As I’ve mentioned before, I’m science fiction and fantasy
girl who stumbled into romance by way of erotica. I have mentioned that, right?
Well, I am. Lucky for me, romance can slip into just about any other genre and
make a home. But then there’s the question of length.
My most recent and upcoming releases are three urban fantasy
romances and one science fiction romance. Blue
Plate Special (available now in Naughty Flings) topped out at just a shade
under 10,000 words. Its sequel, Moon
Dance (coming on July 1 in Naughty Escapes) is just a little shorter at
almost 9,700. My upcoming story with Dreamspinner Press, The Stonemason (in the Bare Studs anthology coming out on September
14) is the shortest of the three urban fantasies at just over 6,000 words. It
hasn’t been through edits, yet, though, so that could grow after they shred it.
Then I come to my science fiction romance, Lodestone. It’s available now from
Dreamspinner Press as part of their 2015 Daily Dose. It’s solid science fiction
set on a space station in the future and it came out at just over 12,000 words.
Why does length matter? Let me tell you a story.
When I started subbing SF&F stories a number of years
ago, I was submitting to magazines. There weren’t any e-pubs at that time, but
there were quite a few magazines buying SF&F, from The Magazine of Fantasy
and Science Fiction through some of the more lit mags and even Playboy was
still taking SF. (I would have LOVED to have sold to Playboy they paid VERY
well.) Most of them had a minimum word count of 5,000 words. While the upper
limit varied, I seem to recall it hovered around 10,000 to 12,000 words. So
that’s the size I taught myself to write to. Oddly enough, my first sale was
just shy of 15,000, but what can you do.
At the time, I was writing pure science fiction or fantasy,
none of that messy romantical stuff. Characters were there to interact with the
story and when they interacted with each other there might be all sorts of
emotional content but any love was strictly of the brotherly type.
Then came my erotica phase. No, you’re never getting that
penname. It was profitable and oddly fun to write, even though I wrote some
stuff that wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, so to speak. But I learned a great
deal doing it, both about the business of writing in this new ever-changing
writing landscape, as well as the craft of writing which honestly, hasn’t
changed much. Writers grow, audiences develop new tastes, but the actual writing part of writing remains pretty
much the same—plant butt in chair and produce words until unconscious, rinse
and repeat.
It’s that audience bit that can be a real bug-a-boo,
especially now that we writers have the greatest opportunity to connect with
our readers since Og first lied to the other hunters around the fire about the
size of the woolly mammoth who got away with eight, yes eight of Og’s spears in him. (Oh, stop it. You know that
happened.)
Science fiction has had a long, rich love affair with the
short story. Amazing Stories, Asmiov’s Science Fiction Magazine, The Magazine
of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Analog, Astounding the list goes on and on.
Those aren’t even all the “A”s. I had to include SF&F simply because they
give such genteel rejection letters. Politeness, like grammar, counts.
In my
near fifty years of consuming science fiction (I was but an egg when I began
reading it), I could probably count on one hand the number of other SF readers
I’ve known who didn’t love short stories. Oh, we all love novels, too, and
everything in between, but there’s a special place in the heart of many,
possibly most, SF readers for the short story form.
My exposure to romance came as an adjunct to other things. I
read Barbara Michaels for the ghost story, but the associated romance worked
for me, too. I read Mary Stewart for her take on Merlin, Arthur and the gang. I
read some of her other work because it was there. Victoria Holt was around the
house when I was a kid, so I read those, too. I was probably about twelve when
I read Victoria Holt’s Shadow of the Lynx
at the same time I was reading Heinlein’s Stranger
in a Strange Land and probably something else, too. I was a voracious
reader as a kid.
I always had friends throwing romance books at me, Try this one! You’ll love it! Sadly,
most of the books they were throwing at me contained an element that I simply
cannot tolerate. The TSTL heroine. For those of you unware of this particular
element, TSTL stands for Too Stupid to Live. I can’t tolerate stupid characters
in any genre.
Nothing turns me off a work of fiction faster than a stupid
character. Give me a smart character any day of the week. Or a smart character who did a
stupid thing and has to deal with the fall out—I can deal with that. Goodness
knows I’ve done my share of stupid things in my life. I imagine most of us know
that moment of exquisite torture as you’re grabbing a hot pan while looking at
the oven mitt lying innocently and unused on the counter. It mocks you just as
you think, Oh, f— when your hand makes
contact with the hot metal.
