Queries. Pitches. Synopses. Three words that strike fear into every author’s heart. And rightfully so — selling your book to an agent or editor depends on your ability to encapsulate your story’s heart into a few simple sentences. For most people, that’s a nearly impossible challenge. But perhaps if we look at why this practice is necessary, it will help you understand how to do it. So, for my first installment in this new series, I’m going to show you what I look for in a query. Keep in mind these are solely my opinions, and other agents or editors may look for something else, but if you plan to follow along with #REUTSsubs this next week, this will give you a glimpse at the thought process behind my decisions.

Let’s start by looking at the three potential ways you go about introducing your work to an agent or editor. They are:

1. The Traditional Query Letter & Synopsis
2. Pitching in Person
3. Elevator Pitches on Social Media

All three serve the same purpose — hooking your audience into asking for more. That’s a phrase I’m sure you’ve all heard thrown around in writing seminars, but what does it actually mean? In essence, it means you break through someone’s focus enough to grab their full, complete attention and get them to react. In other words, it’s a sales tactic.

Now, I know many of you just groaned. Sales is about as far from writing and creativity as you could possibly get. But the truth is, publishing is a business. There are bottom lines to be met, production costs to worry about, returns on investments that have to happen, etc. So when you send in a proposal (which, let’s face it, is what these things really are — sales proposals), what you’re really doing is arguing why we should become your business partner for this venture. And you’d darn well better be convincing. Don’t you think?

So, how do you achieve that? What makes a sales proposal appealing to the potential buyer? How do you turn indifference into “OMG, yes, I must read this”? Well, I look for a couple of key ingredients:

• Interesting concept and premise
• Unique attributes
• Market Potential

That’s it. Every time. Seriously.

Whenever I’m reviewing a pitch/query/etc, I ask myself the same three questions:

“Does this make me excited as a reader?” (This is more of a visceral reaction than a true question. Basically, I’m looking for that internal pique of interest, that “oooooo” factor.)

“What makes it different from everything else in its genre?” (The more specific the better on this front. Diverse cast? Unique twist or angle on the familiar? New setting?)

“What is it similar to/where would I put it on a shelf?” (This is ultimately the most important because it tells me a: where it fits within the REUTS catalog, and b: where it fits in the larger market and who its readership might be.)

All right, now let’s look at how you apply that insight, shall we? Because each type of pitch listed above is a slightly different opportunity to sell your work, and you shouldn’t use the same blanket strategy for each.
 

The Traditional Query Letter & Synopsis

 
First off, a query is not a synopsis and vice versa. They’re two separate entities used to achieve the same goal, but one is the lead singer, and the other is the band. You need both, but they serve completely different roles in the process.

Your query letter should be no more than 2-3 paragraphs, and its sole job is to pique the reader’s interest. It has to fit that criteria I listed above. It needs to give just enough information for me to tell whether or not it could be a fit for REUTS. So focus only on the most important aspects — the conflict and stakes that drive your story, sprinkled with a little info on the world/character and just a hint of what makes your manuscript different from the rest. Give me the heart of the tale; I don’t care about the rest yet.

Other things I need to know are genre, target audience, and comp titles (comparable books that might bear similarity to yours). Genre tells me where it fits in the bookstore and who it might appeal to, target audience tells me who I’m going to get to read it, and comp titles give me an instant snapshot of what to expect in terms of feel/tone/theme/style, etc. (One caveat on choosing comp titles: aim for ones that aren’t genre heavy-hitters, but that are prominent enough I’m likely to have heard of them. Also, the more unique the mash-up, the quicker I’ll be able to pin-point my expectations as reader.)

And that’s it. Two paragraphs should easily be enough room to capture all of that, once you isolate the key things an agent/editor looks for. Your final paragraph should be about you, what you bring to the table in terms of experience, etc. Honestly though, most of the time, we kind of skim that info. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give it to us, just that more weight is placed on the content of the story than your particular pedigree.

IF you’ve achieved your goal and hooked my interest, I’ll dive right into the sample pages (because a great pitch does not always mean great execution), and if those pass the quality test, I’ll check out the synopsis. A synopsis is a glorified outline. It tells me the highlights of your story in 1-3 pages. It should capture the emotions, the main conflicts, some of the character motivations, and the entire narrative arc. The details of your world, sub-plots, supporting cast, etc, aren’t as important; the structure of your overall story is.

Manage to hold my interest through all of that, and guess what? You’ve just earned a full manuscript request. (I’m pretty sure this is the process most agents/editors go through, but some of the particulars may vary a little.)
 

Pitching in Person

 
Ah, now, this is a whole different game — one part speed dating, one part American Idol audition, all rolled into a giant ball of anxiety for everyone involved. But it’s a very viable option if you have the chance. Out of 55 total pitches I heard at the Willamette Writers Conference, I requested samples (and even some fulls!) of 48 manuscripts. The idea behind this is much the same as the process above, except you only have 10 minutes, if you’re lucky, and have to talk to an actual person. Terrifying stuff, for sure.

So what’s the key in this scenario? Be a human. Don’t stiffly recite your memorized query letter while you stare at the table. Engage with us! Take that query you wrote above and hone it even more. In a 10 minute pitch session, your pitch should take up no more than 2-3 minutes, max. Literally give us the bare bones, the core of your story, and then let us come to you. Think of it like baiting a wild animal; you don’t give away the whole dinner up front, you toss out some crumbs and lure us into the trap. In other, less poetic words, give us time to ask questions.

A face-to-face pitch session should feel more like a conversation, and every agent/editor will hone in on something different. So leave yourself room to answer questions. If you don’t and you babble through all 10 minutes, you might end up not getting a request. Because that tidbit in the middle that you glossed over was the one thing that agent/editor was looking for, and you didn’t give them time to find that out.

Your mission in an in-person pitch is simply to get that business card (See? American Idol golden ticket, right?) and a request to see more. That’s it. You’re not going to be signed on the spot, and you’re not going to give us your entire book on a silver platter. It’s simply the first step to a longer conversation.
 

Elevator Pitches on Social Media

 
Have you guessed the reason behind this order yet? It’s because they get progressively shorter and shorter. Much like pitching in person, an elevator pitch on social media should comprise the basics of your story. It should only contain the hook, the thing that is most likely to get people to stop and say “ooo, that sounds good.” You have 140 characters, so every letter has to count. Which is why you really only want two things (aside from genre/audience): the stakes/conflict, and what makes your story different. Again, you’re not trying to cram your whole book into 140 characters; that’s madness. You’re only trying to get us to want more. Which is why including that unique-factor is crucial.

To win this round, all you have to do is get a favorite from one of the stalking agents/editors, which then results in a submission of what? The first type of pitch: a traditional query letter and synopsis. It all comes back around to create a massive circle.

So there you have it, a breakdown of both why pitching is necessary and my particular thought process for evaluating them. Over the course of this next week, I’ll be starting #Pubsubs on Twitter, giving you a chance to see this in action, and periodically, I’ll add articles that may or may not be helpful to those navigating the query trenches to this blog series (along with the weekly Tweet compilations, of course). If you have any suggestions for topics you’d like me to cover, feel free to leave them in the comments below.

Until next week, happy pitching!

— Kisa Whipkey
Acquisitions & Editorial Director

The post Adventures in the Slush Pile: 8/17/15 Edition appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

Welcome to the newest addition to the REUTS blog!

As you well know, the staff of REUTS Publications believes in transparency, and there’s nothing we enjoy more than finding new and creative ways to offer authors insight/advice on navigating the murky depths of the publishing industry. We’re certainly not the only ones with this philosophy, though, and I would be remiss if I didn’t give credit where it was due. See, what I’m about to unveil was inspired by the acts of fellow industry professionals at the Ruben Literary Agency, Inklings Literary Agency, Red Sofa Literary, and many others, all of whom are responsible for creating the Twitter hashtags #tenqueries, #500queries, etc.

Recently, I asked authors how they felt about those very hashtags and the possibility of seeing one from REUTS. The answer was an overwhelming and resounding, “YES, do it!” Because, as you may have noted above, the people who usually participate in these kinds of activities are agents, not presses. But agents and editors (especially small press editors) don’t always look for the same things, and it was abundantly clear that some of you out there are curious to see how we differ.

Therefore, I’m launching #REUTSsubs and following in my predecessors’ footsteps. As I browse the slush pile looking for gems waiting to be snatched up, I’ll tweet my thoughts/verdicts. The point of these, while hopefully entertaining, is to offer authors insight into the way an acquisitions editor makes their decision. The queries will remain anonymous; I’ll only list the category, genre, and my overall opinion. Sounds just like the others, doesn’t it? That’s the idea. However, there is an added component that I haven’t seen the others do yet.

Once a week, I will take all those tweets and compile them here on the blog. Twitter captures a snapshot of the decision process — the ultimate verdict — but it doesn’t allow for a lot of explanation as to the thought behind that verdict. Personally, I believe that’s the portion that will be most helpful to the authors battling it out in the query trenches. From personal reasons, to catalog clashes, to components that could have been done differently, there are a plethora of reasons as to why something might be rejected. And fitting that into Twitter’s limit is nigh impossible. So, to that end, the weekly blog summary will allow for additional commentary that can’t be squished into 140 characters while also providing a handy location to catch them all.

Also, REUTS does their acquisitions by panel, meaning that no one person has the final say. So it would be deceptive to say that the verdict you see from me on Twitter is the ultimate verdict on a submission. Sometimes (frequently, actually), we end up with split decisions, resulting in more discussion and eventually a majority ruling. To reflect that process more accurately, I’ll be adding commentary from the other acquisitions members to the blog posts as well. You may also see them pop up on the hashtag every once in a while. Though, for the most part, I’ll be the one curating it all. (Don’t groan too loudly; I might hear you. )

So, that’s it. Keep an eye on #REUTSsubs in the next few weeks if you’re interested in my humble opinions, and look for the first summary edition of “Adventures in the Slush Pile” to go live on Monday, 8/17/15. (Why not next Monday? I’ll be attending the Willamette Writers Conference in Portland, OR for most of this week, so I’ll be accepting pitches in person, as opposed to wading through the slush pile.) See you then!

