Something unexpected has developed in my reading patterns. Perhaps it’s happened to you, too.
Back when I first became an avid reader, I’d read whatever I could get my hands on. That was particularly true when it came to science fiction; all the SF there was in the world wasn’t nearly enough for me. Anderson, Asimov, Bester, Blish, Bloch, Bradbury, Budrys, Clarke, Del Rey, Dickson, Heinlein, Kuttner, McCaffrey, Russell, Simak, and all their colleagues could barely keep me supplied.
But that was a long time ago. Things have changed. One of the most visible changes has been the rise of the series character: the protagonist who appears in a seemingly endless procession of novels. Time was, such a character was the exception; today he’s close to being the rule.
That’s not intrinsically a bad thing. A really attractive and well developed protagonist needn’t be relegated to a single book. Those who’ve thrilled to his adventures will want to see him again, and perhaps again after that…but a writer who turns out novel after novel centered on the same figure had better be creative as hell about the conflicts he invents and the antagonists he contrives. The last thing a writer wants his readership to think, upon seeing his latest work on the shelves at Barnes & Noble, is “been there, done that.”
But sad to say, most writers are not creative as hell. With series-character-centered fiction so strongly on the rise, a reader will have that reaction more often than in years gone by. I’ve been having it myself.
The manifestation is, of course, in one’s selection of reading material. If a favorite writer persists with a particular series character for a novel or two too many, I abandon that writer. Not just that particular series; the writer and all his future offerings. It’s happened several times recently — as recently as just yesterday.
There’s a moral in this. It strikes me as a particularly important moral for writers in the speculative genres: science fiction, fantasy, and horror.
In the above-ground or “conventional” world of publishing, editors are forever telling their writers to “give me the same, but different.” The maxim has deep roots in the industry. It’s so bloody difficult to know what will sell. Editors are fully aware of how easy it is to squander production and promotion money, to say nothing of printing capacity, on a wet firecracker. They’ve fastened on demanding that new offerings display some similarity to well-proven successes as a way of reducing the risks. Therein lies the danger.
That, of course, is one of the reasons many of us “go indie:” our books are well off the beaten track. Only a really brave editor would dare to take them on. Unfortunately, the precarious economics of print-publication have made editorial bravery a losing proposition.
But we’re capable of committing the same sins as anyone. We’re capable of repeating ourselves to our own ruin, striving to “catch lightning in a bottle” the same way over and over again.
So in my future ventures, I’m going to try to think of my predilections as a reader even as I write. If my existing readers have any characteristic common to most or all of them, it’s that they prefer novelty and the fresh experiences it brings with it. It won’t be easy; I get requests for another novel about this or that character practically every day. Such requests are extremely tempting, in part because they’re so flattering. But imitating one’s prior successes is no way to “keep ’em on their toes,” so excited by the appearance of each new book that they can’t help but spend their hard-earned cash to see what I’ve come up with next, now is it?
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