But I digress.
My romance reading friends seemed very odd to me. They
didn’t like short stories. I could never understand why. Those beautiful little
nuggets of fictional goodness just begging to be unwrapped and savored were
irresistible to me. Like finding a new Twilight Zone episode I’d never seen. A
moment of pure readerly, or viewerly, delight.
Now, however, now that I’m breaking into writing romance,
which is very different from erotica, I begin to understand. While I’ve had
nothing but good commentary about my world building and my characters in Lodestone, I’ve gotten dinged for the
romance. Some readers have been dissatisfied with the relationship between Al
and Nick. Not so much that there’s anything wrong
with it, they just wanted to see more development.
Okay. I can see where they’re coming from on that. It’s
something I need to keep in mind during their further adventures, as well as in
future science fiction or fantasy stories. I realized when I saw the very first
review of the story that while I’d written a terrific science fiction short
story, it was lacking a bit on the actual romance. It brought into sharp focus
the problems my romance reading friends had always had with short stories. As
tough as writing short is anyway, I find my writing style generally needs more
real estate for a romance between two
characters than can be found in 12,000 words. This is especially true when
space must also be devoted to world building.
I know there are writers out there gifted enough to produce
a romance story in fewer words and my hat is off to them. I share space in the
Naughty Literati anthologies with writers who do terrific job with the short form. But I’m the person who started
four stories before I landed on The
Stonemason for Bare Studs. The first three ended up growing much too large
for the anthology. Rainmaker was at
around 12,000 words when I realized the characters hadn’t even met yet. Oops.
With The Stonemason very little world
building was required. It’s kind of a locked room urban fantasy romance. Kinda.
Rainmaker and Glass Spinner are currently vying for my
attention. I’m letting the fantasy side of my brain and science fiction side of
my brain fight it out for which one I finish first.
Even with my two Naughty Literati stories, Blue Plate Special (Naughty Flings) and its sequel Moon
Dance (coming in Naughty Escapes)
though they have less world building required than Lodestone it was tough to get all the elements I wanted in them. Setting
the scene in the 1970s takes fewer words than setting it on a space station in
the far future.
So that’s where I am. Learning how to write all over again,
and that is incredibly cool. I love to learn new things and I love to stretch
my writing. I may take Will and Christina from Blue Plate Special and Moon
Dance out for another spin in the Naughty Literati Fall Anthology. That
would give me another opportunity to explore their on-going romance in short
form. Al and Nick from Lodestone have
been nagging me for more time together and the bare bones of a holiday story
for Dreamspinner Press’s Sleighride anthology is starting to come together in
my head. I’m looking forward to working through all the quirks and kinks of
writing short romance.
Not those kind of
kinks. Sheesh, people, get your minds out of the—what am I saying?
I like your minds
in the gutter. In fact, c’mon over to my place. We’ll have tea and talk smut.
Got anything you want to say on the subject of length and
genre? Comment! We’ll chat, but I haven’t figure out a way to serve tea in blog
comments. Still working that one out.
Until next time!
Keep calm and READ!
In life there are choices…
Spinster Iris Hedley was once the darling of the ton until her father lost his fortune through an illness of the mind. Reduced to living as a penniless guest while her father rots in debtors prison, she’s determined to escape unscrupulous robbers who’ve set her to spy on the ton by the only means possible—by becoming a wealthy mans mistress. Unfortunately for Iris, her proper upbringing never covered intimacy or seduction so she asks the one man she trusts for help with private lessons in the duties of a mistress.
…in love there is but one
Martin Andrews, the Earl of Louth, may have a soft spot for tiny Iris Hedley, especially after her father fled London with a horde of debtors nipping at his heels. Her request for lessons in seduction leaves him reeling and although tempted it’s an offer he must refuse for her own good. Convinced she’s headed for heartbreak, he sets out to prove that surrendering to wicked pleasure is not worth the sacrifice of her future only to discover that her problems are more complicated than his own.
Bestselling historical author Heather Boyd believes every character she creates deserves their own happily-ever-after, no matter how much trouble she puts them through. With that goal in mind, she writes sizzling regency romance stories that skirt the boundaries of propriety to keep readers enthralled until the wee hours of the morning. Heather has published over twenty novels and shorter works. Catch her latest news www.heather-boyd.com. She lives north of Sydney, Australia, and does her best to wrangle her testosterone-fuelled family (including cat Morpheus) into submission.
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