— Kisa Whipkey
Acquisitions & Editorial Director

The post Adventures in the Slush Pile appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

This week, I’ve been judging entries for the ProjectREUTSway competition held during the month of November. Buried amid 144 short stories, I started to think about what exactly makes one “successful”. I think most of you know by now that I, myself, published 3, so this is a topic that hits very close to home. It’s also one I’ve never really stopped to think about. Until now. Because, let’s face it, short stories are strange. Similar to novels and yet completely dissimilar, they require a certain — almost magic — recipe to really shine. I don’t believe in the undefinable though, (at least not when it comes to writing) so let’s see if we can’t identify the exact ingredients that make short stories such a unique form of storytelling.

Short stories are often considered a novelist’s training wheels; the idea being that someone can learn the basics of storytelling through short stories and then graduate into novels. But that’s not exactly what happens. Because, in reality, they require two different skill sets to pull off well. A short story is not a truncated novel, nor is a novel an elongated, rambling short story. Rarely can the concept for one be turned successfully into the other. And yet people still try. Why? Because short stories have been given a bad rap. Novels take all the glory, leaving short stories to rot in creative writing jail like fiction offenders. They’re looked down on as an inferior form of narrative, an eighth grade diploma to the novel’s PHD. After all, the only difference between them is length, right?

Wrong.

There are three things a successful short story must have: brevity, focus, and telling. Yes, you heard me, telling. But before you get your knickers in a bunch, let me explain further.

1. Brevity

 
Novelists are taught the value of brevity. But even the most refined novels still sprawl, meandering through details and settings and other things short story authors simply can’t afford. Literally every word matters in a short story. No detail is extraneous. If we mention the light blue collar on a random cat, you can bet that collar is important somehow.

The same holds true for the words themselves. Novelists are allowed to write sentences like this:

She paused, grabbing the handle of the stainless steel refrigerator and pulling it open with a subtle flick of her wrist.

(Hey, no comments on the quality. Clearly, I know that sentence is atrocious. I’m proving a point. )

That’s 21 words to say this:

She opened the refrigerator door.

Yes, that may be a bit exaggerated, but you see what I mean, I hope. When you only have maybe 5000 words of space, every letter has to serve a purpose. Successful short stories know this, and the language/storytelling is as finely honed as a scalpel. If it doesn’t somehow move the plot along, impart valuable information or absolutely have to exist, it doesn’t.

2. Focus

 
I’m a firm believer that every story should have a message, a reason for existing. But maybe that’s because I started out as a short story author. Whenever I come up with an idea, I identify the core message first, before the setting, characters, or even plot. For example, The Bardach is a story about identity, Spinning is about fate, and Confessions is about losing faith. Even Unmoving has a focal point. At its core, its about compassion. This type of focused narrative is one of the more notable differences between a short story and a novel.

Short stories are single-minded. Like a starving man spotting food, they keep their eyes on the prize. None of this wandering off into detours, flashbacks, subplots or other shenanigans that novels get away with. Nope, they have one message, one plot, one climatic moment that everything points to. And, interestingly enough, short stories are typically driven by an event, rather than a character. The focus is on the action, not the person doing it.

How does this translate into our recipe for success? Well, you’ll be able to feel the underlying drive in a really good short story. You’ll walk away from it remembering the message, not necessarily the characters. So make darn sure you know what you’re saying, both literally and subtextually.

3. Telling

 
All right. I know this is the one you were waiting for. After all the times “show, don’t tell” has been beaten into your head, you simply can’t believe I’d actually stand here and advocate telling, can you? Well, I’m not really.

See, the thing is, showing is still 100% better than telling. But, telling is allowed in a short story. Due to the limited amount of time you have to impart your narrative, there’s really no way around it. You don’t have the luxury of wasting thousands of words, or even hundreds, showing us the back-story. Nor can you illustrate anything directly outside the timeline of the main event, regardless how important it may be. So that only leaves one option — telling. You should still avoid the dreaded info-dump if you can, but slipping in the occasional line of summary, or a paragraph of back-story, won’t automatically earn you peer derision. Well, most of the time, anyway.

Successful short story authors are masters of knowing when to tell and when to show. (Which, by the way, I am not. Just wanted to clarify that in case anyone thought I was going to be cocky and throw myself on that list.) They give you just enough information — typically in the form of telling — to make their worlds/characters feel as fleshed out as a novel’s, but not so much that you really notice. They cover a lot of ground in a really short amount of time, making this the hardest skill on the list. It actually requires mastery of the other two to pull off, which is why I listed it last.

And there you have it; the anatomy of a successful short story. Learn how to control these three elements and your short fiction will stand out in a pile like little beacons. And let’s all try to stop viewing short stories as the lesser form of fiction. They’re not inferior. Just different.

**This post has been syndicated from Editorial Director, Kisa Whipkey’s personal Blog: Nightwolf’s Corner.**

The post The Anatomy of a Successful Short Story appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

Surprisingly, I’ve actually seen the statement (more than once) that writers don’t need to worry about things like grammar and spelling. That’s the editor’s job; they’ll clean it up. (Every time someone says this, another editing muse disintegrates into ash from the horror.) No, actually, that’s not our job. It’s yours. Yes, editors (especially freelance editors) are more forgiving of the occasional typo and drunk-sounding sentence than your average reader, but that doesn’t mean they want to sludge through something that isn’t even as legible as your 4th grade history paper. And if your 4th grade teacher made you proofread, what makes you think an editor standing between you and publication, between you and being paid for your work, wouldn’t expect the same thing?

Exactly. They do.

But that doesn’t mean editing has to be as painful as a self-lobotomy. In fact, I’ve given tips to get you through the revision process before. (Divorce Your Words; Save Your Story) It’s a topic that bears repeating though, so today, I’m going to give you another set of helpful insights, not from the perspective of a writer (like that previous post was) but from that of an editor. (Hold on a moment while I swap my writer hat for my editor one . . . Okay. Ready.)

1. Step Back

 
No, I’m not bastardizing “step off” so don’t get your panties in a bunch. Step back is a concept from the art world. In fact, it’s one of the first things you learn at art school. (Yes, you learn stuff at art school. Shocking, I know.) The idea is that an artist can’t clearly see the entirety of their work when they’re hunched over it and it’s about 6 inches from their face, so they have to “step back” to change their perspective and see their work the way the world does. Now it makes sense, huh?

The first step in self-editing is finding a way to create that shift in perspective, to see the work you’ve poured your heart into for the past year in a different way. We’re too close to it during the creation phase, viewing it like an overprotective mother turning a blind eye to their kid’s flaws. You have to break that connection before you can even begin to analyze your work objectively. You need to step back.

The easiest way to do that is simply to shove your manuscript in a drawer for a few days and avoid it like a note from a debt collector trying to repo your car. I recommend a bare minimum of 48 hours, but a week to a month would be better. That allows the warm, fuzzy glow of creation to fade away and stark reality to set in. If you can’t afford to take the time off, then simply changing the mode of viewing can help. Download it onto an eReader or print it out. Even just move to the Starbucks two blocks away instead of the one next to your house. The change of venue will automatically clear your perspective of any lingering rosy tint and allow you to see more clearly.

2. Ignore the Details

 
Editing is synonymous with comma hunting, spell-check, and word choice, right? Wrong. So many writers (and more than a few editors) dive right into the detail work, thinking all they have to do is clean up the grammar, completely skipping over a very crucial step — structural editing. Bypassing this is like trying to repair a broken bone with makeup. All you end up with is a mangled limb painted like a hooker. Offensive, maybe, but it gets the point across, no?

At this stage in the process, no one cares if you spelled “definitely” wrong, or have a bazillion commas in all the wrong places. Ignore all that. Look deeper, at the story itself. If the structure isn’t working, there’s no point in polishing. That lump of coal’s not turning into a diamond. The only way to fix it is to become a story surgeon, diagnosing and repairing things that are otherwise fatal to your chances of publication. How? Like this:

Take that fresh perspective you earned in step 1 and read through your manuscript from an aerial view, glossing over all the details. You’ll fix them later. Right now, you want to focus on things like pacing, character motivations, world development, scene transitions and narrative sequence. What’s the message of your book? Is that coming through clearly? Do the characters feel like fully-fleshed out people, or cardboard cut-outs? Are the scenes in the right order or does shuffling a few around improve the plot’s progression? These are the kinds of questions you should be asking. Trust your instincts as a reader. We’ve all been programmed to know when a story works and when it doesn’t. And don’t be afraid to make a giant mess; you can stitch it all back together afterward.

3. Murder Your Habit Words

 
Habit words are insidious, riddling your manuscript like a cancer, so before you send your book off to the cosmetic surgeon (aka, your editor) for that much-needed facelift, you need to eradicate them. (Don’t ask why my favorite analogy for editing is medical. I don’t know.) Don’t feel bad, everyone has them. They’re like comfort food, something we turn to without even realizing. My habit words are “was” and “so.” I’m sure I have others, but that’s all I’m admitting to.

Other common ones are “that,” “had,” and “actually.” It can also be a phrase like “for a moment” or “roll his/her/their eyes.” Pretty much anything you find repeating over and over again qualifies as a habit word. Ideally, you should try to avoid repeating words on the same page or even the same chapter! The English vocabulary is huge; use it to your advantage. But without being pretentious about it. Rarely will you find a word that doesn’t have at least one synonym. So before you go to the next step, arm that delete button with a hefty dose of radiation and go hunting for your habit words. You can’t kill them all, but you’ll be surprised at how even just this small tweak can drastically improve the smoothness of your prose.

