ayarbo wrote:

I have a question…how do you know in which genre you have written when your novel has several elements of many? Can you recommend any books/references?

Books?  Orson Scott Card’s How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy and Talking about Detective Fiction by P.D. James come to mind.  There’s also a book… just let me look it up… On Writing Romance: How to Craft a Novel That Sells by Leigh Michaels (which I have not read).  Stephen King’s On Writing addresses the three levels of horror writing (terror, horror, and blood and guts basically), if I remember correctly.  I know more books about writing different forms, such as screenplays or short stories, rather than genres. 

As for your question of how do you know what you’re writing, my suggestion is to distill your story to its essence.  Get rid of trappings or elements that are peripheral, or even central in a purely plot sense.  Every story is, at its heart, simple: what is the central conflict and what, ultimately, is at stake?  I’m afraid I can’t be more specific than that without knowing particulars of your story, but here are some broad guidelines:

Fantasy: The impossible/unexplainable plays a vital role in character evolution and resolution to the story.

Science Fiction: Extrapolation of the hypothetical or possible plays a vital role in character evolution and resolution of the story, and usually in offering an idea or commentary about current life.

Horror: Evil or malevolence find some form of personification or expression designed to challenge readers with their own negative emotions for the purpose of catharsis.

Literary: Commentary on society (mostly contemporary) that fosters ambiguity and develops conflict to its most complex and leaves the reader to supply a final resolution.

Inspirational: Conflict is overcome in a manner designed to validate morality and basic human goodness, often attached to religion and spirituality.

Adventure: Plot driven stories that play heavily on exterior stakes, mostly using a male protagonist who cannot change too severely over the course of the story because substantial capability is required from the beginning.

Romance: All other elements and stakes of the story are subjugated to the fate of one or a small number of potential romantic relationships.

Women’s: Relationships and societal forces challenge and facilitate evolution of a woman as an individual or women as a close group.

Mystery: A story about what is going to happen or why did something happen.

Thriller: A story about will the protagonist survive significant harm or tragedy while trying to resolve a crisis or question. 

And, just in an attempt to helpful, here are some tips about writing for specific ages:

Children’s: The story resolves allowing children to still be children.

YA: The story resolves with children being forced to adopt some adult skill sets.

Adult: The story is not one of the previous, or looks upon childhood or youth with a measure of nostalgia.

Does that help, ayarbo?  If you want more specific feedback on what your story may be just head to my contact page and give me a short summary.

Susanne asked:

What is the difference between Science Fiction and Speculative Fiction?

Consider speculative fiction something of a super-genre, or a category that includes several mainstream genres: fantasy, science fiction, and horror.  Each of these genres then split off into multiple sub-genres (think high fantasy or military sci-fi).  It is called speculative fiction because these stories all have a major speculative element, or something that is not factual in reality.  Fantasy is usually defined by something magical or mystical; science fiction involves something that may theoretically be possible given extrapolation of our current understanding of natural law; horror generally involves some incarnate of evil, whether literal or metaphorical, often a being or entity of some sort (which is what differentiates horror from thriller).   

So, you can think of speculative fiction as the big tent under which fantasy, science fiction, and horror all reside.  I use the term speculative fiction more than most because much of what I write doesn’t fit cleanly into any of the three main genres under the tent.  This is sometimes called a ”slipstream” story, or a story that slips from one genre to another and back.  I find it easier to call my writing speculative because it doesn’t mislead people into expecting something more well defined, which much of my writing isn’t.  If people read some of my stories expecting high or epic fantasy because it’s called fantasy, they’ll be confused and maybe disappointed.      

Next post: an update on my visits to Farnsworth and Jordan Ridge Elementaries.

Vivia wrote the following:

I plan to attend the workshop each month. Do you attend regularly? I am willing to learn, and would welcome any advice you can give me.

If you mean the Oquirrh chapter meeting of the League of Utah Writers, I attend as often as I can. It was the first writers organization of any kind I ever became involved with, and through the people I met there a lot of important things have happened in my career. Also, I’ve made a lot of friends in the group, as well as throughout the other chapters of the League. So I go as often as I can.

Back to Vivia:

What does LTUE stand for?

Life, the Universe, and Everything: The Marion K. “Doc” Smith Symposium on Science Fiction & Fantasy. No, I’m not making that up. 2010 is the 28th annual holding of the conference. Er, um, symposium. I believe one’s nose must be slightly elevated in a snooty way to pronounce that word properly, by the way. That’s why I call it a conference. I can do snooty, but not very well.

Vivia (a name I am going to “borrow” for a character at some point) concludes with:

Hope to someday read one of your books. I will get one as soon as possible.

