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Sunday, November 12, 2006

I’d Like A Can Of Peas, Please

Justin, I’m telling you, it’s a great idea.

The Trailer Man, coming to a theater near you.

God, this just cracks me up.

. . .and a nation will cheer. 

Monday, November 06, 2006

Literary Vs Genre

I’ve often wondered what exactly separates so called genre fiction from so called literary fiction. Sure, you can read a novel and know that is decidedly one or the other, but just what is it exactly that separates the two? To use a cliché, I suppose it comes down to, I know it when I see it, but I can’t explain it.

Granted, the question that this essay asks is: Why are so many novelists in the modern age drawn to write about the ancient world, especially Rome but also, to a lesser extent, Greece?, but the following piqued my attention:

“Robert Harris may be one of Britain’s most popular novelists, but he remains a victim of literary snobbery, or so he thinks. Interviewed recently in the Observer, he complained that the kind of novels shortlisted for the Booker prize were as much works of genre as any other. Harris is considered to be a genre writer: a writer of the airport thriller and historical saga. As such he is never in contention for the main prizes, and his latest novel, Imperium, was predictably not among the 19 titles on this year’s Man Booker longlist.”

Of course, Harris’s publishers may not have entered it for the prize. But if they did, the novel had two things against it. First, the proof copy came with the boast that it had a publicity budget of £400,000, information guaranteed to offend high-minded judges. Second, it is indeed genre fiction ...

I tend to agree with Robert Harris to some degree, and I’ve often wondered why there exists this elitism, or “snobbery” if you will. I wonder if this phenomenon is—at least partly and perhaps inadvertently—perpetuated by the publishing industry. I’ve read accounts of Editors going to bat, kicking and screaming, to get a particular book published knowing that it will not make money and that it will be an economical bust, but because they feel the work is of such merit, they feel that it needs to be put out there. Doesn’t this attitude, in part, doom a book from the start? After such a book is in print and it’s “out there” do the publishers give it weak promotion, saving the big money for the Clancys and Grishams?

Personally, I read a broad spectrum of genres and styles. I’m as likely to pick up a Faulkner as I am a King. I can be as engrossed in one as much as the other as long as I’m reading a good story.

But, I suppose that most consumers are not like that. Or, perhaps they are, and book publishers are beginning to behave much the same Hollywood. I believe that Hollywood is vastly underestimating the average film viewer. But, that’s a whole other discussion.

I know that in my own work it would be difficult to pin down a specific genre. Sure, on the surface, much of what I write could be pigeon-holed, but I think that deeper down, it’s more broad than that. Perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

What’s Going On And The Dreaded Run-On Sentence

It’s been some time since I last posted. I’ve been busy with various things, including doing some writing of course. As stated a couple of posts down, I finished a fourth draft of The Breaks and decided to sit on it for awhile after giving to some readers for feedback. Well, that didn’t last long. I did give it to a couple of readers, and in the mean time I did some line editing on my own. I’m now on what could be easily considered a sixth draft.

Also, I got some very helpful feedback concerning Little Whiskey from someone. That is proving very useful.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about run-on sentences. I have an admittedly nasty habit of spewing out run-on sentences—especially in first or second drafts. I know people who absolutely hate run-on sentences, and I have no problem with them pointing them out to me. That said, I must admit that some of my favorite writers are heavy users of run-on sentences and, like most writers, I’m heavily influenced by writers I admire. The previous sentence is a perfect example of a run-on sentence by the way.

Personally, I don’t have a problem with well done run-on sentences; even heavy use of them. Take Ernest Hemingway for example. That guy could put down a run-sentence with the best of them. The thing that was interesting about Hemingway was that he’d put down a run-on sentence that was bordering on excessive, and then follow it up with a series of short, almost staccato-like, sentences.

Cormac McCarthy, one of the most stunning writers of our time, goes absolutely insane with run-ons. Of course, he’s Cormac McCarthy and can do any damn thing he wants. Read All The Pretty Horses, or No Country For Old Men, and you’ll see what I mean.

Another writer who comes to mind in this regard is Jim Harrison. One of his books—I believe it’s Wolf—starts out with a sentence that goes on for almost two pages.

I suppose the key concerning run-ons is doing it well. I’m not a good enough writer to do them well, but I still find myself drawn to them in certain situations. I think that some stories simply lend themselves to a particular style that includes the use of run-on sentences.

Or something like that.