A question of genre

Earlier this week, I had a long chat on the phone with my (possible) agent. She was very nice, very encouraging, very approachable. Exactly the sort of person I was looking for. But it seems I have a problem. Hitherto, my books have been genre-free. They don't really belong in a particular pigeonhole, and I wasn't thinking genre when I wrote them. They were the novels I wanted to write. Period. But the agent sees a problem, because the WIP is a murder story, and I am not a crime writer. Well, not yet, anyway. And so there is a problem with labelling and marketing the novel when (or if) it comes to publication. I had no idea that this mattered so much, but apparently it does. Crossing genres is, aparently, a risky thing to do. She mentioned a very well-known novelist who did just this, with disastrous results.

So what do I do? Do I persevere with my crime, or do I go back to the type of novel I've written before (more relationship-orientated), although the murder is really crying out to be written? Our conversation has dented my confidence, not least because my editor feels much the same. Advice, please.

Of hips and ops

I contemplated (breifly) writing a horribly introspective diary of the hip operation, but decided it would be even more boring to read than to write. But since receiving my new hip (16 days ago), I have learnt several things.
1. I am a much worse patient than I had hoped to be.
2. Never, never, never let your nearest and dearest help you on with your elastic stockings.
3. Your bones do not belong to you. No, really, I asked to be able to keep my old hip (feeling suddenly and nostalgically fond or it) and was told firmly no. Why? Health and safety. Health and bloody safety. What harm can I possibly do with a small severed hip joint? I feel ridiculously angry about this.
4. It is impossible to write anything useful while trying to convalesce. Will I ever write again?
5. Blogging is a good solution to 4, even if it does nothing to further the progress of the WIP.