Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Getting My Genre On

You may have noticed a drop-off in the frequency of posts here on the blog. The reason for the decline is that I'm spending every spare moment working on my first novel, Addicted. Regulars might recall the same thing happened when I got rolling with Glass Houses.

As Glass Houses is a memoir, the challenges I faced in writing it revolved around making sure the time line and events were accurate. A couple of times I got stuck. The struggles involved figuring out whether or not particular incidents--all part of my life history--were relevant to the story I was trying to tell.

I was also acutely aware that some fraction of the potential audience for Glass Houses were or would know the people I wrote about--especially me. Consequently, there were certain boundaries I wouldn't cross. People don't need to know everything.

Those who've read the book know I share a lot about my past others would have kept to themselves. To the best of my knowledge, everything I write about is true. But it's not the whole truth--in some cases I left a lot out.

With Addicted, those barriers and limits are gone. Writing without fear is liberating, exhilarating, and more than a little shocking. I've written just over 7,000 words (about 25, double-spaced pages) which include tons of dialogue and two sex scenes. I thought the first scene was graphic...until I wrote the second one.

It has never been my intention to write erotica. Yet just seven chapters into my first work of fiction, that's exactly what I'm doing. I can hardly believe it myself. Even worse, I'm already thinking about at least three other books along the same lines.

The stuff I'm writing now makes me blush. Before sending it off to a publisher, I'm going to have to come up with a nom de plume. Ain't no way I'm going to let folks know this stuff comes from...

The Crotchety Old Man

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