We're closing the book on genre, two seasons, dozens of subgenres, and a lot of overthinking later. This week we revisit some highlights: novel architecture and the dreaded middle-of-the-book slump, why cross-genre mashups can backfire if you get too ambitious, the tension between writing what you love and writing what sells, adaptation lessons from film and video games, and how genres evolve to match whatever readers are actually afraid of right now.

Did I miss a genre you wanted covered? Let me know.

Next up: Season 10 is all about voice, including what it actually is and how to find yours. F

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If you have plot bunnies coming out of your plot holes, it’s time for a writing break.

Hello again. It's time for a review episode. It's not just about specific genres, but it is our send-off for the genre review. Two seasons, dozens of subgenres, and a lot of overthinking later, we're closing the book on genres. If there's a genre I missed that you want me to cover, please, let me know.

Next season, which is season 10, will be about voice. You know, the thing that actually makes a book sound like you.

And for those of you who noticed that there was something off with my voice last week, I was on the mend from a head cold, but I'm one hundred percent again. Thank you for your concern, and good ear.

And now, let's revisit the last stretch of episodes. The Writing Break cafe is open. Grab a drink and settle in.

From Episode 160: What Does the Reader Need to Know Next? Writing Stronger Novels

One thing that can help is reviewing your story's architecture because that determines how readers experience the plot.

Architecture includes pacing, escalation, sequencing, emotional variation, information control, revelation placement, chapter placement, chapter rhythm, and tension management. A novel can contain extraordinary material while still feeling shapeless or exhausting if these elements are not considered. I've touched on all of these in past Writing Break episodes.

Make sure your characters are evolving, and remember that you need scene variation. You might think that a reflective scene will slow down your momentum, but if you're doing it right, you've made sure there is enough unresolved tension to keep things from getting sluggish.

Then there's the infamous middle of a novel. This is often where a lot of little darlings live that I then have to convince the author to kill. The middle of a novel becomes difficult because it no longer benefits from novelty, yet the ending is still a ways off. At that point, the story must sustain itself through development, so I guess it’s a good thing that a novel needs layers of engagement operating simultaneously. Readers keep reading because they want to know what happens next, in your plot and to your characters. How do the characters change? What relationships survive? That kind of thing. Your readers don’t expect or even want perfect characters, but they do want growth in your characters, even if they contradict themselves, regress, repeat or repeat mistakes. All shall be forgiven if the character arc is just right.

A weak middle might mean you’ve got too much or too little. Perhaps you introduced too many narrative threads without clear integration, or perhaps your story's premise does not have enough evolving complexity to make it novel-length. Or maybe the conflict is repetitive and the stakes are static. Writers sometimes respond to this by expanding outward, adding in new characters, subplots, and plot twists. But expansion is not the same thing as progression.

Sometimes expansion is necessary, but a strong middle deepens the story instead of just extending it. But, it has to make sense for the book. Make sure you're not adding scenes without moving the story along. If you are worldbuilding, don't mistake information for immersion. Readers become invested when the lore affects the story or the plot; for example, maybe it affects character behavior, social dynamics, emotional stakes, or conflict. The world must participate actively in the story rather than existing beside it as an encyclopedia of interesting facts.

Moving on, how's your stamina? Once your emotions about the book mature, you won't have that initial infatuation period to keep up your writing stamina, which is why discipline is more important than inspiration. You’ll have to hold the entire structure in your mind long enough to finish it coherently.

You might get to a point where you're not sure where the story is going, you're not sure if it's any good, and you're not even sure you know who you are anymore. If that happens, you must keep writing.

The big question to ask yourself as you’re writing is, “What does the reader need to know next?” Not what happens next, but what does the reader need to know next?

From Episode 161: Cross-Genre Mashups: Blending Genres and Gaining Readers

There are more genre blends, and perhaps you can come up with a new one yourself. Just remember that every genre has its own collection of reader expectations, so when you combine genres, you inherit expectations from all of them. You do not necessarily need to satisfy every expectation equally. Even if your book has a dominant genre, you still need to understand what readers are expecting from your book. For example, if one of the genres you're blending is mystery, you'll need a solution to the mystery. Thrillers need escalating tension. Fantasy readers expect coherent worldbuilding. Each genre makes its own promises to readers; of course, readers might not consciously think through all of these promises while they're reading, but they certainly notice when a promise is broken.