4. Rhythm’s in the Details

 
Now you get to go through your manuscript with a fine-toothed comb, copyediting line by line until it’s as perfect as you can make it on your own. This includes things like fixing rocky sentences, condensing wordy parts, simplifying convoluted phrasing, fixing grammar mistakes and just general tweaking for rhythm and smoothness. This is what people picture when they hear “editing.” It’s the tedious part that will make you want to poke your own eyes out just so you never have to read that chapter ever again. It’s repetitive and monotonous, but it’s like sending your book to the gym. Each pass will trim a little more of the fat until your manuscript is a lean, efficient piece of storytelling. At which point you send it to an editor and the whole process starts over.

That’s right. I just outlined what a professional editor does. (With the exception of #1.)

So, why, if these are all steps you can do yourself, do editors exist? Because they provide objectivity. Even a self-editing master won’t be able to catch everything. Writers can never truly disconnect from their work, can never view it with complete objectivity, because they know the story and what they were trying to convey. An editor provides clarity, finding things that are confusing or missing just like a reader would. But since they’re also literary doctors, they’ll help you fix it, saving you from the embarrassing backlash of reader criticism and scorn. Besides, two heads are better than one. Right?

**Syndicated from Nightwolf’s Corner, the personal blog of Senior Editor, Kisa Whipkey.**

The post Self-Editing Tips From an Editor appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

So, what exactly is a hybrid of self-publishing and traditional publishing methods? Let’s elaborate.

Self-Publishing

There are articles upon articles discussing the pros and cons of going the self-publishing route with your novel. The pro which typically heads up the list is control. As a self-publisher, you make all the milestone decisions when producing and publishing your manuscript; from how you want your book printed–double spaced lines, or 1.5 spaced lines? It does make a difference!–to cover art designed exactly the way you dictate, to the release date, etc. All the control falls within your hands. But, as we all know, “with great power, comes great responsibility.” So, as a self-publisher, you bear the brunt of the work (or must find experts to contract the work out to) and the stress that comes with publishing sans publisher. You get the good (control) with the bad (work, problems, decisions, responsibility, all of the consequences, etc.).

REUTS is interested in the “good” that comes with self-publishing, and that’s where the first part of our hybrid nature comes in. We give authors the control over how their novel is produced during every aspect of production. While editing, we don’t dictate changes or rewrite for you. We suggest alternatives and options we feel would make your story stronger. When discussing cover art, the first question we ask is: “What is your ideal cover to represent your story?” And we do our best to make that ideal a reality. If you have any problems with any aspect of your book’s production, we work with you to find the route that makes you happy.

Our team is comprised of experts, but we use that expertise to guide your vision, not strip you of control.

^{AND PLEASE NOTE: Even though REUTS utilizes self-publishing’s philosophies, we are not a self-publishing service. We have a standard submission process, and manuscripts are turned away if they don’t meet the criteria we’re looking for in our collection. We do not charge the author a penny. Ever. Period. No ifs, ands or buts.}

Traditional Publishers (Big NY Presses)

On the opposite side of the spectrum, we have the “big press” publications everyone’s familiar with: Simon & Schuster, HarperCollins, Penguin, etc. Those companies sport rigorously high submission standards, and sometimes only seem to seek immediate bestsellers. What does REUTS borrow from their methodology? The experts.

Aspiring authors seek traditional publishers because of what the publisher has to offer: professional editing, professional marketing/design and professional promotion. REUTS offers all of that as well as full control over the production of your manuscript, blending the best of both worlds into one progressive service.

Each of our team members hails from a specific discipline. We love what we do, and coming together with REUTS has allowed all of us to blend our previous work experience with our passion: books.

Still not convinced? Here’s a quick look at what you can expect when working with us:

• REUTS offers two rounds of editing, which both involve the author from start to finish. Instead of working “offline” in Microsoft Word for the editorial phase, our editors work with an author in Google Docs, collaborating on edits together, and avoiding the dreaded “red wall of text” that comes with tracking changes in Microsoft Word. A manuscript goes through the First Round of editorial with a lead editor, to tighten up the story structurally and clean up the mechanics. The second phase (dubbed “Second Look Editorial”) pulls in a second editor to pore through the manuscript with a fine-tooth comb, looking for would-be errors, ensuring the document sparkles for publication.

• Cover art is another important phase in the creation of a novel. “You can’t judge a book by the cover,” they say… yet we all know that a great/poor cover can make or break a book. REUTS understands this, and has a team dedicated to creating superb cover art, and extending that branding across different promotional platforms (social media skins, poster/swag products, advertisements, etc.). Some of our team members have over ten years of design experience. Collectively, we’ve got a lifetime of knowledge!

• Some would argue that the most important phase in the production and success of a book is promotion. As the Creative Director, I come from a background of professional advertising in a nationally recognized advertising agency (with clients such as CITGO, Southwest Airlines, and Loyola University). What benefits stem from an advertising agency background? Advertising tips, tricks and experience. How do we apply this to the promotion of a REUTS title? We cover things from digital book/blog tours (reveals, interviews, reviews, events, etc.), sending out press releases, providing authors with swag, traditional advertisement banners on GoodReads or applicable book websites/blogs, book trailers and more! We utilize every outlet, every shred of knowledge our team has gained over the years, toward the benefit our titles. We’re not successful unless you’re successful, so we work hard to put your book in reader hands (or digital shelves… we embrace the eBook readers, too!)

• Last but not least: royalties. REUTS offers above industry standard royalties. We believe the profits should go back to the author, which is why REUTS pays the author their cut first, before any money reaches the production team. Our team doesn’t get paid unless the author gets paid, because we are all compensated based on the same sales royalties! We all have a vested interest in the success of your novel, which creates a mutually beneficial relationship that promotes trust and productivity.

So there you have it! Just a little bit of insight into REUTS, our process, and what being a hybrid company truly means. We’ve taken the best from both worlds, and are combining those benefits into an experience authors can look back on and see as fun, enriching and worthwhile. At REUTS, we endeavor to bring both aspiring and veteran authors an unparalleled feeling of confidence and clarity when publishing their work. That’s what makes us stand out in an industry where transparency is often a tradeoff of prestige.

We realize information can often be misconstrued across the Internet, and urge anyone with even a shred of confusion to contact us with any specific questions you might have about REUTS, how we operate, what we offer, etc. We’re here to serve, and want to make sure you have the most accurate information out there.

You can also check out our FAQs page, to see if your question has already been answered.

Finally, here’s a picture of a cat… in space… because we like to offer a little something for everyone.

^{*You’ll see we prefer to refer to ourselves as a “publishing agency,” because– in addition to providing the actual publication of a book via editing and typesetting– we have the expertise to focus on the aesthetic and brand of a book and author, together. Again, this goes along with our hybrid mentality.}

The post The Hybrid: What Makes REUTS Different? appeared first on REUTS | Boutique Book Publisher |.

Sci-fi is most often synonymous with spaceships, aliens, technology, robots, and to some, Star Trek or Star Wars. But there’s more to it than that. Just like Fantasy sports a whopping 31 subgenres, Science Fiction contains a plethora of subtle variations, each deserving of its own subcategory. A shocking 37 subcategories, to be exact. (And I thought Fantasy was bad!) Now you know why I had to keep deferring this one. That’s a lot of research! Ready to find out what these 37 subcategories are? Then let’s get to it.

Hard Science Fiction

This is the subgenre most people think of when they hear “Science Fiction.” Drawing from the “hard” sciences — physics, astronomy, chemistry– Hard Science Fiction is not for those easily lost by conceptual details. Scientific realism trumps the more mundane aspects of character or plot development, placing this subgenre’s focus on things like exploration and discovery instead. Expect a lot of attention to be paid to process explanations and technology, and if this is a genre you want to write, expect to put in hefty amounts of research. Plausibility is king in this field. If it’s not believable, that ship’s not gonna fly. (Pun intended.)

Star Trek is the most notable example of Hard Sci-fi. There is character development across the series, but that’s not the main focus. I mean, they say it right in the opening sequence. The mission is to “boldly go where no man has gone before.” That same slogan applies to pretty much everything in this category.

Soft Science Fiction

The exact opposite of Hard Sci-fi, Soft Sci-fi puts the emphasis on character and plot, with the scientific aspects taking a backseat. This subgenre focuses on what are considered the “soft” sciences– anthropology, political science, sociology, psychology, etc. Anne McCaffrey’s Dragon Riders of Pern series would fall in this category. Deceptively starting off as a Fantasy with just a light hint of Sci-fi, later books in the series reveal a heavier Sci-fi slant. But the focus is largely on the characters and cultures, with very clear influence from the disciplines of anthropology and political science.

Military Science Fiction

The name says it all on this one. Military Science Fiction revolves around a distinctly militaristic theme. Usually, the characters are part of the military and the plot involves some kind of war. For those fans of the video game world, Bioware’s Mass Effect trilogy and Bungie’s Halo series are prime examples of this type of story.

Robot Fiction

Another one where the name is pretty self-explanatory. Works in this category place heavy focus on the science of robotics. Isaac Asimov is one of the most prominent pioneers of this subgenre, but you’ll see this theme a lot in films. 2004’s I, Robot springs to mind as a popular example of these kinds of stories.

Social Science Fiction

Social Science Fiction is an interesting creature. It relies heavily on the influence of Social Science to extrapolate and then criticize future societies. So at its heart, it’s a genre bent on satire, on delivering criticisms and moral messages about our own society through the filter of a fictional, future one. This subgenre shares a lot of similarities with Dystopian Fiction in that sense. Notable, and probably familiar, examples include Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and The Giver by Lois Lowry.

Space Opera

For those of you who pictured the operatic blue alien from The Fifth Element, I’m sorry to say, you’re wrong. This subgenre has nothing to do with music. It does, however, bear a slight resemblance to its more earthly counterpart — the Soap Opera.

