Musings on Genres, Shame, and Why Can’t We All Just Get Along?
By Jeanne Kisacky | March 1, 2015 |
Genre Wheel from Good Reads Wheel-A-Thon
I don’t tell my ‘academic’ colleagues that I write fiction. I don’t talk much about my non-fiction writing to my fiction-writing community. I LOVE e-readers because they don’t reveal whether I’m reading a steamy romance, popular history, angst-ridden literary novel, nineteenth-century article on hospitals, or an idiot’s guide to something technical that even my nine-year-old already knows how to do.
Why do I do this? Why hide my reading and writing habits? Am I ashamed of something? Scared? Yes, of course. But of what?
In switching between genres I’m scared of crossing social boundaries—of entering unknown, perhaps even unfriendly, territory; of not knowing the rules of acceptable behavior; of feeling like an outsider; of being judged, teased, criticized, left out . . . wait, this is starting to sound like conversations I’ve been having with my daughter about playground interactions.
So, does this mean genres are the literary equivalent of cliques? Hmmm. Bear with me for a little while on this.
First off, I’m not saying cliques (or genres) are good or bad in and of themselves. They exist. I’m also not interested in examining the varying characteristics of different literary genres. I do want to examine how we use them, what we potentially get from them, and what we lose by them.
Genres, as literary boundaries, function as community support systems for getting a relevant book into the hands of an interested reader. This categorization sells books (making authors happy), it helps readers find books that appeal to them (making readers happy). Genres are literally a system for locating books in overstuffed libraries and bookstores (on-line and IRL). This is all good. When genres are applied to books, they create order out of chaos.
When they are applied to writers, however, they create a social system not unlike the elementary school playground where there are lines between groups of people. Insiders get a strong sense of security and identity from belonging within a particular social circle (genre). In exchange they have to accept certain rules of acceptable behavior (literary conventions). Outsiders have freedom from those literary restrictions, but miss out on a sense of community.
Authors’ identities can become strongly linked to the perceived status of their chosen genre. The inevitable result seems to be boundary wars. Some authors attack the boundaries; others defend them. In genre wars it is the literary novel vs. the period romance; the serious history vs. the popular history; erotica vs. family drama; the sports tell-all vs. the self-help parenting guide, the popular clique vs. the nerds, the jocks vs. the stoners, etc. . . . You get the idea. This is crazy.
Imagine a paperback copy of Jane Eyre being whomped by a hardcover edition of Pride and Prejudice for adding an element of mysticism at the end of the story and transgressing the existing literary conventions (and crossing the genre boundaries). OK, bad analogy. But books don’t fight, people do. And I want to separate the books from the fighting.
Blurring or crossing the boundary lines provides no solution to the problem of genre, and in fact, it creates other problems. Everyone has probably heard the ancient curse: May you live in interesting times. Here’s my literary curse: May you write a multi-genre book.
To get an agent, or a publisher, or even just to attract readers somewhere along the line you have to give (or someone else will give) your book a genre. If you do it, you are essentially choosing a social group. If someone else does it, you are being assigned to a category–essentially ‘labeled’. One is potentially self-limiting, the other is potentially stultifying. I’ve known more than one author whose book was assigned a genre which they neither agreed with nor identified with.
But trying to avoid genre is equally impossible. When people ask me what I write, and I’m feeling uncertain of where they stand in the genre hierarchy, I often simply answer “Books.” That usually elicits eye-rolls or blank stares. It is also a conversation-killer, which is not a good strategy when practicing to develop the form of public persona that authors these days have to cultivate. It does, however, avoid my genre fears.
Every day I sit at a computer and try to write, to the best of my abilities, the stories both historical and fictional that usurp my brain. I don’t want to describe that process or its consequences in a single categorical word.
I want to live my life free, and out loud. I want to tell my academic friends that I write fiction, and my fiction-writing friends about my non-fiction . . . . But. I. Can’t. Those genres are getting in my way. Maybe, if I am lucky enough to become published, a genre will help sell my book, maybe it won’t. For now, genres are simply making me develop multiple identities.
This rant is also definitely a product of this time of year. The sky has been gray for weeks on end, there’s a bazillion feet of snow on the ground, and the temperature hasn’t gone above freezing since last year. But in the end I wrote this not just because I’m grumpy about living in an icebox, but because I really want to know—am I alone in this or do fellow writers also think about these things? Does it bother you? Do you have strategies for dealing with genre identity problems?
