Switching teams

By P.D. Martin

When you talk to agents or publishers about switching genres it's usually met with jaws dropping, heads shaking and anything from mild disapproval to screams of "No!"

So why is it that switching genres can produce such a strong reaction? You'd think you were announcing to your family that you were switching teams. (If you're a Seinfeld fan you'll be following my analogy, but if you're a little lost, here's the missing piece of the puzzle: the characters in Seinfeld used to talk about people "batting for the other team", which meant they were gay rather than heterosexual. And, as you've probably guessed, switching teams means changing sexual orientation.) So….

Why does something as seemingly small and insignificant as switching genres produce a jaw-dropping reaction? I mean, it's just a genre, right? A story is a story. Right? Well, it's actually more complex than that.

At this point, I should come clean. I'm a chronic genre switcher. (Although you wouldn't know it by looking at my published novels - on the surface I appear to be a mystery novelist firmly entrenched in the police procedural/forensic thriller zone.) However, I DO believe a story is a story and I often get story ideas for a range of genres. For example, before getting published I wrote two children's fantasy novels (which remain unpublished). Then for my third book I was deciding between three different ideas, all in different genres! I had one crime fiction, one action/espionage thriller and one mainstream women's fiction. In the end, as you may have guessed, I chose the crime fiction story and wrote what became my first published novel, Body Count.

 

But the other novels and ideas have stayed with me, as well as new ideas. Another example…I'm a bit of a closet vampire fiction fan (I know, big confession) and after I'd written three Sophie books I wanted to write a vampire fiction book. But my agent convinced me to stay focused on crime, and Sophie. Why upset the apple cart?

What about my first two children's books? People often assume it would be easy to get them published now that I'm a published author. To a certain extent the first books an author writes tend to be learning experiences, a way for them to refine their craft. Having said that, I still believe in one of my children's books; I believe the writing is good enough. Problem is, it's a different genre. Publishers and agents think of an author's name as a brand. Promote the brand and keep the brand 'strong' by ensuring the author's name is synonymous with a certain type of book. 'P.D. Martin' is crime fiction/mysteries/thrillers. And obviously I wouldn't want to bring out a children's novel under the same name anyway because I definitely wouldn't want 8-12 year olds who enjoyed my fantasy novels to pick up one of my crime books!

So why not publish under a different name? It's all about time and focus. After all, if you go and write a romance novel or a children's fantasy series, that's going to take time away from the mysteries, right? Basically, your agent and publisher(s) try to convince you to focus on writing in your current genre and at least one book a year. It seems that's the magical formula in publishing. Of course, genre hopping can be more easily done if you can write two books a year - then you'd still be bringing out one book a year in each series.

I've scrapped the children's fantasy novels, at least for now. But I still want/wanted to do something different. After five Sophie novels and one ebook novella, I went back to my action thriller idea and I've just finished writing that book.  While it is very different to my Sophie Anderson series, crime fiction and action thrillers aren't SO different that my new one couldn't be a 'P.D. Martin book'. At least, I think it's okay.

Of course, there are authors who have successfully crossed the divide. One that comes to mind is Nora Roberts. She started off with straight romance novels and then moved on to romantic suspense, writing as J.D. Robb. Although, interestingly, the books bear both of her names, with the byline "Nora Roberts writing as J.D. Robb". I also noticed from Wikipedia that she'd always wanted to write romantic suspense but was persuaded by her agent to stay focused on romance until she built a following. In fact, it was over 10 years before she finally got her wish to write romantic suspense and it was partly in response to her prolific output.

Scottish author Val McDermid also has a series she writes under V.L. McDermid. However, the rationale is not genre-based because all her books are mysteries. Rather, her V.L. books feature a lesbian protagonist (batting for the other team), while her Val books are considered more 'mainstream'.

Murderati's own Tess Gerritsen is another example of an author who successfully switched genres. She started with romantic thrillers and then moved to medical thrillers, then crime thrillers. Interestingly, she HAS written all her novels using the same name and said when she changed from romantic thrillers to medical thrillers she considered releasing them under a different name but ultimately decided against it. Tess sees advantages and disadvantages. When she switched genres, she felt that she’d built up an audience and didn't want to lose them. However, she says the romance novels continue to annoy her purist thriller readers. "But in the long run, I think it's been good for sales," Tess said.

Another author who's shifted genres but all within the same 'brand'/same name is Philippa Gregory. Probably most well known for historical fiction she's also written thrillers and her Amazon bio describes her as the pioneer of "fictional biography". The Other Boleyn Girl is a well-known example.

I guess these genre-switchers are good news for me…especially given the book I've just started working on is best described as a "mainstream women's fiction". I know, something different again! (Please don't shake your head at me.)

Unfortunately my agent passed away late last year and I'm currently on the hunt for a new agent. This means I don't have anyone to berate me for switching genres or to warn me against it. A new found freedom? But will querying with an action thriller and a work in progress of a women's fiction make it harder for me to find a new agent? Only time will tell. And maybe I should be on the lookout for an agent who's also open to children's fantasy - just to really get their jaws dropping and heads shaking. Come on, people...I'm switching genres, not teams

So do you like your authors to keep their genres straight up? And the writers out there...are you closet genre-switchers like me?

