Writing What I Read

This week at the SFF Seven, we're asking: "Do you read in the genre you write?"

What's funny is that my answer is absolutely yes - but that I didn't always write in the genre I read. Does that make sense?

I have always read Fantasy and Science Fiction, since I was a little kid, and I've been reading Romance since I was old enough to walk to the used bookstore to buy my own books, as my mom wouldn't let me read "that trash." (Because she thought Romance was low-brow and anti-feminist, not because of the sex.) But when I started out as a writer, I wrote Creative Nonfiction.

Some of this was timing and coincidence. When I decided I wanted to be a writer instead of a scientist, one of the first classes I took was "Essays on Self and Place," from a visiting writer at the university. I fell easily into writing essays and had success with them. My first book was an essay collection. And, sure, I read some essays. I read a lot of essay collections and memoir. But I was always reading them as research and reciprocity.

All that time, what I read for pure enjoyment? Anything with a paranormal/SFF element and plenty of Romance.

It was only after my first book came out that a friend - a bookseller who knew my tastes and sold me hardcover releases of JD Robb, Laurell K. Hamilton, Stephenie Meyer, and Jaqueline Carey - asked me why I wasn't writing in the genres I so clearly loved to read.

Funny that. It simply hadn't occurred to me. But then I started to, I wrote this Fantasy Romance* (not a genre then, but what did I know??) that was SO MUCH FREAKING FUN TO WRITE. I couldn't believe how much more fun I had writing my crazy tale about a scientist who falls into Faerie, becomes a sorceress, and ends up in a bargain with a fae lord to bear his child. I even got a really nice rejection on the book from Stephenie Meyer's agent! (Though it took a long time for me to sell it, which is another tale.)

The rest is history. ~ Waves at catalogue of Epic Fantasy Romances ~ I haven't looked back. Writing what I love to read has absolutely been a great decision.

*The book that became ROGUE'S PAWN

 

Read Broadly and Deeply

 This Week's Topic: Do I Read in the Genre I Write?

Absolutely. I like to keep abreast of evolving reader expectations, emerging storytelling styles, and exploratory concepts while evolving my skills. Of course, there's the blossoming of ideas and methods that come from studying what my peers are doing and what the "old masters" did that can be applied today. Naturally, some of what the old masters did needs to stay in the past as cautionary tales of the public mindset of their era. 

Do I also read genres other than what I write? Ayup, yup, yup. A story well-written is a story from which I can learn something. I can toss the takeaways into my bag of exponential holding and "fantasy it up" for my WiP. 

By and large, there are very few genres I avoid under the fiction umbrella. I won't read certain genres (or themes, or tropes) because of my innate biases. (Just thinking about them makes me angry.) Besides, there are too many books I really, really, really want to read so why would I force myself to suffer through something I don't want to read? College made me do enough of that.

To me, a great author reads broadly across many genres and deeply into the sub-genres.

Write a Map for Failure

Have you ever counted up all the euphemistic, pseudo-inspirational bullshit this society generates around failure? The only failure is never trying. If you don't fail, you aren't trying. Fall down seven, get up eight. I mean. The list is onerous.

No matter all the empty, pithy sayings, I assert that failure gets a bad rap. I know because I'm in the middle of it. It's been four years since I've published a book. It's been four years since I finished a book. A writer not writing. Does that not define failure? It feels like it does. But just because I'm standing in the middle of this vast creative desert, it doesn't mean I've given up. I won't give up until I'm dead. Granted, some days that feels closer than others. But in the meantime, I clock what matters about failure.

1.Failure is inevitable.
2. Failure teaches.
3. Failure is temporary if you want it to be.

To handle failure, you need to know what it is. Define it. What does it look like? What does it feel like? What does it say? What does it smell like? Taste like? Is it a bad review? Those are guaranteed. Is it writing and never being traditionally published? In this market, that is a very real risk. What's your back up plan? Also, why are you writing in the first place? If it's to get published, you've put your power and happiness into something you cannot control. 

Recognize that failure of some kind visits us all. If you define that hell before you catch sight of it, you can develop plans to help dodge it before you get stuck in it.

