It’s the first Wednesday of the month, so it must be time for us Insecure Writers to shine! More specifically, it’s time for the support our fellow authors offer to lend us a temporary sheen of confidence. It’s like an all-purpose glitter bath for the soul, and you can sign up for it yourself here.
Every month some members of the group volunteer to keep us all on track, and keep the conversations going. We owe our thanks to Kim Lajevardi, Cathrina Constantine, Natalie Aguirre, Olga Godim, Michelle Wallace, and Louise – Fundy Blue for their generous donation of time.
And the IWSG is asking for us to tattle on ourselves on this 7th day of September. They want to know: What genre would be the worst one for you to tackle and why?
And oh, gentle reader, there are so many genres to choose from in this instance. Can you imagine me trying to tackle an action-packed thriller? A. THRILLER. With the murdery murders and the sociopaths running amok and the intricate foreshadowing, and me all the time trying so hard to redeem the villain and give my characters a happy ending?
No, you don’t understand, morally grey is the romance color of the year right now. We are over here semi-redeeming villains left and right, excusing all their little unaliving habits, and you would set me loose on the thriller genre with this as my background. IT WOULD BE A MESS. A beautiful, chaotic mess.
Or. OR. I could attempt a literary fiction novel. I’m sitting here giggling because picture it: SE trampling wild through the thesaurus, snatching metaphors out of the jaws of literary dinosaurs, trying to write some sort of dysfunctional family saga while knowing damn well that toxic relationships sell better than funnel cakes at a state fair.
I can’t write a hot mess of traumatic childhood memories without trying to put out that dumpster fire with a happily ever after, second chance romance. It’s involuntary. It’s a reflex. And it doesn’t belong anywhere near a genre which takes itself so seriously.