Years ago, in a galaxy far far away...
Stop me before I puke out literary wastage!
Once upon a time...before there was the insidious notion of "genre," people used to write stuff...some of it was good stuff and some of it was crap stuff. But it was writing -- and they didn't know into what "genre" it fit. That's because they know about this extra crispy confection of a term.
Oh, sure! Today....when we write stuff, if we're lucky, if we love what we're doing, and if we don't bother reading literary critics, we don't pay any attention to this "stuff-classification" either -- we just write!
Think about it: if you were asked to come up with some writers that you really liked, writers that you enjoyed, writers that you thought were good [No...wait...forget about this last thing! If you think they are "good" you've stopped enjoying them. They may be good -- but that's totally beside the point.], I bet "genre" is not even a teeny tiny itsy bitsy consideration.
Here's a few of mine: Ambrose Bierce, Mark Twain, Bram Stoker, John Steinbeck, Leon Uris, Kurt Vonnegut, Susan Sontag and Gore Vidal.
I write alternate history/time travel/first contact stuff....!?