Category Archives: The Fictorians

Literary vs. Genre Fiction – What’s All the Fuss About?

Author's Perspective Genres Leigh Galbreath Marketing Publishing The Writing Life 5 Comments

Once upon a time, there was literature. That was it. Everything was just literature. At some point, stories became so varied that they branched into distinctive categories. Whether this was something brought on by readers gravitating to certain types of stories or publishers categorizing said stories to make it easier for readers to find, or some other reason all together, I don’t know. But, over the last hundred years, fiction split into the convenient labels we know today.

This split isn’t without its controversy, though, and has created a very real divide between what’s referred to as literary fiction and genre fiction. When most people think of the difference between the two, many think of overly-serious literary writers looking down at genre writers as hacks, while genre writers run off with all the money. Tempers can run high when it’s discussed. Stephen King famously almost got into a fist fight over the very idea that genre fiction was somehow of less value than literary fiction.

But, what’s the big deal, really? What are the actual differences between the two?

When I was in college I took a creative writing class, where the teacher asked us that very question. One of my fellow students, who was a literary writer, said that literary fiction was character driven, while genre fiction was plot driven. Now, anyone who reads Joe Abercrombie knows that’s a false assumption. Actually, that student was keying to something very real, he just didn’t recognize it for what it was. It has little to do with character and plot, really, and all to do with structure. Genre fiction is built on structure. Literary fiction isn’t.

We’ve mentioned using scriptwriting as a basis for writing novels more than once. Pyr editor, Lou Anders, talks about the Hollywood formula all the time. Why? Because the Hollywood structure works. Certain beats happen at certain moments, and the story resonates better for the audience. It works. Readers like the structure, and every genre has its own. Romance, for instance, is famous for its very strict story structure — and it’s the highest grossing genre of them all.

Literary fiction, on the other hand, has a more organic approach. It lacks the structure that makes genre fiction so easily digestible for readers. Funnily, my aforementioned writing instructor confessed that she was halfway through a story when she realized she didn’t have a story arch. That’s a problem few genre writers will ever have. But, one of the things this allows for literary fiction is experimentation. You get weird little stories that are all dialogue or written in stream of consciousness or told backwards. Playing with technique and form is much easier when you don’t have to worry about story beats hitting at a certain moment. For more adventurous readers, this is great, but, like I said before, people like structure, and this may be one of the big reasons genre fiction is more lucrative.

The other real difference between the two, has to do with subject matter. Literary fiction tends to be rooted in real life far more than genre fiction. Sometimes, a little too much. I’ve heard more than one person disparage literary fiction as depressing and oppressive. At the same time, it explores life in a way that genre structure won’t allow. The killer is usually found out in the end of a mystery. The hero usually beats the evil sorcerer in an epic fantasy. The boy usually gets the girl at the end of a romance. Literary fiction doesn’t flinch from the reality that life doesn’t always end well for the good guys, if there even are goods guys involved.

Genre fiction, on the other hand, is often thought of as escapist because it deals with situations that you won’t find in everyday life. Me, I think that’s an over simplification. In truth, all fiction is escapist, even if there are no spaceships or serial killers involved. Even if you read only literary fiction, you’re not reading your own life, so it’s still an escape. If it weren’t, it would be non-fiction.

So, are you one of those writer’s who stresses over the decision to write literary or genre fiction? The differences above are, of course, generalizations. There are lines blurred everywhere. There are plenty of experimental genre stories that look at real life, especially in Science Fiction. There’s plenty of fantastic elements in literary fiction, too. And anyone saying that genre fiction makes more money really needs to look at how much genre fiction there is out there to see how easily that wealth is swallowed by the sheer magnitude of product. Even if there are more readers, it’s no easier to make it big. Besides, literary fiction has Oprah Winfrey on its side. Neither path is a surefire path to financial freedom, but neither is a surefire path to destitution either.

To me, choosing between literary and genre fiction is like choosing between landscape and abstract painting. They both have their detractors and their supporters, but their creators are also both artists who follow a craft they love. Our art chooses us just as much as we choose it. We write what we write because that’s what we feel the need to do.

So, really, in the end, it doesn’t matter which side makes more money, does it? If you feel the need to write literary fiction, you won’t find any happiness writing techno-thrillers, and your readers won’t enjoy reading them, either. Stick with your passion, even if it means you’re still stuck at a day job. You’ll never go wrong.

Choosing A Genre or Mashing-Up Genres ““ What’s it All About?

Ace Jordyn Craft & Skills Genres Ideas & Plotting Storyline The Writing Process World-building Writing Tools 3 Comments

 I read three well written novels novels recently and wasn’t sure what genre they belonged in. They were set in the future – one was set in a dystopian Calgary with some really cool cyborg people, another was set on Mars where people had the option of having their consciousness transferred into android bodies, and the third was set in another solar system with interstellar travel and neat technologies and alien beings. Science fiction seemed logical as they were all in the future, but their telling and basic elements were much more traditional.
defining diana
If mystery had a future-crime sub-genre, all would fit that category beautifully. Rob Sawyer’s Red Planet Blues has a delightful, laid back gum shoe detective. Defining Diana by Hayden Trenholm (see his blog on writing science fiction later this month) is a solid crime novel that’s gritty, hard and gruesome when it needs to be. K.A. Bedford’s Hydrogen Steel has a retired homicide inspector struggling to save humanity while she struggles to accept her own physical reality. These are three well-executed detective stories  marketed as science fiction.

