There’s a difference between being a writer and wanting to be a writer. There are plenty of conversations about it, about whether payment, time spent, or day jobs land you on either one side or the other. But the consensus seems to be one major thing: writers write.
It’s human nature to take the inexplicable things in life and try to make sense out of it. What are those eerie lights that dance around in the swamp at night?
I’ve written too many stories and books now to not notice patterns of theme, image, character type, etc, emerge over and over. It can be a bit disconcerting to see ones own obsessions so clearly after a while. But the upside is that you can then take possession of those obsessions consciously, and mold them in ways that you might not have when you hadn’t realized they were there in the first place.
If I were purposely writing stories to attract a broad audience, I’d be depressed to think what a hash I’d made of it–it’s true my work isn’t easy to categorize, and that even within science fiction and fantasy I’m kind of a specialty taste.
When I made the switch to writing in my own universes, the dark stuff took a while to come out, and once it did, it took a while for me to figure out how to make those stories publishable.
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