Jeanne Kisacky trained to be an architect before going back to her first love–writing. She studied the history of architecture, has written and published nonfiction, and has taught college courses. She is the author of Rise of the Modern Hospital: An Architectural History of Health and Healing, 1870-1940.
I can certainly relate. When I queried my first manuscript, I really didn’t know how to categorize it. Adult? Yes. Fiction? Yup. From there, it got hazy. Literary? Mm, maybe. Romantic, but not Romance. They tell you to imagine where it would be shelved in the bookstore. How the heck should I know? I know most of the places where it wouldn’t be shelved, but I can’t tell you where it would be shelved.
Jeffo, If I have to imagine my book in the bookstore, I’m going to go with on a table of its own at the front of the store. :-) Seriously, though, a number of books I find interesting should be shelved in more than one section of the bookstore, but I end up wandering around until I find the one it is in for that store.
Jeanne–hah, I was thinking that, but couldn’t quite dare to say it! Dream big, right?
Self-publishing is now the lab of experimentation. You can try whatever you like and see what happens. Pour it on the stoop and see if the cat licks it up, as the ad men used to say. Short form is a way to do that without the full investment of a novel.
I agree, self-publishing avoids many genre issues. At least when you check off the genres for your book with the on-line retailers you get to self-determine your book’s place and there is more flexibility for cross-genre work since you can choose multiple categories. But I know that the categories/genres you click still play a large role in what books yours gets offered alongside. So a precise categorization can help sales by increasing discoverability.
I’ve been whining about this very thing for months!
I write mainstream. What used to be called on bookstore shelves ‘a novel.’ ‘General fiction’ is the best I could come up with.
I like to think it has a literary quality – but it isn’t literary fiction (though it will be categorized as such when published).
It is a very romantic story in the end – but Romance has conventions, and I don’t meet them.
When I asked a marketing person, she said ‘mainstream isn’t a category any more,’ and the ‘any more’ explained things: the world has changed, and I had not. Now, everything is segregated for the search engines, and somebody left us out.
To be found, we mainstreamers have to come up with a basketful of descriptions whose Venn diagrams, we hope, will overlap around a group of readers: women’s fiction + romance + adult + PG13 + contemporary + general fiction + literary. And we hope that the inclusion of some of these terms won’t turn off readers who don’t like one of them!
For example, some of my most loyal readers, as I’ve been serializing, are men. I know some men read women’s fiction – I hope THESE men do.
Words matter – and I have no control.
Nobody ever said writing would be easy.
Alicia, I hear your pain. I wish there were some better way than Venn diagrams and tossing darts at the genre wheel to make the magic happen. I also think that even when you get to self-determine your book’s genre, the lack of control is still highly evident and troubling. May your novel find its readers of all genres!
I can so relate to this. I found it very prevalent in the music world (my degree is in music performance). As a student of classical music, there were certain genres of music you just did not admit to enjoying. And heaven forbid you write popular music and call yourself a composer. Shudder.
It was a huge relief when I left that world and was able to listen to and write what I wanted and what I gravitated toward without fear of judgment.
As for a solution, I’m not sure. Maybe finding other writers (or musicians) who are like-minded enough to be confident in their writing to not shame certain genres. And to pick a genre but market, to the best we can, to a wider population. Is that even possible?
Rivki, — Yes, I think Keith Cronin was right that in all the arts you get vocal snobs. It also goes in painting, sculpture, architecture. I know that in music, as well as writing, genre plays a large role in selling works. That makes it an even tougher pill to swallow.
Picking a genre is unavoidable, but I think better strategies for attracting readers from other genres/outside genres would be a boost. I wish I knew some, maybe after I’ve followed Keith’s sage advice and finished the thing, I’ll have some thoughts on what comes next.
When I first turned around to face the world with a finished draft clutched to my chest, I realized it… I didn’t want to show it to anyone. Well, I did and I didn’t. And I realized that genre was part of it. I finally had to ask myself – what the heck was it? Who would like this thing I’d created. I cringed at the realization. It wasn’t actually historical fiction, maybe closer to alt historical. For fantasy fans, it surely wouldn’t pass snuff – not enough magic, no sentient non-humans, no dragons.
I remember when I first started calling it epic fantasy (because it felt like the closest description), and was at a dinner party. At this time I very rarely admitted I was even writing. I did, then told this small group of well-read adults it was epic fantasy. One woman asked if I thought I’d ever try to write anything “serious.”
