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Thirty years ago, my favorite genre to write (and the novel I did write, and for one brief moment actually tried to shop around for a publisher) was “Children’s Fantasy” (middle grade age group -- older than picture books, younger than Young Adult), especially stories where the child protagonist belongs to this “real world,” and crosses over to a realm of magic.
I was told, repeatedly, that my chosen genre was dead, and the only books publishers wanted for that age group were:
This was, bee-tee-dubs, between twelve and seven years before a certain infamous book and film series created a tidal wave in the literary world.
And yes, now that the literary landscape and cultural expectations have shifted in favor of my favorite beloved genre, I have thought about trying again. But, as the title of this post suggests, whenever I think about where to start fresh in either recreating that first novel, or something completely new, I realize I have no real connection to the “real world” my fictional protagonist of this generation is living in: a world where every waking moment is scheduled by adults, where they have phones in their pockets or backpacks at all times, where the only unsupervised connections with friends is through the Internet, expressed through text and emojis.
Emojis didn’t even exist when I wrote that first novel!
And yeah, I know that doesn’t have to matter -- I mean, the “real world” that brackets the fantasy in that infamous series isn’t a reflection of the actual real world, either. But just thinking about how to approach the question hits me upside the head with how much history I’ve actually lived though. And that is what is so sobering.
So that's why, as I find my brain lubricating rusty novel-writing gears, I find myself thinking in terms of "literary fairy tales," where the whole story takes place in an Other-world, and the characters are not expected to "share experiences" with the reader.
(And yes, in case you were wondering, I am bitter that the author who changed the literary culture turned out to be such a turd of a human being)
I was told, repeatedly, that my chosen genre was dead, and the only books publishers wanted for that age group were:
- realistic fiction,
- historical fiction,
- nonfiction, and
- religious fiction (translation: Evangelical Christian -- a hard nope)
This was, bee-tee-dubs, between twelve and seven years before a certain infamous book and film series created a tidal wave in the literary world.
And yes, now that the literary landscape and cultural expectations have shifted in favor of my favorite beloved genre, I have thought about trying again. But, as the title of this post suggests, whenever I think about where to start fresh in either recreating that first novel, or something completely new, I realize I have no real connection to the “real world” my fictional protagonist of this generation is living in: a world where every waking moment is scheduled by adults, where they have phones in their pockets or backpacks at all times, where the only unsupervised connections with friends is through the Internet, expressed through text and emojis.
Emojis didn’t even exist when I wrote that first novel!
And yeah, I know that doesn’t have to matter -- I mean, the “real world” that brackets the fantasy in that infamous series isn’t a reflection of the actual real world, either. But just thinking about how to approach the question hits me upside the head with how much history I’ve actually lived though. And that is what is so sobering.
So that's why, as I find my brain lubricating rusty novel-writing gears, I find myself thinking in terms of "literary fairy tales," where the whole story takes place in an Other-world, and the characters are not expected to "share experiences" with the reader.
(And yes, in case you were wondering, I am bitter that the author who changed the literary culture turned out to be such a turd of a human being)