Space Operas are adventure stories. Romanticized and melodramatic sometimes, but still. They usually center around a sympathetic hero going up against insane odds in an epic battle to save the universe. Good always wins in a Space Opera, and if you can’t guess the notable work I’m alluding to yet, here’s a hint: it features light-sabers, Wookies, and a princess in a slave outfit.

That’s right, Star Wars was, and is, considered a Space Opera. (Alternatively, it’s also known as a Science Fantasy, for the same thematic reasons.)

So although this subgenre may have some intrinsic ties to the much-ridiculed Soap Opera, don’t let that color your feelings. Star Wars is one of the most successful Science Fiction franchises of all time, and if it can survive being called a Space Opera, your work probably can too.

Steampunk

Steampunk is an strange one, spawning an entire subculture as well as a subgenre. It’s often set in an industrialized not-so-distant, alternate future, with heavy influences from 19th century Victorian England and the American Wild West. Strange combo, no? It may also contain elements of Fantasy, Horror, or Historical Fiction. The main requirement, though, is that a story in this category must include steam-technology and a 19th century perspective on everything from machinery to fashion. Examples include the work of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne as well as more contemporary author, Phillip Pullman. But with the rapidly growing popularity of this cultural movement, Steampunk will likely have several more notable titles soon.

Cyberpunk

Cyberpunk is Sci-Fi’s answer to the Detective/Crime Novel. Its settings are typically dark and gritty, with a heavy emphasis placed on advanced technology. Plots often revolve around the degradation of society and the abuse of technology. Hackers, Artificial Intelligence and Megacorporations spying on the world are all elements seen in these high-intensity thrill rides. The work of Phillip K. Dick falls largely under this category, making him one of the most well-known authors in this field.

Biopunk

Biopunk is pretty much the same as Cyberpunk, but instead of an emphasis on technology, it focuses on the biological. Genetic modification and DNA engineering are common in this subgenre, providing a cautionary look at the downside to messing with biology. The Island of Dr Moreau by H. G. Wells would be a prime example, although it technically predates the creation of this category.

Nanopunk

Another cousin of the previous “punk” categories, Nanopunk focuses on a specific set of technology — nanotechnology. Michael Chricton’s Prey, as well as NBC’s recent hit show, Revolution, are both examples.

Superhero Fiction

Ah yes, a subgenre full of dudes in tights and capes, and women wearing barely-there spandex and magic-powered accessories. I don’t think there’s a person alive who isn’t familiar with this category, (don’t lie, you know you went through the towel-turned-cape wearing phase when you were a kid) although it’s much more popular in the visual mediums– TV, film, video games, and comic books.

The basic idea is exactly what you’d expect, a “good” protagonist dressed in an elaborate costume faces off against a supervillain. Often, both hero and villain have superhuman abilities, making their battles nothing less than epic. Which is why we continue to reboot these narratives over and over and over again. I mean, seriously, what are we on, like our 8th Batman?

Scientific Romance

No, this isn’t a combination of Sci-Fi and Romance, although that does exist. (It’s considered Science Fiction Romance, in case you forgot. ) Scientific Romance is actually an archaic term that was the genre’s original name. Now, it refers specifically to works from the late 19th to early 20th centuries or ones that are purposely written to sound that way. H.G Wells, Jules Vern, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle are considered part of this category, largely because they were writing during that time frame, pioneering the genre.

Gothic Science Fiction

I find it interesting that this isn’t lumped into Horror Sci-Fi, but rather is given its own designation. Gothic Science Fiction is what it claims– a combination of Gothic-minded elements and Sci-fi. Vampires and Zombies are frequent visitors here. The most common plot is the attempt to explain monsters through science. There’s heavy emphasis placed on the biological explanation of these more-typically mythological creatures while still maintaining that darker, Gothic edge. Think Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, or Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend.

Mundane Science Fiction

This subgenre very closely resembles Hard Sci-fi, except there’s no interstellar travel or alien life forms. Fascinatingly enough, part of this subgenre is a position that things like worm holes, warp drives, and multi-galaxy exploration (all things typically found in Hard Sci-fi) are speculative wish-fulfillment and could never really happen. (Which I suppose makes the choice of “mundane” in the title fairly appropriate.) Instead, this subgenre focuses on stories that could happen, and often contain scientific data that can be, or has been, corroborated by scientists. Geoff Ryman and the short story anthology he edited, When It Changed: Science Into Fiction, are the most prominent names associated with this subgenre.

Horror Science-fiction

Just like it sounds, this is a combination of Horror and Sci-fi. Pairing the adrenaline inducing gore and violence of Horror with Sci-fi’s action-based futures, this is a powerful combination. Alien invasions, mad scientists, experiments gone wrong, there’s really no end to the number of ways Sci-fi can terrify us. Resident Evil, The Body-snatchers, The Alien Franchise, even The Terminator, are all examples of just how lucrative this category can be.

Comic Sci-fi

Again, pretty straight-forward. In fact, so straight-forward that all I should have to say is this: Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. See? Enough said, right?

But seriously, this is a combination of Comedy and Sci-fi. It exploits the elements of Science Fiction for comic relief, often leaning toward satire, as in our example above.

Science Fantasy

This is a blend of Science Fiction and Fantasy (Duh, right?) that lends a sheen of scientific realism to things that could never really exist. This is a squishy subgenre at best, and has never been truly solidified with a description. Surprisingly, one of my all-time favorite series, Shannara, by Terry Brooks, is considered this. I never knew that. See? Even I learn something doing these posts.

Apocalyptic Science Fiction

These next two subcategories are very tightly linked. Apocalyptic Science Fiction is all about the end of days, the downfall of civilization. The whole story leads up to some cataclysmic event that destroys life as we know it. Sometimes we survive, sometimes we don’t. But once disaster strikes, the story’s over. Otherwise, it becomes part of the next subgenre.

Post-Apocalyptic Science Fiction

If Apocalyptic is about the disaster itself, Post-apocalyptic naturally features what happens next, after the crisis. Often it includes desolate landscapes, a much smaller population, and sometimes even a return to medieval, or non-technology-enhanced ways of life. Apocalyptic fiction is often depressing, but Post-apocalyptic brings a sense of hope with it, revolving around themes like survival and rebirth/rebuild.

Zombie Fiction

I know what you’re thinking: Doesn’t this belong in Horror? Well, that depends entirely on the storytelling approach. When the emphasis is placed on the fear created by a Zombie Apocalypse, and violence and gore play a major role, then yes, I would tend to agree that it’s more fitting in Horror. But when the focus of the story is on an infectious contagion sweeping through the world, turning everyone to mindless, flesh-craving mutants, that’s Sci-fi’s realm. So it really just depends.

Alien Invasion

There seems to be a lot of these self-explanatory subgenres in Sci-fi, doesn’t there? Alien Invasion is exactly what you’d expect: Aliens invading Earth for the nefarious reasons of either destroying or enslaving mankind. This has been one of the most common storylines in Sci-fi; it’s right up there with Hard Sci-fi’s exploration and discovery. From War of the Worlds, to Independance Day, to Avatar, Alien Invasions have fascinated audiences. I wonder if we’ll find it so fascinating if it ever really happens?

Alien Conspiracy

Unlike Alien Invasion, where all hell breaks loose as massive ships descend from the sky, Alien Conspiracy takes a more subtle stance on the whole Alien thing. UFO sightings and abductions are fair game in this category and stories usually center on the conspiracy itself, on the journey to truth. Perhaps the most well-known example of this subgenre is The X-Files.

Time Travel

First popularized as a Sci-fi subgenre by H.G. Wells and The Time Machine, Time Travel is one of those things, like Historical, that crosses several genres. And, like Zombies, the designation between each is subtle and based on the approach. Time Travel without an explicit, scientific explanation would fall more in the realm of Fantasy, but when it’s based in science, like The Time Machine, it’s most definitely Sci-Fi. Other than that distinction, the idea is the same– traveling through time. End of story.

Alternate History

We’ve seen this header elsewhere. And just like its Fantasy counterpart, Sci-fi’s version is pretty straightforward. It’s a story rooted in history, but then deviates from that to create an alternate timeline. Pretty simple, no?

Parallel Worlds

This is the only subgenre that allows for pure speculation, more akin to Fantasy in many ways than its Sci-fi brothers. The idea is that there is a parallel universe to our own, where the world is either recognizable or very much not. Often including elements of Time Travel, Parallel Worlds is rife with endless possibilities for imaginative new twists. The most prominent and recent example I can think of is Fox’s cult hit, Fringe.

Lost Worlds

This subgenre features tales of adventure, discovering lost locations (islands, continents, planets, etc.) that tend to feature dinosaurs or other extinct creatures and cultures. Jules Verne’s A Journey to the Center of the Earth is a prime example of this type of fiction.

Dystopian Fiction

Just like Dystopian Fantasy (which isn’t an official subgenre yet), Dystopian Sci-fi is all about the opposite of Uptopia. Generally set in a near-future heavy with social unrest, Dystopian Fiction explores things like police states, repression, and dictatorship. They also commonly feature rebellions. This subgenre has seen a recent boost in popularity, especially with the YA audience, claiming such heavy-hitters as Suzanne Collins’s Hunger Games Trilogy and Marie Lu’s Legend Series.

Space Western

Yep, space cowboys. (Oh, come on, you know you were thinking it.) Combining the ideology of frontier America with intergalactic travel may sound like a ridiculous concept, but it’s actually a pretty potent combination. How many of you have heard of a little show by the name of Firefly? **Waits for the fanboy/girl squealing to die down.** Yeah, exactly. That’s a Space Western. Enough said, right?

