The afore-mentioned title has nothing to do, really, with today’s diatribe, but I couldn’t resist. Chicklet rhymes with chick lit, which is today’s topic of discussion. What is chick lit? It’s a genre someone came up with to describe novels written by women, where the women seem to share various similiar characteristics. Some long-running chicky themes: the women are usually fabulous and fashionista (or have aspirations to be as such); early to mid-30’s; in search of love and job acceptance/contentedness; and usually end up in some sort of Lucy Ricardo type of hilarity with a sidekick in tow. Of course, Bridget Jones was in a class all of her own, I would say, but still. For the most part, at the risk of generalizing, that’s chick lit. Nevertheless, let’s provide a few established definitions. See the following:
“Chick lit features hip, stylish female protagonists, usually in their twenties and thirties, in urban settings (usually London or Manhattan), and follows their love lives and struggles for professional success (often in the publishing, advertising, public relations or fashion industry). The books usually feature an airy, irreverent tone…”
Anyway, if I ever become a published writer (please, please), I just…I don’t want to be pigeonholed! Don’t call me a chick lit author, or a this author, or a that author. If my book features a female protagonist, which it likely will, and she happens to be in her 30s (which I am, so life imitating art, imagine that), and so on and so forth, just let it be fiction. Let it be a novel and a story and leave it at that. Somebody?
I don’t know – something about that term puts me off. It makes me think of silly girls with lots of money and problems that aren’t really problems. I’m generalizing, yes (and there are plenty of talented female novelists who surpass the above-mentioned definitions in their books), but that’s how it makes me feel. And that’s the 2 cents.