If your book is “for everyone,” it’s actually for no one.In this sharp yet encouraging episode, we tackle one of the biggest hurdles for new authors: not wanting to be boxed in by genre.
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Overthinking Couch Topics:
Identify your book’s genre and emotional promise.
Avoid the “genre blender” mistake that confuses readers.
Use genre conventions as creative and marketing tools.
Communicate your book’s identity in one professional sentence.
If you have plot bunnies coming out of your plot holes, it’s time for a writing break.
As a fierce Writing Break comrade, you must by now have a clear description of your ideal reader, and, of course, you know the genre you’re writing. And today we’re talking about how your genre is tied into your success as an author but how you are not tied to your genre. We’ve done a lot of genre deep diving so far this season, and this bonus episode is for those artful souls who are still hesitant to pick a genre.
If you’re one of the future bestselling authors I’ve met who say, “My book doesn’t fit neatly into a box,” or, “My story is for everyone.” Let me stop you right there, my genre-defying friend: if your book is for everyone, it’s for no one.
Genres are maps that tell readers, agents, and publishers where to find you and what to expect when they do.
The Writing Break cafe is open, so let’s step inside, grab a drink, and talk about why knowing your genre will boost your creativity and your bank account.
Let’s start by discussing one of the biggest creative roadblocks I see in new authors: the refusal to select a genre.
This type of writer proudly and assertively declares that their manuscript is part mystery, part romance, part self-help, part manifesto, part memoir, but really, it’s universal. Yikes.
Writers have told me, “I don’t want to pick a genre. I just want to write my story.” And you know what? That’s great! Write your story. But when it’s time to pitch or publish, you need to know what shelf your book lives on.
Genre is the shorthand that tells agents, editors, booksellers, and readers what they’re getting into. If you tell me your story is “a heartwarming romance,” I know I’m getting emotional payoff. If you tell me it’s “a psychological thriller,” I expect tension and twists. If you tell me it’s “a sweeping fantasy epic,” I’m prepared for world-building and a longer page count.
If you tell me it’s all three, I’m staging an intervention.
I think genre-selecting resistance comes from a good place. Writers don’t want to be boxed in.
They want to feel limitless, original, and uncategorizable. They want as many readers as possible. They don’t want someone to say, “Oh, you write romance,” or “You write sci-fi,” as if that somehow shrinks what we do. But if your story follows the romance parameters where the love story is the center focus and the novel ends happily ever after, a person who doesn’t like romance is not going to like your story no matter what label you do or don’t give it.
Genre helps people who will love your book find your book. It’s a signal flare in the literary wilderness. Without it, your story gets lost, no matter how good it is.
As a bonus, once you understand the conventions of your genre, including the structures, tropes, and reader expectations, you can start to play around with them.
For example, in romance, the central tension is emotional: will they or won’t they? In mystery, it’s intellectual: who did it and why? In horror, it’s survival. In fantasy, it’s power.
Readers select books by genre because they want to feel something specific, whether it’s comfort, excitement, fear, curiosity, awe, or something else. If you don’t know what feeling you’re promising, neither will your readers. And there are plenty of clearly labeled books for readers to choose from.
So instead of thinking, “I don’t want to be limited by genre,” try thinking, “Genre gives my story clarity.”
When you say your book “defies genre,” what most people hear is: “No one will know where to put this.” And if they can’t place it, they can’t sell it.
Genre isn’t just about creative identity. It’s also a marketing tool. Literary agents specialize by genre. Publishers acquire by genre. Bookstores shelve by genre. And algorithms recommend by genre.
Knowing where you fit means you’re showing up to where your audience is already waiting for you.
And if you’re self-publishing, your genre determines your metadata, your target keywords, and your categories on bookselling sites, including the Amazonian behemoth. Knowing your genre helps your book get discovered and helps you build a career, not just a one-time release.
Genre also helps you write better. When you know your genre, you know your pacing, your structure, and your emotional beats. Romance has the third-act breakup. Mystery has the reveal. Horror has the confrontation. Literary fi ction has the reckoning.
You don’t have to hit every trope, but you need to know which ones you’re playing with. Only then can you surprise your readers instead of disappointing them.
Now, if you’re sitting there thinking, “But what if I choose the wrong genre?” don’t worry. Genres are not handcuffs; they’re more like dance partners. You can try a few before you find your rhythm.
You might start writing what you think is a thriller and realize it’s actually suspense with romantic elements. Or you start writing a fantasy that leans more toward horror. That’s okay. That’s part of the process.
But by the end, you should be able to say:
“My book is this genre, and it’s for readers who love other books and authors in that genre.”
That one sentence tells agents, publishers, and readers exactly what to expect, and it makes you sound like a professional.
You can move between genres, just not all at once. Look at Stephen King. He started in horror, but he’s written fantasy, sci-fi, literary fiction, and even memoir. His audience follows him because they trust his voice, but that trust was built by consistency. Build a foundation first. Then expand.
So, you might ask, what about books that clearly blend genres? Ah, yes. The writers’ loophole. The genre-bender. The rebel with all the keywords.
Blending genres can be brilliant when done with intention.
The Time Traveler’s Wife is romance meets sci-fi, Mexican Gothic is horror meets historical fiction, and The Hunger Games is dystopian sci-fi meets coming-of-age adventure.
These books work because the authors mastered their core genres first. They didn’t throw everything in a blender and expect it to taste good.
If you want to blend genres, you have to understand what each genre promises readers, and you must deliver both sets of expectations.
That’s hard. But, it’s not impossible.
And next season, we’ll explore how to combine genres effectively without confusing readers, scaring off agents, or accidentally writing a romantic space heist thriller that’s also a cookbook.
Unless that’s the plan. In which case, please send me a copy. For research purposes, of course.
Knowing who you are as a writer and who your story is for does not make you less authentic, but it does make you effective.
Let’s say you’ve written a book, and when someone asks, “What kind of book?”
You start describing the plot:
“Well, it’s about this woman who time-travels through grief using music and also there’s a crime subplot and a love triangle and a talking crow…”
That sounds like a fever dream.
But if you said:
“It’s a time-slip literary mystery with magical realism,”
We’d know exactly who to pitch it to.
Ya see the difference? If you take one thing away from this episode, let it be this: Clarity is not compromise.
Refusing to name your genre doesn’t make your book more profound. It just makes it harder to sell, harder to market, harder for readers to love.
So go ahead. Pick your part of the bookstore. Own your space. Write your story.
And if anyone tells you that “genre doesn’t matter,” smile politely, sip your wine, and know they’ll be wondering why no one can find their book. That’s what I do anyway.
For this week’s overthinking prompt, imagine your current work-in-progress sitting on a bookstore shelf. What other books is it next to? Who’s walking down that aisle in search of a book like yours? What kind of cover art would make them stop and pick it up?
Next week we’ll have a clip show of all the genres we’ve covered so far this season. The week after that, we’ll continue with more genre-defining episodes.
Until next time, thank you so much for listening, and remember, you deserved this break.
Thank you for making space in your mind for The Muse today.
Writing Break is hosted by America’s Editor and produced by Allon Media with technical direction by Gus Aviles. Visit us at writingbreak.com or contact us at podcast@writingbreak.com.
