Wednesday…again

Geez, it’s like Wednesday happens every week or something. I had an idea for a blog post. I think it washed off in the pool or maybe when I was shaking the water out of my ears.

Maybe it was about being buried in a mushroom suit, so I can decompose naturally, quickly and without polluting the environment.

Maybe it was the thought that my husband wanted to know if the mushroom suit dissolved bones and asked if I wanted to be part of an experiment.

Maybe it was the talk about ten apocalyptic forecasts or the coming nuclear apocalypse.

Maybe it was the more I write, the more I want to write and the more story ideas come to me.

Yep, that was the one.  I had planned to write a series of 8 novellas around the Great war. These would be romances, giving back to the millions of women who were singled out as a result of the carnage. How bad was it? According to one statistic, normally 10% of women don’t marry for lack of available mates. After WWI, that percentage rose to 30%. It’s mind-boggling to think of how efficiently we learned how to kill each other thanks to the Industrial Revolution. The blood dripping from the abattoir of the US Civil War was a poor indicator of things to come when we really learned how to do things right.

I am a romance writer at heart because I need that Happily Ever After fix to keep sane. Giving those ‘singled-out’ women a HEA of their own  balanced some cosmic scale so I can probe deeper into the darkness. I see the pull back in my writing now. I’m not as dark, not as evil even as I write about so many layers of betrayal, about humanity at its worst—when the good intentions of a few lead us into the bowels of hell.

But as much as I’m drawn into the light and emotional turbulence of a well-crafted romance, I am as much a creature of shadow and void as Trent Powers. I can stare into the abyss and see myself but not lose myself, not be torn apart in shreds of light like a star devoured by a black hole.

I have barely stuck a toe in the depths I’m willing to plumb, but do I want to be known as that writer? If evil is a drug, writers are dealers and readers are recreational users. It’s my job to dole out enough evil to keep the reader hooked, to make them salivate for an ending that delivers justice denied to us in reality.

By now many of you may be scratching your head and wondering what the blog post is about. It’s about the future, 2014 specifically. And whether I will continue to write romances once my contract runs out. Will I write those WWI romances or not? Will I remain a buckshot author (spattered across genres) or focus on one?

If I was smart, I’d focus on one—build a following, brand my name and stand on a platform.

But I’m swimming for the shallow end of the blood bath and I’m facing the sun. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, my skin glistens with story dust. It lifts me into the sun and protects me in the void. It is my armor and sword, it is the words that flow from my fingers.

It is the spark that fires a story, burns it into memories.

Some folks will hate my storytelling; others not so much.

It is Frost’s road  less traveled.

It’s writing career suicide.

And while I write this, Kennedy’s famous moons speech repeats in my head. “We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win,”

I don’t aim for the moon—I  aim for worlds much more distant, for time travel and for unspeakable events best endured only on the page.

And I intend to win, so that one day, someone will come across my footprint in a library and say, “Holy Toledo, she wore Crocs with mismatched socks!”

About Linda Andrews

Linda Andrews lives with her husband and three children in Phoenix, Arizona. When she announced to her family that her paranormal romance was to be published, her sister pronounce: "What else would she write? She’s never been normal." All kidding aside, writing has become a surprising passion. So just how did a scientist start to write paranormal romances? What other option is there when you’re married to romantic man and live in a haunted house? If you’ve enjoyed her stories or want to share your own paranormal experience feel free to email the author at www.lindaandrews.net She’d love to hear from you.
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4 Responses to Wednesday…again

  1. danrshaw says:

    Do you feel like two sides of your brain are at war with each other for control? It’s obvious you enjoy writing more than on genre. Maybe the use of a pseudonym for different genres?
    P.S. I wasn’t smart enough to discern most of your article but I think I got the gist of it.

    • I think you understood just fine. The point is I’m reading books on how to be successful/have a paid writing career and I’m finding I’m doing everything wrong-except one thing. I write a damn good story (mostly because I’m writing for me). It’s a case of listening to the experts, part of my quest to write the best book that I can and it messes up my focus, causes me to reevaluate, what I’ve already evaluated, so I did consider no longer writing romances and staying only in one genre. then my brain cleaved in half and I had a splitting headache (sorry, couldn’t resist). The practical side versus the artistic side. I’m staying with artistic and giving only the barest nod to the business side.
      The other bits are reflected in the blog itself. At the beginning of the blog, the phrasing is simple and modern. Toward the end it becomes flowery, a style popular during WWI. I’m writing about dark, depraved things, the worst we can do but in that world is the flicker of hope, the belief that humans don’t really suck. Switching to romance means I look at the better side of human nature, the inner struggle we make to be better people, to find our mates, our clans, our purpose. It is a sunny day with only the occassional cloud passing between us and the sun. When I’m writing romance, it is the dark things that slither in the corners of my mind. When it’s the apocalpytic books, it is the light telling me all will yet be well. It is the struggle to finish one book when another in a completely different genre keeps interupting. Too many characters trying to be heard. It’s effecting my word count and delaying the book. So not cool. I wonder if I can install a take a number dispenser in my head.

  2. danrshaw says:

    Your “problem” writing is a reflection of who you are. On one side is the analytical, problem solving scientist who wants to explore the unknown and on the other side is the loving, nurturing woman who is a mother, wife and lover.
    Nothing wrong with combining the two and writing science fiction with lots of romance, sex and gore. Contrary to popular opinion men do enjoy love stories where the good guy gets the girl as long as the other ingredients are in there (fighting, gore and sex).
    Action/adventure, scifi, romance, horror with a little paranormal thrown in is a good genre isn’t it?

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