Feeding the Imagination:
By Thio Isobel Moss
If you’re familiar with Ilona Andrews’s blog, you may recall her discussing how, before or during the process of writing a book, authors and would-be authors can be very particular. Afterwards, they can be noticeably less so.
This tallies with my experience—though the changes I’ve noticed in myself are broad and a little odd. Since Blind Spot: The Covenant’s Forfeit came out, I’m less picky about food, I suddenly prefer odd numbers, and after two decades of favoring fantasy, urban fantasy, and science fiction, I find myself noticeably more drawn to mysteries.
To be fair, mysteries were my jam as a child. While other kids were reading The Boxcar Children and Ramona Quimby, I was reading Agatha Christie. My mother loved the Miss Marple film adaptations starring Margaret Rutherford, so my interest in the Queen of Crime started early. My paternal grandmother, too, was a Christie advocate. (As an aside, I prefer Joan Hickson’s Miss Marple.)
In effect, I’m returning to my roots, and it feels like breathing fresh air.
Most of the authors I’m familiar with advise aspiring writers to read broadly. I fully support this, but I also know how difficult it can be until that first book is truly out of your system. This isn’t to say authors shouldn’t read their own genre—they absolutely must. We feed on each other’s genius. However, writing requires filtering information. To create something new and exciting, you must first take in new and exciting information.
I pay particular attention to astronomy and the James Webb Space Telescope, cultural history, zoology, and technological innovation. Some of my best ideas come from the strangest places.
Similarly, in reading, there are books I think of as palate cleansers. Sometimes that means stepping outside my usual genres. During Blind Spot’s launch, I read Love That Lingers by Emma Collins—a sweet romance with a thread of spice. I’m not a regular reader of the genre, but it was perfect for that moment. It was gentle and undemanding; from the description alone, I knew where it was going and how it would get there.
More recently, I read For Services Rendered by Will Thomas, which strongly reminded me of Jules Verne and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It was unexpected and refreshing, and it convinced me to read the rest of Thomas’s backlist.
Yesterday, I read Beyond the Elven Gate by Jason Savin. While this is fantasy, it’s of a particular kind—modern folklore with an authentic voice. If you’re familiar with Rip Van Winkle, this falls neatly into that lane. I enjoy revisiting the cornerstones of literature in small doses; it’s work, sometimes requiring translation if you go back far enough, but it’s worth it. Beyond the Elven Gate offers a point of accessibility; it’s short, easy to read, follows classical themes, and is genuine.
The history of literature follows the same pattern as any invention. If the music box had never been invented, we wouldn’t have computers—or they would look very different.
Have you noticed how clusters of books with similar surface features often release around the same time? Yes, sometimes one book inspires a dozen derivatives. But just as often, people who read the same books, watch the same shows, and live similar lives arrive at similar ideas independently.
Humanity may not have a hive mind, but we do tend toward a hive culture.
Reading within your genre while writing—particularly on a first book—can be a hair-raising experience. I encountered stories with the same names, themes, and symbols, all after my own choices had long been established. At first, I changed a few things. Then I realized I’d never finish if I kept that up.
No matter how original you think you are, you will find books that echo yours in one way or another. Most of the time, no one is stealing ideas. We’re just part of the same species.
So: read your genre. Read broadly. Find palate cleansers that refresh the imagination. And when that still fails to make your work utterly original, don’t worry—just keep writing.