If you're an ambitious sort, you might be thinking, Why combine two genres when I can combine six? For one thing, the more genres you combine, the more expectations you're taking on. Cross-genre fiction works best when the elements support one another, which becomes harder to do well when the story is crowded with genres competing for attention. Readers might get confused, but confusion is not a substitute for complexity. Your story should be layered but not fragmented.

A practical reason to not blend all the genres is that, from a publishing perspective, discoverability can be an issue with cross-genre fiction. Where, oh, where should your six-genre book be shelved? Marketing a cross-genre novel can be a challenge, but then again, publishers keep putting them out, so I guess they think it's worth the extra effort. Readers are often quite flexible. As I've said before, they will happily follow you into unfamiliar territory as long as they trust you know where you're going.

From Episode 162: Writing What You Want vs. Writing What Sells

Understanding your audience is part of your job as a writer.

In the end, you need a sustainable writing process. Focusing exclusively on the market could lead to burn out, but focusing exclusively on personal interests could lead to rejection.

And rejection, whether by publishers or readers, could lead to resentment. Some writers resent the market for not rewarding the stories they most want to tell. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Rudyard Kipling are among these resentful writers. Others resent themselves for writing books they don't actually enjoy. Writers are not wrong for loving what they love, but readers are under no obligation to care about a subject just because the author does.

From Episode 164: The Kitchen Table Test: What Writers Can Learn from Film, Theatre, and Video Games

Remember that when you're writing the novel, focus on the novel format, but it's not a bad idea to take a mental look around as you write each scene, as though you were playing a video game, and share with your readers the details that will help ground them to the setting. Sights, sounds, smells, texture, and weather. Get it all in there, and then work on making sure the details appear in a way that flows and fits the story. If you're not sure if you're putting in too much or not enough, remember to ask yourself, "What does the reader need to know next?"

When your work is adapted into any format, there might be some heartbreak. The scene or subplot you love might not survive, the character you think is essential could get merged with another character or two, and a three-page memory might end up as just a prop sitting on a desk. That can hurt, especially when readers loved the original, but a successful adaptation has to make choices based on what the new medium actually needs and allows. Things like time limits, staging constraints, episode structure, and player agency will have to be considered. That's okay.

Readers might not be understanding, but writers who understand this get to be less precious and more precise. What is each scene actually doing? Is it revealing character, escalating tension, changing a relationship, delivering information, building atmosphere, or something else or nothing at all? Once you know a scene's function, you can imagine how a totally different medium might perform that same function.

From Episode 166: How Genres Change Over Time: From Castle Walls to Femgore

A genre survives by continuing to turn toward whatever its readers are actually worried about right now, like little sunflowers of solicitude. That matters for you whether or not you think of yourself as a genre writer. If you're writing literary fiction, the same pivots happen, just with less marketing language attached to it. The autofiction wave, the rise of climate grief as a literary subject, the recent turn toward hopeful fiction as a reaction to a decade of grimness, that's all genre-turning.

I don't want you to spend your career chasing trends, but I do think it’s beneficial to pay attention to what is changing, which brings me to your overthinking prompt for the week. There's one for genre writers and for literary fiction writers.

If you are a genre writer, ask yourself these three questions:

1. What was your genre afraid of ten years ago?

2. What is it afraid of now?

3. Does your manuscript answer the old question or the current one?

If you are a literary fiction writer, ask yourself these three questions:

1. What underlying anxieties are highlighted in new literary fiction that you like?

2. What hopes are those novels leaning on?

3. How does your manuscript address those anxieties and hopes?

I hope you enjoyed this bonus episode. Next time, we stop asking what you're writing and start asking how it sounds. Season 10 will be all about voice. Follow Writing Break so you don't miss it, and send me any questions you might have about voice. Thank you so much for listening, and remember, you deserved this break.

Thank you for making space in your mind for the muse today. Writing Break is hosted by America’s Editor and produced by Allon Media with technical direction by Gus Aviles. Visit us at writingbreak.com or contact us at [email protected].