Somehow, I found the pomposity of the question (whether or not it was innocent or ignorant, which I believe it was) to be freeing. I’ve been pretty loud and proud about it since. I have to give some credit to my writing coach Cathy Yardley, who’s always taught me that I’ve got to fly my freak flag if I want to find more freaks. ;-)
Having said all of that, I feel for you, Jeanne. The academic atmosphere certainly isn’t conducive to freak flag waving. One of the things I love about WU, which is also one of the things that drew me here, is the welcoming tone. We are all fiction writers, but beyond that, I’ve found it’s one of the least judgmental or cliquey communities around. Wishing you all the best, Jeanne!
Hey Vaughn,
I’m right there with you on the new genre of epic alt non-magical historical fantasy fiction!
Good for you for letting the pompous remark fuel your resolve rather than simply anger you. I’m still in the fiction closet with my academic friends and probably will be for awhile longer.
The WU community is truly a remarkable place for not letting the ‘box’ win over what goes inside of it.
Jeanne — I’d like to second the motion for a new genre, epic alt non-magical historical fantasy fiction. My book would go on that shelf too. The name’s a little long for a bookstore placard or online dropdown list, though, so I don’t think it will catch on.
Vaughn — I relate to what you’re saying a lot. I find it awkward to answer the “What is your book about?” question and I think genre is a big part of that awkwardness. “Fantasy” implies a few things that are true of my book and many things that are not.
As a reader, I mostly read classics, not (I hope!) because my college English classes made a snob of me, but because I tend to get the most lasting enjoyment from them.
This habit makes me especially ill-equipped to answer genre questions. After all, “classics” is a non-genre category — if a book has been around for enough years and people still read it, we call it a “classic.” Works that last that long tend to be distinguished by their literary quality, but many of them wouldn’t be at home among contemporary “literary fiction” either.
As a writer, I write the kinds of stories I would enjoy reading. As a reader, though, I would probably never discover a book like the one I’m writing. If genre is a tool for getting the right books into the hands of the right readers (which makes sense), I’m puzzled by how to get my story into the hands of readers with tastes similar to mine.
Thanks for this post, Jeanne – as always, an informative read and one that leaves us realising how much we all have in common. For example, we now have at least three writers in the new genre of epic alt non-magical historical fantasy fiction.
Count me in, and yay! At last I have an answer when someone asks me what what type of books I’ve written. :)
I can definitely relate to this. If you looked at the cover of my novel, West of Paradise, it looks like a contemporary western romance. But it’s not. It’s set in the West, but the old west of 1881 – so it’s really more historical – except there’s time travel and romance and wanted posters. How the heck do you label that?! More importantly, how do I want it to be labeled? And why don’t I like the contemporary western label? Isn’t the point to write something fabulous, regardless of genre?
ms hatch– yes, most definitely “the point is to write something fabulous regardless of genre.” Your ‘time travel historical romantic western’ sounds like a blast.
Jeanne – I understand your angst, and you’re right to take the concept of genre seriously, because it can play a crucial role in the marketability of your book.
But I think you’re overthinking how this affects you in the various communities in which you operate. In particular, I have to disagree with this statement:
“When they are applied to writers, however, they create a social system not unlike the elementary school playground where there are lines between groups of people. Insiders get a strong sense of security and identity from belonging within a particular social circle (genre). In exchange they have to accept certain rules of acceptable behavior (literary conventions). Outsiders have freedom from those literary restrictions, but miss out on a sense of community.”
Here’s why I disagree: Books are products, but writers are people.
Yeah, there are some people who only want to hang out with clones of themselves, but I’ve found the majority of writers I’ve met are far more open-minded. I’ve been on panels at conferences with numerous “serious writers,” and I’ll admit to having been intimidated. But most writers recognize a kindred spirit when they meet one, and any published writer knows that this work is hard, regardless of the style of writing. Do all of them take me “seriously?” Who cares? They’re nice to me, we have some laughs and share some insights, and I don’t waste time wondering exactly what they think about me, because I know all artists tend to have insecure and sometimes competitive thoughts – but that’s just a matter of being human. I don’t hold it against them. :)
As far as your concerns with the non-fiction crowd, I’ve been writing in a business context for more than 15 years, and I’ve found that most of my coworkers think it’s really cool that I also write fiction. What’s more, upon learning that I write fiction, a fair amount of them have revealed that they also write fiction, or aspire to, or used to “back in the day.” Seriously, I’ve found it’s much more of a bridge-builder than a barrier. Yes, you will encounter some skeptics. (Really? Do you actually expect to make any money?) But I think the question you’ll encounter far more often is Really? What’s your book about?
