Yesterday, someone asked me what the on-spec manuscript I’ve been working on, was.
My answer: a story.
No, they said, what kind of story?
With words, and characters, and Stuff Happening and their world changing, even if The World doesn’t change for them.
But what genre? they insisted. Is it fantasy? SF? YA? Mainstream? Is it Steampunk or UF? What is it?
I don’t know. Or yeah, I kind of know, because there’s magic and there’s adventure, and there’s growing up and there’s dying and there’s love and faith and the loss of same, and guns and horses and snark and drama…
But I don’t know what kind of story it is. Agent Guy and I have discussed this, and come to no real conclusion except: it’s the story I need to write right now. And when it’s done, then we’ll worry about it.
Because yeah, I’m immersed in the business side of things, as much as I can bear. I know that to keep going, I have to hit the market, keep up sales, find new readers without losing too many of the old, all that.
But there are times when thinking too much about the business of writing – the marketing and the promotion, stressing about the tropes and the memes and the audience expectations – gets in the way of the simple stillness of telling.
So yeah, when this is done, we’ll figure out what it is, what I’ve done. Right now, I can’t think about all that. I’m writing.
What do you think: smart brain-management, crazy as a fox survival tactic, or writerly denial?
cross posted to Book View Cafe