I often blend genres in my stories. I don’t do it to challenge standard conventions of genre, but as an extension of the “What If?” question. What if an elf finds herself in space?  What if a Greek god finds herself in Aotearoa? What if pirates are in space and use sex as a weapon, a reward and a negotiation tool?
 
What is a genre?
Genres began when Aristotle developed an absolute classification for Greek Literature: they’ve evolved.
Today, genre is an ever-expanding way to group books. Genres are used by librarians and booksellers to group books on shelves. They’re also a strong marketing tool and set readers expectations.
Genre fiction can be broken into a multitude of categories, including: comedy; fantasy; science fiction; climate fiction; dystopia; erotica; horror; crime; thriller; historical; romance; western; war; spy; and so on…the list is ever changing.
By blending genres, we create opportunities for new ways to tell stories. For example, science fantasy: where technology and magic coexist, and space opera: where science fiction, fantasy and drama can coexist.
 
How to blend
It’s important to start with a base genre. At its core what is the plot of your story about? Once the base is established other genres can be overlaid. It’s important that the secondary genres enrich, but don’t overpower the base genre. Each element must play a part in the plot or contribute to character development.
In my collection, Letters From Elsewhere, the story, Moths to the Flame, is at its heart a science fiction story with elements of fantasy, erotica and historical fiction.
 
Why blend?
Multiple genres can add depth to the plot. Readers don’t want to just know the science in science fiction, they want to know how it impacts the characters. Characters come alive. A detective story is one thing, but what if she’s having to deal with the challenges of being married to a vampire? By blending genres, the world gets bigger. We can create a universe where everything is not as it seems.
 
But the most important thing is to write a good story. All the genres in the world won’t make up for poor character development, weak world building or a lack of plot.

All forms of writing require some level of world building. This is especially true in speculative fiction. The reader needs to have a sense of the environment within which the story takes place. That environment is wider than just the physical setting, it includes all the trappings of a society: art & culture; food & drink; politics & religion; fashion; science & magic; infrastructure & transport; technology & structures; languages & class structure; flora & fauna; disease; races of humans, monsters & aliens; and rules & laws – amongst other things.

BUT (that’s in capitals because what follows is very important) …all the details of the world you create don’t need to be included in your story. I know it’s tempting to include it all that gritty minutia you spent hours, days and even weeks researching and thinking about, but just don’t. Only include enough to provide a scaffold for your reader’s imagination, context for your characters, and to move the plot forward.

Because I’m a discovery writer (I discover the story as I write it), I don’t do a great deal of world building before I start writing. I’ll just do enough to get me going. My typical approach for developing a world is very organic. I start with the main character. Once I understand who they are and what drives them, I can start to write the plot around them. The final step is to construct the world in which the character and the plot exist. This means my writing is often interrupted by periods of research.

For The Grotesque Wars (novelette in Letters From Elsewhere), I spent a lot of time researching castles. The final story only carries a glimpse of all that research. I’ve included just enough so the reader can picture a castle, but not be bogged down and distracted by in-depth descriptions. I know the exact layout of the castle and even details of the materials used in its construction, but these have no bearing on the story. Specifics, where needed, are woven into the story, rather than dumped in as a chunk of exposition.

In my novella, Rose Moon, the story moves between three realms: a fantasy realm; a human realm; and the realm of the seasons. Each needed sufficient depth and vibrancy to make them real. Most of the action occurs in the human realm, so that’s where I needed the most detail. I had to consider politics, religion, laws, technology, magic and the setting. Then, determine how the realms interacted.

In the above examples, the worlds were built on an earth or earth-like reality, but that’s not always the case. I’m working on a series of space opera novella’s, Ghost Assassins of Bijou, where almost nothing about the series universe is familiar. I’ve had to build almost everything from scratch, but I start with the known.

• The assassins and their targets are human, but different races.  
• Societies are versions of democracy or autocracy.
• Religions have distorted to fundamentalism and misogyny.

After that, and because I’m not bound by hard science, I can let my imagination riot.

