Trendy

If you’ll glance to your right, you’ll notice I’ve added the cover for Slayer for Hire to our list of books. This is my spinoff from Belonging and Legacy; one of the leads is the son of the Legacy threesome. It’s also YA and has no sex scenes. It’s perfectly safe for anyone 14 or older. Oh yeah, there are vampires, and a couple of people get attacked and killed. But nobody has on-screen sex. That’s far more important to a lot of people, including my library’s content filter. Go figure.

# # #

I didn’t write Slayer because YA was really big at the time. Ditto for the inclusion of vampires. It was a story I wanted to write, and nagged at me until I committed it to paper/screen. That’s pretty much how all my books and stories come into being. Some idea gets into my head and keeps kicking my brain and demanding, “Write me write me write me.” So I do. If the nagging lasts long enough for me to get it finished, off to market it goes. If not, it goes into the closet for exhumation at a later date. If it stays in the closet, the idea probably wasn’t that important to me to begin with.

I don’t write to trends. I’m not even aware of trends. I can’t see them coming, and every time I jump I miss the bandwagon. I’m like Hollywood. By the time I notice a trend, it’s over. I write whichever idea hits, and it takes me forever to finish it. Sometimes I get lucky and one of my ideas turns into a trend by the time I finish the book. Then the book comes out just in time to hit the wave. It makes me look smarter than I am.

For instance, I discovered I like writing M/M just as it was getting big. Some publisher put out an open call for angel and/or demon stories. So I wrote about an angel and a demon, both male, who discovered they really, really liked each other. It wasn’t intentional. My mind just happened to skew in that direction. It didn’t sell to that publisher but did to another, and all of a sudden I was trendy.

I didn’t switch from SF/fantasy to romance because romance was big. I just felt like writing romance for a while. I may switch back, especially if that horror/fantasy I exhumed from the closet sells. Or I may switch over to straight horror. Stephen King doesn’t write the kind of stories that made him famous any more. Somebody should step in to fill the void. Maybe I can start a new horror trend, just like he did when he started publishing.

Because that’s the secret to trends. You don’t want to follow one, or try to anticipate or guess what it’s going to be. You want to start the trend. Let everybody else follow you.

Everybody’s always looking for the “next big thing.” What’s going to be hugely profitable six months to a year from now? Lots of money and people’s careers hinge on guessing right. Editors and agents put out lists of what they’re looking for, things they want to see. Writers pour over these lists and write what they think the market wants.

Until one writer (name not given, so I can’t properly credit him/her) put everything into perspective with a single Tweet: “Remember, nobody was looking for Harry Potter.”

So how did J. K. Rowling become a megaseller and kick off a massive feeding frenzy for middle grade/young adult fantasy? By writing the book she wanted to write, and doing a damn good job of it. Readers responded to her belief in her story and characters, and the rest is publishing history.

Ditto for Stephenie Meyer and Suzanne Collins. I doubt if publishers were looking for teenage vampire romances or YA dystopias until Twilight and The Hunger Games crossed their desks. Now the market’s saturated and you can’t give the damn things away. On to the next trend.

Which will be … what? Hell, I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine. I can tell you how it’ll start, though. Some writer will write the book that’s pounding in their brain. They’ll eat, sleep, and breathe their characters’ lives and world. It may share tropes in common with countless previous books, but be told in a way that makes it new and unique. It will have that something, that magic, in the writing that speaks to the heart of the reader, and readers will respond. The publishing world will look at some surface aspect—“Oh, it has oppressive governments/magic/vampires/spaceships/lesbian tarantula wranglers”—and declare that the Next Big Thing. And so begins the trend.

Who knows? One of you may write that book. You may be writing it right now. I can pretty much guarantee it’s not like anything that’s currently on the market. It’s the book you have to write, even though it isn’t part of a trend and nobody says they’re looking for it. That’s because they haven’t seen it yet.

So why are you sitting there reading blogs on the Internet? Get back to kicking off the latest Big Thing in Publishing so the rest of us can ride on your coattails. But hands off the lesbian tarantula wranglers. I’ve got dibs.

Origin Story

Basic rule of blogging: if you can’t come up with a topic, write a flash. Today’s post is a bridge scene between the end of my M/M/F ménage, Legacy, and my YA spinoff Slayer for Hire, as the hero of Slayer makes his first-ever appearance.

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“Here we go,” Annie said. “Show time.”