Retro Futurism

This subgenre can boiled down to a phrase: “The future as seen from the past.” It has to conform to a vision of the future presented by artists pre-1960, creating a nostalgic blend of elements to showcase a timeline that could have been but never was. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, The Rocketeer, and even The Phantom all qualify for this category.

Recursive Science Fiction

How’s this for a convoluted subgenre? Recursive Science Fiction is Science Fiction about Science Fiction. The best way I can describe it is that it’s a framed narrative often featuring a protagonist writing a science fiction story. Fortunately, it’s rare, so I wouldn’t dwell on this one if I were you.

Slipstream

Landing somewhere between Literary and Speculative Fiction, Slipstream is just plain weird. It’s actually known as the “fiction of strangeness.” It actively tries to break the conventions of genre, crossing between the various styles with ease. A good Slipstream will leave you feeling confused and uncomfortable, and is often accompanied by a resounding, “WTF?” But hey, to each their own!

Anthropological Science Fiction

This subgenre is rooted entirely in the discipline of Anthropology. It seeks to portray races and cultures to the same scientific degree that anthropologists do, even if those races and cultures are entirely fictitious. Notable names under this header include Ursula K. Le Guin, Chad Oliver, and Michael Bishop.

And that concludes our long, sometimes arduous, journey through the many literary subgenres. I hope it’s been as enlightening for you as it has been for me. Creating these quick reference sheets, I learned quite a bit about my own personal reading tastes, from the order of my genre preferences to the things I find most appealing in a story. But most importantly, I learned exactly how to categorize my work. How about you, though? Did you learn anything valuable from reading all these?

**Another post syndicated from Nightwolf’s Corner, the personal blog of Senior Editor, Kisa Whipkey.**

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This week, it’s Mystery’s turn. Mysteries are literary puzzles, challenging the reader to unravel the story and put all the pieces in place before the big reveal. They rely heavily on suspense and foreshadowing, carefully withholding pertinent information about the antagonist’s motivation, and even identity, until the very end. When done well, the clues are so subtle the reader only fully understands in a glorious “Oh! Now I get it!” burst of clarity once everything’s been revealed. These narratives are twisty, brilliantly convoluted, and written to keep you on your toes. Which is why they’re one of my favorite genres, both as a reader and an editor.

But just like every genre, Mystery is broken into subcategories — 20 to be exact. You know what happens next.

Detective

I’m pretty sure there’s one prominent name that comes to mind for this subgenre — Sherlock Holmes. Yep, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s famously eccentric sleuth is a prime example of this Mystery staple. But he’s certainly not alone. Detective stories can feature professional private investigators, as in David Baldacci’s Sean King and Michelle Maxwell books, or they can be amateurs, like Jessica Fletcher in Murder, She Wrote. The point is that each book follows an investigation from the POV of the detective, creating a kind of follow-along for readers as they try to, ideally, solve the crime first.  Detectives with winning personalities, such as Mr. Holmes, are prime candidates for long-running series, making the central character as important to this subgenre as the mysterious crimes themselves.

Child/Woman in Peril

These stories typically feature kidnappings; the mystery lies not only in why the victim has been taken, but whether or not they will be saved. High intensity and heavy on action, this is a favored storyline for film as well as literature. Most recent examples include Taken, starring Liam Neeson, as well as ABC’s failed show, Zero Hour (although there was a lot more to that than just the kidnapping). Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express also falls under this heading.

Classic Whodunit

(You can’t have Mystery without a Whodunit reference.)

These also usually feature a professional investigator, but they’re different from Detective stories because the situation is more prominent than the characters. Think more like Clue, where the crime is the most important element and figuring out the puzzle is the main point. These are usually stand-alone books, where the detective just conveniently happens to be included, rather than character-driven series like Detective fiction.

The best example of this subgenre is Agatha Christie’s And Then There Was None.

Comic (Bumbling Detective)

Fusing Humor with Mystery, these are light-hearted tales meant to elicit laughs. Often, they feature a detective who is less-than-qualified but who still manages to fumble their way into solving the crime. Examples include Inspector Clouseau from The Pink Panther, as well as USA’s former hit, Monk. Those are extreme examples though. Really, it can be any Mystery that puts emphasis on the humorous elements, diffusing what can sometimes be rather dark material with laughter. A & E’s recently cancelled show, The Glades, would fit here with its wise-cracking lead character, as does ABC’s Castle.

Cozy

Cozy mysteries occur in small towns or even single homes. The characters, except the detective, who’s conveniently an outsider, all know each other and the tension is laced with the possibility of betrayal. Though primarily Horror, since it’s based on the work of Stephen King, I would categorize CBS’s Under the Dome here as well. It contains many of the required elements — a small town trapped under a mysterious dome, with one convenient outsider trying to understand the many layers of intrigue. But technically, Murder, She Wrote is a better known example. (What? It can fall into more than one category.)

Legal Thriller

Legal Thrillers are similar to Detective, but feature lawyers instead of investigators. They takes place entirely in the legal system, whether that be an attorney trying to convict/acquit a client, unraveling the clues of the case as they go, or simply set against a backdrop of law-wielding firms. John Grisham’s famous novel, The Firm, is a prime example.

Dark Thriller

This one has a slightly misleading name. It’s actually a combination of Horror and Mystery, pulling the fear and graphic violence from Horror and mixing it up with the suspenseful puzzles of Mystery. Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn is an example of this kind of story.

Espionage

More commonly thought of as Thrillers, Espionage books are actually part of Mystery (because technically Thriller is part of Mystery). These titles revolve around the international spy game, as blatantly referenced by the subgenre’s name. The most recent resurgence of this category features spies facing off against terrorists, racing to find and stop planned attacks and tracking down leaders hiding in the shadows. They’re exciting in the way only spy stories can be. (Who doesn’t love to say stuff like, “Bond. James Bond”?) Espionage lets readers step into a glamorous (and fictional) life of adventure and subterfuge, making the focus of these plotlines plain ole action.

Forensic

Like most of the Mystery subgenres, Forensic once again revolves around solving crimes, this time through the highly detailed and scientific lens of the forensics lab. Popularized by shows like Bones and CSI, this subgenre is dominated by a small niche of authors — Kathy Reichs (the real-life inspiration behind Bones), Patricia Cornwell and Tess Gerritsen (behind TNT’s popular hit, Rizzoli & Isles) are just a few.

Heists & Capers

Who doesn’t love a good heist? Face it, there’s something inherently appealing about the elaborate schemes to steal priceless items, the thrill of the con, and the ever-present question of “can they really pull this off?” This subgenre glorifies the “anti-hero,” meaning that it’s told from the criminal or “bad guy’s” POV. The rules of the category actually say that the criminals aren’t supposed to win, that their plans are foiled at the last minute and everything goes wrong, but more recent variations like Ocean’s Eleven and TNT’s now-deceased show, Leverage, give the audience a different end — a criminal’s happy ever after, as it were.

Historical

See? Here it is again! I’m telling you, Historical should become its own genre.

Anyway, just like all the other variations, a Historical Mystery is set against a recognizable period of time and may or may not include famous historical personas. Fascinatingly enough, this particular subcategory of Historical features a niche market of Chinese Mysteries (stories set in ancient China and Japan) as well as the standard Elizabethan, etc. The Sano Ichiro series by Laura Joh Rowland is a great example.

Inverted

This could almost be described as an omniscient mystery, wherein the reader witnesses the murder up front, knowing full well who the killer is, and the suspense is created around figuring out “how” they will be caught. So the reader knows more than the detective and watches from the sidelines while they struggle to figure it out. The most fantastic use of this technique I’ve encountered is actually in ABC’s most recent drama, Motive, but the subgenre has been around since 1912.

Locked Room

If you’re like me, then you instantly thought of panic rooms. But, like me, you’d be wrong. Locked Room is a strange niche of a subgenre that seems to have fallen out of favor. The idea is that the central crime is committed under seemingly impossible circumstances but is later explained rationally. The most notable example is Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, The Murders in the Rue Morgue, which apparently spawned the whole thing.

Medical

From unknown viral epidemics to the diagnostic marvels seen in Fox’s House, Medical mysteries are pretty straight-forward. Obviously, they contain something medical that, for whatever reason, is unexplained. Figure out what the disease is, where it came from, or how to cure/stop it, and the story’s over. It’s as easy as that.

Police Procedural

Ah, yes, everyone’s favorite Mystery subgenre. Without it, we wouldn’t have such iconic shows as Law and Order, (all 15 versions of it), or half of TV’s current offerings. Police Procedural is such a well-known category, I almost feel like it’s a waste for me to define it. But just in case you’ve somehow managed to avoid exposure to this type of story, here’s the deal:

It features police detectives (with their assorted teams of bad-ass forensics people) unraveling often brutal crimes and eventually catching the perps.

See? Didn’t I just describe about 80% of prime-time, scripted TV?

Psychological Suspense

I think I missed my calling as a psychologist, because once again, these stories fascinate me. Most of the other subgenres focus on who committed the crime, or how, but Psychological Suspense focuses on why. It explores the dark and twisty pathways of the human psyche and the motivation behind a crime. Also called Psychological Thrillers, the story rides not on an external threat, but on an internal one, focusing on the character’s emotional state, mental abilities or instability. TNT’s current hit (and one of my favorite shows), Perception, would fit nicely under this header.

Romantic

Another cross-breed, Romantic mysteries combine, you guessed it — Romance and Mystery. A relatively new subgenre, Romantic features strong, compassionate heriones prone to falling in love with their crime-solving partners. But while the romance is a strong element in these tales, it takes a backseat to the puzzle, making this melding of genres a different one for Romance. Usually, when Romance is involved, it’s the dominating story arc, but here, it plays second fiddle to the standard plotlines of Mystery.

