HOW RISKY IS YOUR WRITING?

I won't lay down rules about what risks you should or shouldn't take in your writing - it's something you need to work out. I do believe taking risks is essential in both life and writing but I also believe that every risk should be weighed up and taken only as an informed decision.

In writing, the risks you can get away with, and the risks you need to take, depend on a few things:

1. how good you actually are
2. whether you're a debut writer or not
3. the genre you are writing in and what the market is demanding in that genre at that time

In a nutshell, if you are a seriously talented writer, and you are either an established writer OR a new one with a majorly high-concept idea, and if the genre allows it, you can take a risk equivalent to tight-roping across a ravine. The less those conditions apply, the less risky the risks you will be able to get away with.

But remember what these risks entail. If the risk doesn't work in your favour, you will either remain unpublished or, if published, your book may bomb. Or at least die with a whimper.

What do I mean by taking risks in writing? What are the risky practices that you might be tempted to try, rightly or wrongly? Please note that when I say "risky", I do so as someone who approves of risk-taking, so I'm not saying you should avoid it. I'm saying you should understand the risks and possible downsides.

RISKY PRACTICES IN WRITING include:

1. Extreme originality that may be inaccessible to enough buyers - for example, a unique voice, a strange structure, something very arty (because many people, when they come across arty, think weird). The tricky thing is that publishers and agents do want your writing to be original - but the degree of desired originality does depend on the genre, your aim and your talent. Publishers and agents ALSO want books that readers will feel comfortable with. So, my advice is don't try to be original if you're not: go for a tried and tested style / voice with a great idea, unless your writing really can carry off a truly original voice.
2. Breaking the rules of your genre - yes, rules are, in many ways, there to be broken. But only when you know why you're doing it and when you've worked out exactly how this is going to sell and where it's going to sit on shelves. When rules are broken without reason, you look ignorant or unskilled, I'm afraid.
3. Genre-crossing without due diligence - of course, very many books are a combination of two genres and this can work brilliantly and be a really interesting read on every level. Crossing genres is not, per se, something risky, but quite normal. However, there are some things to be aware of and wary about. For example, taking it to extremes is risky - a paranormal sci-fi romantic comedy will be hard to pull off for a novice. You must also think carefully about how you're going to pitch it because everyone at each stage of the selling process needs to know where to shelve it and how to sell it. Over-complicating their job is not a wise move.
4. Writing a niche book - nothing wrong with that but be aware that a publisher has to be able to sell it. Make sure you really do know your market if you're going to write a book that has an avowedly small audience.
5. Moving away from the genre from which you're known, if you're already published, can be risky. I'd hate to suggst that writers should allow themselves to be pigeon-holed but refusing to sit in your box is still risky. I am a prime example of someone who would be more commercially successful (ie, frankly, richer) if I'd sat happily in one genre so that my readers knew what to expect each time. A pseudonym is an option if you want to differentiate between two types of book, but this wouldn't have worked for me as almost all my books are different from each other. I would soon have forgotten who I was supposed to be!
6. Not writing the right debut book. A debut book launches your career and has to make its mark. If you're unpublished, ask yourself whether your current WIP is really a strong enough concept to launch a career.

There's a reason I'm talking about risk at this time. My new YA novel, Wasted, was a risk and I knew it from the start.

1. Its voice is very unusual and if I'd got it slightly wrong it could have grated. An unusual voice is hard to sustain and could have easily slipped or become boring.
2. It has some radical POV shifts and juggles an omniscient multi-POV. Third person present tense is also probably the riskiest voice to attempt.
3. It contains difficult abstract concepts and asks the reader to embrace complex aspects of science and several types of philosophy. (So far, everyone seems to have found this easy.)
4. It is a book that I had to write - but a book that the writer feels compelled to write is not necessarily a book that readers will feel compelled to read. I knew this, but I had to do it. Just had to.

Fortunately, the early signs at the time of writing this post are that my risk-taking has paid off. But my fingers are still hugely crossed and I'm very far from relaxed. But, so far, I have had the most extraordinary response, from adults and teenagers. I am not stupid: I know that there'll be people who don't like it and who will decide to say so, perhaps vehemently - and it's often the case that the more glowing one's best reviews, the more biting the worst ones, so I know it's going to be sore when the negative comments come. But what I do know is that I've done what I set out to do: to get my intended readers by the throat, shake them up, make them talk, keep them awake at nights, and at the end for them actually to say they enjoyed it.

So, to all of you, whatever stage you're at in this crazy business: take risks, yes, but take them in the full knowledge of what those risks are, why you are taking them and how to make sure that your seat-belt is as securely fastened as possible.

RISKY WRITING AND THE MODERN WORLD

In difficult economic times, sensible people think more carefully about risk. Sensible publishers are more cautious about flinging their money around; sensible writers take more care to make sure their book is as good as it can possibly be before they send it out.

Going, going, gone are the days when an agent or editor drooled over raw talent and positively ached to spend eleventymillion hours honing that talent into a publishable book. Welcome to the modern world.

Did I say modern? I'm reading the US ultra-mega-seller Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann at the moment. I know, bit late, but I wasn't allowed to read it as a teenager - actually, "they" made sure I never heard of it - and I had to wait till I was 48 before I dared. The main character's man of the moment - I'm only halfway through and God knows how many more men there'll be; or women - is writing a book, which he is desperate to publish.

Bearing in mind that Valley of the Dolls was published in 1966, I thought you might like these snippets from it:

"Right now, I'm not sure if I can write. I'm not sure the book will even be good. At this very moment there must be half a million ex-GIs sitting at type-writers and hammering out personal versions of Normandy, Okinawa or the London Blitz. And each of us - we really have something to say. It's just a matter of who says it first - and who says it best."   ...

"Lyon ... after the book is finished, will you marry me?"

"I shall be delighted to - if the book turns out to be a good one."

She was silent for a moment. "But you said yourself ... even a good book doesn't always make money."

And then in a scene a little later, Anne is talking to a friend, Jennifer, about the fact that Lyon has finished his book. (That was quick...). Jennfier says:

 "Wonderful! Now you can get married!"

Anne laughed. "It's not that simple. First it has to be accepted by a publisher. He gave it to Bess Wilson - she's a very important literary agent. If she likes it and agrees to handle it, he's halfway home. A publisher will automatically read a manuscript with more interest if he gets it from Bess Wilson."

So, it was never easy, and agents were always important, and writers still sruggled. Even good books didn't necessarily make money. 

Oh, by the way, Lyon gives Anne up for the sake of his writing. He takes her type-writer and disappears to the North of England - as in England, UK, not New England. Crikey, isn't that where Jane Smith lives? - and plans to write, because, "If I want to write, there's only one thing to do - write."

Yep. That hasn't changed either.

Oh, and he plans to marry "the first plump English girl who will cook and tend for me." Typical bloody man.

Anyway, back to the thing about risks and the real modern world, the one with a recession and all sorts of horrible threats to books. I was reminded of all this by this excellent post on whether children's editors are taking risks any more, from the Kidlit people. I think it nicely explains the situation. And don't think this only works for children's publishing. It applies to all genres.

It shouldn't depress you but it should goad you to better and better. There's no room for laziness or second-best if you want readers.

And as for plump English (or even British, as some of us prefer to be called, in case we might actually be Scottish or Welsh or Northern Irish) girls to cook and clean for you, fugeddit. Atcha with my pointy shoes.