I now have about three book length manuscripts under my belt.
Of the three, one book has a couple of sequels waiting in the wings to be written. One is living in dusty honor under my bed because I hate the main characters. (However, two of the side characters from that one have graduated to their own book, but it is still in the process of being written. They also have over half a dozen short stories because I can’t keep them out of my head.) And the last book is waiting for me to start the third rewrite/edit.
I’ve written a science fiction novel, a fantasy novel, and an urban fantasy novel. I am capable of writing in other genres, but I am writing books I would like to read. If I ever want to read a romance novel, a mystery, some regular fiction, or even non fiction book and can’t find what I am looking for, I may make the attempt to write those too. However, at the moment there are dozens of talented people much better at those subject than I am and I haven’t even made a dent in working my way through their work. (Not saying that there aren’t very very talent writes in my own preferred genre. It is what I read the most after all.)
I can’t say if my books are good or bad. A lot of that boils down to personal preference. To risk sounding a bit conceded, I know that I am a decent writer. I can slap down words down and form coherent sentences. My stories typically have the necessary beginnings, middles, and endings, but that doesn’t mean they are good books.
I like them even though they are not completely polished so to me that means they have promise. (Except for the one that lives under my bed. *shudders* Yeah, I know. I write my own monsters.) I have great hopes for the two that I favor and even greater hopes for the ones that are yet to be written.
I write what I like because it keeps my interest. I don’t get very excited over things I don’t like or don’t want to do. Yeah, I do them and sometimes I even do them well, but most of the time I just get them done. I don’t enjoy it and that shows. That is especially true with writing.
You can write what you think people want to see. You can pad the words and polish them up but they will be like cubic zirconia; pretty but obviously fake when set next to a real diamond. When you care about something it shows and your work has that extra shine.
There will always be people who don’t care for your type polished gems. They will see worthless quartz where you see treasures, but there will also be others who realize what you have. I write for myself and for those kindred spirits.
The big question of what I will do with my word treasures when I do have them shined up remains unanswered at the moment. I know I will want to share them. How I manage that, I will take on a book by book basis.