7 Figure Fiction by T. Taylor

First, I blinked the sales-pitch dazzle out of my eyes.

Second, I sneered at and moved past the fact that this entire book is a humble brag.

Third, I processed. And processed. And processed.

And finally made sense of this mess of a book.

Universal Fantasy is real. Taylor just does the worst job of explaining what it is.

She uses food analogies that become so layered and convoluted (just wait till you see the romance list companion book) that instead of clarifying anything, it just further obscures her meaning. Also I’m vegan so reading about “butter” and “ice cream” on every page annoyed the hell out of me.

Additionally, she denies that Universal Fantasy is the same as tropes—then proceeds to list Universal Fantasy examples as if they’re tropes. *closes eyes and shakes head* “Makeover,” “fixer-upper,” “love triangle”—those are story whats, not whys. Not helping your own argument, Taylor.

Let’s clarify.

What Taylor fails to articulate is:

Universal Fantasy is the wildly entertaining playing out and fulfillment of relatable desires the reader can’t (or won’t) experience in real life.

“Trope is your story’s WHAT IT IS. Universal Fantasy is your trope’s WHY IT’S GOOD.”

Same thing put another way: Universal Fantasy is a relatable desire fulfilled through compelling drama that may be dictated by trope.

Examples:

(relatable desire) You have the power to save an endangered loved one. + (compelling drama) You have to undertake a long, dangerous journey and kill an innocent creature to gain a mystical healing power.

(relatable desire) The most eligible bachelor takes interest in little ol’ you. + (compelling drama) His interest will draw too much attention and risks exposing the secret of your illegitimacy.

(relatable desire) You hate your boring life and want something more. + (compelling drama) You barter your voice to the sea witch in exchange for legs and only have a certain amount of time to make a prince fall in love with you. Or, you’re imprisoned in an enchanted castle by a hideous beast whom you rehabilitate and find out he’s a prince.

Taylor didn’t seem to realize there were two elements to her own concept, so she tries to explain it in tropes. But that’s wrong.

It’s not about what type of story you’re telling—it’s about how you tell it. Which Taylor did demonstrate in her hunter-gatherer example.

The key doesn’t necessarily lie in which trope or relatable desire your story explores, but in how the reader experiences the fulfillment of it. So ENTERTAIN THE SHIT OUT OF THEM. Conflict, secrets, lies, melodrama, plot twists. People don’t watch reality shows because they’re realistic.

The more common the relatable desire—no matter where it lands on the spectrum of social acceptability—the more likely it is to sell. Hence cliches. And because we all feel confined by rules and want to break them—a relatable desire—the “dirty,” often amoral dramas sell the best (despite getting shredded by critics).

What Taylor does wrong is treat the Universal Fantasy concept like it’s a hack, simple and existing outside of craft, talent, and hard work—like it’s just inserting a blue cat on page 52, everyone loves it and your bank account triples overnight. That’s pure salesmanship. Salespersonship.

Unfortunately it’s not that easy, I’m sorry. How you tell a story, the experience you deliver, is the hard part. It’s unique to you and subjective to others. There’s no way to guarantee success—though Taylor says the more relatable desires you fold into the narrative and the more juicy the drama, the more readers will love it.

So don’t ignore craft and neglect to practice.

But also don’t underestimate entertainment value.

Hopefully this makes more sense than Taylor’s confusing rambles in this book.

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