After struggling for years, maybe decades, you The Writer gets published. Celebrations! Parties! Champagne! Now you can legitimately call yourself an author. The book is a modest success and if you’re lucky, there’s a two or three book contract and eventually a world of your own making grows in print.
Like most of us have experienced, it probably won’t be that hoped-for blockbuster, because as I read last weekend, there are a million traditionally printed books released each year, and if we add in self-publishing, it jumps to four million titles clamoring for attention. That equates to about eleven thousand books hitting the figurative shelves each day. To put it simply, all this makes it hard to get noticed.
But you’re published and the fruits of your imagination are out there for everyone to read and enjoy. If you produce two novels in the same genre, you’ve most likely established a “brand.” You now write thrillers, mysteries, cozies, science fiction, fantasy, and any number of other genres.
Let’s say you write thrillers. The cover bears your name, and you’ve figured out how all this works. Unlike that first one that you toiled and sweated over, the second manuscript comes a little easier, mostly because you have a contract specifying a delivery time and by golly you’re gonna make it.
The next book comes out, and a year later, another. Though you still haven’t made the bestseller list, the checks keep coming in and the reviews are great. You’re on a roll.
The phone rings. “Uh, Author? We’re negotiating the contract for a new book.”
“While you do that, I’m going to write something different. I have an idea for a romantic thriller.”
“That isn’t what you write.”
There. You’re pigeonholed to only do what you’ve done in the past, but is that a bad thing? Most authors have stories that swirl like the little birds around a cartoon character’s head. You’ve been reading thrillers and after finishing the last one you told yourself, “I can do better.”
You’ve always wanted to be published, and so should you just settle in and stay in that lane?
My answer is no, if you want to experiment with ideas outside of what you’re doing. After writing mysteries for several years, you want to do something different and that’s perfectly understandable. You and your readers love those characters and the fictional world you created, but if you read everything from thrillers, to westerns, to nonfiction, you might feel a calling to trying something different.
Is it a career killer to switch genres?
Ask A.A. Milne. He wrote murder mysteries, after he tried his hand in writing humor and plays before Winnie the Pooh was born.
Cormac McCarthy wrote literary fiction for years before releasing his outstanding western titled, Blood Meridian. He also penned a number of contemporary westerns and eventually moved on to the apocalyptic novel, The Road before writing historical fiction.
With more than 225 romance novels in her backlist, Nora Roberts decided she wanted to write futuristic police procedurals. You might know her as J.D. Robb.
And did you know that fun movie that came out in the 1968 with Dick Van Dyke as the lead character was written by the creator of James Bond? Ian Fleming wrote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang in 1962.
Dean Koontz began his writing career by producing lean mystery novels, many under pen names early in his career such as Brian Coffey (Blood Risk in 1973), before moving to horror, (Intensity), and now a flood of suspense thrillers. But within these current pages, he also adds elements of horror, fantasy and science fiction. He’s blending genres.
Larry McMurtry wrote western novels such as the nontraditional western Horseman, Pass By (1961), to Moving On (still another contemporary western about marriage and adult relationships), and literary fiction utilizing dark comedy and romance (The Evening Star). He concentrated on these genres for years before writing the Pulitzer Prize-winning western novel, Lonesome Dove. In his later years, McMurtry switched from one genre to another, even producing nonfiction books on the old west.
You roll your eyes at these examples. “Yeah, but these folks are famous!”
They are now, but they all started out with that first novel, then the second, until they gained enough experience and confidence to branch out, despite possible warnings from friends, publishers, and agents.
In my opinion, and with the examples above as evidence, you don’t have to “stick with what brung you,” to borrow and old southern saying.
It’s your work, your brand, and your name, and you should follow your instincts. For some authors, producing only one novel a year is almost overwhelming but satisfying and that’s enough. For others who like to play with their imaginary friends, two, and maybe three books a year is a real possibility, and that gives you the opportunity to experiment and branch out.
No matter how you do it, under your own name, or with a pseudonym, do your own thing.