Forget About Genre: Write What You Want to Write (5 Pieces of Advice for Writers: Part 3)

Forget about Genre: Write What You Want to Write

By JL Copeland

This is the second in my five-part series of my top pieces of advice for writers a few years down the road but as yet unpublished (or published but still having a few jitters). The first in the series is HERE. The second, HERE.

If those don’t sate you, for more nuggets of joy/ plastic pellets of pish from the writing life, sign up for my newsletter HERE.

Controversial Opinion Incoming

If you’ve been writing for a few years, chances are you’ve had the dream.

You know the one—quitting the 9-to-5, living off your words, sipping café mochas while royalties roll in.

Naturally, you start researching how to make it happen, and that’s when you meet our old friend:

The Advice™.

The Advice™ says:

1. Build your brand.
2. Stick to one genre like it’s a personality trait.

Now, the first one? Fair enough.

Having a clear voice and a strong identity helps.

But the second?

Ignore it—like a vegan at a steakhouse.

Seriously.

Write what you want to write.

Not what The Algorithm demands. Not what “sells well in your niche.”

What you want. What makes the process fun, risky, alive.

Your brand isn’t your genre.

It’s you—your voice, your brain, your particular brand of weird.

And if you stick to that?

You’ll find the readers who get it.

This website began to be constructed in late Summer 2024 by my brilliant website designer, Caro (link at the bottom of the page—she’s worth it). But to build something with teeth, she needed more than a vague, ‘Hey, can you make me a website?’

I told her: “Think dark. Think dystopia, horror, unsettling fiction—that’s the slope down which I’m slipping.”

Not romance. Not cozy crime. Probably not spy thrillers or space romps.

So that’s what you find here: a design that leans into the eerie and off-kilter. On the face of it, a proper home for darker narratives.

And the novel I’m currently writing? A supernatural horror tale. Naturally.

But I’ve always liked comedy. I’ve never been a serious person.

In the latest draft of my novel, I gave the protagonist a sharper, more sardonic voice—layered in some dry humour—and suddenly, writing was fun again.

Then came the website and newsletter content… and that’s when I found it.

My voice.

Not the brooding, tortured whisper of darkness and dread I thought it should be.

I mean—Cormac McCarthy, I am not (in so many ways).

But it was me.

Like anyone early in the craft, I’m still experimenting, still poking at the edges of what works to see how it smells.

Here’s what the novel graveyard and work-in-progress board looks like in 2026 :

1. Near-future thriller adventure, 2^nd draft (science-fiction-ish).
2. Project abandoned at 35,000 words (time-travel/humour/science fiction)
3. Nicksgate (supernatural/horror)
4. Major idea 1 = historical fiction set in the 1500s (dark thriller/adventure).
5. Major idea 2 = future dystopia.
6. Major idea 3 = adventure/humour.
7. Major idea 4 = horror.
8. Major idea 5 = horror.
9. Major idea 6 = Yep… horror.

Notice a trend?

Those last few were spawned right after starting the website. I’d been soaking up all The Advice™—the gospel that said stick to one genre.

So, I thought: g-guess I’m a horror writer now…?

But it didn’t quite sit right.

Then I added “dystopia” and “dark fiction” into the mix. That felt better—a net wide enough to trawl most of my ideas, with just a few adventurous outliers thrown back into the deep, chaotic waters of my imagination.

Still, I wrestled with the whole branding thing.

Because apparently, your newsletter, your site, your online soul… all of it should stick close to your genre like debt to a philosophy major.

Most horror writers’ websites? Built to flog books.

Sign up for their newsletter, and surprise: more book flogging. Just with spookier fonts.

The thing is, I didn’t even have a book to sell when I started.

And that wasn’t the point, anyway.

I launched the newsletter to connect—to find a gang of like-minded weirdos orbiting the same dark little moon. People who like their fiction unsettling, their humour dry, and their inboxes… interesting.

Many of the author blogs and newsletters I perused were filled with grim news stories or recycled content from YouTube channels like Fascinating Horror.

Very on-brand for horror, I suppose.

But for me? It felt restrictive. Predictable.

And frankly, a little dull.

I didn’t want to copy what everyone else was doing.

I wanted to build something different.

But different how?

Cue several weeks of creative spiralling, trying to pin down a “theme” for the newsletter and blog.