There’s another thing that you can accomplish by “coming out” as a fiction writer. It draws a line in the sand, and creates some accountability. Tell people you write, and they’re going to start asking you “How’s the book coming along?” And that can help light a fire under your butt to actually finish the damn thing.
In no way do I mean to diminish the gravity of your emotions on this issue. But as a guy who operates in both fiction and non-fiction worlds, I wanted to share my experiences, which have not been nearly as daunting as you might suspect. Hope these thoughts are helpful!
Hi Keith, I feel like I owe you a psychoanalyst fee, because you’ve hit on the deeper problem–which is not necessarily the genre structure of the literary, but my own fears. I won’t know whether my academic colleagues will sneer until I come out of the closet. And I agree that the writer community is really quite supportive, particularly all the writers I’ve met at WU have all been supportive, regardless of genre.
But I will admit that I have witnessed (from the sidelines) several really awful fights from within a fiction genre community about what did and did not belong. So the playground analogy is at least partly based on real observation rather than my own angst.
I also know that the world will shift when I finish the damn thing. At least it will be lighter by a couple bottles of champagne. Thanks for the support and the reminder that what really matters is the work and doing it.
Yeah, I’ve seen some genre-related infighting, to be sure. In all the arts, you’ll encounter snobs who are often very vocal about certain styles being superior to others.
But that snobbery is almost always rooted in their own insecurities, so I’ve learned to just filter it out and not be bothered by it. Instead, I simply let people’s snobbery help me identify those with whom I’d not care to break bread or share a drink.
Hi Jeanne and Keith,
I love all of these comments, and I can absolutely relate to 1) writing books that aren’t tidily in one genre (and how difficult it is for a publisher to want to take a risk on that kind of book) and 2) noticing the genre cliques . . . and the holier than thou attitude that can come from those who write “real” literature.
But I agree with Keith. “Real” writers eat quiche AND they never judge. Writers who judge, I feel, are often insecure and close-minded. I bet they also don’t understand the joy of playing with words and genres. They don’t understand the necessity of writing what’s inside us–whatever that is. They, perhaps, are too scared and fearful to write what is inside their hearts. In other words, I’d never want to be that kind of writer. You wouldn’t either.
I have a friend who writes beautiful memoir and non-fiction essays. She also writes erotica. When I learned that, I nearly fell over! I LOVE that she writes erotica. I LOVE that she’s not afraid to share it. I was so delighted when I learned about her gift and her success in this other genre. Most of us are not just one thing every day of our life. How dull to be just one thing for one whole life! I think truly creative people understand the joy of taking creative risks and exploring unchartered territory. Those are writers who eat quiche.
Of course, I’m in your fiction camp (as opposed to your academic camp) so I don’t know the mindset of an academic. But I love that you write fiction that bends genre borders. I love that you write fiction that’s not just about 19th century hospitals. It delights me, and I bet it would delight your colleagues too . . . Who IS this Jeanne Kisacky? We thought we KNEW her!
Thanks for this very provoking post.
Sarah-
You just made my day–I love quiche and I try not to judge. And that is a very good thing because at Writer Unboxed it means I am in very good company with other real quiche-eating, non-judging writers.
Jeanne,
I think we all have our genre battle scars. I had my debut novel published in January. During the verrrry long time spent writing and editing, I had dubbed it “women’s fiction.” I refused to call it romance because I feared “snubbing on the playground.” It’s been out for about 6 weeks now and based on feedback from readers, it’s definitely “romantic suspense.” I’ve decided to embrace that and work with it. In the meantime, I’m working on a family drama (women’s fiction for real this time) and a paranormal romance. Genre jumping indeed. This is confession time—I’m proud of my efforts with the women’s fiction novel but embarrassed by my paranormal romance. Not because of my writing, but because of the perceived reaction among my writing peers. Genre cliques are alive and well, but I think (I hope) the circles are widening. Thanks for this. You are most definitely not alone.
Hi Densie,
Congratulations on the publication of that first novel, and good for you for embracing the category that seems to fit it.
I think the perception of genre is deeply influenced by each genre’s perceived place in the hierarchy of writing. I never feel ashamed of my ‘serious’ non-fiction, just shy about talking about it with people who might not share my obsession with hospitals. I do feel ‘shame’ about the fantasy fiction, because I sense that it is in the middle or lower level of the fiction genre hierarchies, and I regret that. I want to feel just as openly proud of the hard work that went it as into the history.
Genre… even the word is intimidating. Reminds me of online dating profiles. Can anyone else relate to that? Squeezing myself into a category was always uncomfortable. I just didn’t fit. And now it’s the same with my writing. Maybe it’s just that my ego is too big… Naw, can’t be that. It’s great to hear others don’t like the squeeze either!