TechnoThriller

This subgenre has two requirements:

• A high level of action
• Heavy emphasis on technology

Scientific detail is imperative in these and often plays a crucial role in the plot’s progression. Espionage, conspiracy theories and military action are also cornerstones of this category, with quite a few heavy-hitting names gracing the lists: Michael Crichton, Tom Clancy and Dan Brown (for his work prior to The Da Vinci Code) are some you may have heard of.

Thriller

This is such a broad category that some consider it a genre unto itself. But technically, it does fall under the parameters of Mystery. Thrillers deal with pretty much every topic under the sun. The criteria, therefore, has less to do with certain plotlines or characters and more to do with the storytelling techniques themselves.

Thrillers use suspense, tension and excitement to create adrenaline-inducing thrill rides that are action-packed and gripping. Red herrings, plot twists and cliff-hangers run rampant through this subgenre, making them some of the most exciting tales on the market. It also makes them prime fodder for Hollywood to cherry pick, as they are an almost sure hit with audiences.

Woman in Jeopardy

Similar to Child/Woman in Peril, this also focuses on a damsel in distress. The difference is that, here, she’s also the heroine. So instead of having to be rescued like in a Child/Woman in Peril, Woman in Jeopardy focuses on the protagonist’s ability to outwit, outmaneuver and ultimately escape from her dangerous adversary. Lisa Jackson and Heather Graham, though both technically considered Romance authors, tend to write stories that qualify for this category as well.

And there you have it — a breakdown of the various mysteries of Mystery. As you can see, this genre plays a dominant role in many mediums. We’re surrounded by it on a daily basis, to the point that it almost becomes synonymous with storytelling. Humans are curious creatures, and Mystery plays right into that, capturing our attention in ways the other genres don’t. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we all know I’m a Fantasy girl at heart. But I can’t deny that Fantasy allows more of a passive approach to enjoyment, while Mystery makes your brain work for it. If you want to be a couch-potato, soaking your entertainment in from the sidelines, Mystery’s definitely not the genre you should go to.

Next week will be the grand finale to this post series; the epic conclusion to our journey — the behemoth that is Science Fiction. Better polish up those reading glasses, it’s going to be a long one. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

**Another post brought to you by Senior Editor Kisa Whipkey’s personal blog, Nightwolf’s Corner.**

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A good Horror should unnerve, freak out and otherwise haunt you long after you finish it. Featuring ghosts and vampires, psychopaths and serial killers, Horror preys on our fears, exploring the darker side of humanity.  But unlike some of the other genres, Horror’s true focus isn’t on the content, so much as the delivery. Horror would be nothing more than General Fiction, Fantasy or Sci-Fi without one very key ingredient — suspense. The creepy, atmospheric use of this storytelling technique (different from the way it’s used in a Thriller) has one goal — to elicit fear from the reader. It feeds on the adrenaline rush we get when our fight or flight response kicks in, spinning tales that leave us uncomfortable and scared stiff.

But even though books in this genre have to conform to this universal requirement, they can vary widely in their approach. (No surprise there, otherwise it wouldn’t be part of my series on subgenres, right?) My research shows 15 different subgenres in Horror.  So let’s check them out.

Comic Horror

Gallows humor and black comedy are staples of this subgenre, which strives to mix comedy with the elements of Horror.  Sarcasm and satire run rampant, pairing things meant to terrify with the ridiculous. Stories in this genre are often predictable, placing characters in laughable situations the audience sees coming a mile away. The Scary Movie franchise is a prime example, as are The Ghostbusters, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Shaun of the Dead, and the novels of Christopher Moore.

Creepy Kids

This may seem like a weird name for a subgenre, but if you think about it, how many times have you seen creepy children featured in a Horror film? It doesn’t always have to be children, though; it can be anything that represents innocence gone twisted. Possessed toys (Chucky) and pets (Stephen King’s Cujo) also qualify. I think there’s something inherently horrifying about the combination of innocence and pure evil that makes this genre guaranteed to give you the heebie-jeebies.

Dark Mystery/Noir

This subgenre pulls from sister genre Mystery to create gritty, dark, crime-driven stories. Typically set against an urban backdrop rife with moral ambiguity, a Dark Mystery/Noir will feel oppressive, paranoid and dirty. Plots often contain themes of corruption, obsession, and revenge.  Examples include The Midnight Road by Tom Piccirilli and  Procession of the Dead by Darren Shan.

Gothic

This is what people think of when they think about “classic” Horror. Before Horror became a recognized genre, Gothic was used to describe this style of literature. But once other variations of the horrifying came into existence, the genre name changed and Gothic became merely a subgenre. (Note: This is not the same thing as “Goth,” which is a subculture and not a literary genre.)

Thematically, novels in this subgenre contain characters who feel trapped. It doesn’t matter if that’s internally or externally. The settings are often desolate, ruined places (like castles and graveyards) and there’s a heavy emphasis on the supernatural. Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and everything by Edgar Allan Poe are classic examples everyone knows. But Anne Rice’s The Vampire Chronicles, The Crow movies, and even Batman, also fall under this heading.

Hauntings

This is an easy one. Hauntings = ghosts, spirits, demons, poltergeists and other supernatural, scary phenomena. There really isn’t any more to it than that. If your book features any of these things, it’s likely to fall here.

Historical

We seem to see one of these subgenres in every genre. I wonder why they haven’t just dubbed it an official genre all on its own yet?

Anyway, a Historical Horror is exactly like it sounds — a Horror set in a recognizable, historical setting. That’s the only requirement, so there’s not much point elaborating, except to say that I happen to know REUTS Publications will be releasing an excellent novel under this category in the near future. So if you’re a fan of this subgenre, keep an eye out for the official announcement!

Psychological

These are some of the most terrifying stories out there. Where the other subgenres usually focus on an external, alien form of evil, Psychological Horror illuminates the shadowy corners of our own minds, relying on the character’s emotions, fears and mental instability to create tension. These are often uncomfortable tales that prey on emotional vulnerabilities and insecurities we all harbor but choose to deny. Plot twists are common here, as are unreliable narrators, and heavy use of confusion, leaving the reader wondering what’s happening as much as the character is. Because of this attention to subtlety, this subgenre is the closest cousin to Thriller. Notable examples include The Others, The Ring, and Stephen King’s The Shining.

Quiet Horror

If Psychological Horror takes the cake for highest use of suspense, Quiet Horror wins for subtlety. This is a subgenre I don’t think I’ve ever encountered. It’s a light form of Horror, where only the atmosphere and tone provoke fear, rather than gore, violence or explicit descriptions. If I understand it correctly, the main emotion conveyed is one of dread or anxiety rather than outright terror. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to find any well-known examples of this subgenre, so if someone knows of a few, please feel free to share in the comments below.

Extreme Horror

At the complete opposite end of the spectrum from Quiet Horror is Extreme Horror — aka Splatter, Slasher, Grindhouse, and Visceral. All of these variations focus on one thing — gore. If you want your Horror bloody and violent with a huge body count, this is your subgenre. I think we’re all familiar with Slasher films, but what are some literary examples? American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis and the work of Edward Lee comes to mind.

Supernatural Menace

I’m pretty sure we can all guess what this subgenre is about. That’s right — creatures. Whether it be the Swamp Thing, Dracula, The Wolf-Man, It, or some other creepy non-human, this is where you’ll find them. I don’t think we need more explanation than that, do you?

Weird Tales

Believe it or not, this subgenre was birthed from a magazine bearing the same name. You don’t see that every day, huh? These stories defy any other classification except strange. Usually melding concepts from Fantasy, Sci-Fi and Horror into a slipstream blend, Weird Tales are just that — weird. Notable examples include the work of Clive Barker and H. P. Lovecraft, as well as The Twilight Zone.

Lovecraftian

Yep, as in the H. P. Lovecraft I just listed under Weird Tales. A pioneer of the Horror genre, Mr. Lovecraft has inspired an almost cult-like fanaticism around his work, warranting his own special subgenre. Work featured here has to bear obvious influences from Lovecraft’s work, mimicking his distinct stylistic flare and pessimism and usually piggy-backing on one of his creations.

Dark Fantasy

Well, look at that, it’s my favored subgenre again! Since this is a cross-breeding of Fantasy and Horror, it’s only right it should be featured here as well. (No, I didn’t make that executive decision. The internet did. )

Dark Fantasy is grittier than its more traditional Fantasy brethren, dealing with the nastier bits of humanity’s psyche. There can be (and often is) a significant amount of violence and gore and it usually contains themes meant to make a reader slightly uncomfortable. So even if there are no vampires, werewolves, demons, etc, a novel can still be classed Dark Fantasy, simply by its voice and subtext. How is this different than say, Gothic, Hauntings or Supernatural Menace? It’s not really. Except here the fantastical elements lean more towards the lighter stance of Fantasy, meaning that the creatures don’t have to be as purely evil as typically seen in Horror. Dark Fantasy pulls most from Psychological Horror, infusing the heightened tension and uncomfortable emotional vulnerabilities into a traditional Fantasy setting.

Occult

This subgenre is similar to Supernatural Menace in that it often involves a supernatural element. But here, that supernatural element has to be based on a real religious belief system or folklore. Witchcraft, Voodoo and frightening mythological creatures like the Onryo (a Japanese “vengeful ghosts” legend and featured in The Ring) are all typically found here.

Religious Horror

Religious Horror really should be called Christian Horror, as everything non-Christian falls under the Occult subgenre. Religious Horror centers on the very specific ideology of Christianity, so think devils, demons, Satan, etc. Stories in this subgenre will have heavy religious overtones, with the plot often boiling down to the supernatural battle between good and evil (God vs. the Devil). The Exorcist is a prime example of this kind of fiction.

And there you have it; 15 ways to completely freak yourself out and bring on nightmares. Personally, I never really thought I was a fan of Horror, but reading through these, I realize I’m a bigger fan of it than I thought. I always knew Dark Fantasy was on the fence between Fantasy and Horror, I just never realized I had one foot on either side. Now that I know, I may have to meander down the Horror aisle in Barnes & Noble more often. How about you? Are more of your favorite literary reads falling under Horror than you expected?