If and when failure comes knocking, look for what that failure has to teach. No one ever learned anything useful and long-lasting from success. Our mistakes are our teachers when we don't get bogged down in emotion about them. Maybe I took on  a story that exceeded my skill, and I failed to stick the landing. The critics hate me, and the book isn't selling. Yet i gained incredible new skills for having dared to try this hard thing. So it's not perfect. The next book will be the better for it, and I now have a set of skills no one can ever take from me.

Failure doesn't have to be a destination. It can be a place you pass through. It feels like you'll die there, trust me. Occasionally, I guarantee you'll wish you could, just so you can stop trying and just rest. The path through failure includes a lot of flailing, a lot of crying for help, and a lot of looking outside yourself for answers to the 'what's wrong with me' question. The hard truth, though, is that the only route out of failure starts inside you. It starts with determination and the refusal to wander off into the sunset never to be heard from again. It means adapting. Developing new ways to work when the old ways either aren't available or no longer work.

I don't mean to imply that help isn't available and shouldn't be sought. I will be the very first advocate for addressing mental health issues immediately.  That is, in fact, a prerequisite. But barring the need for medical diagnosis, you aren't likely to find one class or one guru or one quick trick that's going to rocket you out of failure. Classes can be valuable tools. Writing groups, too. They're good supports to lean upon along the way while you're clawing word by word out of a failure state. But they cannot take the place of the work required of you for you.

No one wants to fail. No one thinks it will happen to them. No one wants to have to sit down with their already over-active imagination and mentally play through worst-case scenarios and then come up with plans A and B to address those worst case scenarios. Trust someone who didn't and ended up mired in failsville for too long. Your stay in failure will be much, much shorter if you come into it with a roadmap for getting back out.

SOAR

Writing is hard. If you’ve tried it, are doing it, or have done it, you already know that. But we’re not talking directly about that this week. We’re talking about failure, which is also hard, and necessary, and what wise words do we have for our past selves.

I’m sure you’ve heard the saying failure means growth. That applies to writing as well. You write. You fail. You query. You fail. You publish on your own. You fail. You go on submission. You fail. You pay for marketing. You fail. 

The trick is to persist. 

Once upon a time I was a finalist in a national contest and found myself part of a group of talented, women writers. We called ourselves the Persisters. We celebrated, we toasted, and we had so many doors open. 

When you reach a high point—that first contract, that first sale, that first yellow badge—you think that’s it! I’ve made it. I’m a writer who belongs. And then, undoubtedly, something will unravel and you will fail. 

As a newbie writer you watch those overnight successes, which are never overnight successes, and you think that once you get there it’ll be smooth sailing. It looks like once you get there you’ll never hear a no, there will always be clamoring for your next books. 

Truth time. It’s not like that in real life. Even those best sellers have ideas that don’t get picked up or don’t sell. 

My wise words to my past self: Being at the top doesn’t mean the failures have ended, but persist. Because failure only means you’re growing and getting better. 

Contemplating Failure

Know what this is?? It's a teaser for the cover of TWISTED MAGIC, Book #3 in Renegades of Magic!!

Yes, I have the cover - and have had for a while - but I've been hanging onto it until I could set up a release date and preorder link. I'm a bit on tenterhooks at the moment, waiting on feedback from Agent Sarah on the book I wrote that fell on me from out of the sky and insisted on being written: ONEIRA. Once I know whether she wants to take it on submission to traditional publishing or if I'll self-publish it (in August!), then I'll be able to set a date for the TWISTED MAGIC release. Meanwhile, you can preorder the book via my website store!

This week at the SFF Seven, we're talking about failure. Ostensibly, the topic is reassuring ourselves that we are not failures and offering wise words to that effect. I say "ostensibly" because I don't think it's possible to say that we are not failures. We are all failures, at some point, in some way, on the large or small scale. Failing at something is a natural part of life. Everything, everywhere, fails to do something or another, usually multiple times, probably more often than they succeed.

