I have a certain amount of empathy for this blog, however, and the plight of this genre of writing. I am a fantasy writer, myself, and the same critical abuse clouds my genre’s authors’ skies as well.

A book, a novel, a story, stands on its own merit. Genre classifications are overrated, and people who think certain genres are 100% crappy literature are ignorant and negligent of the truth. Luckily for fantasy, the emergence of George R.R. Martin and Patrick Rothfuss, along with many other respectable, intelligent, original authors, are bringing fantasy fiction literature some critical success. I hope that one day my own work can continue to bring fantasy from the depths of mindless fodder to the light of respectability.

But at the end of the day, what the critics think isn’t important. What matters is that someone enjoyed my story, or your story, Lani, and damned be anyone who says otherwise.

But as much as I love the roller-coaster vs. Picasso comparison, I can’t help feel that it calls women’s fiction and romance “just a roller-coaster”. And it’s not. It’s not just fun, let’s go along for the ride, whee! thrills. There’s more to it than that. When you look at relationships and happiness in a novel’s storyline, you look at the core of people, and that’s always big! No one has to die or be really, really sad for us to learn something useful about real people in the real world. I do completely understand the value of entertainment for entertainment’s sake, but I also like to think there’s entertainment within things that mean more than a mere roller-coaster ride, and that we can find that in women’s fiction, romance, chick-lit, you name it. I also find it in romantic-suspense, thrillers, horror, etc. It spans genre.

And I’m sorry I didn’t comment on the original article. I went there, and it was very, very long and I was very, very tired and planning for a trip out of town. Next time . . .

I mean, I was once a sniveling, snotty English major who saw no value in (eek) commercial fiction. Then I turned twenty. Seriously, we do indeed need to quit bashing our own genre, not to mention our own gender, when what comes of it is not what we might do ourselves. If you can write better, do it. But don’t expect others to write and value the same stuff you do. Duh.

And I am a GREAT writer.

I wholeheartedly admit I’m judgmental. This woman was complainging about not moving into a manson, but a large condo because of hard times. Not that she couldn’t feed her kids. Or that she didn’t know where the next paycheck was coming from. Or that she couldn’t afford to take her kids to the doctor, because of lack of insurance. But she had to move into what she considers a small condo instead of a monstrosity of a home.

I wish those were my problems. On some level I think the author should have let her story be, if that’s the story that needed to be told. If that’s what the characters problems truly were.

On the other hand, yeah, I probably couldn’t relate with those elements.

But the bottom line is Women’s Fiction, commerical fiction in general isn’t about “realistic” that’s why I read it. I have more than enough real life to deal with. And, if the author is really good, then it doesn’t matter how realistic the story is. I’m still going to get something from that novel. I think too many people think romance or women’s fiction doesn’t have depth.

I think that’s my 50 cents worth.

Also, I’m a freaking great writer.

I love the rollcoaster/museum comparison – spot on. I actually had a similar thought with twinkies and broccoli *after* I posted the above all over the internets… ah well. I’m sure I’ll have ample opportunity to dust this one off and rework in the future ((grumble)).

And I am a FANTASTIC writer. Even if only my writing partner knows that for sure right now.

I read literature, I read chick lit, I read romance, I read non-fiction. Why can’t all be seen as worthwhile in their own right? Why do we have to pick?

Life is a banquet we should enjoy. Have dessert first! Whatever dessert you may choose on that particular day.