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Judging a sub-genre
Awhile ago, I talked about the learning curve I was experiencing with Meljean Brooks's paranormal romance series, because there was too much ongoing plot for a straight romance, but too much romance for a straight paranormal. Between then and now, I've been reading (somewhat voraciously) Nalini Singh's Psy/Changeling series, which has many of those same qualities, and, encouraged by how much I was enjoying those, I went back and got the first book in Brooks's series. This time, the series clicked for me. Whether it's because I started at the beginning or just hit my learning curve, I'm not sure. Whichever the case, however, I wanted to be sure to report that I have, in fact, gotten a better hang on how to read this side of the paranormal romance spectrum. (Many paranormals read more like urban fantasy or straight romance--but Singh's and Brooks's are smack in the middle.)
It occurs to me, having just read some really insightful entries from Erik Scott de Bie and Jim Hines on reading shared-world fantasy that paranormal romance isn't the only genre that requires learning how to read it. I suspect that if you don't start reading shared-world fiction before you realize it's a whole sub-genre all to itself, you bring to it some kinds of assumptions about what it means. The author hasn't created their own setting--so obviously they *couldn't* do so, and their writing is sub-par because the world isn't unique to them. This, of course, is not my opinion--but it's one that I've heard many times. Shared-world fantasy, particularly game fiction, has long been the looked-down-upon step-child of the fantasy genre.
But here's what I've observed, both as a reader and a writer in shared-world fiction. There are people who do it well and people who do it really badly. Some of those people who botch shared-world fiction are writers who do perfectly well in their own worlds, and even win awards and critical acclaim. But when it comes to writing in a shared-world setting, particularly one that requires use of the same characters, they miss the boat. Why? Because they're writing too much like themselves--and not enough like the characters. They change the world rather than enhancing it. Their work doesn't feel *genuine* the way a good shared-world writer's work does. The real challenge in shared-world fiction is writing something that makes that shared-world *more real* to an audience that carries a lot of expectations to every book it picks up.
If you're not keen on a setting, of course, you might be turned off by all the fiction, no matter how good it is. Despite my interest in the Living Forgotten Realms game, I've never been a huge fan of the Realms. There is way too much content to know--and as the best shared-world books have the setting deeply ingrained, from slang to deities to insults that only matter to people familiar with what's being insulted--so it's easy for me to get lost. I have enjoyed some Realms fiction, but the setting itself isn't enough to draw me. Some of the particular writers, like Erik, are the draw instead. I feel roughly the same way about the X-Men; I like them all right, but I bought the series written by Joss Whedon.
In settings that have a lot of appeal for me, I eagerly read the books due to the same things that frustrate me in settings I'm not keen on: they use slang, enhance my understanding of the world's deities, banter in ways that only make sense if you're in on the details of the setting. And then, there's more. Not only are these books marketing tools (and make no mistake, the companies that publish them are trying to sell their games and, in the case of Star Wars and other TV tie-ins, DVDs or other content, as much as they want to sell the novels). The books have the chance to also be great fantasy novels on their own. They can explore concepts like mortality, theology, ethics, and philosophy. They explore very human relationships between people who aren't always human. And they do all of this while maintaining a particular tone that reflects everything that has come before them.
Learning to read shared-world fiction and appreciate them for what they do may be the same kind of learning curve that I experienced with paranormal romances. Once you see what they're doing, not only in terms of story but in terms of enhancing a setting created by other authors, it's hard not to admire what these writers are doing. In my own work, I tried to think of the setting as a character in its own right, and I hope that when people read my novels, they see that as much as they see the characters and plot I created on my own.
It occurs to me, having just read some really insightful entries from Erik Scott de Bie and Jim Hines on reading shared-world fantasy that paranormal romance isn't the only genre that requires learning how to read it. I suspect that if you don't start reading shared-world fiction before you realize it's a whole sub-genre all to itself, you bring to it some kinds of assumptions about what it means. The author hasn't created their own setting--so obviously they *couldn't* do so, and their writing is sub-par because the world isn't unique to them. This, of course, is not my opinion--but it's one that I've heard many times. Shared-world fantasy, particularly game fiction, has long been the looked-down-upon step-child of the fantasy genre.
But here's what I've observed, both as a reader and a writer in shared-world fiction. There are people who do it well and people who do it really badly. Some of those people who botch shared-world fiction are writers who do perfectly well in their own worlds, and even win awards and critical acclaim. But when it comes to writing in a shared-world setting, particularly one that requires use of the same characters, they miss the boat. Why? Because they're writing too much like themselves--and not enough like the characters. They change the world rather than enhancing it. Their work doesn't feel *genuine* the way a good shared-world writer's work does. The real challenge in shared-world fiction is writing something that makes that shared-world *more real* to an audience that carries a lot of expectations to every book it picks up.
If you're not keen on a setting, of course, you might be turned off by all the fiction, no matter how good it is. Despite my interest in the Living Forgotten Realms game, I've never been a huge fan of the Realms. There is way too much content to know--and as the best shared-world books have the setting deeply ingrained, from slang to deities to insults that only matter to people familiar with what's being insulted--so it's easy for me to get lost. I have enjoyed some Realms fiction, but the setting itself isn't enough to draw me. Some of the particular writers, like Erik, are the draw instead. I feel roughly the same way about the X-Men; I like them all right, but I bought the series written by Joss Whedon.
In settings that have a lot of appeal for me, I eagerly read the books due to the same things that frustrate me in settings I'm not keen on: they use slang, enhance my understanding of the world's deities, banter in ways that only make sense if you're in on the details of the setting. And then, there's more. Not only are these books marketing tools (and make no mistake, the companies that publish them are trying to sell their games and, in the case of Star Wars and other TV tie-ins, DVDs or other content, as much as they want to sell the novels). The books have the chance to also be great fantasy novels on their own. They can explore concepts like mortality, theology, ethics, and philosophy. They explore very human relationships between people who aren't always human. And they do all of this while maintaining a particular tone that reflects everything that has come before them.
Learning to read shared-world fiction and appreciate them for what they do may be the same kind of learning curve that I experienced with paranormal romances. Once you see what they're doing, not only in terms of story but in terms of enhancing a setting created by other authors, it's hard not to admire what these writers are doing. In my own work, I tried to think of the setting as a character in its own right, and I hope that when people read my novels, they see that as much as they see the characters and plot I created on my own.
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