Before I wrote, I read; far and wide, all manner of topics and genres. However, now that I’m a writer, my 
reading fare has narrowed considerably, and that worries me.
The year I officially embarked on a career in writing, my reading list included these books: Undaunted Courage, Stephen Ambrose’s fascinating account of the Lewis and Clark expedition, Slouching Toward Gomorrah by Robert Bork, The Portrait of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, Dimensions — A Casebook of Alien Contact, by Jacques Valee, From Dawn to Decadence by Jaques Barzun, Just As I Am, Billy Graham’s autobiography and a re-read of Frederick Buechner’s Pulitzer Prize nominated, Godric.
Somewhere along the way, I came to believe that a broad palette was emblematic of culture, maturity, even 
virtue. Botanists estimate that there are more than 240,000 species of flowering plants. In a world of wildly diverse blooms, confining oneself to ragweed and gladiolus seems downright dull. I may not eat head cheese, but the fact that the choice exists is worth celebrating. Thank goodness bologna and PBJ are not the only options.
The same is true for reading.
In my sidebar is a quote by Blaise Pascal, a dictum which I heartily prescribe to: It is much better to know something about everything, than everything about something. Knowing everything about something has its advantages. But the fact that there is so much to know — to learn, explore, witness and encounter — makes the knowing all the more challenging. In some ways, I wonder that being an expert potentially robs us of a wealth of experience. To know everything about jazz music one must, of necessity, forgo hip-hop, hardcore and punk.
And therein lies the rub.
Attendees of last year’s ACFW Writer’s Conference were given a name tag (really, a small billboard) that included, in big block letters, the genre of the writer. So I was
Now in reality, I’m much more than that — I’m mystery and comedy, noir and sci-fi, courtroom drama and urban myth. Heck, I’m even romance. But alas, I am genre-bound.
Perhaps it’s a necessary evil. After all, I don’t want to bite into a police procedural and discover chick lit 
(the equivalent of discovering your PBJ is really head cheese). But this genre cramping definitely has its downside. One need only to scan the current CBA best-seller list to see that supernatural suspense comprises a very small portion of the market. Furthermore, the corner of that market is dominated by a handful of established authors. Because publishers have a limited number of slots per year, for every genre, the competition can be fierce.
As a result, the call to write involves so much more than, well, writing. I must have a platform, understand the market, the readers, who has gone before, what has worked and what hasn’t. I must cultivate a public persona, foresee trends, speak intelligently and courteously about my peers. And above all, I must know my genre.
So much for cultivating a broad palette — I must refine my tastes. No more American history, fairy tales or political rants; now it’s all business. Reading widely was a luxury, but now that I’m a writer, it’s a 
hindrance. For instance, I’ve wanted to read Freakonomics; but it’s as far away from supernatural suspense as caviar is from KFC. As such, the number of books I’d LIKE to read is much bigger than the number of books I SHOULD read. The problem is, the books I SHOULD read are nowhere near as interesting as the books I’d LIKE to read.
Is this what it feels like to be genre-bound?
Anyway, I haven’t lost my convictions entirely; I still believe there’s virtue in reading broadly, venturing out of one’s genre to explore pirates or mites, past revolutions or future technologies, sherpas or sea creatures. Of course, the price for such reading may be a disconnect from the target market. Yet even though Horton Hears a Who is way out of my genre, I’m trusting that the occasional reading will keep my brainpan well-oiled.
I wrestle with this — not that I’m anywhere near close to actually publishing a novel — in any genre. But I enjoy reading and writing a variety of things and I chafe at the idea of being locked in to one type of book.
I think as readers, we need variety, too. When I was in grade school I stuck to a pretty steady diet of horse stories (Black Beauty, King of the Wind, The Black Stallion, etc.). But as I grew up I discovered science fiction and mysteries and books that were harder to define. There was nothing wrong with what I read as a child, but wider reading opened my mind to a larger world. I think I’m a better writer because of the variety of literature I enjoy. A good book is a good book, in any genre.
I may be naive, but that’s how I see it.
Hey GerM (is that your real name?), I suppose it is a Catch 22. I’m aiming for a target market but don’t want to be confined by it. Hmm. Is that possible? And Linda, like you, I grew up reading narrow — sci-fi, mainly. The point I was trying to make with the Horton Hears a Who reference is that, the wider reading does help our craft, no matter what genre we write. I may not read every Supernatural Suspense, but because I’m reading good stuff — different stuff — it positively influences my writing in myriads of ways. Thanks for the comments!
Mike, I think The Man just doesn’t want you reading Freakonomics.
And who knows, maybe someday something will inspire you to write a suspense novel about the threat posed by microscopic beings who infiltrate our government facilities, traveling by dust speck. Hmmmm…
Mike, Mike, Mike. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: you think too much:) Happy reading. Speaking of broadening your horizens, have you ever tried green eggs and ham?
MIke, I just kinda blogged about the same thing. I’m reading a bunch of things based on what I’m trying to write. But I’m also reading The Copper Scroll, by Joel Rosenberg for book discussion club at church, and that’s a far cry from anything I’d ever read. I think being a home schooling mom gives me a good excuse to read other things. We’re reading Narnia right now.
mike,
being “genre-bound” is a scary thing. when i was attempting to “make it” as a rocker, we were often faced with the same catastrophe… becoming part of a genre cult. it’s a hard thing to deal with. those labels seem so binding, limiting and finite. sometimes a labeled artist will try and create outside their boundaries but the consequence may be a pathetic disco album by Kiss (“i, i will survive… and party everyday  yikes). i can empathize with your reading dilemma. as a musician i was rarely listening to the types of music i was writing. well, i’m a white collar manager now… i guess that’s what happens when a rock ‘n roll artist is listening to The Marriage of Figaro.
I just found your blog. Ingenius. I really enjoyed your post, though it was a bit depressing, since I’m an unpublished author in the same genre.