If you haven’t already, please read the introduction post. That will give you context for this page.
I was talking to someone whom I would consider an amiable acquaintance. I liked her well enough and had reason to believe she also liked me. In fact, one thing I know is that she considered me smart. And I know that because of the following conversation.
Her: I heard you’re writing a book! What are you writing?
Me: It’s scifi and—
Her: Oh! But you’re smart…
I was so shocked by this belief that scifi isn’t smart, and by the fact that anyone wouldn’t just assume scifi was my realm, that I didn’t reply in any sort of useful way. I’ve since thought that, given the chance to do it again, I’d have responded either by asking what she thinks smart people do write (and then saying some of what I say below) or by noting aloud that she’s obviously not very familiar with science fiction.
I wish I could say that this scenario was unlike any other experience I’ve had, but I try hard not to lie.
No, it seems that smart people can write poetry and lyrics (though there are people who assume that my lyrics turning into rock music, instead of some other kind of music, is proof that those probably aren’t smart). And I guess they, the smart people, write fine literature, the great American novel, or non-fiction. But never scifi (or, I’m betting, any kind of fantasy or horror).
Before I laugh myself to death, let me assure you that many, many writers (and readers) of those presumed non-smart genres are ridiculously smart. That some of the wisest words I’ve read in fiction have been found in scifi (Dune, anyone?). And that assuming a whole genre of writers aren’t smart is, itself, not exactly a smart mindset.
And even if scifi were never smart.
And even if every other speculative fiction writer were a drooling moron, barely able to figure out how to make letters.
Why would I be ashamed of making something out of the stories that fill my head? As I noted in my post about being a daydreamer, why would I feel ashamed at having that rich internal life?
For some, it hasn’t been about smartness. They expect me to feel ashamed because I’m writing something that’s not to their tastes. That’s so ludicrous I can’t even conceive of responding to that. Except to suggest that maybe my tastes aren’t the ones with room for shame. Ha! (No, in all seriousness, enjoy what you enjoy. I might not want to catch a film with you if we don’t share tastes, but that doesn’t mean I believe you should feel shame.)
Another likely reason it’s suggested I feel shame is that scifi is frivolous (according to some people). Oh, mate…I can appreciate that not all art speaks to all people. And you should certainly stick to what speaks to you (though I find that occasionally giving something new in a genre or art form a chance can lead to unexpectedly good moments). But scifi has taught me important lessons, saved my sanity, and (along with other speculative fiction) been proven to make my brain a better place.
The only other reason I can think of that people think I should feel ashamed of being a scifi author is that the act is proof I’m a geek. And I already told you how unashamed I am of being a geek.
So, yes, that’s correct; I am smart and I write science fiction (and read it and watch it and love it). And I can’t even understand why you think I should be ashamed of that. It’s beyond magical to write my own escape hatch out of the real world.
Cross-posted to the Not Ashamed section of my site (so that it’s all tidy).