A big aspect of genre writing that most readers expect is fast paced action. To be honest, it’s totally a leg up that sci fi and horror and picaresque stories have over their ‘literary’ friends. These genre guys are expected to be wham bam thank you ma’am while the other is almost required to hang out in this pool of moaning and thinking and navel gazing. But what happens when a genre writer (me) loves when his characters moan and cry and think of their trauma?
In the early days, in Brooklyn, I was able to read a scary story live and in person for R. L. Stine. A dream come true! The story was a shock and awe explosion of graphic violence and airtight drama. It was one of my bests! (It’s actually now being adapted into an audio play! Fun!) But the story was so good, in fact, R. L. Stine offered to read my debut novel “Land Shark” which had been published just that year. He later emailed me about “Land Shark” saying it was way too boring, not scary at all, and that he didn’t finish it. Welp.
I carried on thinking that’s Bob Stine, he literally writes kids’ books, all the respect to him, but we’re on different wave lengths. Then my newest novel gets put on submission and it’s on submission for TWO YEARS. These editors are looking at it, reading it, praising it for its concept and ideas, but always passing because the plot doesn’t move as fast as the concept would suggest. In other words: boring as shit.
My agent calls me up and shares this news with me. She carries a torch for this book, God bless her, but she tells me, “Write another book while you wait.” Easier said than done, obviously, but that’s the world. So, I decide to go against style, and I take everyone’s feedback, and I plot out a fast-paced go-go-go cinematic thriller where every chapter ends on a cliff hanger, and everyone lies and backstabs and falls in love.
I’m quite happy that I pulled it off, but upon re-examining it over and over again it still feels like something is missing. The slow introspection and self-reflection that I simply adore in books. The problem is, I don’t know how to balance these things and I never know when it adds depth versus when it slows everything down.
It’s funny because I typically teach my students (albeit sardonically) to keep their characters from looking in the mirror, looking at photographs, or walking around their childhood home. It’s cheap, corn ball development. But here’s the thing, I do it all the goddamn time. Do as I say, not as I do, etc.
All of this is a rambling, wordy way to say that I’m going back over this fast-paced book and trying to slow it down. But I don’t want whiny, mealy mouthed ‘woe is me.’
I don’t know what I want anymore, ya know? And to that end, how do we explore our characters’ interiority?