The Death of a Ridiculous Dream

So, it's public knowledge now that I am writing a novel.  I haven't said anything more about it.  After Friday's short story it may seem surprising to hear that the novel's genre has nothing to do with coming of age, and hopefully will have very little to no literary merit.  The truth is, I'm writing a science fiction novel - somewhere between soft and hard science fiction.  Why that genre?  I like sci-fi, and that's what I prefer to read.  That's why.

Being in psychology, and minoring in sociology as an undergrad, I'm very interested in soft science fiction themes about societies, character development, etc.  You know - standard novel plotting.  However, I am also a closet-physics junkie.  Two of my favorite books are Brian Greene's The Elegant Universe and Lisa Randall's Warped Passages.  Thus, I also really enjoy sci-fi that tries to get the science right - hard sci-fi. 

As previously mentioned, I have already written the first few chapters of my book.  However, the chapters I had already completed took part in contemporary settings and were completely absent any sci-fi elements.  My loving wife Sarah has read them.  She liked them.  She wanted me to write more, faster, so that she could see where the story was going.  That was all very ego enhancing.  And then I got around to writing the first chapter.

Sarah is not a sci-fi fan.  Every sci-fi book I've ever recommended to her was either never attempted or briefly scanned and then put aside.  Nothing wrong with that - everyone's entitled to their own tastes.  Nonetheless, after my initial success with holding Sarah's interest, I had developed this irrational idea that maybe I could write a serious sci-fi novel that would appeal to the soccer mom demographic.  The protagonist is a young female after all. 

So I wrote the first chapter.  Sarah read the first chapter.  Sarah was very honest in saying that if she'd read the first chapter in a novel she'd gotten from the library, she would have quit reading.  Ugh.  Now, let me be clear that Sarah is a hero in my eyes for her honesty.  When writing, you need honest critics.  Flattery is worthless.  So Sarah told me what she liked and what she didn't.  What didn't she like?  She didn't like the alien sounding names, scientific technical talk, etc.  What did she like?  She liked everything else.  At least she didn't say the story was crap.  And Sarah would say it if she thought that it was crap - one reason I love her as deeply as I do.  Goodbye ridiculous dream.  Of course there are soccer moms who love sci-fi, but most don't, and I'm probably not going to convert any either. 

Fast forward to today.  I was lounging in a blood plasma donation recliner while movie previews played on closed-circuit television.  Warner Bros was advertising their new Clint Eastwood collection, and they had a brief interview snippet.  Clint said that he never made a movie while knowing that other people would like it.  He just made movies that he wanted to see, and he's been lucky that other people have wanted to see them too.  He went on to say that he has fun making movies, and when it ceases to be fun, he'll stop.

Unfortunately, I don't think I'll ever write something that will compete with chaste and sparkly vampires, or boy wizards - at least in terms of popularity.  Goodbye to #1 on the NYT bestseller list.  But I do think I can write something that will interest sci-fi fans.  At least I won't feel like I sold out.  I'll want to read my own book, and I'm having fun writing it.