Author: Zoë (Page 6 of 7)

Genre matters

28th June, 2012 / Zoë / 0 Comments

As long as there has been literature, there has been a desire and need to group it into categories. There is no officially agreed set of literary genres, and the more I become involved in the publishing industry, the more I realise that these days genre is as much about target audience and marketing strategy as it is about stylistic categorisation or plot type.

It seems that many publishing houses and literary agents are increasingly focused on categorising books by what they believe a given demographic will buy and read, rather than the contents of the books themselves. This makes it incredibly difficult for writers whose work crosses age, gender or racial boundaries and has potential appeal to a wider audience. You’d think wider appeal would mean a more saleable book, right? Not according to the experts.

Let’s take the genre currently known as Young Adult, for example. (Note: to me this has always been a ridiculous name for the age-group spanning the years between 12 and 18: since when is a twelve-year-old ANY kind of adult? But that’s a rant for another day.) The basic requirement for a Young Adult novel is that its protagonist is between the ages of 12 and 18 years (though 13 to 17 seems to be the best bet), and deals with the sorts of issues kids in this age range are interested in and go through themselves (or, if we’re going to be totally cynical, what older people think kids in this age range are interested in). While I believe there’s a very appropriate safety-net involved in this categorisation, (you can at least be fairly confident they’re not going to contain a lot of gratuitous sex, swearing or violence), to suggest that all people this age like the same kind of books is ludicrous. Do all people between 30 and 50 like the same books? So then a sub-genre system is employed; we have YA Contemporary, YA Fantasy, YA Sci Fi… and so on.

So what’s wrong with that? you ask. Nothing. Except that it pigeonholes both the books and the people who might read them. If you categorise books by life-stage, you’re saying that once you’ve completed a life-stage, you no longer have any interest in it, even for nostalgia’s sake. Or if you haven’t reached a certain life-stage, you can’t be interested in it yet.

Have you ever felt embarrassed because you enjoyed a Young Adult title, even though you’re in your twenties, thirties or older? I know plenty of people who were embarrassed to admit they’d read and loved The Hunger Games trilogy simply because it was classified YA. And yet, had the protagonist been just a couple of years older, it would have been marketed as Adult Dystopian, and those people would have been able to proudly proclaim how much they enjoyed it.

Then there is the lost genre, dubbed ‘New Adult’ by St. Martin’s Press in 2011. A ‘New Adult’ is someone in the approximate age range of 18-25, dealing with the pressures of becoming responsible for his or her own life for the first time. It’s a period in anyone’s life fraught with change, stress, excitement, adventure… all the ingredients for a great story. And yet, this genre is a black-hole according to a vast number of agents and publishers. Why? Because apparently 18-25 year olds don’t read.

Next steps

23rd June, 2012 / Zoë / 4 Comments

Things became interesting this week when I received not one, but two requests from New York literary agencies who want to read more of Amaranth. It’s both exciting and terrifying to come so close: it could be the start of something huge, or it could just give me further to fall. But what I want to be able to take away from this development is the knowledge that there are at least two agents out there who think my work is worth their time. That is HUGE.

The Militant Author

18th June, 2012 / Zoë / 0 Comments

What does it really take to be a writer? Talent? Skill? What happens when everything else gets in the way and a writer can’t find time to write? After all, we have day jobs, bills to pay, children, partners and pets to love, friendships to maintain… everything takes up time, and it can begin to feel like things are attacking the time that could be spent writing. This is something I talk about in my guest blog on Bookkus.com.

As part of their blog series entitled “The (Vacant) Author”, my post, The Militant Author, explores what it’s like to fit writing in around life, and life in around writing.

Bookkus is a new, independent publishing house looking to enlist real people to choose the books they publish. They’re currently taking on submissions from authors as well as looking for readers who want to participate in getting the books they are passionate about published.

