John Jakes' death reminded of something.

Eons ago, after my first two or three sf novels were published, I was visiting my parents and my mother was complaining, as usual, that I was writing such books instead of the kind of novels she liked to read. I saw some fat Jakes historicals on a table and asked her about them. She raved about them. I told her that Jakes had started out writing lots of sf, s&s, etc. She was upset and clearly didn't believe me, or perhaps just didn't want to believe me. But at least she stopped complaining -- for a while -- about my not writing "you know, dear, novels."