dominance; fanboys and fangirls.  In case you don’t know what those terms mean, the Oxford dictionary defines “fanboy” as an informal derogatory regarding, “A male fan, especially one who is obsessive about movies, comic books, or science fiction.”  The definition is incomplete, however, as its compilers overlook the genres of horror and fantasy.

With apologies to Persian Poet Muslih-ud-Din, I lamented that I was a fanboy until I started using social networking.  Yes, I’m a fan of all the genres mentioned above. Yes, I have definite and sometimes emphatic opinions about how others present my favorite characters and storylines.  However, as a writer who prefers to dwell in his own fictional universe, I am forced to bring my adoration to a screeching halt several feet from the border of irrationality so many fanboys (and girls) embrace as their Information Age right.

Simply put, there are some real nutters out there and they’ve got major buying power!

           Let’s be clear: There’s nothing wrong with feeling a sense of ownership when it comes to a series of books and its characters. One thing literary fiction readers will never understand is the sense of community and we’re-in-this-together mentality of genre fiction.  For many years, anything aside from straight-forward fiction was relegated to second-class status, with a smattering of works somehow rising “above” their perceived lower caste.  Deceased authors of speculative fiction often found themselves being “rediscovered” by those of a more literary bent, their work now available in the fiction category. As an author of genre work, I get all that. I really do.  But that doesn’t excuse the behavior so prevalent on message boards and social network sites.

            A great-fanged beast has been uncaged thanks to the perceived “power” on loan from the Web gods, and it is hell-bent on devouring anything before it that dares not agree with its views.  For those of us who seldom agree with them but still like to think of ourselves as fans, that’s rather disheartening.

            We might be a minority—although I suspect we’re actually a silent, cowed majority— but there are those of us who enjoy a good genre film or book and don’t feel the need to run around in costumes or play roleplaying games.  Some of us see it as fun or even enlightening entertainment designed for social commentary as well as thrills, still holding out hope that the stories being told can help humanity grow and learn from its mistakes as well as its accomplishments.  Pleasant diversions aside, the inmates are not merely running the asylum; they’re also running the town outside its walls.

            So, what does all this mean for those of us toiling away to supposedly make a difference and, in our lofty inner worlds, keep things elevated?

            The first and most important thing is to not allow any of that to sway us from our chosen paths.  Much has been made in the creative fields of not “selling out,” and while it’s a cliché, it would be a disservice to writers everywhere to deny its inherent value as a sentiment.  The very fact that you are contemplating the consequences of doing it means there’s some level of integrity others might not share. It also means you should stick to your guns and follow your heart and several other horribly unoriginal sayings I refuse to employ in this sentence.

            The fanboy might seem loyal and committed, but he is often fickle and on the cusp of turning his back.  Last year’s hot premise is this year’s mocked dying fad.  Remember those sparkly vampires?  How many imitators made a significant impact on the publishing industry?

            It simply cannot be said often enough that a writer’s time is better spent developing her own ideas rather than trying to create the next pop culture event based on what’s already popular.  Don’t worry about pleasing the fanboys; if what you’re doing is something they can claim they were into before it was cool, they will find you.

            Remember: They should be following you, not the other way around.

 

From the "Oh Dear God, Nooooo!' Files

No judgment, but the following anthology description is definitely one I'd prefer to have wiped from my memory with a laser and a Brillo Pad:

"This erotic horror anthology challenges you to come with a creepy but sexual narrative of furry characters transforming into objects."

Hellooooo, Turkmenistan!

I've given up on understanding the how and the why of where people who view this blog live.
But this one was a bit of a shocker:

 
 
ttt





 Turkmenistan???







 

Seeing Sequels to Movies I Hated

I know I've written about this before but feel it needs reiterating: The idea that there are people who see movies, feel underwhelmed, and then say, "But you know the sequel is gonna be really good," is  beyond idiotic to me. It isn't that they needed to love a movie in order to see its sequel. It isn't even that they found a way to become invested enough in the story or characters or both to return. The idiotic part comes from the assumption that the first movie is often underwhelming but just wait for that next one, man!

Seriously? Have we become so addled by mediocrity and cynical marketing that we accept our own stupidity as justification for why our entertainment fails to work?

What bothers me even more, however, is when the people who act this way treat me as if I'm the crazy one when I say there is no way in hell I'm seeing a sequel to a movie I hated. Why would I? Why would anyone? That's anywhere from ninety minutes to over three hours of my life I'll never get back. Why the hell would I want to subject myself to that again? And more importantly, if I'm not invested after the first movie, why should I care what happens in the second one?

For years, a friend of mine has been doing this level best to convince me to see the sequels to a movie I absolutely despised because he sincerely believes I will say the second one was the one the filmmakers should have started with. When I reply that that would just piss me off because I spent time watching the first one, he seems baffled by my response.

