authorial intent

There is nothing in the world I hate more than meeting a new person and having this inevitable exchange:

Person: So what sort of hobbies do you have?
Me: I'm a writer.
Person: Oh? What do you write about?
Me: ...

It's impossible to answer. I don't write about anything--I write through things and around things and to things and like things and towards things. Wrong preposition! I want to shout.

But usually I just smile weakly and mumble something about how I've been experimenting with blues rhythms and leave it at that. Because I have no idea how to explain what I'm doing, other than to bring out the work itself, and I know that's not what the person is asking for when they pose that no-so-innocent question.