What kind of books do you like?

November 15, 2006
It may seem kind of obvious, but you should try to write the types of books you like to read. It's probably almost always (probably almost always--gee, Mark, can you get any more wishy-washy than that?) a bad idea to try and write a book based entirely on your perception of the markets. One reason I waffle on that statement is because I think you need to be aware of the markets, too. Although there is a series of mysteries based on a character who is a T-Rex living in modern days under disguise, please note that there are not a whole bunch of mystery novels starring dinosaur detectives who are L.A. PIs. We're pretty much talking one of the niche-iest of niche markets, at least if it's written for adults. If it's written for elementary and middle school kids, well, you might stand a chance.

On the other hand, if you're like me, you like a lot of different types of books. I like the horror of Stephen King, the action-thriller of David Morrell, the first-person tough-guy of Robert B. Parker, the softer tough-gal first-person of Sue Grafton, the humor of Janet Evanovich, the thrills and techno-oddness of Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston, the lyricism of Randy Wayne White, the deliberate introspection of Michael Connelly, the elegant pedal-to-the-metal of John Sandford, the spare eloquence of Tony Hillerman...

So then perhaps a better question to ask yourself is this:

What seems to work best in your own writing?

I know Eric Mayer reads this blog, so I'm going to yank him into the forefront here. He and his wife Mary Reed write historical mysteries that take place in 6th Century Constantinople. Setting is a big, big deal in their books. They do it beautifully. I do not.

I also like Nevada Barr and as I've commented to other people, I don't think much of her main character (Anna Pidgeon), but I love the settings, each novel taking place in a different national park. In Barr's case, the setting is what she's selling.

In Eric and Mary's case, the setting is what they're selling (along with the historical things, I think).

In my case, I think, in as much as we can be said to only be selling ONE thing, I'm selling pace, or hopefully a kind of page-turning adrenaline rush. There's not a lot of time to talk about architecture and scenery when you've got to stop the bad guys in a couple hours from blowing someone people up.

My strengths are, I think: pace, able to write action, able to write cliff-hangers, and good dialogue.

I remember a comment Paul Levine made about being jealous of Lee Child's ability to write action scenes that ran on for a dozen pages.

I wouldn't be surprised if Lee Child was a bit envious of Paul's ability to write witty, sparkling dialogue that runs on for a dozen pages. (I know I am).

I suspect we gravitate toward what we like, but more importantly, if we're to have any success at this game, we gravitate toward what we do well. It's probably a case of the market recognizing what we do well. If we write action well and we send off an introspective novel, it may just not work. But our action novels do.

I don't know if you can do anything about this. Maybe. You can try to improve. You should read other things and try to figure out how authors handle things.

Literary agent and author Evan Marshall has noted that what you need to do is figure out what type of writing you do well and like to read, and figure out what types of books utilize that in the market, and then write that book.

And he says that as if it's easy.

And just a comment about Eric--Eric, feel free to contradict me (everybody seems to somewhere along the line)--but one of Eric's first literary loves was science fiction, fiction about other and new worlds. In those stories you have to create the world around you. Which, as a matter of fact, is what you have to do when you're writing historical fiction.

A simpler way to say this is: lead with your strengths.

Best,
Mark Terry