That film series, along with the rest, is listed below in where I have compiled several examples of movies I saw whose sequels I do not ever plan to watch even for free:

The Matrix Reloaded: I found the first movie derivative, trite and poorly acted.

It: Chapter 2: Worst movie I saw in 2017. A total rape of the source material by a hack filmmaker and a terrible cast of bad actors.

The Second Pirates of the Caribbean: Come on! Have we met?

Frozen 2: (See Pirates reply)

The Hobbit 2: Not saying Jackson lost his mojo but it was nowhere on display in the first Hobbit film.


You'll notice some of these films are more than a few years old and only one hasn't yet been released. There are others but these are good examples. There have also been films whose sequels I swore I'd never see but did because of my investment in the character(s) via other interpretations, but even then I feel dirty and was pretty disappointed.

I was recently asked if I was going to wait to see the second "It" when it was released on DVD and I merely shook my head. At some point, with the exception of this post, I came to the conclusion that there really is nothing else to be said~

Shameless Self-Promotion and why I still avoid it.

Yesterday I was chided by a co-worker as we walked into one of the libraries I work for to start our day. She and I have worked together for at least two years  now if not longer and somehow she had never heard that I was a published author.

Keep in mind, this is a library. A place that could potentially carry my work and larger collections containing my contributions. Most of the people I work with know I'm a writer, although some of them may not know how much I've actually had published. Some of you are probably reading this in disbelief, thinking about how if you were a published author, everybody would know about it. I have no problem with that, it's just not how I have chosen to live my life.

I am by no means an extremist, however. I have a colleague from my old writing workshop days who doesn't tell co-workers anything about her secret identity as a published author. She prefers to keep the two parts of herself separate. I don't mind mixing them because, to my way of thinking, they aren't separate.

Being an author isn't a "side-hustle," that loathsome, ubiquitous expressions notwithstanding. It is the direct end result of being a writer. The author completes his or her work and sees it published and, gods willing, read by at least one dedicated, lonely individual out there living in a Unabomber-style shack, with apologies to The Simpsons. It is the final manifestation of all those undeniable creative urges we have felt since we can remember. The need to tell a story, to express one's self, cannot be reduced to a mere "hustle" to obtain extra cash. We'll leave that to dubious success stories such as the so-called "Food Babe and this guy.

So, when pressed to talk about my writing, a small part of me feels like a cheap huckster if I go too far, which I define as mentioning all the low, low prices my work can be purchased for if you just act now! 

What do I look like, one of those brazen self-publishing fanatics who fell for the algorithm-manipulating strategy of the mid-2000s?

I suspect my co-worker felt out of the loop more than anything else. When I told her I post on Facebook about my work all the time, she told me she only went on Facebook to read my bizarre, funny rants. I didn't have the heart to tell her she basically has seen my writing in that case.

However, in the interest of not alienating anyone who might be unaware of how or where to find the bulk of my published work, click this link.

OUCH!

The anthology in which my short story, "The Last Big Gamble" appears certainly garnered a mostly negative reaction from this reader! I guess I got off easy since she never mentioned me or my story because yikes!

It happens, of course. Tastes are subjective and since this particular reader identifies herself as a Las Vegas resident, accuracy and authenticity are important to her when writers represent her city. Some of the criticisms she has of the anthology in general are definitely worth paying attention to, particularly where she wrote, "After completing the collection, I couldn't help but wonder why these other authors didn't think of using Vegas history to create a cool story like this author did, instead of creating half-assed barely-about-Vegas stories."

I understand that reaction all too well. Stories set in Detroit and other parts of Michigan often feel like they were written about the East Coast using dialogue no one in my home-state would utter. But sometimes the concept and plot are good enough that that isn't a deciding factor for me. This reviewer clearly doesn't feel that way. For her, authenticity seems to be paramount and that is a perfectly valid reaction. 

However, I did intentionally make vague allusions to how Vegas got its start without providing a blatant history lesson. My story takes place in a post-vacation destination reality where people barely remember what it was like before. Something is alive in the desert and is feeding off their hope. If a story about tragic people desperately trying to break even with the odds stacked against them isn't about Vegas, then perhaps that city has a lot of work to do on its reputation with the rest of the world. 

I am glad the reviewer found two stories she enjoyed, however, whether or not mine was one she even noticed. Can't please everyone. 

R.I.P. Burt Reynolds

Burt saw this coming, hence the book "But Enough About Me" but it still hurts to lose one of the iconic actors of my youth. Because of his incredible sense of humor despite all the screwing over he received from Hollywood, the cartoon below is both appropriate and fitting. A fond farewell to the man who chose fun roles over heady ones because that's how he chose to live his life.

They Love me in Other Countries?

Something that's probably only of interest to me and possibly one as yet unrevealed stalker out there in the literary hinterlands, here is a snapshot of my stats randomly chosen from a recent date. It doesn't interest me as much to know how people are finding this page (Hell, Facebook!) but where they're from when they find it does.

I'm not ashamed to admit I had to Google "Belarus."
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