I'm being persnickety about this because I think the concept of failure gets a bad rap. As if it's something we're supposed to avoid at all costs. I can't be honest and tell you you're not a failure. I can't be honest with myself and say that. I've failed at all kinds of things I've tried to do. I wrestle daily with facing that I've failed to reached certain goals. But the answer isn't some pep talk where I pat myself on the head and console myself with the comforting words that I haven't actually failed. That doesn't benefit me. Instead I have to look at why I haven't succeeded at what I set out to do. A lot of it may not be within my control. A great deal of publishing isn't. And it's good for me to look at that and cut away those things I can't control - and then focus on what I can control. What can I do better? How can I change my strategy? What can I learn from this failure?

Let me emphasize: failure is okay! We learn from failure.

I'm not going to tell you that you're not a failure because you are one, just like every other living creature. Life is about the attempt; failure and success are only metrics by which to measure the result. Learn, and live. 

 

Failure & Reasonable Expectations

This Week's Topic: You're not a failure
Wise words to your past self and those who are struggling

The Key to Success is Great Reasonable Expectations

We're told from the cradle to aim high and dream big. Nothing is unattainable if we put our heart into it. That's charming advice for inspiration and aspiration. It's not so great for implementation. Our big dreams tend to ignore the necessary micro steps. Thus, before we even begin, we've set ourselves up for frustration, disappointment, and...failure. When things don't unfold as we imagined, we deem ourselves incompetent and spiral into surrendering our lofty aspirations. We limp away, defeated, relegating ourselves to the status of a dreamless cog. 

How heartbreaking.

The major flaw in our Grand Plan wasn't that we were stupid. We simply made a mistake. We kept the view at 5,000ft when we had to take the footpath. We didn't plant for the weather, enemy, and terrain. We disregarded our physical and emotional limitations. We didn't acquire the necessary foundational knowledge in advance, so we didn't know what we didn't know. When we don't know better, we don't do better. We sabotaged ourselves from the get-go by setting unrealistic expectations. 

Failing to achieve a goal does not equal being a failure.

We are allowed to make mistakes. Mistakes are a measure of progress, even when we have to take a few steps back to modify our path. Our mistake taught us to take a different fork in the road. Sure, we suffered a loss or two, but time spent learning isn't time wasted. As long as we are willing to reflect on where and how we went wrong, we can revise our plan to correct what we can control. This is how we learn to create reasonable expectations for ourselves and others.

This is when we revise and resume.

We succeed when we do our best. It's fine to compare ourselves to others, but it's not okay to punish ourselves for not achieving their success. It's human nature to gauge our place in family, community, and career through comparisons. We use the experiences of others to identify the milestones on our chosen path, and we strive to achieve similar goals in order to keep ourselves motivated; in order to reward ourselves for the small accomplishments along with the big ones. However, learning, truly learning, means we take in information, analyze it, process it against all our other knowledge and experience, and then customize it before applying it to our circumstances and our individual quirks.

Author, Know Thy Self

In a creative field like ours, it is critical to understand ourselves. Only through recognizing our strengths and foibles, our motivations and distractions, our procrastination triggers and our manic gateways can we set reasonable expectations for ourselves. We are not Nora Roberts nor are we James Patterson. Their methods and their paths are not ours. We are our own delightful oddities and our paths to success are as unique as we are. We are accountable to ourselves. We define what success is for us. The success we define is attainable when we have reasonable expectations of ourselves.

We are not failures.
We are Works in Progress. 

Three essential traits of the non-AlphaHole hero

 

There has been a lot of talk in the romance writing community of late about dark heroes and whether they are ‘AlphaHoles’ (alpha male arseholes) that are setting a poor example. The conversation usually revolves around main male characters (MMCs) as they appear in F/M romances, but of course AlphaHoles can be gay, or they can be of any gender. In this article, I’ll be talking predominantly about MMCs in F/M romance, but the principles apply in other situations too. The popular examples I give at the end aren’t even from romances. Because of course, what we learn of character from romance can apply to other genres.

Personally, I prefer a gentle MMC. Think butler or scholar vibes. It’s what I write, and it’s what I prefer to read (though as a writer, I often read outside my comfort zone). But in gay romances, even when there is one gentle MMC, the other one is often not so gentle for contrast (think A Rake of His Own by AJ Lancaster).

