Multi-Genre Author: Liability or Secret Weapon?
So I sent you a query, and you decided to check out my socials, and you landed on my page and you go, what’s this? Why is there all this science fiction here? Well, I’m a multi-genre writer. Eleven years as a ghostwriter does that to a person.
LGBTQ+ thriller. Reverse harem romance. YA sci-fi. Later-in-life contemporary romance. Science fiction romance with intersex protagonists. And yes, I also write paranormal romance with vampires and shapeshifting dragons, because apparently I have no chill.
I can practically hear your internal monologue. Nobody writes this many genres. Pick a lane. What’s your brand? How do I even categorize this person?
Welcome to the fraught existence of the multi-genre author, where having too much range becomes a liability instead of an asset.
The Publishing Industry’s Favorite Question: “But What Do You REALLY Write?”
I’ve been a ghostwriter for over a decade, and penned over 80 titles across seven genres, totaling more than 3 million words. My clients come to me because I can write anything they need—contemporary romance, paranormal, thrillers, sci-fi, YA. They pay me because I deliver professional-quality work in whatever voice and genre they require.
But the moment I try to publish under my own name? Suddenly that versatility becomes suspect.
Nobody can write that many genres well, the industry whispers.
Except… I can. And I have. My published works maintain 4.6-star ratings on Amazon. My ghostwritten books have made bestseller lists. But in traditional publishing, being a literary Swiss Army knife makes you look unfocused rather than skilled.
The $500 Eagle Moment
I used to manage a glass art store where we sold hand-blown glass eagles for $500. Beautiful pieces—22K gold trim, manzanita wood base, museum-quality craftsmanship. Other sales associates would apologize for the price, but I learned something crucial:
It’s just as easy to sell a $500 eagle as a $50 one.
The difference? Confidence in the product’s value.
The cheaper eagles were nice, and if someone looked at the $500 eagle, I knew I could sell one of the lower price points. But that $500 eagle? They were art. That’s what the customer wanted, but most people defaulted to a cheaper price point because it was safer.
And the home office told me they didn’t expect anyone to sell the $500 eagles. But I did. And then I’d have to call them and tell them to sell another one to fill the display case. They would have to pull one from another store to send it to me because they knew I’d sell that one, too.
Embracing My Diversity
Here’s what I realized: I’m not the literary equivalent of a mass-market paperback. I’m hand-crafted, one-of-a-kind, premium storytelling.
When I write an LGBTQ+ thriller, it’s not just about two men falling in love. It’s about learning to trust in a hostile world, explored through the lens of celebrity culture, police procedural elements, and authentic BDSM relationships that serve as metaphors for power, vulnerability, and consent. It works on multiple levels because I understand that readers—like eagle buyers—want the full experience, not the watered-down version.
When I write YA sci-fi, I don’t give you a helpless teenager who needs constant rescue. I give you a 14-year-old math genius who stays calm under impossible odds because real teenage girls are competent, complex humans who deserve better representation.
When I write reverse harem romance, I don’t just throw multiple hot guys at a passive heroine. I explore found family dynamics, team loyalty, and what it means to rebuild your life after betrayal.
The Genre-Bending Advantage
Traditional publishing wants “fresh but familiar.” They want innovation, but not too much innovation. They want diversity, but in predictable packages.
My genre-blending should be catnip to an industry desperately seeking breakout hits. The books that become cultural phenomena are the ones that surprise us, that give us something we didn’t know we wanted.
Look at the success stories: The Song of Achilles (literary fiction + mythology + LGBTQ+ romance). Red, White & Royal Blue (political satire + contemporary romance + LGBTQ+ themes). The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (literary fiction + Hollywood glamour + LGBTQ+ themes).
The pattern? Genre-blending that explores universal themes through specific, authentic lenses.
The Trust Issue
Maybe the real problem isn’t my range—it’s trust. In a risk-averse industry, betting on someone who doesn’t fit neat categories feels dangerous. It’s easier to represent the writer who does one thing well than the writer who does seven things exceptionally.
But here’s the thing about trust: it has to start somewhere.
I spent eleven years proving I could deliver professional-quality work across multiple genres for paying clients. I’ve maintained those Amazon ratings. I’ve finished 80+ books and my clients keep coming back to me because I make them money.
You want to make money, right? So do I.
Because I don’t subscribe to the default narrative that the artist needs to have the pure heart of a creator and nothing else. We don’t need starving artists in today’s competitive market.
I’m not asking anyone to take a chance on an untested writer. I’m offering proven craftsmanship to agents and editors smart enough to recognize premium quality when they see it.
The Room I’m Trying to Get Into
All I need is to get into the room. Once you read my work you’ll see what my readers see. You’ll find that my range isn’t scattered focus. It’s skill and craft applied across multiple markets.
I don’t need every agent to want me. I just need the right one—the agent who looks at my diversity and sees opportunity, not confusion. The agent who understands that in a rapidly changing market, versatility is an asset, not a liability.
So yes, I write multiple genres. I write complex characters who defy stereotypes. I blend genres in ways that might make marketing departments nervous but make readers hungry for more. It’s my secret weapon. Maybe, it’s yours.
Call me. Send me an email saying when, and I’ll pick up the phone.
Otherwise, I’m writing.