I get a lot of really nice fanmail, and I try to respond to all of it (though I can be slow). But I got one last night that really made me feel warm and fuzzy all over. Mentioned it on my FB earlier today, but the reader let me know it was OK to post her note, so I’m putting it here.
True Story: So I ordered a half dozen white cotton handkerchiefs (men’s) from Amazon and when they finally arrived (took forever) they were in a box with two copies of The Fifth Season by a writer I’d never heard of but figured was a woman because of the initials. Contacted Amazon – said mistakes were made, how to return, how to refund, never ordered…blah, blah, blah. Keep them, said Big A. Not worth the price of return when the error’s on them, their loss, my gain.
“Celebrated new voice epic fantasy,” on the front cover, more of same blah on the back, but what the hell – I used to read this kind of stuff when I was a kid; Tolkien out loud as my own kid grew up. No wizards or Orcs or Rangers or Elves. No fairies or witches and (thank God) none of that vampire-teenage romance business. To be honest, tough going at first – who are these, where are these people? But a mother’s just lost her son and the world’s coming apart at the seams and pretty soon it’s clear that I’m sucked down this rabbit hole for good.
Be still and be brave, he tells her for her own good, and I think, this writer knows the way of it, as my heart breaks right along with a little girl’s hand. Everything about this intricate, difficult, beautiful story just resonated for me and I can’t thank you enough for writing it. What a joy it is to discover a new writer who manages to not only tell a good yarn but to reimagine a dusty old genre in the process. I look forward to reading more, more, more! Sincerely, Kathy
OK, pause —
OK, just had to get that out. (A box of handkerchiefs! I got a new fan from a box of handkerchiefs!) Let’s resume.
There does seem to be a theme running through a lot of the fanmail I get, along these lines: people who’d stopped reading fantasy for whatever reason have been reading my work and then feeling pulled back into the genre. And that’s awesome. I love that my audience contains so many “non-traditional” fantasy fans. But this is the kind of thing that shouldn’t be happening just because of my fiction. There’s plenty of fantasy out there with “no wizards or orcs or rangers or elves”… and while I think there isn’t nearly enough fantasy out there starring middle-aged mothers of color (or biracial polyamorous proto-goddesses, or blind black women, or Asian male ex-gods with daddy issues, or gay black male assassins, or shy black female healers, or…), there’s some other stories like that out there, too. So what’s happening here, that so many ex-fantasy readers — readers who really just need one non-formulaic book to bring them back into the fold — aren’t aware that there’s stuff here they might enjoy?