I earlier wrote a blog stating that I not only would not but could not write my books in order to appeal to readers of a certain genre. I don't think that's a bad thing, but I am, at least initially, prone to being misunderstood. I'm hoping that given time, people will come to know me and accept what it is I write. I fondly remember a dear friend of mine introducing me to someone else in this manner: "This is James, he grows on you." I like that, I like the idea that what you see is not necessarily what you get. Sometimes people put on a front. Me, I like to be a little more reserved, holding back what's best until we've earned each other's trust.
At any rate, my reviews so far have born out my guess that I don't fit readily in any convenient classification. Here are some quotes from readers on my various writings:
"This book is not your typical 'Horror Story'." From Amazon review of The Amazing Morse
"This is a somewhat different novel of psychological terror and horror." Another Amazon review of The Amazing Morse
"Odd and Compelling" guess the genre for this book is semi-paranormal, but for me, it was an essay on reality and simulacra disguised as a novel." Amazon review of Perchance to Dream
"Different." Barnes and Noble Review of Ashes on the Water
"Refreshingly original too, a different kind of horror." Smashwords review of The Amputation
"original" Smashwords review of The Amputation
"Chilling and unpredictable." Smashwords review of Brandon Kratz
So there you have it. If you're interested in something that isn't easily classified, something that is more than a carbon copy of something that has already been done, I invite you to check out some of my writing, which can be found by typing my name into a search engine. Or you can just click on one of my book covers located on the right side of the page.
And since I took the name of this post from the title of a Kinks song, I find it fitting to end it with a quote from another Kinks song (Working At The Factory):
Never wanted to be like everybody else
But now there are so many like me sitting on the shelf
They sold us a dream but in reality
It was just another factory