“About damn time,” Colleen growled. She knew her full attention should have been focused on birthing her third child, but she found her awareness split between her contractions and the window, and the soon-to-rise sun beyond it. Babies came when they came, with no regard for arbitrary adult schedules. Least of all a vampire’s.

Wallace crowded against the narrow bed, both his hands gripping one of Colleen’s. Like her, he nervously watched the window as well as her efforts. Colleen was only half vampire and could withstand the sun, but its rays meant death for him. Nevertheless she knew he’d risk it to stay by her side until their child entered the world. The stubborn bastard.

Del had been a daylight baby too. Wallace had toughed it out, swaddled in a hooded robe and dark glasses, until he could hold their newborn son in his arms. Dina had been more accommodating; she’d arrived in the dead of night, daddy’s girl from the start. This one seemed intent on making his debut with the dawn, and it looked like his intentions were going to trump his parents’.

Colleen bore down with all her impressive vampire strength. Still the little prick refused to come out. Oh great, yet another hard-headed addition to the flock. Didn’t they have enough of those already?

As always, Jeremy took quick action to protect his beloved vampires. He pried Colleen’s other hand from around his wrist and went to the window to draw the blinds and curtains. On his return route he detoured to the bedroom closet for an extra blanket, which he handed to Wallace. “Wrap yourself in this. I think that window faces north anyway, but no point in taking chances. Annie?”

“North or northwest, I’m not sure,” Annie said from between Colleen’s legs. “C’mon, sonny boy, you’re holding up the show. Not to mention your daddy’s bedtime.”

“You’re not sure?” Wallace squeaked. “It’s your house.”

“You could have done this at your place, y’know. I’ve brought babies into the world in stranger places than a vampire’s lair.”

“I didn’t tell my water to break in the middle of dinner,” Colleen snapped. Her hand clamped around Wallace’s. “Sorry. I thought I had at least two weeks to go. And now, after all this, the little shit doesn’t want to come out after all.”

“Can’t blame him there,” Wallace said. “I like to stay buried inside you too.”

Jeremy grinned. “Same here.”

Colleen squeezed both their hands. Wallace, with his superhuman strength, took her grip in stride. “Ow!” human Jeremy yelped. “What are you punishing me for? I’m not the one who got you pregnant.”

“It’s not punishment,” Colleen gasped between pants. “He must have heard you. He’s on his way.”

The baby crowned just as the sun rose. Wallace snarled at the window, but didn’t budge from her bedside. Jeremy angled his body to block any stray rays of sunlight from Wallace.

“Atta girl,” Annie said. “One more push—”

After all the contractions, the bother and the drama, the baby arrived just like his siblings, quickly and with very little pain. The advantages of a half-vampiric physiology. Annie cut the cord with expert precision. Colleen expelled the afterbirth with a tiny grunt. Wallace grunted too, as the smell of fresh hot blood attacked his nostrils. “You okay?” Jeremy said.

“I’m good.” Wallace rubbed his nose. “How about you, sweetheart?”

Colleen struggled upright, already reaching out. “How’s the baby?”

“Fine and dandy,” Annie said. “You’ve got yourself another healthy boy. How much vampire? Too soon to say. We’ll know more when his teeth come in.” She brought the baby, now cleaned up and wrapped in a blanket, over to the bed. “Here you go, pardner. Say howdy to your mom and dad.”

Colleen took the baby and cradled him close. He wriggled against her, curious, already trying to smile. Such a perfect little thing. Big dark eyes and little wiggly fingers and toes and features that could have been anybody’s. Both Del and Dina favored their father. She wondered if their newest brother would follow suit.

But something was off, just a hair. He didn’t smell the same as Del and Dina had when they’d been born. Colleen fought a surge of alarm. It wasn’t a wrong or sick odor, just different. More like … she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She turned to Wallace and noticed his nostrils working. He’d picked up on it too. His elated smile dimmed for a second before it shifted into another direction.

Attuned to them both, Jeremy asked worriedly, “Was is it? What’s wrong? Is the baby okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Wallace said with an odd half-grin. “You want to hold him, scarecrow?”

“His father should take a turn first.”

“Exactly.” Wallace’s grin widened until his fangs showed, but not in a threatening way. “I don’t know how you pulled it off, scarecrow, but this one’s yours.”

“What?” Jeremy stared down at the baby in Colleen’s protective arms, then up at Wallace. “No.”