Mia-I think having to ‘fit’ into anything feels limiting–whether a profile, a genre, or a tailored article of clothing. :-) I would live in yoga pants and fleece sweaters every day if I could.
Oh how I understand. I’m someone who’s combed the library for hours in frustration looking for multi-genre books. They say write the book you wish you could read and that’s what I did knowing there was no way I could move it with a publisher because it cut across genres. Self-publishing seemed the answer for me, but I ran into problems. The first was the high up-front costs. The second was finding people like myself, people who are difficult to find, I’m guessing, because they’re busy holding a convention in a closet somewhere. Instead, I’d receive mostly silence on my blog with the occasional comment from puzzled fantasy readers. I became the odd cousin in the room others humored, but didn’t understand. Lastly, I discovered that even on Amazon you still must choose a genre or be cast into the bottomless pit that is cross-genre writing.
Christina, you have been through genre hell, perhaps it will earn you some form of cosmic compensation in your next ‘writerly’ life. I love the image of all your true audience being people who hold a convention in a closet, but obviously the problem with that is everyone is in their own. If the e-book revolution is to be the salvation from genre, it is still a long uphill slog not only to put it out there, but to get it in readers’ hands, whatever closet they occupy.
Yes, the predictions foreseeing our deliverance from genre were premature like, for instance, the world becoming paperless. While that’s happening in 2015, the prediction accompanied desktop computers in the 80s when it became easier to print so MORE paper was produced. Today, cross-catorgorizing SHOULD BE simple, but yet again human limitations have prevailed. In my next life I’ll watch the closet doors open wide.
I’m also feeling like I have to put in the other side of the argument. I know writers who have embraced genre, whose work fits clearly in one, and yet who are original successful writers without the issues about rebelling or cross-genreing. I’ve been hoping this post would draw out comments from them so that I could find out that they too struggled with the categories, or if they were just lucky enough that the stories that were within them fell within an already established boundary. Some have struggled with sales, even when well within an established genre, while others have somehow hit the sweet spot. That means genre alone clearly doesn’t attract readers.
I wonder where the true source of the genre ‘hierarchy’ comes from and whether it is writers, readers, critics, or booksellers.
Yep, I feel your pain. I’ve been dealing with this ever since I won a major literary award for my first book, then wrote a literary novel, then decided I wanted to make some money from my writing, and wrote my first mystery. Currently my sixteen books have been categorized as literary, murder mystery, thriller, psychological suspense, magic realism, slipstream, postmodern literary, mainstream, narrative nonfiction, and personal essays/memoir. I also write film scripts. Generally I tell my agent/editor what genre I suppose my project fits into, and sometimes they decide otherwise, which is just fine with me. The real dilemma comes when asked by others, “What do you write?” What else can I call myself but a multi-genre writer? That description, of course, leads to even more questions. I don’t mind that either, as long as they end up asking, “Where can I get a copy?”
Randall, you are a positive role model. While the multiple identities have got to be a drag, congratulations to you on getting published in multiple genres and surviving to tell the tale.
Oh yeah – “that” and finding my target audience. My published novel is too secular for Christian Fiction and too Christian for mainstream. And WHO will read The Advocate Series (SVU)? Let’s see (musing); advocates, court drama, romance, bad bikers, Christian bikers, liberal women-conservative women – awkward – yet true. I woke up this morning thinking what a hit my book would be in a prison library. My thriller-suspense-Christian Fiction-contemporary-inspirational blah-blah. Someone once wrote that I should pick an audience and write “to it and for it.” Probably good marketing, but ice water on the creative fire. Puts the writer in a box. But why write if you can’t find your market?
I think it’s the “why write if you can’t find your market?” question that makes this so hard for me as well. I would like to think there was some better way for readers to find my book than genres, but it is what there is.
Thank you for writing your article. I knew better, but often felt like I was “the only one” with the genre struggle. One helpful thing I discovered is when listing Amazon; is the ability to change your genre as often as you like. If one is doing poorly, you may want to experiment and try relisting in another category … or another.
Cliques are a form of playing it safe. You don’t need a backbone to be in one, because the clique supplies a one-size-fits-all. Secretly, there is a rebellious, independent part in the makeup of humanity that despises cliques because of this. It’s why Steven King’s Carrie was such an phenomenal success. It’s why when an artist breaks the rules skillfully and from the heart to create something trailblazing, everyone is enthralled by their work. The audacity, the daring beauty, the truth.