• Spacecraft are mechanically enhanced, sentient cuttlefish-like creatures.
• Intergalactic travel is possible via ‘Punch Flight’.
• There are multitudes of sentient species other than humans.
• Universal translators are glitchy, but exist.

Worlds don’t need to be based in reality, but they do need elements of fundamental truths. Readers need to have something or someone they can identify with or understand.

There’s a whole bunch of stuff I have high confidence writing about: women; sexuality; animals; habitats; politics; and the logistics involved in managing large-scale international projects. There’s a much larger list of things I have less confidence about, including: technology; physics; strategies of war; legal systems; and medical procedures. Those differing levels of confidence will dictate how much research I may need to do, which facets of a world will be more important to my story, and whose perspective the story is being told from. For example, if I have a scene set in a hospital, it will be told from the perspective of a visitor or patient, not from that of a surgeon or staff nurse.

Setting is a critical component of world-building. All too often it’s one dimensional – visual. Add richness with the other senses. The stench of rancid milk evokes an almost involuntary gag reflex in most of us. That first mouthful of rich, bitter coffee in the morning is nirvana to some of us, and repulsive to others. Aromas and flavours are powerful drivers of emotion, as is sound. The mewl of a kitten, the screech of brakes, the scream as you plunge a knife into someone’s stomach. Don’t forget the feel of the warm blood as it splatters on your face, the silk smoothness of the dress you wear, and the irritation of the sand in your eyes. Use all the senses to draw your reader deep into your world.

​Finally, it's important to remember that no world is perfect. There will always be dissent, crime, and inhabitants of societies fringes. Recorded history doesn’t always align with reality, it usually suits those who are in power. The same applies to the interpretation of the tenets of religion, think about the difference between a zealot and someone with faith. We’ve bred thornless varieties of lemon trees but left to themselves, they revert. Animal species aren’t meant to be able to interbreed, yet there are numerous examples of hybrids in nature. Don’t limit your world to one dimension – allow it to be full and rich.
 
Here are some of my favourite worlds.

• Pern – Ann McCaffrey
• The Dandelion Dynasty – Ken Liu
• The Murderbot Diaries – Martha Wells
• Binti – Nnedi Okorafor
• Discworld – Terry Pratchett

Letters From Elsewhere is my first published collection of short stories and is available as an ebook on all your favourite platforms.
Universal Link: https://books2read.com/LettersFromElsewhere

For print version, search directly on your local Amazon or Barnes & Noble site.
 
Blurb
This genre-blending collection is rich in characters who aren’t always what they seem at first glance. Space pirates, Fire Elves and living grotesques take us on journeys across the multiverse and deep into the hidden crevices of the mind. These stories interrogate what it is to be monstrous; and along the way, they confront the patriarchy and explore the spectrum of sexuality. If you like your fantasy and science fiction a bit dark, laced with humour and sometimes spicy, these stories will entertain, disturb and challenge you.
​
“Jacqui Greaves titillates with this outstanding collection of speculative encounters, visits and ventures by otherworldly beings, each tale sharpening our understanding of the human condition and the tiny role we play in the universe. Cosmic, cautionary, and compelling, served up with a sprinkle of humour and a good dose of sauce, Letters from Elsewhere is a satisfyingly good read.” —Lee Murray, five-time Bram Stoker Award®-winning author of Grotesque: Monster Stories.

What inspired you to put together this collection?
I’ve been writing short stories for almost a decade now, so I’ve built up a large catalogue. Quite a few have already been published in various online magazines and anthologies, but over the years most of those publications have disappeared into the ether, leaving my stories orphaned. Others have just never found their place in the world.
Earlier this year, SpecFicNZ ran an online workshop on getting your short stories published. It got me thinking. When I went through my files, I realised I had a lot of orphaned and unpublished stories just sitting there doing nothing. So, ‘Letters From Elsewhere’ was born.
The collection covers a broad range of speculative fiction, including fantasy, science fiction, erotica and horror.
 