The fact is, when we write, we use elements from several genres in our stories. Mystery in science fiction. Thriller in fantasy.  Romance in steampunk. The mash ups are as varied as the imagination! And yet, some work better than others. Why? The magic happens when the author understands the elements that make each genre unique. For example, a cozy mystery like Rex Stout’s adventures with Nero Wolfe, could have easily fallen into the annals of “literature’ as Stout deftly captures the voice of the time by using strong characters and a well-defined milieu. Yet, his stories are, first and foremost, mysteries and his novels are marketed as such.

ShanghaiSteam-110px-150dpi-C8In all four examples, it is each author’s ability to understand the genres they are mashing that gives their work depth and memorable voice. Most importantly, their writing is a joy to read as it pleases the intellect on many levels. Making it fun for the reader, transporting him to worlds he never dreamed of – that’s the true test of knowing your genre well and choosing mash-ups wisely. I recently had the privilege to edit Shanghai Steam , an anthology with a unique mash-up of steampunk and wuxia. Reading the submissions and editing the selected stories was fun because authors who understood the subtleties of both genres created distinct worlds, plots and characters. Fun, gripping, mind-blowing – that’s what it’s all about for writers and readers.

Do you choose to write in one specific genre or do you use a mash-up? Every novel has elements of several genres and the question is one of degree and desired market placement. Is it science fiction or mystery? That’s determined when you decide the character of your novel – what its unique voice will be. It’s no different than creating well-rounded, deep characters as was discussed in many of February’s posts. Frank Morin, in his post Complex Characters reminded us of Shrek thinking he is like an onion – layered. In his post Platonic Male-Female Relationships in Fiction (a.k.a. “The Glue”), Evan Braun compared the complexities of romance against friendship as he discussed how each creates a different dynamic in character interaction. What is your story’s dynamic? How will the  genres you choose relate to one another? Is your story more mystery or science fiction? Which genre will have the stronger voice? Like Shrek’s onion, how many layers deep will you go into each genre? What blend provides the best milieu for telling your story? How will your characters and your readers react? What will you choose?

March’s posts will help you better understand how each genre can give your story its unique voice and character. We’ll also have posts comparing genre writing to literature, choosing which genres to mash and how to market them, and there’ll also be a case for not worrying about any of it. There will be posts on specific genres including horror,  steampunk, fantasy, romance, science fiction and many others. What makes each genre unique? What makes it work?

Choose your story’s voice and character and have fun writing as you peel back the layers!

Let’s see now … Miss Marple in dystopian 2081? A western horror? Steampunk space opera? Romantic military SF? Historical fantasy thriller? Urban fantasy folktale? So many to choose from…

Why do I like you when you’re standing in my way? The likable antagonist.

Character Craft & Skills Nancy Greene 1 Comment

yes noLeigh talked a bit about writing good villains earlier this month.  I’m going to touch on a related topic – how do you make your antagonist likable? You might not always want a likable antagonist. But when you do, how do you pull it off?

I’m going to borrow a definition from Writing Excuse’s podcast on the Hollywood Formula.  An antagonist is not always the villain. Heck, in the really good stories the antagonist is often a friend or confident of the hero. So, using the Hollywood Formula an antagonist is “person who places obstacles to that goal in the path of the protagonist. . . . The antagonist is the one whose goals are diametrically opposed to the protagonist, and they’re the one who is blocking the protagonist’s journey.”

As an example from Writing Excuses, in the Dark Knight movie, Batman is the protagonist. His goal is to quit the dark knight gig and return to  a “normal” life with the woman he loves. The person who stands in his way of that goal is the antagonist. Who is it?

One hint: it’s not the Joker.

It’s Harvey Dent, the prosecutor who loves the same woman. When it looks like Dent and the love interest can’t both be saved, Dent begs Batman to save the girl.  In the end, because Harvey won’t be the man he could be, Bruce has to don the cowl and become the dark knight. Harvey’s your antagonist. but he’s not very likable. Is he?

Why not? Well, read on.

Let me take another example: Victor Laslo in Casablanca. Casablanca has the same love triangle that Dark Knight does. Follow the movie beats, they’re a lot of similar notes. Rick wants the girl, but Laslo already has her. Like Dent, Laslo represents more than just himself. When it looks like Elsa and he can’t escape, Laslo begs Rick to save Elsa. In the end, because Laslo is honorable and stays true to his goal, he makes Rick want to be a better person and rekindles his faded patriotism.

Plot-wise. Casablanca and the Dark Knight are more similar than dissimilar.