On the other side of the coin is an irony. The trailblazing work will then be held up as the work to imitate, the work to be like. The daring has already been done and with great success, which makes it is safe work to imitate… until the next trailblazing work comes along.
An artist refuses to play it safe, because an artist’s work demands an outsider. And the outsider when the work resonates powerfully will have a universal army of armchair admirers and imitators.
But the artist must remain an outsider, even within the center of a clique, or he will lose his artistic power.
That’s the mystery of art, and the price of magic.
Well put, Bernadette. It is cosmic irony that those who do step outside the box vividly and hauntingly enough, then become identified as the initiators of a new box–a new genre, a new category.
I can so relate! I wrote a humorous, romantic mystery series. Yeah, I know. My publisher wanted to shelve it in mystery (my editor was comfortable there). I thought I’d written a romance, but was too stupid to figure out how to keep the narrative drive going without something else for my characters to do. So, I tossed a gal out of a tour helicopter over the Vegas Strip–she landed in the middle of the 8:30 Pirate Show. Bingo, overnight I became a mystery writer. News to me:) The thing doubled for a RITA ™–so I was right. But, Marilyn Stassio picked it as one of the Notable Crime Novels in her NYT column–so I was wrong. B and N shelved it in….travel, much of the time–so they were confused. I’m paying more attention to genre now, but I still have to write the stories as they play out. And be they straight romance/women’s fiction, mystery, suspense or thriller, they all will have romance (because I like romance), so I’ll always have a bit of a shelving problem.
Deborah–How on earth did B&N shelve it in Travel? Glad to hear it is finding its readers.
Sorry, I’m a bit like Bloody Mary…if you murmur “genre” three times while looking in a mirror, I will inevitably show up to discuss it. :)
First, I’m sorry that you’ve gotten caught in the genre battles. I know the pain is real, when the book you’ve worked so hard on must then be packaged and categorized and then subjected to the snobbery of the world. If people would just give it a chance, recognize the beauty beyond the labels, more people would enjoy it. I know it’s frustrating. A lot of my clients have just this dilemma, and this frustration. I don’t ever want to diminish that.
I’m going to use your school clique analogy. The problem is, we don’t want to be labeled — but, at the same time, we want popularity. We want to be ourselves, but we want everyone (or at least a good, profitable number) to like us. We don’t want to be relegated to one group, when we obviously would fit in several. We want to be recognized and appreciated as individuals… by as many different cliques as possible. :)
When I was young, I went to Catholic school. By the fifth grade, the girl cliques were not only established, they were brutal. You’re stuck with the same 32 kid class every year, and there isn’t a lot of room for lateral social moves. Ostracizing was a cruel hobby by our queen bee. When I stood up to her treatment of one of our “friends”, I found myself the kid on the curb, eating lunch by herself, except for occasional taunting and physical roughing-up. (That “friend” was right by her side, having taken my vacant spot.)
Thankfully, the next year we moved to California, and public school. I vowed I would make friends that cared about me for me. No more of this “popular clique” crap.
I was a good student, and I found the kids around me were the ones who naturally understood me. We had a common basis: same classes, same interests, same sense of humor… same outside label from others.
I’d found “geeks” and “nerds.” They’re still my tribe. We were more than just our academics — some were awesome musicians, some were incredible artists, some had Goth leanings, were LGBT, or promiscuous (which can land you in a different, albeit popular, clique). Some even had sports talent. We could have fit in other cliques, with a shift in emphasis. But our honors classes always initially defined us in the eyes of others, for whatever reason.
What does this have to do with genre? The label isn’t the point. It’s finding the smaller group of people you fit *best* with, your Right Readers. From there, it’s simply a beachhead, or a home base. You can find readers who are outside your beachhead, and should. But, just like in school, the point isn’t to be liked by everyone. It’s finding the people who are most likely to appreciate the work for what it is. That means finding commonalities (like honors classes) and increasing your odds of connecting. When you have a solid, dedicated group of readers, even if it’s small, you’ve got a stronghold to then approach other groups.
Your issue with how academics will respond to your fiction writing is a multi-faceted issue, and I think Keith tackled the fears associated it well already, so I won’t go there. But I will say this: they’re not your “real friends” as my mother would say — and they’re not the real audience for your novels. So why go there?
We all have different personalities. I don’t talk politics with my father, I don’t discuss space-time physics with my sister-in-law, and I don’t swap recipes with… well, actually, I swap recipes with everyone. But we show different facets to different people. That’s normal.
