Scattered Thoughts and Rogue Words is happy to host O.E. Tearmann here today on tour with their latest story, The Hands We’re Given. Welcome, O.E.
I’ve been asked a few times why I write in the genre I do…usually with raised eyebrows and a slightly anxious expression. If you know me, this makes sense. I’m a naturally cheerful person who loves research. I love meeting people (though they unnerve me.) I’ve been described as chipper.
And I write cyberpunk. Queer cyberpunk.
Yeah. I get about the reaction you’d expect.
The thing is, in my head I’m not writing ‘cyberpunk’. I’m writing a possible, pretty dark future America, sure. But I’m writing about two guys falling in love. I’m writing about a rag-tag family that hangs together in the worst circumstances, and how they do it. I’m writing about what I fear in the present, what it might become, and why we can stay hopeful in spite of it. I’m telling the story of a weird family of foundlings, dreamers and fighters who just happens to live in a possible future. I’m writing about a trans guy who finds out how strong he really is when he’s given the chance to rise. I’m writing about pranks pulled and battles won, and the power of lighting a candle in the deepest dark.
My buddy and I once fully described this book, and came up with ‘queer romantic cli-fi hope-punk’.
Unfortunately, Amazon doesn’t offer that as a genre category.
So what’s the point of genres? Some days the whole concept irks me. My writing’s all about getting out of constraining boxes. And then I have to find one to fit in.
They tell me genres sell books, and they have a point. Debbie Young of the Alliance for Independent Writers gives us four reasons that genre can be valuable in her wonderful article on the topic:
* A genre such as cozy mystery or police procedural provides a useful shorthand to readers and to stockists of what to expect from your book, making it more likely that they’ll choose your book if that’s the kind of book they’re after.
* Standard genres make it easier to your categorize your book on self-publishing platforms – although each might each use slightly different terminology, their categories at least it helps you reach readers who are looking specifically for books in your genre.
* It positions your book alongside others that are like yours, so you’re more likely to share a shelf in a bookstore or on an “also bought” or “if you liked that, you might like this” listing online.
* Genre expectations provide some basic rules to guide you as you write your book.
But maybe I’ll take a leaf out of William Allan’s work. He writes: ‘The first thing to observe is that a genre is not a rigid mould which works must fit into, but a group of texts that share certain similarities – whether of form, performance context, or subject matter. For example, all the texts that make up the ancient genre of tragedy share certain ‘family resemblances’ (they are theatrical texts written in a particular poetic language, they reflect on human suffering, they show gods interacting with humans, and so on) that allow us to perceive
them as a recognizable group. But although certain ‘core’ features characterize any given genre, the boundaries of each genre are fluid and are often breached for literary effect.’
So romance readers tell me what I write isn’t in their genre. Cyberpunk readers leave comments that read ‘not cyberpunk.’ And solarpunk fans say the world’s too dark to be Solarpunk.
Genres can help sell books. But they’re a tool. Not a trap.
And me? I just keep writing. I’ve got a story to tell.
O.E. Tearmann has a new MM (trans) hard sci fi/cyberpunk tale out, book one in their “Aces High, Jokers Wild” series: “The Hands We’re Given.”
Aidan Headly never wanted to be the man giving orders. That’s fine with the Democratic State Force base he’s been assigned to command: they don’t like to take orders. Nicknamed the Wildcards, they used to be the most effective base against the seven Corporations owning the former United States in a war that has lasted over half a century. Now the Wildcards are known for creative insubordination, chaos, and commanders begging to be reassigned.
Aidan is their last chance. If he can pull off his assignment as Commander and yank his ragtag crew of dreamers and fighters together, maybe they can get back to doing what they came to do: fighting for a country worth living in.
Life’s a bitch. She deals off the bottom of the deck. But you play the hands you’re given.
Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN | QueeRomance Ink | Goodreads
O.E. is giving away an eBook copy of “After Hours Game: A Wildcards Christmas: with this tour – for a chance to win, enter via Rafflecopter:
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The dark shapes of three drones flitted over the junkyard, blotting out the stars. Aidan desperately turned the keys, slamming his foot on the accelerator. The truck’s engine finally revved. Kevin flung open the passenger side door and leapt inside. “Go, go, go!”
Aidan slammed it into reverse and hit the gas. They jumped backward. Once the truck was far enough away from the fence, he changed gears and wrenched the wheel around. They bumped and rattled into the night as fast as Aidan dared without the headlights on. The heat of the engine would make them easy to follow for the drones’ thermal cameras, but the short-range guard drones couldn’t go too far from their base of operation before their programming called them back. Aidan just hoped they could outrun them.