What on earth possessed you to mix your genres?
Honestly, I don’t set out to mix genres. I set out to ask “What if…”
Most of the stories in this collection are either fantasy or science fiction, with a few lying further afield on the spectrum of speculative fiction. A little under half incorporate explicit sex.
My genre blending is best demonstrated in the story ‘Moths to a Flame’, which has elves fucking in space – so fantasy, science fiction, erotica and a hint of historical fiction all twisted together in the space of a couple of thousand words.
I’m not afraid to include sex in my stories – after all it’s such a primal driver for humanity. I use the word erotica, because it’s a catch all, but I get frustrated when people interpret that to mean romance. The sex in my stories is not often of the romantic kind, it’s more about pleasure, and sometimes it’s weaponised. In ‘Flower Girl’ sex is used for pleasure, as a punishment, to celebrate and as a negotiation tool.
 
Does the collection have a theme?
For me the theme of the collection is ‘what it is to be monstrous.’
Are we born monstrous, or do we become monstrous? It’s not that simple. Our genes, our family, our experiences in the universe all feed into creating who we are. I believe we all have a monster lurking within. Whether that monster is unleashed on the world is a consequence of multitudes of small decisions and actions.
Several stories in this collection, e.g., ‘Persuasion’, ‘The Grotesque Wars’, ‘Please Sign the Waiver’, cause us to question who the real monster is. Often my tales are told from the perspective of someone we would consider a monster, e.g., ‘Starkiller’, ‘You are Already Dead’, ‘The Abyss’. I want my readers to sit in the monster’s skin and question their own monstrousness.
 
Most of your stories include strong female characters. Why?
I’m a feminist and a bisexual, so I naturally include strong female characters and queerness into my stories. I’m so tired of misogyny and the patriarchy – it’s just exhausting having to deal with them decade after decade. So, I write ‘What If’ stories where women rebel against expectations and oppressors get their comeuppance. Some of these stories, e.g., ‘Redundant’, have been influenced by real life.
 
You use humour to great effect. Why?
I once went to a book launch where someone else read out one of my stories. The audience were in hysterics. I was surprised because I hadn’t intended for it to be funny; it just was. That still happens, but I’m more aware of it now and use it consciously.
Some of these stories deal with big, serious issues, like death and the end of the world. By adding elements of humour, I think it makes it easier for the reader to handle these heavy subjects, while not slipping into a pit of despair.
​

I’ve been thinking about the role of the antagonist in stories. A super quick search of the interwebs revealed four main types of antagonist: Evil, Opposing, Superior and Internal (honestly, I’m sure there are other classifications, but this serves my need for now). They’re all interesting and worthy of deeper consideration, but it’s the evil antagonist who is most relevant to where my musings have been taking me.
The evil antagonist is the one who is evil for the sake of being evil. This character may have a back-story that gives them some excuse, but generally it’s not critical to understand their why. All that matters is how they satisfy their greed, hunger for power and uncompromising drive to achieve their nefarious goal at any cost, and how they torment the hero of the story along the way.
Often, we feel nothing but hatred for this character, they represent the worst traits of humanity distilled and concentrated for effect. No-one feels empathy with the likes of Lord Voldemort from Harry Potter, Sauron in Lord of the Rings, Darth Sidious in Star Wars, or Doctor Smith in the revamped Lost in Space. They have no redeeming features.
But there is another kind of evil antagonist—the trickster. They’re usually a secondary antagonist to some greater evil, either facilitating the main antagonist, or confounding the hero for their own means. Yes, they’re evil, but they have moments of vulnerability that fool not only the hero, but us as well, into empathy. We can almost see ourselves in their place, even if just for a moment.
My favourite examples of the trickster are The Master/Missy from Doctor Who, Loki in all his incarnations, Moriarty from Sherlock Holmes and, most recently, Ms Wardwell (otherwise known as Lilith or Madam Satan) who was the sole reason I watched the entire first season of the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina in one sitting!
Of all the antagonists I adore tricksters above all others! What I love most about these characters is their intelligence and wit. So, it’s really no surprise that I’m incorporating one into my current work in progress (known for now as ‘The Japanese Story’). My trickster is a white fox who acts as a messenger between humans and Gods. He’s a fun character to write and I hope I do him justice as his role develops.