I Hate Manatees

I think, if I have a least favorite word of 2011, it’s “genre.”  Or specifically, “the genre.”

Set down your pitchforks, I don’t mean it like that.  “That” being the sense of a hooty-tooty fresh-and-fruity critic of mainstream fiction, all clad in his wire-frame glasses and turtleneck sweater in his professional shot against a white background next to his bio that involves the words “degree in literature” and “in the pants,” vomiting a little in his mouth when he says the word “genre.”  No.  I don’t think “genre” is a dirty word.

Rather, I think it’s getting slightly too revered.  It’s becoming my least favorite phrase in the sense that we can’t seem to have a conversation about a book without involving “the genre.”  Is steampunk good or is it not part of “the genre”?  Is “the genre” being destroyed by the nihilism of today?  What is the work of today doing for “the genre”?  Is my author more “the genre” than your author?  How can I best feed “the genre”?

I write genre fiction.  Specifically, I write fantasy fiction.  I write fantasy fiction because I like to write fantasy fiction.  I like exploring new worlds, meeting new peoples, finding out how things work on a world not my own.  I wrote a book in which a dragonman beat the tar out of a wizard and fought the urge to urinate him.  I wrote a character that uses the phrase “round-ear.”  I don’t say I’m writing objectivist morality.  I don’t scoff at the notion that I write fantasy.  I don’t mind being called a nerd.  Some of my favorite authors write fantasy.  Some don’t.  I am a fantasy writer.

And I don’t really care about “the genre.”

It’s a pair of words.  It’s not a pillar.  A book is art.  A book is not not art if it is or it isn’t part of “the genre.”  A book does not have to exist for the good of “the genre.”  A book exists on its own merits.  An author probably did not write a story for what it contributes to “the genre.”  An author probably wrote it because he or she wanted to tell that story.  A reader probably does not read a book because it’s essential reading for “the genre.”  A reader probably read it because they wanted to.

“Because I wanted to” is a good phrase.  It’s what drives the writing and the speculation.  It’s what makes you want to read it.  Not dedication, not loyalty, not for essential reading.  You either want to do it, or you do not.  What other authors did, what other readers are saying, what bloggers are blogging or what reviews say does not really factor into it.  It all comes down to “because I wanted to.”

It’s a good phrase.

But it’s not my favorite of 2011.

I think “fearless” might be.  Or maybe “fuck.”  The two are pretty intertwined.

Rejection is a part of art.  It’s not part of the creation, as creation based on rejection tends to be (but isn’t always) flimsy and unfounded.  But rejection is important in that it sets us apart and makes our work unique.  Most of that comes after the book is published, of course, but it can factor in prior and during the creation, as well.  And that’s where “fuck” comes in.

Fuck the influences, fuck the traditions, fuck the hallmarks.  Fuck the way things are done.  Fuck the things that tell you what to write.  Fuck the definition of what is and isn’t genre, true genre or the genre.  Fuck the cries for more of the same.  Fuck the laments that there isn’t another Established Author Name Here.  Fuck not reading something because it’s outside your comfort zone.  Fuck not writing something because it’s never been done.  Fuck everything.

And, as I said “fearless” and “fuck are intertwined…

Don’t be afraid of the influences, don’t be afraid of the traditions, don’t be afraid of the hallmarks; they aren’t yours.  Don’t be afraid of protocol; you don’t have to follow it.  Don’t be afraid of things that tell you what to write; they aren’t writing it.  Don’t be afraid of the definition of the genre; your work will occupy its own space.  Don’t be afraid of people crying for the same thing they’ve always read; you aren’t writing for them.  Don’t be afraid of reading and writing outside of your comfort zone; you’re never at a loss for having experimented.  Don’t be afraid of anything.

If you choose to fuck this blog, that’s great, too.  If you choose to honor the traditions or fly in their face, do that, too.  If you choose to write an epic Tolkienist fantasy with vivid hill descriptions and great feasting, do so.  If you choose to write a story about steampunk romance that goes in the face of everything, do that.  If you choose to to write something that we haven’t even thought of and you’re sure no one will like but you, then do it.

Just make sure you chose to do it.

Because no one can write it but you.