Also, despite my own preferences, I have a policy to not ‘yuck someone’s yum’, so when I sat down to think of three traits of a non-AlphaHole hero, I thought of traits that could be applied equally to gentle and, er, more forceful heroes:

They are aware of the personhood of other people, particularly their romantic partner

A non-AlphaHole hero knows that everyone is a person with their own wants and needs. He knows it’s not all about him. He remembers his love interest’s likes and dislikes, and he respects their commitments to the other people in their life. If he is pushy, he checks first to see if it’s OK to apply that pushiness in new situations (e.g. the bedroom). This knowledge may be something he has a handle on from the beginning of the story, or it may be something that develops over time as part of his character development.

If the MMC is forging ahead with only his own plotline and other characters have to fit their own stories into the gaps around him, he might just be an AlphaHole.

They know how to use their power for the sake of others

A non-AlphaHole hero will, at some point in the story, put his own goals aside for a while to act on behalf of someone else. This may be something he is actively choosing to do if he is aware of how his power affects others, or it may be something he instinctively does, and then along the way he learns about his influence.

If the MMC continues to draw all the other characters into his own plotline and use them for his own ends throughout the story, he may just be an AlphaHole.

They reject toxic masculinity and decide for themselves how they will ‘be a man’

A non-AlphaHole hero may be masculine, but he’s not ‘toxic’. The exception may be for some toxicity to appear at the beginning of the story, but for the hero to learn how not to be toxic and to be a man on his own terms, in a way that doesn’t hurt those he cares for.

If the MMC acts even remotely like an internet incel after act 1, then he is an AlphaHole.

Put these three traits together, and you’ll see that you can have a very dark, very dangerous hero who is nonetheless not an AlphaHole.

There’s a reason that recently in SFF TV, the beloved ‘daddy’ of scifi is Pedro Pascal’s Din Djarin in The Mandalorian, and everyone’s favourite fantasy hero is Henry Cavill’s Geralt of Rivia in The Witcher. One is a masculine, arse-kicking man who has dedicated his life to looking after a lost infant, and one is a masculine, arse-kicking man who has dedicated his life to looking after an orphaned girl. Each one has made choices about how to live his life that take into consideration the needs of other characters and uses his own power for the sake of others in a way that is the opposite of toxic masculinity. It has been wonderful to see men in protective caregiving roles get so much love and attention. Their popularity as hardened warrior characters is because of their attentive care of these children, not despite it.

A non-AlphaHole doesn’t have to be looking after children, but he does need to look after someone, and let himself be looked after in turn. Because it’s that reciprocity that shows us he remembers that he’s still human, no matter what dark turns his fate has made.

Calanthe Colt (pen name) is a SFF romance author from Aotearoa New Zealand. She writes romantic books that balance exciting adventure or tense situations with the quieter moments of life. Her stories usually have magic, almost always have cooking or gardening, and definitely always have sweet romances that, no matter the heat level, are comforting, like a snuggly blanket and a mug of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

Her debut book Goddess Found, a standalone fantasy romance with cosy vibes, is out now. 

Find her at: www.calanthecolt.com

TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@calanthecolt

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/calanthe_colt/

Threads: https://www.threads.net/@calanthe_colt

How to Not Write a Jerk

Fiction isn’t reality. Most of us are clear on that. When we look at romance novels or any story with a romantic element, we aren’t dealing with any kind of reality. We’re dealing with fantasy. The kind seen in ancient mythology where the gods descend as golden motes in a ray of light. Romantic fiction engages the older brain wiring, the part that needs to be romanced and adored by someone or something more than human. I suspect that’s part of the appeal of the so-called ‘alpha hero’. No shade. They just aren’t my cup of tea unless they’re either getting taken down a few pegs or shanked by the heroine. The problem, in my mind, is that alpha heroes go too far and cross the line into abuse. The trope, as a whole, hasn’t aged well as social media has peeled back the curtains on women’s experiences with men in real life. Our line for what’s acceptable behavior from potential partners has shifted. Our male protagonists need to shift, too. I have an internal list for how to walk the fine line between a capable, confident leader and a spacious-walk-in ash-hole.

