I've been meaning to do this post on writing genre fiction. It would start something like this: I'm writing what some might call dark urban fantasy. It's not really horror as most of the violence takes place "off-page". I'm writing this because horror has a particular connotation that I don't really want to be attached to. Then I pick up an issue of Rue Morgue, a Canadian magazine devoted to horror movies, books, music and games. In a word, horror culture. And I really want to write horror because it's fun and it's scary and I think I do it really well. Besides, I was getting a bit bored with this urban fantasy thing because it was sort of "nice" and not really dark and horrific.
Don't get me wrong, dark urban fantasy can be as dark as any horror novel. As a matter of fact, both times I pitched Fallen Angels as a dark urban or suburban fantasy, the person looked at me and said, sounds like horror. But it wasn't as horrific as Institutional Memory or Forever Will You Suffer, my first two books. I wouldn't say Fallen Angels belongs in the horror genre compared to some of the books out now. Not so dark or gory. But an agent and an editor called it horror. So what do I know?
Then something happened today that changed my perspective. The agent I most recently submitted the partial to wants the whole book and wants to represent me. So I'm back into the book, giving it one last look over. Another look over. This is the fifth final look over the thing's gotten and for right now, I think it's as good as I can get it. Maybe in a few years I can make it better, but for now, it's as good as it's gonna get.
I'm having coffee with this agent on Friday to talk about the book, her connections, and my vision for my writing career. Hopefully it'll all jive in one of those divine synchronistic ways and the book will go to auction and I can become that philanthropic person I always wanted to be and give money to a variety of charities and still have enough to send Ben to the college of his choice. Hey, a guy can dream, right?
More to follow.
Gary . . .