So, why do I like Laslo but not Dent? To me the difference between Harvey Dent and Victor Laslo, is that Laslo is willing to give up everything for the greater good. Dent isn’t. Fundamentally, Dent is selfish. He’s more interested in catching the headlines than catching the crooks. He’s not the best boyfriend. When he falls, he falls hard.

So, how do you make the antagonist likable?

1. Just like your protagonist and villain, your antagonist needs a goal (other than messing with the protagonist for the heck of it). I tend to like characters whose motivations I can understand and ring true.

2. The antagonist has his own morals and strengths. I dislike Harvey because once you take the shine off, he’s selfish and immature. He refuses to accept the truth Batman sees – that he (Dent) is a symbol of more than self. Dent is a weak character. First he’s seduced by power and fame. Then, the Joker seduces him with the idea of revenge. I don’t tend to like people I can’t respect. Dent loses my respect over the course of the movie.

3. The conflict with the antagonist makes the protagonist “better” in the long run.  Rick’s hope rises from Pandora’s box, but Batman is condemned to a life he tried to escape. Batman is worse off in the end.  

4. Even though the antagonist stands opposed to my protagonist, I almost want the antagonist to win. This goes back to the first few points. I want to be able to identify with this character and feel good about it. I’d like to be Laslo. Not so much Harvey Dent.

Have you come across a likable antagonist? If so, what made you like him or her?

Conflict: when characters interact

Character Craft & Skills Mary Pletsch Writing Tools 5 Comments

Character versus character is, of course, not the only way to bring conflict into your story.  Other avenues include character versus nature (dangerous terrain, wildlife, storms, floods…) or character versus self, where the character must overcome an aspect of themselves, such as their fears or the beliefs instilled by their upbringing, in order to be successful.  Still, in stories with multiple characters, watching their personalities strike sparks off one another is a realistic and intriguing way of developing conflict.  And conflict is the fuel that drives a plot – without an adversary to overcome, heroes sit around doing nothing.

The most obvious form of character versus character is hero versus villain.  Other blogs this month talk about what makes a good villain, so I will add only this:  a good villain sparks an interesting conflict with the hero.  This statement encompasses both evil masterminds whose machinations drive the plots of whole series, all the way down to the minion who perhaps doesn’t survive his first and only interaction with the hero.  Even that one-encounter minion can be memorable.  Perhaps the hero realizes she can’t defeat this minion with strength, and has to use cunning, or endurance, or ask for help, instead.  Perhaps it’s the first time the hero has ever had to kill in battle, or the first time she’s ever lost someone under her command.  This conflict can involve both the fight itself (physical action, mental strategy, or both) and the aftereffects (emotional fallout; fatigue or lost gear heightening the hero’s conflict with her environment; the time delay heightening tension; etc).

Some of the most interesting conflicts are conflicts between protagonists.  Just because a group of people are on the same quest, or in the same military unit, or working toward the same goal, doesn’t mean they’re going to all like each other.  They may not even get along with one another.  Aspects of their personalities are going to grate on one another.  First impressions may create misunderstandings; past beliefs may shape prejudices or preconceptions.  Different desires may set members of the same group working at odds to one another, or tempt one to betray the group; or threaten to splinter the group.  These dynamics can lead groups to a vast array of outcomes, depending on the pressures placed on the group by the plot, and the choices made by the characters within the group.  All that, and a villain besides!

Previous posts this month have dealt with romance, and one of the most elegant conflict generators – the love triangle – hinges on romantic attraction.  If two characters (I’ll say a girl and a guy) like each other, there’s only so many ways to defer that mutual attraction before it’s acted upon.  But if a girl likes two different guys, the writer has now set up two additional conflicts:  the girl is forced to make a choice between the guys; and the guys are set in an adversarial relationship, competing against one another for the girl’s attention.  Like any formula, this one can be tinkered with:  for example, the girl who likes a guy who’s oblivious to her and doesn’t notice the second guy who dotes on her; or the “triangle” that becomes a square with the addition of a fourth character.

Love triangles don’t suit every story-category romance, for example, favours one hero and one heroine, and a story that illustrates how they overcome the obstacles in their path to a life together.  Perhaps their conflict is generated by secondary characters:  the disapproving family members; the crazy ex or jealous outsider, sowing misunderstandings to sabotage the relationship; the character who represents duty, such as a child, military unit or business obligation.   A writer doesn’t even need romance to torment his hero with secondary characters such as these.

Without conflict, characters have nothing to do.  Without disagreement, readers become bored watching the Happy Hero, and his Happy Friends who always act and think and feel exactly like their leader, wander on their Happy Way.  But once the Happy Hero faces off against the Cunning Villain, with nobody at his side except:  the alien with questionable loyalties; the attractive gunner who can’t get along with the equally attractive navigator; and the cranky sergeant who hates the villain only slightly more than she hates the hero; well, then the hero’s not always so Happy, and then you’ve got a story.  A story that keeps readers hooked, wondering how those conflicts will play out.