The Genre
I ran across a post that was a response to a post somewhere else about the romance genre and its rather tawdry reputation. Now there’s a recurring theme. The RWA publication, RWR, has run a whole series of ways to respond to the things people say about the literature that my colleagues and I write. A friend of mine—another Kensington Debutante—actually had a very nasty remark made to her by another writer who deemed her work to be of greater literary merit.
I guess I’m pretty fortunate. No one has said anything really rude to me. I do have a friend who comes to my book signings and makes sure that everyone there knows that mine are the only romance novels she reads. She says she likes them. It’s possible that she doesn’t and is merely being supportive of me, in which case, I appreciate the sacrifice. On the other hand, if she really does like them, it’s a shame she doesn’t read more romance novels. She’s a church-friend, though, and I suspect it is hard for a Unitarian Universalist to admit to reading romance novels. We are a faith of intellectuals. At my church, one can admit to this guilty pleasure so long as the book is mine. And let me tell you, this has been a wonderfully supportive group of cherished friends.
I, of course, shamelessly admit to reading OTHER PEOPLE’S romance novels. In the last few days I’ve read Sandy Blair’s A MAN IN A KILT, Kristina Cook’s UNLACED, and I’m part of the way through Teresa Bodwell’s LOVING MERCY. Oh, OK, they’re all friends, but I would have enjoyed their books even if they weren’t. I neither apologize for nor attempt to explain romance. It’s genre fiction. It sells well (over half the paperback market). It’s great escape. Like anything else, some people will like it and others not.
I have to smile at some of my friends and family. Some feel the need to tell me how much they appreciate the history in my books. They say it in such a way that I can tell that they’re trying to help me feel that what I write is somehow more legitimate than all those other "trashy novels." I didn’t invent historical romance. Far from it. My books are not unique in that way. I do think that I am somewhat unique in that I do a fairly decent job of taking what might be considered a contemporary issue and placing it in another context. I like to think that I write "smart" romance, although again, I wouldn’t be the only one to do that. And it doesn’t bother me that I’m not writing "great literature." Really. It doesn’t. For pity’s sake, people go see James Bond movies. They watch reality TV. They turn on a football game every Sunday. No one apologizes for it or tries to justify it. It’s entertainment.
The only thing that kind of gets on my nerves is when people try to tell me what to write. I KNOW they mean well. They’ll try to steer me in the direction of stuff that would make great historical fiction, but lousy historical romance. (No Mom, I’m not referring to the article you sent—I’m talking about much pushier people.) I write romance. I write romance because I want to, not because I can’t think of a good story within the historical fiction genre. I write for escape, both my readers’ and mine. I think people see me as fairly intellectual, so it seems to them that historical fiction would just be a better fit. It isn’t. At least, not right now.
So I’m not terribly inclined to try to convert the folks who think that romance is worthless or stupid or whatever. I think that if someone does make a flat-out rude statement, like the one made to my friend, they ought to be taken to task for rudeness. I also think that if a person is going to make a disparaging remark about romance (or horror or any other genre) one should: a) make certain one reads books, at all, and b) not partake of any other sort of purely entertaining literature (mystery, thriller, etc.), art form (cinema, music, so on) or spectator sport. A non-reader who criticizes others for what they read or write is beneath contempt, and if you indulge in the occasional light-hearted pastime yourself, but censure others for doing the same, you just look silly. It seems to me that this is all we romance novelists really need to say.