He gripped the steering wheel so hard it hurt. He could feel the suit tightening down against his skin. His heart pounded in his chest. Kevin’s breathing was ragged beside him. Another burst of bullets sprayed the ground right in front of them. Aidan yelped and yanked the wheel to avoid getting hit. The truck jittered to the side. Aidan slammed on the gas. The desert night sped past in a blur of blue and red under the starlight. Slowly, the whir of rotors faded into the distance. Aidan’s grip on the steering wheel began to relax. Kevin pulled his tab out of the bag and set it on the dashboard, watching as the screen flipped through the security channels they’d hacked into, keeping track of the location of dozens of drones.
Finally, Aidan pulled up under an overhang of red rock and cut the engine. The wide-range security drones were due to make their fly-over soon. Better to stop for a while and recover, get back on the road when it was safer.
They sat in silence for a long time, listening for rotors over the quiet buzz of the night insects. Aidan rested his arms on the steering wheel and propped his chin on his wrist, watching the star-studded sky.
“You all right?” Kevin breathed. At some point during the drive, he had deactivated his slick suit.
Aidan sighed and leaned back so he could manually flip his face screen up.”Yeah. Think so. Banged my knee pretty bad. Your shoulder?”
“Bruised. Doesn’t feel severe.” Kevin shrugged.
“Um, good,” Aidan whispered eventually.
So. They were alive. They’d gotten out with most of what they’d gone in for.
At the expense of a bad bruise across Kevin’s cheek, that or worse to his shoulder, and an action that could have caused so much more.
Slowly, some of his anger seeped back. He took a breath. “You scared the hell out of me back there and acted like a complete gamma, Kev. Don’t do that again.”
Kevin ducked his head in a slow nod. “I’m sorry, Aidan. I—When I saw you like that, I guess I panicked.”
Aidan sighed. Kevin was normally so level-headed. He’d been utterly cool on-Grid, when Aidan had been scared shitless.
So why had he acted like this out here?
On the tab screen, the red dot of a drone approached their location. They waited in breathless silence as the long-range drone passed, not even the sound of whirring to announce its presence. The red dot moved out of range.
Aidan breathed out. Kevin looked up with a smile. So close. They were so close.
“That’s the last of them. A very fine night’s work if I do say so.”
Aidan tried to smile, but it faltered. “I didn’t get the holo board. That was the part we needed most.”
Kevin smirked as he pulled the bag up from the floorboard and into his lap. He rifled quickly through the materials they had managed to grab, yanked, and pulled out the board with a wink.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“What? How…?” Aidan breathed, feeling the wave of defeat that had been threatening lift.
“Fell down the pile when you did,” Kevin whispered, grinning. “I simply grabbed it up. After all, I am the requisitions officer. Snatching things is my forte.”
A rush of joy shot through Aidan. They’d done it. They’d gotten everything. Nose to nose with Kevin, he grinned.
“Holy shit, we- Holy shit! You… wow. Kevin, holy shit! This is like one of your vids!”
Kevin’s eyes glittered like silver in the low light. “You know, if this is a vid, I know how the scene ends.”
“Yeah?” Aidan asked, still giddy with relief.
Kevin was still smiling, his teeth white outlines in his grin. And he was leaning closer. Aidan could feel the heat of his skin, his breath.
“Heroes always get a kiss at the end of the adventure. That’s the convention.” Kevin tipped his head, eyes holding Aidan’s. “Would the hero like a kiss?”
Aidan froze. Was Kevin actually… Was he…?
He wet his lips. His voice escaped as a whisper. “Am I supposed to be a hero?”
Kevin’s smile was soft now, and he was so very close. “I don’t see anyone else in the driver’s seat. So you must be.” Then he pressed his lips against Aidan’s.
Kevin’s lips were hot. Aidan’s brain turned inside out. Kevin was kissing him.
Kevin had started kissing him.
This was real.
He leaned into the warmth with a pleasure that was almost pain. This was only going to be a second, but if only this second would last.
Softly, Kevin drew back. “Was that okay?”
Kevin’s whisper barely made it through the buzzing in Aidan’s brain. He gasped in a breath. “Um, okay. Yeah.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to sit up. “We-we should get going home…”
Kevin nodded, eyes still holding his as he drew away. “I suppose we should.”
O.E. Tearmann lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, in what may become the Co-Wy Grid. They share the house with a brat in fur, a husband and a great many books. Their search engine history may garner them a call from the FBI one day. When they’re not living on base 1407 they advocate for a more equitable society and more sustainable agricultural practices, participate in sundry geekdom and do their best to walk their characters’ talk.
Author Website: http://aceshighjokerswild.com/
Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/wildcards1407/
Author Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18359444.O_E_Tearmann
Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/O.E.-Tearmann/e/B07J62VX9W