**Another post syndicated from Senior Editor Kisa Whipkey’s personal blog, Nightwolf’s Corner**

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General Fiction is that strange catch-all genre where titles no one really knows how to classify find themselves, and it typically takes up about half a bookstore’s inventory. But even though it’s kind of a vague term, there’s nothing general about it. In fact, my research has shown that there are actually 12 categories you’ll be guaranteed to find in this section. Notice I called them categories, not subgenres. General Fiction doesn’t really have subgenres. Each of these is considered its own thing and are umbrella-ed beneath the header of General Fiction solely so they can be shelved together in a bookstore. Curious what they are? Let’s have a look.

Literary Fiction

Ah, the most pretentious category of fiction. Admit it, a lot of you instantly pictured snooty English Majors in tweed jackets declaring themselves too good to write something as trashy as “commercial” genre fiction and actually, you know, make money. Don’t lie, now. I know I’m not the only one to harbor that opinion.

But despite it’s bad rap, Literary Fiction does stand above other genres in terms of technical quality, garnering critical acclaim for its “serious” approach to literature. In fact, to even be considered part of this genre, a work has to meet a strict criteria of traits, including:

• Interesting, complicated characters who are often introverted and introspective.
• A Plot that focuses more on the inner-story of the character than external action, creating a complex and multi-layered emotional involvement between the reader and characters.
• Prose that is elegant, lyrical and layered. (It’s this emphasis on style that earns the genre its pretentious label.)
• A dark and serious tone that wrestles with universal themes and dilemmas.
• Slower pacing than more mainstream, commercial works.

A lot of those elements can and are included in other genres as well, (my own WIP is bordering dangerously close to qualifying), so there’s one other crucial piece that distinguishes a work as Literary Fiction — the audience. Unlike the other, “commercial” genres, who survive solely on the whims of fans, Literary Fiction targets critics. Its main reason for existing is to gain critical acclaim from other literary authors and reviewers, catapulting the author to stardom not by the number of books sold, but by how highly praised their work is. Which, I dare say, is even harder than finding success through book sales.

Drama

This category is more about tone than anything else. Like Literary Fiction, Drama is serious, but without the added emphasis on style. Technically, Drama is a term thrown around more in film and theater, but it exists in literature too. There’s only one requirement to be considered a Drama — it must be a story centered around the conflict or contrast of characters. Which, let’s face it, is 99% of what makes up most stories. That’s why the 5 Act Dramatic Structure originally created for plays — exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, denouement — became the basis of literature as well. Drama is a fundamental storytelling technique and it’s found in every genre, subgenre, or category.

So what makes a stand-alone Drama? I would say when the dramatic elements of the story overshadow those of another genre, it could be considered a Drama. For example, you’ve heard the term Crime Drama, I’m sure. In these (usually televised) stories, the drama surrounding the crime overshadows any other plotline, including character development. Family Drama, where the entire story centers on the conflict between the generations of characters, is another example. There are obviously shades of other genres in both of these, making pure Drama a rare creature. Therefore, it’s my opinion that while Drama is considered a category, it’s really a hybrid, combining its core principles with something else 9 times out of 10.

Humor

Humor is similar to Drama in that it is most often found as a hybrid, crossing-breeding with other genres in a symbiotic masterpiece. Unlike Drama, it’s much easier to identify. A humorous work has one goal — to provide amusement and make the reader laugh. That’s it. Really. If your main mission as a writer is to make people laugh, then regardless of whichever other genre you choose to add in, your book is considered part of the Humor category.

Realistic Fiction

I would hazard that the majority of books categorized by bookstores as General Fiction actually fall into this. Similar to Literary Fiction, Realistic Fiction has a set of guidelines for its identification, namely:

• A conflict or problem that could actually happen in the real world.
• A setting that actually exists or could actually exist.
• Characters that are fully realized, complicated individuals.
• A plot that centers on everyday problems and personal relationships readers could easily relate to their own lives.

This category is one of the few that transcends audience as well, crossing into all ages and backgrounds. The recent success of The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky being a prime example.

Satire

Satire is a cousin of Humor. In fact, it’s technically considered a type of humor, encompassing things like irony, sarcasm, and parody. But unlike Humor, whose goal is simply to entertain, Satire has more of a malicious edge. Its intent is to act as a social critic, drawing attention to problems and societal issues through wit. It always contains some kind of message, and because of its often sharply-edged delivery, is not everyone’s cup of tea. I wrote a post about that very thing a while back — Sarcasm; It’s Not for Everyone. Satire is no different.

Tragedy

Tragedy. One of the longest-standing storytelling devices. And why not? Sorrow is one of the most powerful emotions we can feel. And clearly, it sells. I’m pretty sure Nicholas Sparks figured out ages ago that his blending of Romance w/ Tragedy led to his legions of Kleenex-armed, female fans and his insanely prolific career. Hence the plethora of titles he’s released under that formula.

Similar to Drama, Tragedy is usually found as a hybrid with something else. Its most simple definition is that it describes the horrible events derived from the actions of the hero/heroine, whether that be self-destruction or calamity for those around them. A happy ending isn’t required in any category except Romance, but it’s definitely not going to appear here. If you pick up a tragedy, expect to bawl your eyes out and walk away feeling burdened. That emotional impact is what makes Tragedies some of the most remembered and powerful stories out there.

Tragicomedy

All subgenres can be combined to create a new one, but few deserve their own designation as stand-alone category, making Tragicomedy even stranger than its name implies. Clearly, it’s a combination of Tragedy and Humor, but oddly, there is no formal definition for it. The closest I found was that it’s a tragedy containing enough comedic elements to lighten the mood, or a serious story with a happy ending. If I understand it correctly, it’s meant to be a lighter form of tragedy, so rather than a reader walking away feeling depressed, they end feeling slightly uplifted in the way Lifetime movies are uplifting — feel-good endings with a heavy undertone. By that definition, I suppose books like Kate Jacobs’s The Friday Night Knitting Club & Comfort Food, as well as everything by Mr. Sparks could almost fall into this category?

I’m not at all familiar with this category, though, so if I got it wrong, someone please feel free to correct me.

Chick Lit (Women’s Fiction)

Speaking of Lifetime, this is the literary equivalent. A newer category that saw its popularity skyrocket in the late 1990’s, Chick Lit is aimed at the modern woman, addressing everything from career, to relationships (including family and friends), to shopping and red-soled, uber-expensive high heels. Though it usually contains elements of romance, it’s not actually considered part of the Romance genre. It’s light-hearted and fun; the literary equivalent to a Rom-Com with your girlfriends. And thanks to books like Candace Bushnell’s Sex and the City, Chick Lit has become a staple in the publishing industry, spawning dedicated imprints like Harlequin’s Red Dress Ink and flooding the market with sassy, confident heroines in expensive shoes.

Inspirational Fiction

This category actually earns its own shelf in some bookstores, but since its formal definition is vague at best, I’m lumping it in with General Fiction.

Inspirational Fiction has one goal — to inspire. It features characters overcoming adversity in inspiring and uplifting ways. It often draws heavily on religious belief systems and for many, has become synonymous with Christian Literature. But that’s not completely accurate. Yes, the majority of this category does pull from the ideals of Christianity, but that isn’t actually a requirement. All that’s required is that a work of Inspirational Fiction somehow address the idea of faith and impart a positive message that inspires.

Historical Fiction

Historical Fiction is easy to spot when you’re browsing the General Fiction aisles. These are books set in the past, featuring realistic, historical settings and maybe even figures from actual history. The main characters, however, are always fictitious. There are three requirements of Historical Fiction:

• The events need to be believable enough that they could have happened.
• It has to have authentic settings and characters, including behavior appropriate to the time period.
• It has to have an accurate timeline for events that matches the reality of the time period being portrayed.

The point here is to showcase the past in an enlightening way, helping readers understand customs and cultures that have vanished or painting significant historical events through different POV’s. When you start deviating from the path history took, you’re wandering into the realm of Historical Fantasy, a different creature altogether.

Classic Literature

I’ve always thought that books falling in this category deserved their own shelf, but for whatever reason, they’re usually just lumped into General Fiction. Possibly because the term “classic” is somewhat arbitrary. We’re all familiar with titles in this grouping, having been force-fed them throughout school. But how do we actually define what makes something classic? By looking for these markers:

• A Classic usually comes out of Literary Fiction, sporting some kind of stylistic achievement that’s earned renown for decades.
• It should be representative of the time period it was written in, but transcends time, becoming as relevant to current generations as those it was written for.
• It must contain some kind of universal appeal, touching on themes that resonate sometimes hundreds of years later.

The exact list of Classic Literature changes depending on who you talk to, but it’s pretty safe to assume that if you’ve heard of it and it isn’t popular in the grocery store checkout, it’s probably a classic.

Western Fiction

This is another category that usually has its own aisle. But I’m including it here because it doesn’t appear to have any subgenres. A Western is a Western is a Western, if you get my drift. I’m sure the plots have varying nuances, but the overarching style never does. A Western is a book set in the Wild West of usually America between the late 18th century and the late 19th. And yes, it features exactly what you’d expect — cowboys, Native Americans, covered wagons, and women in aprons with shotguns.

So there you have it — 12 categories of literature you’re probably going to find in the General Fiction section. Thank God for alphabetization, eh? Otherwise we’d never be able to find anything in this genre! Wandering the aisles of General Fiction is definitely a daunting task, but it’s also one of the most interesting because you never know exactly what you’ll find. It’s kind of like flipping through the channels of a TV, there are as many variations as there are titles, and occasionally, you may even come across one of those amazingly brilliant, strange gems that defies all classification. And that is exactly what General Fiction is all about.