"I don't usually like mysteries, but..."

by Alafair Burke

It’s that time of year – about six months out from the next publication date - when the conversations around Team Burke become dominated by marketing talk.  Some authors thrive on marketing, speaking openly about the “brand” they are trying to create, the value they place in their “product,” the placement of their product in the “market.”

I’m not one of those writers.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m no precious, anti-commerce, purist hippie.  I like four-star dining and fancy shoes way too much to try to pull off any kind of starving artist persona.  I’m all for the selling of the books.

My only complaint is that the rest of Team Burke – editor, publicist, marketing people, special online marketing people, the whole lot of them – look across the table at me as if I might be of some use.  As if I might actually know how to get my books into the hands of the people who might enjoy them.  As if I might know how to get those same people to then carry the book to a cash register.  As if I have the remotest clue about why anyone likes what she likes, or buys what she buys.

If I knew any of that, I’d be the genius who came up with this:

Or perhaps this:

Plenty of sales there to support a woman’s restaurant and shoe preferences, without having to type out all those pesky words.

I do try, though.  I make suggestions.  Some of them actually go into the plan.  Luckily, I enjoy some of the biggest parts of the plan – the touring, the facebooking, the blogging.  In my academic life, I’m lucky if ten other academics read my writing, so talking with people who read my books is heaven as far as I’m concerned.

But, this time around, Team Burke has added a new layer to the usual plan: “We want to get 212 to people who don’t usually read crime fiction.”

Say what?

"So many people here love your books even though they don’t usually like mysteries or thrillers."

Read that previous sentence again.  There are so many things wrong with that sentence, I don’t know where to start.

Okay, I’ll start here.

1.    Who the heck doesn’t like mysteries and thrillers?

Given that you’re reading this particular website, my guess is you’re not one of these people.   Well, whoever they are, I don’t know whether to loathe or pity them.  I guess it depends on whether they think they’re too good for the genre or just don’t know what they’re missing.

There’s no question, though, that these people exist.  My pilates trainer just told me that she loved The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, even though she didn’t “usually like mysteries.” 

"You don't usually like what?"

I’m sorry.  I don’t understand.

Which brings me to…

2.    WHY would anyone not like mysteries and thrillers?

To get some insight into this phenomenon, I did what anyone seeking to conduct serious empirical research would do: I Googled.  

An initial observation: The quantitative data support the claim that there are actually people who claim they don’t like crime fiction, as evidenced by the number of results for the following searches:

23,100 "don't like thrillers"
667 "don't like mysteries"
22,400 "don't read mysteries"
6,190 "don't read thrillers"

On the qualitative side, I did find some explanations for these dislikes in my casual perusal of the search results (okay, not very scientific – whatevs):

Too much violence and death
Too suspenseful
Too improbable
Too predictable
Not enough character development
Bad writing

Now, that first reason is defensible, I suppose.  If someone doesn’t like to think about the bad things that happen to people, well – first of all, they should never spend time with me.  And they might justifiably stay away from the mystery shelves.  

The second one?  I won’t even pretend to understand.

"The suspense is making my eyes wide!"

And the rest?  They strike me as complaints that there’s too many bad books in the genre.  But there are bad books in all genres.  There are bad books pawned off as so-called “literary” fiction.  There are bad books.  Don’t read them.  Read good ones instead.

3.    Now here’s where it gets interesting: Why does a person who doesn’t usually read mysteries or thrillers suddenly decide to like a mystery or thriller?

Back to the Google data:
12,300 “don’t usually like mysteries”
38,500 “don’t usually read mysteries”
22,700 "don't usually read thrillers”
2,040 "don't usually like thrillers"

And almost always, these phrases are followed by the word “but:”

“but this one kept me on the edge of my seat.”  I’m sorry, but if you want your books to put you on the edge of your seat, we're your people. 

“but this book was so warped, convoluted, I just couldn't help but be entranced.”  Um…warped and convoluted?  We are totally your people.  (P.S. Kudos, Christopher Rice. That’s a review to be proud of!)  

Here are some more typical buts (shame on you if you just snickered): but this one was very entertaining, but this book is awesome, but this one is killer, but I absolutely love this one. 

Do you see a trend?  Basically, people don’t usually like crime fiction, but then sometimes they suddenly like crime fiction.  And if you think all these “buts” are for Michael Chabon and Stieg Larsson, you’ve got another thing coming.  People who think they don’t like crime fiction like Jonathon Kellerman, Michael Connelly, Alexander McCall Smith, and James Patterson.  That’s some pretty genre-y genre fiction (and I mean that in the very best way as a person who loves the genre).

4.    And, on the more personal side, why does a person who doesn’t usually like mysteries or thrillers like my books?  

As I understand it, my new fans at the publishing house are young people living their lives in Manhattan, just like the characters in my Ellie Hatcher series.  The books reflect their reality.  The characters sound like them, watch the same TV shows, and share the same worries.  

