Mine isn’t directly related to writing or publishing, unless the fabric of reality qualifies as being on topic!

Here is my notebook on the many layers of networks that we find ourselves buried within, and how we might be able to navigate them to better ourselves and our lives.

While I agree that claims by sci-fi fans of the genre being snubbed are probably overwrought, and certainly exaggerated, so too is Matthew’s rebuttal. I have met people who were condescending towards genres like sci-fi, or hardboiled pulp.

As to what I think about that, well I don’t think I could go wrong by agreeing with Heinlein when he said, “Obscurity is the refuge of the incompetent.” Of course, this might incite the wrath of many yet-to-be-successful creators, but let’s not misinterpret things.

What I believe Heinlein meant was this; It’s fine if you are obscure. But if you aggrandize and glorify that obscurity, putting it on a pedestal as means of compensation for your lack of popularity, then you are using obscurity as a shield or a refuge from the fact that your work is unsellable or unpopular. This is true whether your work resides in the hallowed category of literature, or trope-happy space cantina of sci-fi.

I will say one thing. I refuse to call it speculative fiction. What the hell is wrong with good old sci-fi? And perhaps that question itself alludes to the very thing that Matthew would like to ignore?

To be fair it’s not a question of whether lit snobs gang up and conspire against sci-fi or other genres. It’s a question of whether such a thing as a lit snob exists beyond the stereotype that Mr. Cheney would like to believe is a mere figment of some paranoid imaginations.

Like most stereotypes, there must be some truth to it or it wouldn’t exist, now, would it?

Do you think literary snobbery exists? Do such people look down upon sci-fi and other genres, in your experience?

The following was actually turned in by two of my English students:
Rebecca (last name deleted), and Gary (last name deleted).

THE STORY: (first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn’t decide which kind of tea she wanted. The
chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home
,now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times,
that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs,
keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if
she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again.
So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack
squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to
think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named
Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago.
“A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,???*?? he said into his transgalactic
communicator. “Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so
far…” But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed
out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship’s cargo bay. The
jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across
the cockpit.

If you can read the rest without laughing, I’d be surprised.

Courtesy of The Johnny Law Chronicles.

Genius is nebulous at best, and an often over-used term. But if I had to choose whether I was a conceptualist thinker or an experimentalist (let’s ignore the genius part), I’d say conceptualist. I don’t think the two types are mutually exclusive however. I play both ways at times, though I lean more heavily to the conceptual side.

Which type are you?