I hope you’re able to find your beachhead audience with your work, and come up with a plan to approach them (and cherish them) before branching out. If it’s still a struggle, email me. I’m more than happy to lend a hand. :)
Cathy–Amen. I might be calling on you as my daughter struggles with third grade cliques that are a lot like what you describe in fifth grade. It takes so much strength to stand up to it, and then to survive the aftermath. I’m glad you found your tribe–all of us fellow nerds are the better for it!
I’ve never made any bones about being a mystery writer. That’s what I prefer to read, so that’s what I write. But even in mystery there are so many sub-genres that divide both readers and writers. Cozy, traditional, police procedural, amateur sleuth, suspense, romantic suspense, historical, paranormal – have I left anything out? It can be a little cliquey, but mostly we all hang out together.
As a reader, I used to be a literature snob. Classics, European or literary fiction is all I would read, except when on vacation at the family cabin when I’d dive into my uncle’s stash of paperback mystery novels (Rex Stout, Agatha Christie, John D. MacDonald to name a few). Then my second husband, a brilliant, funny and tragic soul, in his unapologetic, roguish way, suggested I try reading for pleasure instead of trying to improve my mind. I fell down that slippery slope in a hurry.
I guess in a way it was like “coming out”. I felt as a reader, and still feel as a writer, a sense of freedom being able to say with genre pride, “Hi, I’m R.E.Donald and I write mysteries.”
Thanks for sharing, Jeanne. Liberate yourself!
Ruth–Thanks for your comment. I also read only Classics while in high school/college. Partly so that I would look smarter than I thought I was. There are many many boring Classics, so when the dam broke and I found ‘fun’ fiction, it was a flood of epic proportions. Thanks for sharing your genre pride!
If Bob Dylan can get away with singing Sinatra, no writer should have to apologize for crossing genres. Duke Ellington said, “There are only two kinds of music, bad and good: we play the good kind.”
Hi Jeanne,
I agree with the problems you mention about genre labeling. I am still struggling with calling my soon-to-be published novel “women’s fiction.” I really feel like there is stuff in there for men, too! I used to have much more trepidation about revealing that I was a writer at work, never mind revealing what genre! I have found more acceptance and interest from people I thought were “non-writers” since I decided not to let fear stand in my way any more. In fact, there are many people out there with the dream to write or are closet writers or are avid readers searching for new material! People often use pretension to hide their own insecurities. Feel sadness for them for living so closed up. Since I have come to know you better, I can say you have much to offer to both non-fiction and fiction! Let it out!
I was setting a few things up for my newest book and had to put in the BISAC code, and oh, the angst! General fiction? Sure. Romance? Well, it’s a “love story,” but only technically. New Adult? Again, only technically.
I feel like once you determine there’s no cowboys, space aliens, ghosts, Victorian damsals, etc. you are left with that funny gray area of Everything Else.
Leesa, choosing your own book’s genre(s) is a torture all its own, only to be equalled by having someone else choose your book’s genre for you.
God, I have this struggle all the time. What do you read? Well, YA, I know, I know, it’s not exactly literary but there are a lot of good books. What do you write? It’s a fantasy, sort of, YA, it sounds dumb on the surface…
Why do I have such a need to apologize for what I love? It’s insane.
C.J.
Sarcasm & Lemons
CJ. Exactly. There should be no need to apologize for writing, whatever it is.
Thanks for bringing this up, Jeanne! Such a relevant topic.
I think if you like writing genre, then write it. If you don’t, then don’t. There are plenty of writers who dabble and build a readership. Like the artist who sculpts, sketches, and paints. I’d rather have books that stand apart from one another with a style that people recognize than books that read like they are from a template. It may be the harder road, but cest la vie.
My agent, a few years ago, had just come back from a NY lunch with a bunch of top YA eds, and asked me if I could write a book based on what they were collectively looking for: central character with a disease, plot with mystery, a love story, and a twist at the end. I was up for the challenge, and a year later had completed the novel. Although the book made it to a few round tables, and even sat with a top ed for nearly a year, the consensus was, “How do we sell it? It isn’t mystery. It isn’t thriller. It isn’t romance. It has all those elements, but dang, it just doesn’t make a perfect fit on any shelf.”
NOT being a genre writer has placed me on a shelf with no category as none of my books fall neatly into one.
Perhaps instead of calling us “category-less” writers, we should call ourselves something positive. Something brilliant. To give us some clout.
Any ideas?
Leslie,
Your pragmatism is helpful. I wish I had a good category for the category-less, or at least some way to convince booksellers to have a cross-genre shelving area.