“This says yes.” Wallace tapped his nose, still grinning like a manic jack o’lantern. “His scent’s too human. Del and Dina’s blood smelled like mine. His doesn’t. Congratulations, scarecrow. You’re a daddy.”

“But—no. How did that happen?”

“You don’t know?” Annie said. “Here’s how it works. The man sticks his poker up the lady’s chimney, and nine months later a baby shows up. Stop me if the terms get too technical.”

“That isn’t what I meant. I meant, he can’t be mine. I’m human. I can’t get Colleen pregnant. Colleen, tell them.”

“He’s right.” Colleen tenderly brushed the dark fuzz on her new son’s perfect little head, drinking in his scent. “Wallace is right. That’s what’s different about him.” She looked up at Jeremy, smiling. “He smells just like you.”

“Good, strong heartbeat,” Wallace added. “More times a minute than the other two. Look at you.” Wallace chuckled and tweaked a fold of the baby’s blanket. “Snuggled up in your mama’s arms like you never want to leave. That how you got here?”

Annie speared a look at Jeremy. “You two weren’t using protection?”

“I didn’t think we needed to,” Jeremy said testily. “Colleen was genetically designed to breed vampire children. She can’t have babies with humans.”

“You’ve been taking doses of my blood,” Colleen pointed out. “Wallace’s too. Maybe it was enough.”

“That and the non-stop sex,” Wallace said. “You two go at it like rabbits while I’m asleep. I can smell you all over the house. Looks like you got the ammo, Fertile Freddy. Maybe I should start using protection.”

“Stop it,” Jeremy snarled. “Just—”

The baby gurgled and yawned. Jeremy automatically glanced down. The look of longing, of hope that flashed across his face nearly broke Colleen’s heart.

Annie came up behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “There are ways to check,” she said. “I know discrete people. The kind who won’t ask questions if something funny pops up in the baby’s DNA.”

“Or we can just wait about fifteen years,” Wallace said. “When he shoots up to seven feet tall, we’ll know for sure.”

“You really think it’s possible?” Jeremy asked softly. “You’re not angry?”

Wallace leaned across the bed, Colleen and the newborn to catch Jeremy by the back of the head and draw him in for a powerful kiss. “How could I be angry? This is the life I wanted for you. Fussing over your girl and your kid instead of over a cranky bat. C’mon, I’ve seen how you are with our kids. If ever a man was born to be a mom, it’s you.”

Colleen pressed Jeremy’s hand. “Would you like to hold your son?”

Jeremy didn’t move, so Annie accepted the baby from Colleen and handed him to his father. Jeremy’s hands shook. It wasn’t nervousness. He’d had plenty of experience with her and Wallace’s children. Maybe more; their children were active in daylight. She knew what brought on the trembling. Her own emotions trembled as she watched one of the two men she adored fall head over heels for the tiny life he now held in his arms.

“Any ideas for a name?” Annie asked. “Or would you rather wait a little bit and let it all sink in?”

“Colleen and I had a few ideas,” Wallace said. “Back when we thought I was the one who hit the moving target.”

“We’re not calling him Ghidrah,” Colleen said firmly. “And I’m not letting you watch those movies any more. What about Matthew?” she added to Jeremy. “Wasn’t that your father’s name?”

“Um?” Jeremy stirred briefly out of his fatherhood trance. “I don’t even remember my father.”

Wallace snickered. “Bet you remember this.”

“I doubt if I’ll ever forget.” He smiled down at the baby. The baby sort of smiled back. “Hey, Matt. Welcome to the flock.”

“And on that note,” Annie said, “Mommy needs a break. Scoot, fellahs. We’ll take it from here.”

“I’m staying,” Jeremy announced. “Until Colleen kicks me out.”

“But I can’t,” Wallace said. He winced in the direction of the window. With a sigh of a growl he kissed Colleen, then Jeremy, then the baby, and finally Annie. “Gotta go. See you folks tonight.”

But he didn’t leave, not at once. He paused in the bedroom doorway. Jeremy perched on the edge of the bed, one arm around Colleen, the other around their child. All three looked so beautiful, so happy. So alive.

The vampire’s heart beat. Just for a minute, a series of powerful thumps. Then he wrenched himself away and sped downstairs, to the windowless room in the basement that would protect him until nightfall, when he could rejoin his family.

