In my Day, it was Called "Straight Fiction"

 I usually write genre fiction, meaning for those who are unacquainted, stories based around some fantastical element found in science fiction, fantasy, horror and magical realism. Although the latter is often a technique used in literary fiction, it is in actuality thinly disguised genre writing. 

When I took creative writing in college, my instructor's  only hard and fast rule for our first short story was to write what he referred to as "straight fiction." That meant fiction written about the real world sans magic or extrapolated technology and for the love of Faulkner, nothing with monsters in it. It did not mean fiction without gay or bisexual characters. Being the crafty little rebel I am, I naturally wrote a thinly disguised genre piece about the end of the world by changing the cause to an exploded chemical truck and the reality to a matter of perception. I got an "A" and wrote several well-received genre pieces after that.

I have written "straight fiction" over the years but have had no luck getting it published. My sensibilities are just too out there, methinks. So, I don't write it often. 

I started one today, however, because of the death of my high school teacher. I had been searching for him online for years and finally found a death notice on Facebook posted by a relative. It hit me pretty hard. My relationship with him was complicated; I went from utterly despising him to being incredibly fond of him over the space of three years. I really wanted to know how his life was and him to see mine. 

His "sudden" death has made that impossible. 

I haven't seen him in decades and I'm not sure why I am so deeply affected by his passing. Is it because I only found him once he was gone? Is it because he was only twelve years older than me? I don't know. Maybe this piece of "straight fiction" will help me understand and deal with these feelings. It seems to be the only avenue I have available to me. 

Here's an excerpt. Feel free to post your thoughts in the comment section:

Gerry.

The nickname makes me laugh. He never knew we called him that until I was about ready to graduate and when we found out it was his actual nickname, we had the type of giddy fun exclusive to teenage boys. But as I mentioned, that was much later.

My earliest memories of Gerry are vague and corporeal. He was a loud, angry voice in the next classroom over from the one where French class took place. His Billy Badass routine often punctured a hole right through the middle of our own teacher’s rather low-key delivery, causing us to all stop and listen as he berated the younger class for not being compliant while he attempted to teach them about the past.

There were times when even the French teacher joined in the laughter in our classroom as Gerry threatened his class with going to the principal’s office and other ultimately meaningless punishments. At one point, Gerry’s tirades became an expected part of our French class experience, our French teacher having lost the battle for our attention spans weeks prior. Frankly, her French was atrocious anyway. My mother, one of the few highly educated parents, was fluent in the language of half my ancestry and flew into a rage every time I shared with her the teacher’s horrifying pronunciations.

I had seen Gerry, of course. It was a small private school with a mere few hundred students. However, since we were graded sixth through twelfth, some of the teachers didn’t teach tenth and eleventh graders. His day would come though.

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.

 

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I once again turn introspective, except this time it's about my writing.

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I'm not exactly sure what this one is. It's too short to be a story, not to mention the significant lack of characters, plot and story. It's not lyrical or image-evoking, so it definitely ain't no poem. I guess that leaves essay, that wonderful catch-all.

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