In the beginning I felt much the way you do, Jeanne. However, the more I write the less I fear genre. In fact, the more I see it as helpful. As in: to write this genre I need to make sure my manuscript has these ingredients.
And maybe if your friends got to know all faucets of your identity you would help them overcome their prejudice. Or… or… what if you tell them and your not meet with prejudice but rather acceptance. I’m just saying, it could happen.
Leanne,
I think as Keith said, when I finish the thing things will become easier, and telling people might help give me the accountability to finish. So yes, coming out makes sense. If fearing genre less is another consequence of finishing, then I need to get there.
In the beginning, I felt much the way you do, Jeanne. However, the more I write the less I fear genre. In fact, the more I see it as helpful. As in: to write this genre I need to make sure my manuscript has these ingredients, etc.
And maybe if your friends got to know all faucets of your identity you would help them overcome their prejudice. Or… or… what if you tell them and you’re not meet with prejudice but rather acceptance. I’m just saying, it could happen.
Late to the discussion, so I’ll keep it short…
“Genre” is a marketing convenience. Don’t let the word have power over you, give yourself power over the word. However they want to label you, make the “genre” your own. Make it serve your story purposes not the other way around.
There’s a lot of advice about genre audiences and their expectations. If you violate their expectations, we hear, you’re in trouble. Know the rules of mystery. Do your world-building if you want SFF readers to love your stuff. Oh, and better have an HEA if you’re writing romance!
Not bad advice as far as it goes. While I do agree with keeping your story promises, delivering to readers only what they expect ultimately will disappoint them. They want the same only different–and better.
Which is good news. What makes your fiction unique is what makes folks want to read it. Some are afraid to believe that but it’s true. Anyway, I can tell you this: imitative genre fiction tends to sell poorly while what is original tends to sell better.
Best of all is when an original story borrows some of what we like the best of of genre. Then we can have fun and be surprised too.
A great article followed by a fascinating discussion. I recently wrote a blog post on a related issue, the snobbery of what we’re reading, not just what we’re writing. I earned my writing degree at a school that emphasized “literary” stories and relegated all genre writing to the trash. I went on to write fantasy, but not without a struggle. It was a liberating thing, deciding I didn’t need my professors’ approval, only my own.
Why, then, it took my so long to gain the same kind of courage regarding what I read… I don’t know. But I confessed all on my blog the other day and it was empowering. Thanks for your courageous article. :)
Oh my gosh – so dead on. I recently did a book fair with twenty other authors where I was actually second billed in advertising, but have never felt so alone in my life. I was the ONLY genre fiction writer there. Everyone else was poetry or extreme literary that I wouldn’t even pretend to understand or “get”. Talk about feeling like the backwoods cousin!
Good thoughts. I used to hate genres. But as a professional editor, I’ve learned to embrace them, but only because I think they allow us to write the book our readers desire. Mind you–you do that AFTER you write the book you want. Yes, those to do go together, believe it or not. Because once you write the book you desire, if you go to a professional for editing (or a publisher), they’ll help you figure out your genre and tweak what needs addressed to make it successful in that genre.
So I’m of the argument that you can have both genres and write what you believe in. :)
Have you heard of Eloisa James, Jeanne? She’s a successful romance writer who has won the RITA and made book-selling lists many times. She’s married to a real life Italian count.
She’s also a Shakespearean university professor who hid her alter ego from her colleagues for years. If memory serves, she realized she didn’t want to merge the two worlds because she was afraid of disappointing her serious-minded family. When she gave up trying to earn their approval, she “came out” to her colleagues and it wasn’t remotely a big deal.
Jeanne–
After lots of ultimately pointless hand-ringing over this issue, I’ve decided to rely on the “suspense” designation/genre/category. Except in cases where style is all, no novel can hold readers without some form of suspense. Where is this thing going? What will happen next to the characters? How does all this shake out in the end? Those are the questions that I hope my readers ask as they turn the pages.
With all the changes in the publishing world genre categories is just one. Every reader is probably aware of the huge differences between libraries and book stores, those that are left, shelve their books.
My WIP will probably fall into the genre of SF, but who knows. I say this because I just finished listening to the audio book of Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451” in preparation for a book discussion group. The last disc in the set was an interesting interview with Ray Bradbury where he said that “Fahrenheit 451” was his only SF book. Most people associate Bradbury with SF books but he said that his other books were fantasy. He based this on his view that SF stories present ideas that will probably come true some day while fantasy will not.