As with my previous posts, if you feel I’ve miscategorized or misrepresented any of these subgenres, feel free to speak up!

**Another post syndicated from Senior Editor Kisa Whipkey’s personal blog, Nightwolf’s Corner**

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When I say “Romance,” I bet three-quarters of you instantly picture Harlequin and a ripped, shirtless dude who’s apparently never heard of a hair cut fawning over a buxom girl who tried to squeeze unsuccessfully into a corset three sizes too small for her chest. It’s okay. I did too. Because that’s the image we’ve been told embodies Romance. But as classic as that bodice-ripping image is, it’s not the whole picture.

Romance actually encompasses 10 separate subgenres, and as Romance fans can attest, each is distinctly different from the others. In fact, of all the popular genres of mainstream fiction, I’d hazard Romance is the only one where fans stubbornly refuse to read anything other than their favored subgenre. And that’s because of the dramatic difference between them. They’re almost so different as to not really belong under the same genre header. If it weren’t for the consistent narrative structure revolving around a love story with an emotionally satisfying end, these subgenres would have very little in common.

What are they? Let’s find out.

Contemporary Romance

Set after 1945, Contemporary Romance is the largest subgenre, cornering well over half of all Romance titles sold. It generally takes place in the time it was written and will reflect social behaviors of that time. For example, a Contemporary Romance set in 1950 would likely feature a heroine who’s primary goal is to get married, raise a family and be a good housewife, while one set in 2000 would probably feature a feistier, career-driven female with more progressive views on love. This subgenre shares a lot of similarities with Women’s Fiction (a subgenre of General Fiction), but a Contemporary Romance always focuses on the romance while Women’s Fiction can focus on any life change relevant to women.

Historical Romance

This is the only subgenre to have subgenres of its own. The only stipulation is that it be set prior to 1945 and, of course, the plot must be centered on romance. Other than that, it can fall into any of these subcategories:

• Viking: Obviously features Vikings in the Dark or Middle Ages.
• Medieval: Your typical Knight and Damsel in Distress situation.
• Tudor: Set in the English time period of the same name — 1485 to 1558.
• Elizabethan: Yep, more England. This time between the dates of 1558 and 1603, when the first Elizabeth ruled.
• Georgian: Hey, look! More England! These take place between 1714 and 1810, during the historical period of the same name.
• Regency: A super short time period in English history (yep, still England) — 1810 to 1820.
• Victorian: Yet another moment in English history (Man! This subgenre really should be called English History Romance!) — 1832 to 1901.
• Pirate: (Did anyone else just laugh over the fact this is considered its own thing?) I think the name speaks for itself, don’t you? Think Johnny Depp and Pirates of the Caribbean and you’re golden.
• Colonial United States: Ah yes, now we get to the American-centric portion of history. This takes place between 1630 and 1798. So if Elizabethan or Georgian England isn’t your thing, cross the ocean and explore America instead.
• Civil War: Typically, these are set on the Confederacy side (since everyone knows the Confederate South was a sexy place to be), but they don’t have to be. They just have to be set during the Civil War.
• Western: I’m sure all of us just pictured cowboys. But those cowboys actually can be American, Canadian or Australian. These books actually focus on the experiences of the female though, rather than the male-centric version found in the Western genre itself.
• Native American: These books explore Native American cultures as much as they tell a love story. They also usually contain some element of fighting against prejudice and paint a picture of cultural acceptance.
• Americana: A simple subcategory, Americana takes place between 1880 and 1920 in Small Town USA.
• Celtic: This is apparently not recognized as a thing, but I’m including it because I’ve personally read at least a hundred Romance books featuring Scottish or Irish backdrops, cultures and beliefs. That qualifies as a subcategory in my book.

Romantic Suspense:

Combining elements of the Mystery genre with Romance, this subgenre is a hybrid. It still features a relationship at the heart of the story, but is more plot-driven than its character-driven subgenre brethren.

The most common set-up is a woman who’s become a victim falling for a man who’s in a position of authority/protection — police officer, FBI agent, Firefighter, Navy SEAL etc. Solving the mystery around the crime brings them closer together and helps them fall in love.  The elements of suspense — mystery, thriller, etc. — become integral to the storyline, affecting the decisions the characters make and driving the plot forward. At the same time, the romance remains the focus, so those same suspenseful elements have a direct impact on the way the love story unfolds. All in all, this is one of the more complicated Romance subgenres to write, but it’s also one of the more fun to read.

Paranormal Romance:

Another hybrid, Paranormal Romance draws heavily from Fantasy. In fact, it’s considered a subgenre of Fantasy as well.

“Paranormal” simply means anything not normal, so the staple of this subgenre is weaving fantastical elements into contemporary settings. Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, Demons, Psychics — all are fair game in this subgenre. The most common settings pull from Urban Fantasy or Dark Fantasy, but there are even some Historical settings out there. Sometimes the larger culture is aware of the paranormal happenings in their midst (à la Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse novels) and other times they’re not (à la Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga). But almost always, a Paranormal Romance blooms between a human, and something not-quite-human.

Science Fiction Romance:

Science Fiction Romance is to Science Fiction what Paranormal Romance is to Fantasy. Meaning it pulls heavily from the Science Fiction genre, weaving in futuristic, alien or technological elements. The only difference between a regular Science Fiction tale and a Science Fiction Romance is the focus of the plot. Just like all Romance, the heart of a Science Fiction Romance is the blossoming love between two main characters. Now, whether those are both human characters on some outer-space road trip, or a human and an alien on some exotic, distant planet is up to you.

Time Travel Romance:

I’m honestly not quite sure why this gets its own dedicated subgenre. Depending on the set-up of the time travel, whether it’s magical or scientific, it could easily fall within the requirements of either Paranormal Romance or Science Fiction Romance.  But, apparently I’m wrong, because this is listed on multiple sources as a Romance subgenre.

A Time Travel Romance obviously has to contain an element of time travel. Whether you have a character traveling back in time to find their soul mate or have someone travel forward in time for the same thing doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that while you create the usual romantic plotline, you also pay attention to the clash of cultures. Time Travel Romances offer a unique way to filter viewpoints on current and past society through the lens of a character outside of it. In that sense, they can also contain aspects of morality or satire.

Inspirational Romance:

Inspirational Romance is a subgenre aimed at a specific niche of readers. It combines strong Christian elements with the more traditional aspects of Romance. However, because it does conform to the Christian belief system, it typically doesn’t include things like gratuitous violence or swearing, and sex, if it’s shown, only happens after marriage. The entire thing has a chaste, traditional courtship feel that appeals to readers wanting the warm and fuzzy experience of true love conquering all without the grit or vulgarity.

Erotic Romance:

I think there may be something intrinsically wrong with listing this directly under Inspirational Romance, but oh well. Just like Inspirational Romance targets a specific group of readers, so does Erotic Romance. And they’re at complete opposite ends of the spectrum! Where Inspirational is clean and innocent, Erotic Romance is dirty and explicit. It contains strong sexual content and frank language. But despite the heavier emphasis on sex and frequency of the sexual scenes, Erotic Romance stills contains developed characters and plots that could stand on their own without the steamier bits.  Technically, I would say E.L. James’s 50 Shades of Grey is an Erotic Romance. If you strip out the many sex scenes, you’re actually left with a semi-decent story of two people learning to love.

One thing to note: Erotic Romance is not the same as Erotica, which is its own genre. In Erotica, the sex scenes are all that matter, taking up three-quarters of the book at the expense of well developed characters or story.

YA (Young Adult) Romance:

This is a newer subgenre, and may not even be fully recognized as such yet. But I’m choosing to list it as its own thing because it has a distinct set of requirements just like the others do.

YA Romance targets readers between the ages of 15 and 18. It deals with things like first loves, first kisses, and losing one’s virginity — themes appropriate for the target audience. The romances are passionate in the way that only teenagers can pull off, and the prose is typically kept at a PG-13 rating. So while there are some steamy parts, they’re not as explicit as those contained in books intended for adults. Why is this worthy of a subgenre designation? Because more and more titles are being released that would fit; titles where the primary plot focuses on the romantic relationship between the characters and not something more external and grand, like saving the world. They can fall within any of the previous subgenres, but due to the specific age range of the target audience, I feel they should be set apart.

NA (New Adult) Romance:

The newest subgenre on the block, New Adult is quickly gaining popularity. Like Young Adult, it targets a specific age range — 18 to 25 — and deals with themes like discovering one’s self, leaving home for the first time, finding a career, etc. It also incorporates things like overcoming that first heartbreak, committing to a serious relationship, starting a family, and other things that resonate with readers in that stage of life. It lifts the PG-13 rating of YA, including more explicit sexual content and stronger language. How is it different from other adult romances? It’s not, really. Aside from the specific thematic elements and the target audience, it’s much the same as what you’d find in more mature titles. Why did I give it its own designation then? Because it’s the cool thing to do. Duh! Just kidding. It’s because it does have stipulations, requirements that dictate the path of the story. That’s what defines all the other subgenres, so why shouldn’t it come into play here?

And there you have it. As you can see, these subgenres vary widely, crossing over into the other mainstream fiction genres and back again. The main thing to remember is that while romantic subplots can and are included in nearly all genres of fiction, only plots where romance is the driving force can be considered true Romance. Regardless of which subgenre they are, they all must boil down to one simple thing — a story of two people falling in love who eventually end up together. If that sums up the core of your story, congratulations! You’re a Romance writer. And with Romance remaining among the most popular genres, there’s definitely no shame in that.

Next week, we’ll continue our exploration of subgenres by meandering through the intimidating number Science Fiction sports. In the meantime, if you feel I’ve miscategorized, misrepresented or just plain missed a Romance subgenre, feel free to add/correct in the comments below. As always, thanks for reading!

**Another post syndicated from Senior Editor Kisa Whipkey’s personal blog, Nightwolf’s Corner**

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