When people ask me what kind of book I’ve written, I want to look them in the eye and give a straight answer. But I don’t. I think about telling them contemporary women’s fiction, but I’m not that pretentious. I could say romance, but my mind automatically leaps over all the sub-genres and straight to disheveled, scantily clad women doing shocking things with maverick-y men. Fiction is too general, as is humor, and love story seems a little too sappy.
There is a name for what I’ve written—it’s called chick lit. Clever, huh? Like chick-flick only in book format. Clever, but unfortunately, among some agents and publishers it’s not the most well-received genus of book. Which is why a chick lit author might be tempted to classify their work as something other than chick lit. Sad, because there was a time when Bridget Jones and her diary, and shopaholic, Becky Bloomwood, pioneered the genre into prominence. Now, some say the genre has run its course, and the word has even become taboo in some literary circles. Bummer, seeing as how I’ve currently penned one and a half books of pure chick lit, and have a dozen others tucked away in the ol’ noggin.
But I’m not running scared. Despite what some may say, chick lit is still in demand. Just ask anyone who enjoys a good rom-com movie. As long as there are still websites dedicated to chick lit, (chicklitbooks.com and chicklitclub.com, for example) authors, like me, can still hold their heads up high. We just need to remind the cynics that romance and laughter still go hand in hand.
Which is why I’ll be dedicating my next few blog posts to the greatness that is chic lit. Get ready to be become a fan if you’re not one already.