That’s all well and good, but these new readers of mine got the book for free from their employer.  If they saw it on the mystery table at Barnes & Noble, would they even pick it up, let alone buy it?   

5.  Now, my fellow ‘Ratis, here’s the question for group discussion: 

How do you get a person who thinks he or she “doesn’t like” mysteries and thrillers to give a book a try?  Must it be a personal recommendation from a friend: “Trust me, it’s good”?  Does it have to be the water-cooler book of the season?  Must it appeal to some other interest?

Why does the non-genre reader read a book in the genre?   

Bleak is the new black

Murderati Readers,

Please join me in welcoming Timothy Hallinan today.
Timothy is the author of nine novels published under his own name and several more under other names. His current series of thrillers is set in Bangkok, and the first two novels, A NAIL THROUGH THE HEART and THE FOURTH WATCHER, received rave reviews and were named to several "ten best" lists, both here and in Asia. The newest book in the series, BREATHING WATER, will be published (by William Morrow) on September 4, 2009. Hallinan divides his time between Santa Monica and Southeast Asia.

Two things mystify me, and I'm going to use this opportunity to talk about them.

First is the tendency of so many writers of “literary fiction” to assume that futility and despair are the primary components of the human condition, and to crank out books that end with symphonic stretches of bleakness, disappointment, disillusionment, and bereavement. Oh, and the corollary – the idea that any book that dares to venture a happy ending is Art Lite, not worth printing, and probably made possible by a secret grant from Hallmark.

Second is the reaction of people who, when they meet me and find me to be a reasonably normal human being without obvious scales or talons, say, “How can you write about all that darkness? Doesn't it frighten your wife?”

These two things may not be obviously related, but they're actually first cousins, at least in my mind. I write mysteries and thrillers. Mysteries and thrillers obviously contain dark elements – that's part of what keeps readers turning the pages – but in the end, mysteries and thrillers are optimistic books, almost by definition.

A mystery or thriller begins with a world that's out of order, broken somehow. The action of the book is the restoration of order, putting the world right again. Someone has done something terrible – how do we find out who it is and prevent its happening again? That's the basic mystery structure. Someone is in a horrific position, facing overwhelming odds – how do we get him or her out of it? That's the basic thriller structure. Both kinds of stories move from a broken world to a whole one.

This earns them the scorn of much of the “literary” world. Eeeewwwwww, a “happy ending.” Eeeeeeewwwww, formula writing. Eeeeeewwwwww, (dreaded phrase) genre fiction.

Here's a secret. Both happy and unhappy endings are just literary conventions. Neither is truer to human experience than the other. They're fiction, remember? They're a matter of taste, not truth. Too many people in the lit-fic camp seem to believe that unhappy endings are somehow more realistic. They remind me of the film bores who praise the “realism” of black and white photography which, if color had been developed first, would strike us all as an interesting abstraction.

Ultimately, I think the basic problem is that the idea of an “ending” is itself a literary convention. In the real world, all stories are part of bigger stories that are in turn part of still-bigger stories, all the way up to the level of cosmology. There are no real beginnings and endings in life other than birth and death, and there's plenty of disagreement about that. One of the things fiction does is say, okay, this little fragment of the story is the one we're going to tell, which means it needs an arbitrary beginning and ending. We'll put them here.

So what's so unrealistic about the kind of happy ending we all experience thousands of times in our lives: the medical test comes back clear, the passing truck that's in our lane at the top of the hill misses us, the person you love actually does fall in love with you? Is it more “realistic” to ignore those endings and keep writing the story until the cancer appears, until the wolf blows the house down and eats us?

I believe it requires a certain kind of valor, in a doomed universe in which all things are mortal and which is itself probably hurtling toward death in freezing darkness, to say, “This part of the world is broken or disordered, and it's worth fixing. This wrong has been done, and it's important to right it. This person is in peril and we should care whether he or she escapes it.” That's what thrillers and mysteries do. They don't claim to make the entire world whole and perfect, just to fix one little part that's gone wrong.

When they don't, people notice and react. In my first Bangkok book, A NAIL THROUGH THE HEART, the story of one of the characters that readers liked most comes to an equivocal end. I got almost 350 e-mails and letters about that character from people who wanted to learn what happened to him. Nobody wrote about any of the people whose stories were tied up satisfactorily. In the new book, BREATHING WATER, I bring that character back, but I think some people will be unsettled again because the book's story takes place against a background of deep-seated corruption and political unrest that can't be resolved in this sort of book. (Or in real life, apparently.) So at the end of BREATHING WATER, some of the villains are still rattling around and will undoubtedly continue to behave in a villainous manner.

But the other characters' stories – most of them, anyway – end well. The disorder in the world that affected them most directly has been resolved. And even though they know the larger world hasn't been miraculously made whole, and that they're going to get old and die one day, perhaps painfully, they're willing to accept what they've been given, and to accept it with happiness. For now.

That's good enough for me. I like stories like that.

________________________________________________________________________________

Hey all,
Next week I'll have two great announcements. Hope to see you then.
cheers,
Pari