As things hoped for go, this is about the grandest of them all. World peace is almost as good.

Now to practice my assembly presentation a few times before visiting Farnsworth Elementary later today. Not that I’m complaining, not at all, but I’m still a little perplexed at how intelligent, responsible adults can knowingly and willingly expose large numbers of children to me. I’m pretty sure my odd breed of madness is catching. Oh well. Who doesn’t appreciate 300 tetched elementary students?

L.T. Elliot wrote the following in response to my post about waiting:

I hate to sound preachy but have you thought of submitting elsewhere? A year’s a long time and unless you have some specific agreement with these individuals, I would consider sending out your MS to other venues. You’re a good writer, Clint. I wouldn’t wait to see if other fish take the bait.

First off, thank you very much for the compliment.  As for thoughts on submitting elsewhere, yes, I have considered it seriously.  What I’ve decided is to do my best to have my cake and eat it too.  I think the book is a terrific fit with this particular publisher, and that combined with a strong recommendation I received make me think that my chances with this house are about as good as they come in this industry.  For these reasons, I’ve wanted to respect their exclusivity for the time being—at least among publishers.

What I have done is submitted the book to agents.  That doesn’t count as a multiple submission, so no breaking the exclusivity I promised.  Meanwhile, if a really good agent falls for the book before a contract offer is extended, I’ll be able to discuss the next step with them.  If they believe that submitting to other houses is the best step, I’ll do that; if they want to approach the current publisher and seek a deal, I’ll do that.  If, on the other hand, the publisher does offer a deal first, I’ll contact my top agents and tell them that an offer is on the table and I’d be interested in exploring representation.  Either way, it works well for me.

So that’s the situation in more depth, L.T.  I don’t have all my eggs in one basket, exactly; rather, I’m trying to cook them two different but complimentary ways.  It’s just a fact of the business that even when you’ve got things on multiple burners—which all writers should, if they’re serious about publishing—you find yourself waiting a lot while the pots simmer.  Four of my top agents have had my package for a long time now, and the publisher’s had my book for an eternity.  None of it’s empirical evidence, but the trends are looking good.  It’s just one of those times when I have to let things finish cooking, no matter how hungry I am.

Perhaps I should say starving?  Famished?  Or maybe follow Shakespeare and use the classic “in a consumption.”  Well, take your pick, whichever screams to you more loudly, “I HATE WAITING!”

MrsBucket, also known as Lori, asked the following:

A couple of questions about the downloadable study guides: Did you write them? Other than theme, they don’t really address reading strategies; is that something you think children should be taught? I’m interested in how you, as a children’s writer, think children should approach books. Vocabulary, comprehension, et al. are good, but what about deep reading (i.e. critical theory)? Do you think that’s something children can and should learn or no?

I did write them.  As for reading strategies/deep reading (which are synonyms for the same types of moves), these are tactics or methods to achieve comprehension, not separate things.  Readers adopt particular strategies to help them decode a text; readers read deeply rather than superficially to comprehend the meaning of the text more completely and intimately.  So, the way I interpret your question is: “Why didn’t I include more proscribed critical reading methods in the study guide?”

Two answers.  First, I did give some basic critical reading strategies in the form of a reading journal that teachers can have their students keep.  In the journal I suggest that students: 1) summarize the chapter, which is a distillation thought process that involves creating a heirarchy of information, essential to understanding any text; 2) record words they did not understand to be learned later or looked up in the dictionary, which teaches both intertextuality and rereading; 3) a section where students record questions they have about the chapter, an exercise of self-monitored comprehension; and 4) a few sentence response to each chapter, an exercise of reflection that introduces basic, non-threatening reader-participant awareness.  The guide recommends that this journal be kept for each chapter, so you can see that there are quite a few opportunities to learn these basic critical reading strategies and processes.

Also, deep reading entails certain types of thought, such as analysis, synthesis, and problem-solving, among other metacognitive processes.  Contained within the comprehension sections of the guides are questions and prompts that require all three of these specified modes of thought.  Analysis is addressed through many what and why questions, including some that encourage readers to privilege certain characters, actions, or situations, which all requires analysis.  The “Crystal Ball” sections of the guide ask readers to predict what will happen in the future in the story, which requires a logical identification and analysis of past events.  The “Exploring Theme” sections often ask students to synthesize  material from the story with their own experience and contemporary culture.   Finally, the children are frequently asked both to identify and critique problem solving shown in the story and to solve similar problems on their own.

I guess I’m saying that the guide does, I feel, facilitate deep reading in many different ways appropriate to the primary educational audience of the book.  

