My Love-Hate Relationship with Genre Categorization
When people ask what kind of books I write, I automatically wish it was as simple as saying “romance” or “science fiction.” Those authors have all the luck (at least the ones who are comfortably seated in their genre and happily identify with it).
For me, it’s complicated.
My first run-in with genre categorization came about six months after finishing my first novel. I entered the manuscript in a contest, if for no other reason than to get it out there and have another set of eyes on it. When the feedback form arrived a few months later, I was annoyed. Not because I didn’t win (winning wasn’t really my intention and the guy who did win was so out-of-this-world talented that I’m glad he beat me), but because the critic called my work “women’s fiction.”
Now, let me start by saying that I love me some women’s fiction. I studied psychology in grad school because I adore delving into people’s emotional journeys. And, I’m a hopeless romantic, so I’m also an avid reader of chick-lit and even some genre romance. Though up until the point when my book was called “women’s fiction,” I can’t say that I ever consciously gave much thought to these distinctions. I love reading characters I can get to know and relate to, whether they’re detectives in police procedurals or heroines in steamy romances. I’m non-discriminating. As long as there’s someone I can root for, I’m happy.
So, why was I so irritated by this label, you ask? Mostly, I couldn’t really figure out what “women’s fiction” actually was. At the time, it sounded like books that only women would read and, being a woman who reads all kinds of books, that didn’t resonate with me. Further exploration led me to the definition “layered stories that are driven by the main character’s emotional journey.”
OK. Maybe my book did fit this genre. After all, the book is all about my main character’s emotional journey as she navigates romance, takes risks in her professional life, and comes to terms with truths about her family. But why is this type of story only for women? That was the thing that continued to bother me. The idea that a tale of emotional journey would be marketed as “women’s” fiction seemed terribly unfair to men who might also enjoy that sort of depth.
The marketer in me knew that I’d have to embrace some of these categories. So I did. I thought about all the types of readers I wanted to reach, and looked for pathways to those audiences. When readers described the book as chick-lit, I started participating in chick-lit-oriented events. Same with women’s fiction. I marketed my book in general fiction arenas as well, but the field is so broad and the competition so fierce that categorizing my book to reach a more targeted audience made sense.
Until the day when it was suggested that my second book might not meet the criteria for women’s fiction (and that my first book probably didn’t either — too much romance). WTF? I mean, seriously!?! If not women’s fiction, then what?
I’ve been told that my book has too much romance for women’s fiction, is too commercial for literary fiction, is too heavy for chick-lit, and is too clean for genre romance. Where in the world do I fit in?
It was at the peak of this crisis that I finally had a long talk with myself and reached this conclusion: I just want readers to read my book and form their own opinions. Really. I love that some people read Wallflower Blooming as a light romance and loved it. I love that some people really identified with Val and could apply some of the lessons she learned to their own lives.
I even loved the 1-star review on Amazon that lambasted me for pushing my political agenda in the book. My response: “Whoa, really? I thought the book was a little fluffy to elicit such venom.”
I love that people felt something when they read it, and, of course, I’m glad that most people liked it. Whether they found comfort in the pages or simply a fun escape from the pace of everyday life, it’s really gratifying to have people read a story that you wrote and to feel something for your characters.
So, what have I learned from this whole categorization debacle? To keep writing and to stay true to myself. After two books in the women’s fiction/chick-lit arena (and a weird experience with a small publisher–that’s a whole different story), I took the plunge and began writing psychological thrillers. Well, psychological suspense. With some mystery elements? And a little romance?
Yeah, nothing has changed.
As a writer, there’s no way to avoid categorization. Try entering a writing contest, submitting to an agent, or shopping for a publisher if you don’t believe me. And it’s fine. Categorization helps narrow down the field and allows our manuscripts to get into the right hands (in theory).
It can also be a huge pain in the arse.