1 hour ago
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
I don't have much time to write here today because I'm going to a Tupperware party at a friend's house right after work and probably won't be home until late.
But it's day four and I'm still blogging strong, just like I promised!
On the Fourth Day of Me, I give to you...the Little Green Monster.
I write YA. Romantic, contemporary, real life YA.
But I have a secret:
I would love to be able to write Paranormal/Fantasy YA. These books fascinate me, and when I read blogs of paranormal YA authors, I am quickly taken by the little green monster we like to call ENVY.
The imagination required to write these elaborate stories, to make up whole worlds with a completely different vocabulary, different morals, different everything, simply amazes me. I have a wild imagination, without a doubt, but I can't seem to come up with ideas outside the real world box.
J.K. Rowling alone blows me away. The spells, the potions, the creatures, the backstory of all of the quirky characters...who has this brain power to begin with? And why can't they share some with me???
How come when my MC goes to school, she wears jeans and a t-shirt and sits through boring classes like Chemistry? Why can't she go to Herbology while floating in House Robes instead?
Because it's just not in me.
If it is, I wouldn't even know where to begin. And besides, I love the stories I create, even if they do take place in the real world.
This little green monster on my shoulder likes to torment me, though. He's always questioning why I don't put in a little more effort to come up with an alternate universe, a new creature to make women of every age swoon and line up outside theaters to drool over.
I hate that little guy.
I have so much admiration for people who can create those worlds, the intricate details that go along with those worlds, and the characters that would only fit in in those worlds. I wonder how they do it. I'd like to open their heads and root around in their brains for the answers to my questions.
But for now, I'll stick to writing about the girl/boy next door and their struggles with the real world. And that little green monster on my shoulder? He gets squashed by my bra strap.
Do any of you have a genre you'd love to write in, but just can't seem to do it for one reason or another? How do you squash your little green monster?