I’m a slow writer. I admit it. Procrastination’s only part of the problem. Even when I’m hot on something, can’t wait to get to the keyboard, I still have problems getting the words down, even when I’m on a streak. I’ll have a good day or two, then go blank for weeks at a stretch. I’m currently writing an eight-book series all at once because it’s the only way I can guarantee the books will come out on a regular schedule. I’m not even going to market the first one until I’ve got at least the first five completed in draft form. Even that may not be good enough. My subconscious has a nasty habit of throwing blocks in my way at the worst possible time. Better go back to the original plan and draft all eight of them first.
Back in the ancient days of BI (Before Internet) this never used to be a problem. People expected writers to take a year, even two, between books. The audience was willing to wait. No longer. The Internet has spoiled us. A couple of clicks and you’ve got books, movies, information, porn, anything you could ask for right in front of you, instantly. We’re not willing to wait any more. We want what we want when we want it, and we want it right freakin’ NOW. And if you can’t produce fast enough to supply that impatient demand, your audience will desert you, maybe never to return. There are plenty of other books in the electronic sea, from writers willing and able to churn out a story a month. Or more.
I am in awe of those writers, because I’ll probably never be among their number. I’m just not fast enough for current market conditions. Even giving up on housework didn’t increase my production. I’ve often wondered who does the laundry and cooks the meals in those writers’ households. Or, for those writing erotic romance, when they find time to do “research.”
The moral of the story is, not being fast can cost you your customers. And sometimes even more than that, as I was reminded recently.
Years upon years ago, maybe the ‘90s, maybe early 2000s, I toyed with the idea of writing horror novels. Stephen King wasn’t writing the type of books that had made him famous any more. If someone could slip into that vacated niche, they might do pretty well. I had a couple of plots in mind, including one inspired by the King himself. Back in the day he wrote two related novels, published almost back to back, Desperation and The Regulators. Different stories, but the same cast…sort of. The characters’ names were the same, but the roles they played varied from one book to the other. A bad guy in one was a good guy in the other, a child had become an adult, things like that. Like a couple of parallel universes.
And what, I thought, might happen if the universes intersected, and those characters, the same only different, ran into each other?
Having grown up as a science fiction fan, I had no problems with the concept of infinite “what if” worlds. Or of characters meeting their counterparts. Remember the “Mirror, Mirror” episode of Star Trek? Spock with the beard? Oh yeah. Ahem. I came up with a plot about a parallel universe that opened up into ours, allowing characters to pass back and forth, and the hijinks that ensued.
It came out pretty good, in my humble opinion. The main character, a cop, was alive in our world but had committed suicide in the other. There was a woman who had no counterpart in any other universe. There was a bad guy—oh, the bad guy. He was male in the other world, but female in ours. The two of them met. And hooked up. Yes, exactly how you’re thinking.
I thought that was one hell of a daring concept, for its time. They’re the same person, just different bodies. Different genders. Is it love? Incest? Masturbation? Or the ultimate in narcissism? I couldn’t recall ever reading anything like that before, not even in science fiction. Maybe it happened in Star Trek fanfic. I have no doubt Captain Kirk would have gleefully banged his female other self, and vice versa. Kirk was always something of a slut.
It’s all hypothetical, because while I started the book, I never finished it. I suspect my subconscious knew it was beyond my then-skills. Plus I started having trouble recalling which versions of the characters had done what where and when. This was a book for a plotter to writer, and I’m an irredeemable pantser. Probably the reason I abandon a lot of ideas. Too much trouble figuring out what happens next.
So the book never got written, and I let the concept sit. It probably wouldn’t have gotten published anyway, not back then. Maybe not now. Depends on the execution, and the author. I am not now, have never been, and never will be Stephen King.
Skip ahead to earlier this year. Disney starts a streaming service and creates programs featuring its Marvel Comics properties. One of these shows is Loki, from the Thor franchise. Due to events in Avengers: Endgame, Loki has effed up the time stream. He’s now charged with setting things right. Over the course of the show he meets parallel universe versions of himself. One of them is a woman. They hook up.
Those sounds you hear are me screaming “Oh shit!” and kicking myself in the ass.
Because I didn’t write that book, and now I never can. Because anybody reading it will immediately think, “She ripped that off from the Marvel show.” No, I didn’t. I had that idea decades ago, but I never wrote or published it, so there’s no way I can prove it. That’s the price a writer pays for not striking while the iron is hot. Now somebody else gets to be praised for being daring and original, and I’m relegated to an also-ran’s parallel universe.
Somewhere out there, some Trekkie fanfic writer may also be screaming and kicking herself. I hear you, honey. Loud and clear.
The lesson I’m taking from this is to speed up my production, pronto. I have what I feel is a marketable concept for my series, with characters, story twists and ideas I believe in. Now I just have to get it done and out there. Because somewhere in the multiverse some other writer could have those same ideas. Someone who’s never heard of me and has no clue I even exist, but who’s faster at writing than I am.
Thank you, Disney. You just gave me the kick I needed. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I have a lot of writing to do.
