*slips iron branding poker into fire. To
stick in my eye because I just used the word “brand” as a jargon-y verb*
Anyway. If you hold a gun to my head and force me to
identify my brand, it’s this: commercial women’s fiction that cracks a towel on
your behind. That is to say, funny with bite. But what people find funny is
very subjective. Two years ago I was approached to ghostwrite a novel for a
celebrity—it was to be sweet, cozy, warm, “funny,” maybe with an element of
light mystery or magic, and recipes.
After I stopped panicking and throwing up, I sat back and
considered this. I can do cozy and warm in real life. In college, a bunch of
guys actually nicknamed me “America’s Sweetheart.” I garden, I bake cookies, I
rescue bumblebees from spider webs, I never forget a birthday, and I would
adopt every unwanted animal within a hundred mile radius if my husband would
let me. BUT: if I actually tried to
write something warm and fuzzy, every molecule in my being would mutiny. I’d snap.
I’d start out writing about a sweet, hapless woman who dreamed of opening a cupcake bakery
and finding Mr. Right, but instead she’d chuck it all to join a gluten-free, transgender biker gang, and
there would be way more jokes about skin tags and athletic supporters than should
exist in print, period. I just find sarcastic anti-heroes and their journeys to
redemption that much more FUN to write.
In other words, I like Jim Gaffigan a lot, but I like Louis
C.K. a lot more.
(Speaking of comedy, oh, do I have a great book to tell you
about in a few weeks!)
So I guess I’ve got my “brand,” and my next two novels--one
complete, one underway--enforce this. However, there is a book I am DYING to
write that goes way off my reservation. This is in keeping with a running theme
in my life: things going smoothly? Complicate the hell out of them! Anyway,
more on that later.
Next week: my favorite Brussels sprouts recipe, and let’s
help my friend December Gephart celebrate the release of her debut novel!
The Big Guy wanted me to ask you if I was talking about his penis on Friday night. I told him I wasn't. Just run with that, okay?
ReplyDeleteLOL! I think you're safe.
ReplyDelete