1.       Biology – Recognize that the biological concept of an ‘alpha’ is deeply flawed. The initial notion came from a wildlife biologist observing the behavior of wolves in captivity – not in the wild. The concept of alpha came from disordered behaviors brought on by unimaginable, unremitting stress. We could call it toxic, even. It’s also at odds with how wolves behave in their natural habitat. Recognize also, that it isn’t a gendered behavior. Any gender can act as an alpha, whether the disordered version or the soft, gentle, collaborative version.

a.       Opportunities: You can leverage this dichotomy in a protagonist, turning them into alphaholes in a moment of extreme stress. BUT if you don’t want a complete jerk in your book, that shift into ‘I’m the boss of you’ behavior must make the stress/danger worse. Assuming it’s our hero slipping into toxic masculinity in an ‘oh shit’ moment, any self-respecting heroine must push back and call him out. Or simply walk away.

b.       Position: Alpha can be useful. It can be worthwhile using disordered alpha behaviors to show up a protagonist’s flaws and to give the other protagonist a chance to draw a line in a relationship. Lots to explore. It’s okay to be an alphahole *for a little while* and so long as that alphahole gets schooled and subsequently changes.

2.       Psychology – understand that in humans, hard shell alpha behavior from any gender (and no gender) is a mask. It might sound trite, but that mask is a cover for trauma. Disordered alpha behavior stems from an attempt to control one’s environment to the point of needing to control others which stems from soul deep distress. Again, it sounds trite, but if you pry beneath the dominating behaviors, you’ll find terrible wounds. The person with these wounds is rarely consciously aware of them. The alpha mask is a coping mechanism meant to armor the person both against the wound and against anyone else perceiving the wound. Because this mask was likely put on early in life, it feels integral to the person’s being, but it’s a desperate attempt at protecting oneself that, when taken to extremes, does untold damage to self and to others.

a.       Opportunities: If your hero is a dominating alpha, you can let your heroine and your antagonist glimpse the wounds beneath the mask. The antagonist will use the wound against your hero to destroy him. The heroine can work on bringing the wound to light so it can scab over. It might not entirely heal, right? Wounds leave scars, but better a scar than a wound seeping poison everywhere (and that a bad guy can leverage to manipulate you.) Look for ways to turn the trope – I love showing up alphaholes as either the cowards they are underneath, or the deeply wounded, flawed people they are underneath.              

b.       Position: nobody gets to be a jerk for long on my watch. I don’t mind using the convention for a little while, but no hero is going to get to be a jerk in a heroine’s presence without having his metaphoric ass handed to him by her. I do love the process of a heroine unmasking a hero and holding out a hand in offering to help heal him. His first step is swallowing the massive stone of ego to get up and meet her halfway.

3.       Character arc: No alphaholes without change. No jerk goes unchallenged. Or unalived. Characters must change. If they refuse to change, they do not survive. It’s the tale of our species. Adapt or die. Somewhere wrapped up in the genome are memories of watching the inflexible die in the far distant past. Stories play on that unspoken, unexamined racial memory. The road to change starts somewhere, though. And I’m willing to bet that our distant ancestors adapted because of love – love of children, love of partner, community, life, learning, curiosity – whatever it was. The drive to survive and adapt comes from having a why.

a.       Opportunities: Soft spots. Weaknesses. Alpha heroes need a soft spot or a weakness for something or someone. They need a line they will not cross (and then, of course, you make them cross it in one minor-ish transgression that brings them up full stop wondering who and what they’ve become.) A current hero I’m working on has a massive, do-anything-including-die-for-her soft spot for a woman who isn’t his heroine. It provides the heroine a chance to get in under his armor and find out he isn’t what he pretends to be.

b.       Position: This is me again, questioning the alpha premise by turning ‘alpha-ness’ into something the heroine wields against the hero and exposes the alpha mask as a weakness. Her promise to him is that by unmasking and integrating his wounds, he’ll be stronger, happier, and freer. And just to subvert the trope even more – you can reverse the whole thing. Heroines can be alphaholes, too, those most readers just say ‘wow, she’s a bitch.’

Whew this got loooong. Sorry. Didn’t realize I had this whole big thing in my head about character power dynamics and personalities.