“Why do you write across genres and forms?” — C.Y.

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It’s a strange affectation of mine, that I tend to write what some people would describe as “all over the place.”

But truly, there is a method to my madness when it comes to how and what I choose to write. And why.

GENRE

Genre describes specific marketing and shelving categories for books and magazines. Fiction, nonfiction, poetry are three wide genres with lots of subsets.

In fiction, I have written and published in the following genres: literary, science fiction, fantasy, experimental, magical realism, horror, surrealism—all of which, today, would fall easily under the wider umbrella of speculative fiction.

FORM

Form describes the kind of writing that’s on the page. Drilling down:

For fiction: there are novels, novellas, short stories, flash fiction, etc.

For nonfiction: there are essays, articles, commentary, etc.

For poetry: there are prose poems, formal poetry, free verse, etc.

There’s also scriptwriting, screenplays, blogs, audio scripts, video game writing, textbooks, research narrative, copywriting/advertising, technical writing, etc. Writing isn’t only for the page nor is it only for entertainment.

(I’m sure I’m overlooking all the forms, but you get the drift.)

I write (or have written, or am currently writing) short stories, novelettes, novels, poems, essays, articles, columns, blogs, scripts for 10-minute plays, marketing copy, learning modules for medical professionals, letters, and scripts for short indie films.

Pick one?

Writing across genre and form apparently makes me an outlier.

Most writers tend to identify as specializing in one form. Lots of poets, for instance, do not write investigative journalism. Screenwriters may never attempt to write personal essays. Copywriters might flee from the thought of writing flash fiction. And those who write industrial manuals could have zero desire to write role-playing games.

But then there are writers like me who write… whatever. To wit:

• I started out as a fiction writer. My first bit of writing appeared at a very young age as short stories, with an occasional poem.
• By high school, I was pretty good at short stories and starting to attempt long-form fiction (novels).
• Then I went to journalism school and learned reportage, along with the basics of interpretive and investigative journalism. I also took courses in writing reviews and basic screenwriting.
• Eventually I found myself writing short-form nonfiction narratives that might be classified now as creative nonfiction or personal essay.
• I also wrote columns early on as a grad and learned recipe writing as a cookbook editor.
• When my kids were born, I was still writing short fiction but wanted to really sink into long-form. I also made a more serious stab at poetry.
• Then, I earned two medical credentials and became a medical writer, healthcare journalist, and patient advocacy columnist.

Try it, you might like it

You know, I’ve always felt that writers should be at least willing to write outside their chosen genres and forms. But so many won’t.

It reminds me of children sitting at the dinner table turning their noses up at new foods on their plates. They resist trying them… but if they do, they discover, hey, I like that, give me more!

I think the moment I realized I was a cross-genre writer, that term wasn’t even a thing. I just realized that, bigger than any form or genre, the story itself often wanted to choose its own pathway into existence.

A moment I was driven to write about might naturally want to be a poem, for instance, while another might want to be fleshed out as a short story or scene in a novel or even the basis for an essay. I just let the story decide, and any anxiety I had about making square ideas fit into round holes (form or genre) simply dissolved.

Sometimes a piece will go through a variety of forms and genres before it becomes a whole thing.

I used to think that was me being a terrible writer until one of my heroes, Margaret Atwood, explained the trajectory of her novel, Alias Grace, which had seen several iterations over decades: as a poem, a concept for a local access TV show, a movie.

Listen, if Margaret Atwood can deal with the quick change artistry of an idea searching for its best iteration, then so can I, so I stopped worrying about dressing my ideas into forms and genres that simply didn’t fit.

But will it sell?

Now, commercial authors, some agents, and some publishers and editors might advise against this. Your chosen form or genre is, according to them, your brand.

That’s great and makes sense if your book business is in marketing (publishing), selling (bookstores), or shelving (libraries).

But so many great pieces of writing don’t easily fit into labels, nor should they. Sometimes, when books are labeled as a single genre or form rather than being heralded for embracing multiple genres or forms, they end up being pigeonholed.

By the way, cross-genre writing, and writers who write across forms… these are nothing new.

What’s new is that readers are recognizing the juicy goodness of these kinds of stories and forms, and the bean counters who want to part these readers from their lunch money don’t know how to sell to them in ways that are easy or efficient.

(Hmmm, sounds like a them problem, not a me problem.)

My brand is kaleidoscopic and doesn’t strive to pick a lane. My first published book, Intention Tremor, via MoonPath Press, is a great example: poems and essays that essentially comprise a medical memoir.

And because my writing doesn’t really meet commercial demands (it’s too weird, too specific, too unlike the kinds of genres that are big sellers), I don’t care whether it’s easily branded. I just care that I make it the best I can with the voice and vision I have as a writer.

Also, in this day and age of AI, I kinda think being the weird-o outlier writer doing raw and quirky stuff that can’t be quickly replicated might actually be a good thing. At least readers know it’s real.

(Wanna hear something gross? Agents are now using AI to pick their clients. Um… good luck with that.)

The short answer?

At the end of the day, though, I really can’t help writing across form and genre. This is who I am, these words that I write into the shapes that make up the ever-shifting kaleidoscope of my creative mind.

I won’t get a pen name for branding purposes, either, something that has been suggested to me by people who just don’t understand that my aim is not for more complication in my creative life, more hoops to jump through.

For me, it’s more important to be my authentic self as a writer than any urging to cleave to some formula or pattern for writing “that sells.” I’ve made enough money as a writer my whole life to know better. And guess what? My books sell.

I’ll do it my way

Publishing may be a business, but writing is my calling, for which I make no apology. For me, this is no “side hustle” or ticket to independent wealth. I’m retired. I have what I need. I don’t write to pay the bills.

The last thing I want to do—or write—is join the culture of overworked and underpaid “content creators” who think being a writer is a job.

It’s not a job to me. It’s a compulsion, a drive, to tell stories to make sense of the world, to empower people, to raise awareness.

I don’t understand the term “full-time author,” an affected claim now batted around by newbie self-published writers in social media like somehow this elevates what they do.

(It doesn’t, it just means they gave up a paying job to write their book, as if this is reason enough for us to want to buy and read it. Sorry, folks, I know this is harsh, but… it’s not. You still have to write something well crafted and worth reading.)

I’ve been a writer all my life, not as an occupation, but as a way of life. As a way of seeing, of processing. Forget “full time.” It’s 24-7, 365, and I’m now entering year 59.

How else to explain it? It’s a kind of creative magic I’ll never trade for a commercial “career” in publishing. Not now, not ever.