Dirigibles. Flying ships. Steampowered weapons. Oy. Vey. I’m writing a book, and I thought I was writing steampunk. Who knew, srsly? Now what the f do I call it? I was told, dressed down in fact, that because my work does not focus on technology, it is not a steampunk. It must be one of those other “skiffy subgenres” as I’ve heard them called. So I opened the skiffy subgenre guide to romances and my type of story was not there. It’s a romance. It takes place in more than one time period. One of those times periods is 1890. It has an alternate universe. It does not focus on technology, although it mentioned velocopedes (as well as skateboards), dirigibles (although my characters do not use one). Am I writing a fantasy again? Come on, I wants to be cooler than that. I don’t have that “elevator pitch” for this one.
I stumbled upon The Crooked Man last night. I hadn’t seen the late great Jeremy Brett as Holmes in so long–what a treat. I had a terrible crush on him back in the day, when I was in grad school. The only “older man” to ever make my heart race. The sensual way he’d use his mouth, the intelligence he brought to a role that required it. Ah. The Crooked Man is one of my favorite Holmes stories, because it brings the whole India mystique into the plot.
After seeing that I kinda forgot my Steampunk genre angst. I really want to be the Conan Doyle of romance. Yeah, right.
All this wonderful immersion into the past was ruined by the first Denzel Washington movie I ever disliked. My husband is Denzel’s biggest fan–we own all of his movies on DVD, and while I think he plays the same part every time, my husband keeps reminding me “that’s the definition of a leading man.” But this was awful. Meg Ryan was awful as a Captain during Desert Storm. Hated it. Oh well, he’s still way ahead for me.