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For the rest of the story, both the threesome’s and Matt’s, check out my page on Amazon (www.amazon.com/Pat-Cunningham/e/B005EMOBF4/ref=sr_tc_ep?qid=1311881989). There’s other stuff on there too, like shapeshifters and gay superheroes. Something for everyone.

The Perils of Genre Hopping

Now that Slayer for Hire’s safely in release, I can relax a bit on the promotion. I don’t like doing promo. I’m not into trolling for sales or the whole social media thing. I’d rather be writing, which is my second-favorite thing, or avoiding writing, which is my first-favorite thing. That explains why my career hasn’t taken off like a rocket.

So does this. Doing promo this time around was particularly difficult because in order to tell the story, I had to jump genres. Slayer is aimed at readers in their upper teens and beyond. There’s a little swearing, some violence and no sex. No problem there. The problems hit when I try to court readers, or direct potential buyers to my sites.

I’m on two blogs, this one and Shapeshifter Seductions. This one has a clear adult warning: nobody under 18. There goes a good chunk of Slayer’s target audience. The other site’s devoted to romantic shapeshifter flash fiction, which doesn’t apply to Slayer. Sometimes the flashfic gets racy. The kids might like that, but I doubt if their parents would.

It’s no better on my author sites. Let’s take a look at my pages on Amazon and BookStrand. I’ve got three mainstream shapeshifter romance novels, three erotic guy-on-guy books, and a M/M/F ménage that includes a woman having threeway sex with a man and a vampire, and sex between two guys. To this I’ve now added a book about a 19-year-old who learns how to kill vampires and has a sweet romance. I’m sure whatever readers I have left are scratching their heads by now.

That’s not counting the dozen or so SF and fantasy stories I wrote way back when that may still be floating around out there, or the story I had published in a recent anthology about serial killers. At least I had the sense to put a pen name on that one.

This, boys and girls, is called genre jumping. If you’re a writer, it’s one of the best ways you can go about shooting your career in the foot.

I hear a lot of talk about “branding” these days when it comes to writers and writing. Stephen King’s “brand” is horror. Sara Paretsky and Sue Grafton are “branded” as mystery writers. You want epic fantasy, head for the Tolkien shelf. Nicholas Sparks writes chick books. I’m not quite sure what James Patterson does because I’ve never read any of his stuff. Whatever it is, he’s selling tons of it. Like a fast-food franchise or hotel chain, people know what to expect from him, so he’s the one they go to when they’re in the mood for that.

What can my readers expect from me? Given my track record, chaos.

If you want to build a readership, you have to be consistent. You have to establish a brand. No flitting around from genre to genre, or even subgenre to subgenre. If you start out writing M/F contemporary and feel a hankering to write M/M or urban fantasy or M/M urban fantasy, put a pen name on it to differentiate. Otherwise the readers are liable to get confused. I was told this by a publisher, and it’s solid advice.

So how’d I do? Well, my backlist speaks for itself. My one “series” consists of a M/M, a M/M/F, and now a YA spinoff. The next book in the trilogy, if I ever complete it, is M/F. I can’t even stay consistent within a series.

I admit now I should have written the M/Ms under a different name. I thought if readers liked my writing they’d follow my name, not my subject matter. They followed Isaac Asimov, and he wrote in several genres (science fiction, mystery, nonfiction, whatever the hell he wanted to). Of course, he was Isaac Asimov and I’m not. I’ve since learned readers tend to specialize, with little crossover between genres or subgenres, even when they’re by the same writer. If we as writers want a healthy career, we have to specialize too.

Yeah. Good luck with that. With my series I’ve been following the characters, and this is where they led me. The characters called for a young-adult plotline, not erotica or even flat-out romance. This is the book I wanted to write and the way I wanted to write it. And now, as the saying goes, what do I do for an encore?

At the present time I have no idea what my next book will be. It might be another YA. It might be a romance. If it’s a romance, it could be either M/F or M/M, depending on whichever plot rises out of the muck. If it’s M/F, I’ll put a different byline on it, my nod to genre differentiation. Slayer came out under P. E. Cunningham, my SF/F name. I haven’t published in that genre for awhile, so there might be less confusion. Except the book I subbed to Harper Voyager’s open call was fantasy, and under that name. Oh crap.

Time for damage control. I’ll have to go back to an earlier plan, and use different names when I genre-hop. If that means I wind up with six different names and six different readerships, so be it. As long as I can earn gas and grocery money, I’m good. The hardest part will be the application of butt to chair so I can write the damn books, never mind what genre they are. And how is your life going?

