I'm not traditionally a sci-fi person. Yet, now I have two middle grade sci-fi works in progress (or in writer's speak: 2 MG SF WIPs). Time travel must be excluded from that claim. I've always loved the idea of time travel. My first novel ever, Pieces of Moon, was a time travel novel, and I read most time travel novels I come across. (Okay, and clones. I love clones. But I don't want to be a clone, unless my clone cleaned my house.)
But outer space sci-fi has not long been on my radar. I suppose it was Super 8 and Doctor Who that officially sent me spinning in that direction.
I've always had a more fantasy and supernatural leaning, so outer space...it's new for me. But I'm loving it. I'm fascinated by the immensity and eternity of the universe. How unexplored and unknown it is. It reminds me of the ocean, but on a much grander scale, of course. My novels are still based on the earth, but with interaction with outer space and extraterrestrials. And the books are so very, very different from each other. I'm fickle, too. One day I'm convinced my funny, quirky book is going to be IT for me. Other days it's my sci-fi novel with a more literary bent.
So the moral of the story? Writing preferences change. My five-year-ago self would not have expected science fiction.