[A previous version of this article was posted in February 2024.]
The Short Story
Genre may refer to a form or category of writing. Outside of academia, we use it to refer to a certain kind of book, based on the story or other content. In both the fiction and nonfiction worlds, readers have different sets of expectations for different genres. These reader expectations help determine what writers and editors can get away with. If you want your story to resonant with your readers, don’t mess with their genre-based expectations—unless you’ve thought it through and are willing to take a calculated risk.
The Real(ist) Story
Genre can mean different things to different folks. We commonly use it to describe subject matter in nonfiction (e.g., biography, history, memoir, personal development, religion) or types of stories in fiction (e.g., fantasy, historical fiction, romance). Meanwhile, academic folks sometimes invoke genre to differentiate forms of writing, like news reports, poems, short stories, novels, letters, emails, dictionary entries, Bible commentaries, marketing copy, monographs, and research studies. In any case, genre boils down to the idea of sorting writing into different categories.
All of these categories have conventions, or norms, that create expectational baggage. Readers associate subcategories, called subgenres, with more particular conventions and expectations.
Translated into the gaming world, a genre (or subgenre) is like a class (or subclass) of character. Fantasy gamers expect warrior-class characters to have impressive physical strength and carry big melee weapons. Characters in the barbarian warrior subclass tend to wear more leather (or bare skin) than steel. Wizard-type characters (sorcerers, mages, and the like) cast spells, usually wear robes, and often carry a staff. Rogues are sneaky and stabby. Warriors or rogues armed with longbows are frequently slender of build, whether because of the mistaken belief that drawing a bow requires minimal physical effort or because high fantasy associates longbows with elves.
The first step to editing for genre conventions is to understand which categories apply to the writing that you’re editing (or self-editing). Reading the manuscript in question and doing a bit of research will probably suffice.
The second step is to understand the expectations that come with those categories. Research is helpful, but there’s no substitute for reading (as widely as possible) in the relevant genre(s).
And the third step is to make sure you’re either (a) in line with those expectations or (b) have a good reason for deviating from them. This creative responsibility rests heavy on the author’s shoulders—with the editor as a trusty advisor.
Story Time
For better or worse, here are some common, genre-based reader expectations:
The protagonist of your young adult novel is a young adult. Thanks to a regrettable variety of audience pandering, this youth is smarter and more capable than most of his or her elders. If it’s a young adult fantasy or sci-fi novel, the protagonist may be the most important individual in the history of the universe. Regardless, he or she probably acts as if this were true.
Characters in your historical fiction novel speak contemporary English, maybe with a few archaic expressions thrown in for good measure. But the dialogue and narrative avoid anachronisms—expressions with technological or cultural points of reference that didn’t exist in the historical setting.
A military sci-fi story includes at least one actual battle scene, please.
Your cozy romance has an uplifting resolution. (Fine, I’ll say it outright: a happy ending.)
In a grimdark fantasy, multiple someones die violently—and there’s nothing cozy about it.
The mystery in a detective novel ceases to be mysterious by the end of the book.
A sword and sorcery novel may not feature a protagonist with a sword, but he or she wields some variety of medieval or pseudo-medieval weaponry.
Your epic fantasy is long, preferably multiple volumes, and sets the protagonist against a big, bad personification of evil with world-threatening intent.
The thwarting of reader expectations can be brilliant, the stuff of pleasant surprises. But it can lead all too easily to utter disappointment.
Godspeed and happy rewriting!