Now that a few reviews have trickled in since the release of
my second novel one of my artistic insecurities have has come to the surface
once more. I'm having a hard time deciding whether I’m a contemporary fiction
writer or a romance writer. One usually doesn't want to pigeonhole oneself, but
having come from a screenwriting background the only way I learned to write
fiction novels was to read other authors. My cousin, Monique Gilmore-Scott, had
several romance novels out so I used her books as my blueprint.
It seems like there is little room for overlap in the
African American lit category so the two genres are usually clearly defined by
Terry McMillan, Walter Mosley, and Eric Jerome Dickey on the contempo side and
Zane and Brenda Jackson on the romance side. Although Black male authors are
apparent in the urban fiction category few dared to enter the realm of romance.
Clearly, a void exists in romance genre in regards to male authors, so an
opportunity to distinguish myself in a wide open niche seemed optimistic. So I
constantly find myself in a state of flux between “telling like it is” and lavishly
and lasciviously” telling it like it is”.
The reason I’m such a fan of Iceberg Slim’s writing is
because of his ability to tell the story clearly, succinctly, and honestly,
while still buttering it up with the flowery street vernacular of a pimp.
Hopefully readers will be able to tell the difference between gratuitous sex
and the gratuitous sex Dapper participates in as a reflection of his personal
demons. In others words, its deeper than what appears on the surface. So what
would you consider me, contemporary fiction or romance?
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