The Book I Won't Be Writing

I didn’t mean to write a series. Belonging was supposed to be a stand-alone. However, my sequelitis kicked in, and before you know it, there was Legacy. That book sparked my spin-off, the upcoming Slayer for Hire, involving my threesome’s children. Preacher’s book is sitting in limbo right now, waiting for the plot to gel, and I’ve got an idea involving Wallace’s daughter Dina, who co-stars in Slayer for Hire.

I suppose these two books will get written eventually. I love the characters, and the ideas just keep coming. I can’t let go of them yet. I want to keep it going. As long as I keep coming up with plots and publishers keep showing interest, I suppose I can squeeze another couple stories out of these people.

But there’s one story I don’t think I could write, even though I recently figured out a way to give it an HEA. That’s the wrap-up, the grand finale. For lack of a better word, the end.

There’s a huge elephant in this family’s room, one they (and I) have been trying not to deal with. There’s Wallace the vampire, his human lover Jeremy, their half-vampire lover Colleen, and the kids. So far, so good. Here’s the problem: everybody except Wallace is mortal, or partially mortal. Nobody wants to be turned. They’re content with their mortality and everything it means.

What it means is, Wallace’s family—his partners, his children, everyone he loves—will eventually grow old and die. Sooner or later, inevitably, even the kids will be gone, and immortal Wallace will have to go on without them. The only ending I could imagine involved Wallace walking into the sunlight. That’s something I, as these people’s “mother,” just don’t want to face.

Luckily for me, though not necessarily for one of the other characters, my subconscious couldn’t take it either and came up with a workable solution. It involves someone we haven’t seen for awhile: Shayla, the adopted daughter of Gus and Annie Stanton.

Don’t get your squick in an uproar. Shayla’s not the five-year-old we last saw in Legacy. At least 25 years have passed since then (Jeremy’s son Matt is 22 in Slayer, and he has two older siblings). She’s had a full life in the interim, with relationships and jobs and possibly a failed marriage that didn’t produce any children (the reason why it failed?). She comes back to California to reconnect with her family, and walks right into peril.

At one point in the long-lost past, Gus and Annie were slayers. A vampire from that era returns to exact his revenge. However, since vampires don’t age, they don’t always have a firm grasp on the passage of time. This one finally gets his vengeful ass in gear 50 years too late. Natural causes have already done the job for him. Well, the vamp decides, if he can’t kill the slayers, he’ll replace the flock they staked, his family, with their family. He targets the Stantons’ children and grandchildren, starting with Shayla.

Wallace’s retaliation comes too late. The vampire’s already turned her.

Now Shayla’s joined the undead. There’s no cure. All Wallace and his family can do is take her in, and teach her how to be a vampire. Over the course of the following weeks, as Wallace and Shayla share vampire hunting and blood on the nighttime streets of Los Angeles, the inevitable happens.

It’s not as icky as it sounds. Like I said, this Shayla is a grown woman. She’s roughly the same age Wallace was when he got turned. She knows about her parents’ former vocation. She’s known for years Wallace is a vampire (his failure to age was a dead giveaway). She knows he’s the one who saved her from vampires when she was a child. She even had a crush on him in her teens, though nothing ever came of it. She grew up, left California, had a life, and came back. Now she’s undead and falling in love with a man she’s always admired. Wallace has always been fond of her too, and that fondness quickly grows.

So the threesome becomes a foursome, at least emotionally. (Adult or not, no way Jeremy’s sleeping with someone he remembers as the little girl he used to sing to sleep.) Colleen and Jeremy are good with it, even relieved. Now they can grow old together without guilt, knowing Wallace will have someone to look after him when their time finally comes. The new couple might even find a pretty young man they can share, and start the flock over again.

That’s my happy ending, but I don’t think I can write it. It’s enough for me to know I’m leaving Wallace and his family in a good place. There’s also the time factor to think about. I was able to fudge it with Slayer because it’s a different genre appearing under another publisher. There’s a 25-year gap between Legacy and Slayer, yet both appear to take place in the current now. Somebody’s bound to notice. Either that, or Matt and his siblings were born and matured within the space of a couple years. I know they did that in the final Twilight book, but I try to stay away from Twilight plots.