Interview with Barefoot Basics

14th June, 2012 / Zoë / 0 Comments

I recently got in touch with Rochelle Stone of Barefoot Basics, an Australian-based marketing company working to assist authors entering the publishing industry for the first time. She requested an interview about my novel, Amaranth, which has today been published on the Barefoot Basics website. I talked to Rochelle about the book itself as well as how I manage my time between writing, self-promotion and holding down a day job.

Vocal challenges

31st May, 2012 / Zoë / 2 Comments

My current work in progress is proving quite a challenge, and one of the key reasons for this is voice. When I mentioned my struggles to a friend recently, he said he could always recognise my voice in my writing, and that when he reads my work, he hears my voice in his head. I tried to explain this wasn’t quite what I meant, but I realised he had a point. I began to wonder if it is actually possible to separate the writer from the writing.

Amaranth is written in the first person, and the narrator is a nineteen year old girl named Eva. If I’m honest with myself, Eva’s narrative voice is very close to my own internal narrative; I wrote her much the same way I would write myself. She has a dry, dark sense of humour, is given to pessimism (and melodrama) and can be quite caustic. It was quite easy to write from her perspective.

However, the next book in the series is written from a different character’s perspective, and though she is also a girl in her late teens, she is a very different character to Eva. She’s bright, bubbly, mischievous and though she has a dark past, she refuses to let it get her down. It was a complete shift in gears for me, and I’m glad I took the time to write some short stories in between novels so that I could cleanse my palate of Eva, as much as is possible anyway, given the points I made above.

The interesting part is that two chapters in, though I’m struggling to keep the new voice authentic through word choice and structure, I’m finding the best thing I can do is to adopt her mindset. Method writing, perhaps? In order to know instinctively how she would react and what she would say in any given situation, I need to think like she would. I’ve found it rather therapeutic to shift my brain into nothing-gets-me-down girl; I’ve stopped for a break a number of times and found that I’ve been unconsciously smiling.

Reading back through the chapters I’ve written so far, I have managed to create a distinctly different voice for this novel, and yet my writing voice is still in there. Perhaps there are writers in the world who are true chameleons and can write in a completely different voice from book to book, but I am not quite there yet. And yet… I’m not sure I want to be. Not entirely. When I pick up a book by a favourite author, I want to hear his or her voice in there somewhere. It’s like a trademark. No, on second thoughts, it’s more subtle than that. It’s more of a watermark. Something at the nucleus of the writing that stamps it as theirs, and without it, I wouldn’t be able to trust the unfamiliar book to deliver what I liked about previous works.

Ideally, I want to find a balance. I hope that at some point my work will have fans who don’t know me personally, and don’t know what my real-life voice sounds like. For those people, I would hope to create something new and engaging each time, but with an intangible familiarity that allows them to trust that they’re going to get a healthy dose of what I do, no matter who the characters are, what they achieve or where I take them.

A Sequel to Amaranth

28th May, 2012 / Zoë / 0 Comments

I’ve just begun work on a sequel to Amaranth, and although I won’t share too much about the actual story just yet, I can tell you how it came about. Originally, Amaranth was quite a different story; it was still based on a girl who committed suicide, but I had a completely different story planned for her than the one she ended up with. I had planned for Amaranth to have two very distinct parts, the first where Eva discovers her new existence and meets young Nicky and Elliot, the second would take place around ten years later when Nicky was eighteen and Elliot into his twenties. By the time I was halfway through the plan for what Amaranth eventually became, I realised I was never going to fit all of it into one book, especially since there are quite strict word limits for first-time authors as a rule. I’d also had real trouble with how to manage such a significant time jump without having to spend a long time describing what had happened in the interim and boring readers to sleep.

The best way I could think to tackle this problem was to further develop what I had in mind for Amaranth and split the whole idea into two books. But then the book took on a life of its own, and Timothy asserted himself into a main character in a way I hadn’t intended. He became key to the whole story and made it so that the second book could never really be about Eva.

The result is that though Book Two will essentially have the same plot I’d always intended, it won’t be a linear follow-on to Eva’s story. There will be new characters, and the ones we already met in Amaranth will have ten more years under their belts and will have changed in ways even I hadn’t anticipated.

