Saturday, March 31, 2012

Writing Sci-fi/ Fantasy

I have a YA fantasy idea in my head that I absolutely love, but find myself very afraid to write it. I think it's because I'm afraid that it won't stand up to the standards of what fantasy readers expect. I do not want to insult anyone by having a concept that is not up to par to fantasy readers. In my mind, the idea is wonderful, but I'm not a die-hard fantasy fan. I'm more of a contemporary romance girl. I don't mind a paranormal/ sci-fi twinge, but I like things on Earth, in a time that I know about or can relate to. I love stories set in the south or the 1830s to 1950s. I love a story that has the feeling of 1890 but is somewhat modernized so I could envision myself there. So my question is should a writer stick to what they know or venture out to other genres with the hope that it doesn't flop?
Many of the greatest writers haven't. Stephen King doesn't write epic romance and Nicholas Sparks doesn't write horror. Jerry Spinelli was known for his YA or MG works that were about social acceptance and even Stephenie Meyers stays in her lane in paranormal romance. But is it possible for an author to transcend genres successfully.

According to, JK Rowling is currently working on an adult novel. If she succeeds, she has bridged the gap of authors known for one style of writing completely changing what their skill set is. Are there others that have done this? Is it possible?

Sample Intro- Hellion

“Kill, Kill, Kill,” the instructions snaked through the darkness, beyond a tawny sheet of hair that was carelessly strewn over a long pillow and into the ears of a sleeping girl. The hissed directions were barely above a whisper, but loud enough for her to snap her head up and reveal crystal grey eyes that frantically searched through the darkness of her bedroom. She knew the words belonged to The Dark One, her master—the one that directed her to possess, to frighten, to mutilate, and in this situation, to kill.

Her skin turned alabaster as the moonlight from the window settled on it. The words came clear into her mind again and in a poof, she disappeared into a cloud of glistening black dust. She floated through the walls of her bedroom, over the green of her front yard and towards an undisclosed location.
She was met by another form—a glittering black cloud just like her. They didn’t speak to each other, but knew each other’s presence because they were of the same origin. They traveled together in the dark of night until they reached a small house that was on a lonesome cul-de-sac. The disheveled house stood by itself, mounted on the curve like a dot on an ‘I’. The house was dilapidated and uncared for. The vinyl siding of the house was covered in dirt causing the house to look dark brown instead of white it was supposed to be. The dark shutters were askew; some of them were only hanging on by a lone screw. Panels from the windows were ripped down and the screen door was shredded.
The two clouds floated through the front door of the house and revealed themselves on the other side. They floated past a couch that was completely covered in newspapers and debris, a coffee table that was piled high with red plastic cups and into a bedroom that was located down a long, dark hall. Lying on top of a small bed, a hairy man dressed in a white undershirt and blue boxers noisily slept with his legs stretched over the sides. His arms were limply lying off the edge of the bed and his fingertips grazed an empty whiskey bottle. A bottle of pills had capsized and sprayed small white tablets across the floor near the bottle.
With unsaid understanding, the two clouds disappeared into the man’s body. From the outside, the man seemed to sleeping soundly until his baby blue eyes sprang open and he began to convulse. He flipped onto his back and arched it, spastically deforming his face as he grasped for breaths. His fingers scratched at his throat as he rolled around the bed searching for air. He threw his body onto the floor and continued to convulse, slightly shrieking and bumping around the nightstand that was near his bed. The man’s eyes were blazing red as the blood vessels in them popped and exploded over the whites of his eyes. His cheeks turned red and then purple until finally everything in the house was still.

Thursday, March 29, 2012


I've been fairly busy these past few weeks. I completed two books—which I am now in the process of editing—and am also working on a new manuscript which I'm very excited about. I recently decided to content edit on more than a freelance basis. I have been editing college papers, but have decided to take my love for critiquing work to my real passion: creative writing.

I am content editing FICTION pieces FOR FREE. It can be any part of the story, any genre, as long as the submitted piece is under 2,000 words. Due to time constraints, I can't read and edit more than 2,000 words. Again, it's completely free—no strings. I'm not doing it for book ideas; I already have multiple books I'm working on with my agent. I'm not doing it for fun. I genuinely love editing, reading and being a part of the writing process.

Anyone interested, venture to the left side of the screen and click on the page titled FREE CONTENT EDITING FOR FICTION for more details.