My second reason for structuring the guides the way I did (emphasizing the reader’s comprehension and response over proscribed reading tactics)?  Because the book is for 8-13 year olds (the primary audience), I’m less concerned that they learn specific ways to read critically than that they become aware that such options exist in a text.  When children read, some of the moves and cognitive processes adults make unconsciously take conscious effort.  Reading deeply is more difficult for children and, frequently, not possible at certain depths.  I had very little interest is giving a bunch of theoretical tools that the kids weren’t yet equipped to use. 

Instead, I took a response-based approach.  Sometimes the best way to teach a method or technique, especially to learners new to such skills, is to start with the results of their cognitive processes.  By examining the thoughts and feelings (what they comprehend) from the text, kids gradually become aware that their understanding is not exactly the same as their classmates’ and their teacher’s.  Further discussion results in evolved understanding of the text, which promotes the realization that their current comprehension is not a perfect given, but instead came from somewhere.  For this age group, this realization is what I’m going for.  I want them to know that options and factors do affect the way we read.  That they understand which factors and how these function takes greater metacognitive awareness and is more demanding, and they have a whole lifetime of reading and school to learn that.  And they will—as long as they understand the basic truth that comprehending what we read takes effort, tools, and intent.

To put all this more simply, I didn’t want teachers telling kids how to read this book.  I want kids to read it however they are currently equipped and to enjoy it—then I want them to take the understandings they have gleaned, discuss those, and reverse engineer their own understanding of their cognitive processes.  I don’t care if they do things perfectly, efficiently, or even correctly.  By continually examining “What is the effect of this?” in groups, kids are led gently down the path “So how did I get here?”  If students are asking themselves that question, even without realizing it, the guides have done their job.

Does that makes sense?  I hope so.  As always, if anyone has other questions—or wants to argue with me about my answer to this—Bring it on!

Yesterday L. T. Elliot asked this:

Question: Do you think you’ll always write MG or YA? Will you try your hand at adult fantasy?

Will try, have tried, and have books of which I’m proud, actually (and some of which I’m not).  The first three novels I wrote were all for adults; two were epic fantasy and the third was historical fiction.  The fourth was an attempt at a YA fantasy novel that adults would enjoy, and I think that’s what I ended up with so I hardly count that as writing for children or youth.  The fifth was also for adults (a period thriller/mystery/alternate history/depressingly comical allegory).

The fact is that GDC is the first book I ever wrote for kids.  It’s the first piece of any kind I wrote for kids, and while I like and am proud of it—and genuinely feel children will enjoy the book—I still don’t think of myself as a children’s writer.  I’m beginning to lose that sense of being a writer for adults, but that’s being replaced by a more schizophrenic identify of writer of stories, mostly long, that I hope people will like.  While each story has particulars on who exactly those people are likely to be, that profile doesn’t extend to me as the writer.

This is probably a dumb admission, but I think my skill in writing for children is just catching up to that of my writing for adults.  Again, while GDC is good, I think some of my work for adults is better.  At least, I like it more, and I don’t think that is an arbitrary judgment.  Moreover, I know for a fact that my second children’s novel—you won’t hear the working title until I’ve seen it on a contract, sorry—is better.  It’s as good as anything I’ve ever written for adult readers.  Maybe better.  If you can’t tell, I’m really excited about it, and it more than anything has helped me shed that pigeonholed identity as a writer for those over four feet high.

But as testament to just how erratic is my storytelling bent, having written two kids’ books of which I’m proud, and one that I think has the potential to be intriguing in its distinctiveness, my next novel will be a period allegory about many different cultural mythologies and mysticism, marital traditions, and the notion of love—with an evil angel thrown in!  Think of it as a mix of Louisa May Alcott meets Dante meets Rabbi Yehuda Ashlag with a bit of Neil Gaiman added for spice (all my work has a bit of Neil Gaiman added for spice).   Don’t know what exactly to call this chimera?  Neither do I, but then I only have three chapters finished, and if those tell me anything it’s that this isn’t for ten year olds.  The proposal’s all ready to go, though.  I’m just waiting to see if the contract I’m hoping for comes through, because that will change my bargaining leverage. 

Anyway, long answer to a simple question.  The brief version: Yes, I have written fantasy for adults, and will again, and in the future, hopefully, you’ll be able to read these works.  You’ll also be able to read my work for children and teens, all of the above in just about every genre, and a bunch that I make up as I go.  At least, that’s the plan.  It’s kind of like crossing a hi wire on a rollerblade in which you put a spinning top to stand on.  Whatever happens, should be fun to watch.