Maybe I can write the book, stick it in the closet for 10 to 15 years, then shop it around and hope the new generation of readers isn’t swift on math. Or just direct the curious to this blog. That’ll reassure any concerned readers, and save me a lot of time. Life goes on, even for vampires, especially when their creators are willing to twist time, space and logic to guarantee they get their HEA. I wish real life could be manipulated that easily. I’d be a whole lot richer and a whole lot thinner. Wouldn’t we all?

Well, Waddaya Know

Since I didn’t win anything in last night’s Powerball drawing, looks like it’s back to the keyboard. That’s okay, because yesterday I won something even better: Evernight Teen accepted my novel! I can now add YA to my list of conquered genres. I haven’t read extensively from the modern YA shelves, but I used to read a ton of science fiction and fantasy, and a lot of times it amounts to the same thing. (Heinlein’s advice on writing juveniles: “Make the protagonist 17 years old, then write it the same way you’d write any other book.”)

Here’s Slayer for Hire in brief: a fan obsesses over the star of her favorite TV show. Then she meets him in person and discovers he’s a douche. Lucky for her his co-star is a hottie of the highest order. They end up fighting vampires together. Yes, there are vampires in it, but they’re secondary characters and wind up getting slain. It’s an anti-vampire vampire novel.

The hottie co-star is based on an actor I’m currently obsessing over. Jared Padalecki’s been very, very good to me. I’ve put him in three books now, with a possible forth poking around in the underbrain, waiting for inspiration to hit. I’ll get to Misha’s book someday. Jensen? Sorry. You had your shot. You’re done. You get a cameo in Misha’s book. You’re Captain Kirk and Jared’s Spock, and Spock was always my favorite. Better luck next show.

Yeah, I remember the thrill of seeing my favorite actor on screen. I had a major fangirl crush on Harrison Ford for decades. It made writing Billie, my female protag, that much easier because I’ve been in her shoes. Write what you know.

That’s basic writing advice, but is it any good? Depends. If you’re a doctor, writing medical thrillers is pretty much a no-brainer. On the other hand, I doubt very much if Stephen King has ever personally faced ghosts, aliens or demons, or lived through the flu-induced end of the world. I myself have written M/M, and I’m fairly sure I’ve never been male, either gay or straight. Nor am I a shapeshifter. If I was, do you think I’d be living in my current shape?

It works if you use “write what you know” as a starting point. Ever been cold? Ever gone outside in a snowstorm? Then you can write about somebody lost in a blizzard, or growing up on an arctic planet. You’ve grown up, haven’t you? That makes you a potential YA author. Ever taken a vacation at the beach? Go ahead and write that mermaid story. Hell, you can write it even if you’ve only ever been to a river or lake. Who’s to say there aren’t fresh-water mermaids?

I used to consider myself a SF/fantasy fan, and attended my share of cons in the ‘80s and ‘90s. I’ve watched the costume contests and attended the filksings (yes, that’s spelled correctly). I’ve sat up until 4 in the morning watching Japanese anime—in Japanese. I’ve experienced the culture shock of returning to the mundane world after three days surrounded by people in costumes and alien makeup. I saw William Shatner in person back in the late ‘70s. (He’s shorter than you think.) I once spoke to Darth Vader. (David Prowse was a guest at a con in Philadelphia. I was poking through stuff at a dealer’s table, turned around, and there he was. “Hi,” said I. “Hello,” said he. That was my conversation with Darth Vader.)

In short, I’ve been exposed to fandom and remember the fangirl mindset, and I know what it’s like to crush on both an actor and his fictional character. Writing Billie wasn’t much of a stretch for me. I’ve never worked in a diner, but I did work at a McDonald’s. I’ve spent time behind counters. I never waded through a swamp to catch a glimpse of Harrison Ford, but I’ve waited all week long (and boy, did it feel long) for my favorite show with my favorite star to come on.

You probably know more than you think you do. Use those memories. Talk to other people and use their memories. Start with the basic experience and extrapolate from there. Stephen King’s novella “The Body” (filmed as Stand By Me) sprang from a friend’s recollection of the first time he saw roadkill in the street. Everything else was Stevie drawing on the memories and emotions of his childhood.

In fact, knowledge of people and how they feel and react is pretty much all you need. Human nature hasn’t changed in thousands of years. If you know people, you can write anything.

Now that I’ve added YA to my resume of genres, I’m beginning to feel invincible. Maybe it’s time to dust off the Gerald S. Parker pseudonym and get cracking on those horror/thrillers. Sooner or later, one of these genres is going to earn me a living. Happy writing, everybody!