What could I write that wasn’t just warmed-up internet leftovers?

By the time the website launched in late February, I was almost certain:

No blog.

How could I write a blog when I wasn’t even sure I had enough to say in a newsletter?

Then my web designer asked me to submit a blog post to kick things off.

I had no clue what to write about.

A trip to The Lake District jogged a half-forgotten memory of meeting Princess Diana (as you do), and suddenly I found myself writing a post about How to Craft the Great Celebrity Anecdote.

Totally off—my supposed—brand. Not horror. Not dark fiction.

But hell—it was fun.

That one post cracked something open. I went on a tear—half a dozen blog drafts, newsletter outlines, ideas, and memories crawled out from every rock.

Aside from those rare stretches when the novel’s flowing like black ink in a séance, I’d never enjoyed writing so much.

No genre box.

No overthinking.

Just stories I wanted to tell.

And somehow, in the middle of that creative chaos, I found my voice.

Would I have found it if I’d stuck to “serious tales of darkness and terror”?

Probably not. Or at the very least, it would’ve taken ages.

Would I have had enough material to sustain a blog and newsletter?

Nope. Not unless I spent long hours surfing relevant websites and developed RSI from the Ctrl+C Ctrl+V claw.

Most importantly, Would I have enjoyed any of it?

Not on your nelly.

Right now, sure—some of what I write veers into RAC: Random Acts of Content.

But there’s a thread forming—one that ties together the highs, lows, and lessons of the writing life.

Not just the craft stuff, but the life stuff, too.

I’ve realised one of the deeper reasons I write is the same reason I always looked at celebrities with awe: I’ve wrestled with low self-esteem and a craving for validation.

So yeah, even those posts about celebrities?

They stay.

They’re part of the story too.

But The Advice™ is stubborn. It sinks its gnarly claws in and doesn’t let go. You’ve read it, you’ve read my two cents above. Yet you’re still asking that classic question:

“Still, wouldn’t it be easier, marketing-wise, if you stuck to one genre—and made sure your blog, newsletter, and entire creative existence reflected it?”

Sure.

One thing I’ve noticed: the best writing advice is not set in concrete. If you want to disregard all I’ve said, that’s cool.

Do writers stick to one genre?

Some do.

If your dream is to write only for die-hard fans of one specific genre—and you genuinely love staying in that lane—then go for it.

Seriously, kudos.

But that’s not me.

I like variety.

And I suspect most readers do too—even the “avid” ones. They’re not genre purists. They care about one thing above all:

A good story, well told.

Me? I read almost everything.

I say I don’t read romance… but last year I read The Notebook and The Princess Bride. So, you know. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I even tried that classic Advice™ trick—“read in your genre.”

So I crammed seven horror novels into January. By February, I was burnt out and desperate for something different.

Because, surprise: writers are readers too. And we read what we want to read.

Can you be a multi-genre author?

Of course.

Should you write in multiple genres?

If that’s what you enjoy, why not?

Genre isn’t everything.

Ideas are.

Voice is.

Style is.

So no—I don’t write to match a genre. I write what excites me. What interests me. What I’d want to read.

And if that resonates with someone else, amazing.

When you sign up for JL, you’re not signing up for horror, dystopia, or adventure.

You’re signing up for my voice—wherever it chooses to wander.

And here’s the thing: I think writing across genres isn’t just fun—it’s smart.

You stretch different muscles.

You get better.

You stay sharp.

Stick to one genre too long, and it’s easy to get stale.

But jump into something unexpected—historical fiction, sci-fi, a comedic monologue about a cursed cheese board—and suddenly your writing wakes up.

Who knows?

The genre you’ve been clinging to might not even be your genre. Not really.

Like anything in life:

If showing up feels like a slog, maybe you’re in the wrong place.

Write what you want.

Enjoy it.

And let the rest figure itself out.

JL

PS: The first in the series is HERE. The second, HERE. The fourth is an unholy mess at the mo, but coming soon.

PPS: To hear more, sign up for the newsletter below. In the latest one, I unzip the body bag on my first experience with an in-person writing group. To (mis) quote that old banger by The Human League, Don’t You Want Me Baby:

‘I picked them out, they f*cked me up, they tramped my will down. But turned me into something new.’

I was worried they wouldn’t want me. By the end of it, I was sure I didn’t want them.

And yet, they changed me.

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