Sabra’s Fathers

16th May, 2012 / Zoë / 0 Comments

Nick and Darren have been together for five years, but it’s only recently that Nick has started to think about parenthood. Though he knows they are financially unable to consider surrogacy, and Darren is not interested in adoption, Nick can’t stop thinking about the idea of being a father. When his best friend has a baby, his dreams take flight and he plans a trip to South Africa to meet with an adoption agency, letting Darren believe they are just going on a safari holiday.

This story was inspired by a number of things: firstly by the African child I began sponsoring at the beginning of this year, secondly by a gay couple, friends of ours, who have just announced their second surrogate pregnancy and also by friends who have mixed feelings about parenthood. I also recalled my days working at the Equal Opportunity Commission, and some of the cases we dealt with that involved discrimination against gay people. I wanted to write a story that could be about any couple, gay or straight, that explored issues all couples face. The story serves to illustrate the challenges facing couples considering parenthood, and the emotions they can experience.

Sabra’s Fathers is complete at 3600 words.

Waiting For Her

9th May, 2012 / Zoë / 0 Comments

This week I decided to take a look at a day in the life of a shut-in. Someone who waits all day for the person who takes care of him to return, unable to leave, trapped inside by his own fears and neuroses.

The inspiration for this story came from my two cats, Sushi and Mojo. They have been inside-cats their whole lives. When we first brought them home from the shelter, we lived on the second floor and the only safe place to let them out was onto the balcony. Since we’ve moved to a first floor apartment, they have the opportunity to go out but are now too scared. Sometimes when the windows are open, they press their noses to the frame, breathing in all the exotic scents the outside world has to offer. They would love to venture out, but all those fascinating things are terrifying at the same time. They never make it past the doormat.

What I wanted to achieve with this story was a sort of exploration of these types of fears, but in a way that shows how people and animals share the same types of fears. And how the love of another can assuage those fears with the smallest touch.

Waiting For Her is complete at 1800 words.

What I’m Made Of

2nd May, 2012 / Zoë / 0 Comments

Jamie, his dad and his grandpa go on a hiking trip and stay in a remote cabin overnight. On the hike, Jamie slips and falls down a cliff, injuring his knees and face. After enduring his grandfather’s insults and abuse all day, Jamie lies awake listening to his father and grandfather argue about the best way to raise a boy. He learns things about his grandfather’s past neither he nor his father ever knew.

The inspiration for this story came from a night I spent in my partner’s family’s summer cabin close to Fredrikstad and the Swedish border. My daughter was asleep in one of the bunk-rooms and I spent the entire evening cringing every time someone’s voice would get louder than a whisper, terrified she’d wake up and give us all a terrible night’s sleep. My partner’s step-father got to talking about his life and his relationship with his father, and later I discovered he’d never really talked about it this way before. I began to wonder what it would have been like if my daughter, now almost two years old, had been a little older and had been lying awake listening to the conversation. I don’t have many memories of my grandparents talking about their lives, their experiences and their parents, and I realised that I’ve missed out on knowing about where I came from because of this.

A child often has so little knowledge of who and where they’ve come from. But much of the riddle of our own existence lies in the lives of others who came before us. I explore this theme in What I’m Made Of. The story is complete at 2000 words.

Defect

25th April, 2012 / Zoë / 0 Comments

When I lived in Australia I had no immediate plans to leave, indeed I built a house in which I thought I would one day raise my children. But after I left I realised how much of a foreigner I had always felt myself there. Defect is an exploration of my ambivalent feelings for my home country, and how distant I always was from all things Australian.

I wrote this piece intending to build it into a work of fiction, but the subject matter was far too close to me and I couldn’t separate myself from it. It is a raw, honest piece that was quite unsettling to write. It is never a pleasant sensation to realise you are so disconnected from everything and everyone you’ve come from, but in writing it, I was able to put more of a finger on exactly where the disconnect lies.

Defect is complete at 1500 words.

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