The Autistic Writer: Pick a Genre, Any Genre
Like many Autistic people, I have difficulty lying. Hell, in many cases I have difficulty merely fudging facts.
I can do it, and have done it on occasion. Which is more than can be said for certain people on the Spectrum who physically cannot say something that isn’t literally, 100% true to the best of their knowledge. Nevertheless I need a pressing, usually moral reason to flat out lie. Most of the time an intense greater good is at stake.
Fudging comes somewhat easier. If for example I am experiencing a bit of Autistic burnout and no longer want to attend an event or meet up with someone, I can tell the other party that I have a head cold instead. In both cases I am not feeling well enough to participate; I am just shifting the true nature of my reasons for feel poorly so it takes less effort to explain.
On the whole, accuracy is a crucial aspect of my everyday life.
As I wrote in a post several weeks ago, this trait of mine bumps up against the need to market from time to time. It’s especially palpable when it comes to placing any given one of my novels into a genre.
Genre is the first marketing decision an author makes. The greatest thriller ever written will not do well if shelved with the Westerns. Categories matter. A great deal.
As does my need to choose the correct one for my novel. It’s not straight-forward for me.
Most of my novels to date have some element of fantasy/magic to them. Yet when it comes to claiming to have written a fantasy novel, I hit a snag. Why? Because there is a long tradition of tropes and characteristics indicative of fantasy fiction that don’t appear in my stories.
This goes beyond mere distinctions such as high fantasy (Think Lord of the Rings) vs low fantasy (think American Gods.) I am 100% certain I do not write high fantasy. Yet every time I think a novel of mine would fit into low fantasy, I read about other expectations and trends within that subgenre that would exclude my work.
This doesn’t hurt my feelings per se; I write the stories I need to tell, regardless. Yet to label my novel as a “work of low fantasy” suddenly feels inaccurate. Dishonest. An attempt to deceive book shoppers.
So I classify it as “general fiction,” because it is virtually impossible to be wrong under a huge umbrella such as that. “Speculative fiction,” works at times.
That means of course that someone looking for a fantasy read will likely never see my book among the ocean of novels out there. Despite a fantasy element being key to the story, I dare not call it “fantasy.”
Let’s be real though. A Greek god visits a modern community theatre? (Flowers of Dionysus) Fantasy. Low fantasy, yes, but fantasy even if it doesn’t check every box technically.
A young woman with the power to physically see human promises? (The Beacons I See), or the adventures of assassinated president James Garfield in the afterlife? (There Is Pain Here)? Fantasy is fair enough, no? They sure as hell aren’t police procedurals. And though, as I said, any could fit into some form of speculative fiction or general fiction, for marketing purposes they could be in fantasy. Should be in fantasy, even if I fudge the details around the edges.
True, fantasy readers are known to be quite protective of traditional definitions of fantasy, and I am not on a crusade to change their minds. But I’ve got books to sell!
All of the above are in fact now tagged under “fantasy” as a secondary genre in most online stores I use. I allowed myself. Eventually. And as genres evolve and change with time, it may be that calling my previous books fantasy isn’t as problematic as it might have been 30 years ago. Yet as an author that is also Autistic, this little voice in my mind will always say when I tag my work with a genre:
“Are you being totally honest here?”
Ty Unglebower 