Romancing the Blog | Romance Authors and Readers Who Blog

A recent conversation:

Me: “I can’t believe she wrote that in her blog! She’s a hateful, horrible human being! I’ll never read another word she writes!”
Husband: “But you just bought her book yesterday.”
Me: “Oh. Well I’m not reading it! She’s such a b*tch!”
Husband: “Judgmental, much? Besides, can’t you separate the author from the novel?”
Me: Scowls.

Can I separate the author from the work? That’s a toughie. I still love every one of Woody Allen’s films, don’t I? Okay, bad example (special note to Laurie Gold: I’m with you on Roman Polanski). A good example is the blog I discovered recently by an author whose books I was hot to buy—until I read her posts. Snide. Mean. Poking nasty fun. How can I separate this author’s blog from her novels? Her blog—her online journal, her personality in print—was just plain mean. Then there was another author’s smug blog. And yet another’s preachy blog. And the know-it-all blog. And the—

Husband: “And what’s your blog?”
Me: “It’s . . . sort of generic. I talk about Max (our 2-year-old) and books I’ve read and life in Maine vs. NYC.”
Husband: “Ah, generic. That should keep your readers—and potential readers—interested.”
Me: “But at least I’m not turning off readers by spouting off about—”
Husband: “Is generic a reflection of you and your novels?”
Me: “But–”
Husband: “If you don’t like the blog, don’t read it. No one said you should want to have lunch with the author or be her best friend or even like her as a person. But don’t judge a book by a blog.”
Me: Scowls.

Hmmm. He’s got me there and there and there. Now I’m confused.

Me: “I’m allowed to have an opinion, you know!”
Husband: “So is everyone else. That’s my point. This is your cue to scowl.”

Oy. This is all new, this easy access to your favorite authors’ personalities, right there online. I love blogs; I read ten or so regularly every morning (including the ones I profess to hate to see if I should still hate them. Which reminds me of some reviews of my first novel that said: I hated this book so much I read it till the end because I couldn’t believe how much I hated it. And then I lent it to all my friends to see if they’d hate it as much as I did).

Grrr. There’s no easy answer, is there?

Husband: “Finally, we’re getting somewhere. I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking.”
Me: Mock-scowls.

While it may never eclipse baseball, hockey or rugby as a national pasttime, making fun of romance hooks has become quite a sport in its own right, hasn’t it? Taking shots at virgins. Slamming secret babies. Crying foul at alpha heroes. And who hasn’t spent at least a few minutes coming up with paradies of those hook-riddled titles?

I’ve heard people say that those hooks, and the titles advertising them, are one of the reasons romance doesn’t get the respect it deserves. How can we be taken seriously when we’ve spawned enough secret babies to populate a small planet, which is a pretty remarkable feat considering how many virgins we have running amok. And really, can you demand respect when you’ve written a book entitled The Swanky Sheik’s Shockingly Secret Son?

Let’s take a brief time out, and review the Waldenbooks series romance bestsellers list for the week ending April 23.

1. THE GREEK’S INNOCENT VIRGIN by Lucy Monroe, Harlequin Presents
2. THE DISOBEDIENT BRIDE by Helen Bianchin, Harlequin Presents
3. THE MEDITERRANEAN PRINCE’S PASSION by Sharon Kendrick, Harlequin Presents
4. THE BLACKMAIL PREGNANCY by Melanie Milburne, Harlequin Presents
5. THE LAWS OF ATTRACTION by Sherryl Woods, Silhouette Special Edition
6. LORI’S LITTLE SECRET by Christine Rimmer, Silhouette Special Edition
7. THE ENGLISH ARISTOCRAT’S BRIDE by Sandra Field, Harlequin Presents
8. CABIN FEVER by Karen Rose Smith, Silhouette Special Edition
9. LESSONS FROM A LATIN LOVER by Anne McAllister, Harlequin Presents
10. WORTH FIGHTING FOR by Judy Duarte, Silhouette Special Edition.

A virgin, a secret baby, and—with six Presents on the list—presumably enough alpha heroes to man a basketball team. And just for good measure, there’s a marriage of convenience thrown in there, too.

I’m just as guilty as the next person of playing the Catalog of Hooks title game, but I really do have a huge amount of respect for these ladies. In the face of mocking by their own peers, if not outright scorn, they provide the most important thing of all—consistent books their loyal readers consistently enjoy reading. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Numbers don’t lie. Not that we get exact numbers, of course, but Presents (and let’s be honest, Presents is king of the virgin/secret baby/Swanky Sheik game) sure gives the appearance of being top dog. And if those hooks didn’t sell—and sell well—you can bet Harlequin would toss those secret babies out with the bathwater without a second thought.

So why the disparity? Why, when one can barely turn around in cyberspace without running into a derogatory remark about those well-worn hooks, do the publishers keep contracting them and the readers keep buying them? Why, despite the pointing and sneering, are they being bought in list-making numbers? Because that’s what the readers want, and that’s what the readers buy.

I think, as a writer of erotic romance—which has been taking its knocks of late—there’s a lesson in this for me. It’s all about your reader and her satisfaction. How many of you cringed when you saw the title The Greek’s Innocent Virgin? Well, that Greek, that virgin, and that title landed Lucy Monroe the top spot on the Waldenbooks series romance bestsellers list.

So the next time somebody points a finger at that Swanky Sheik and his secret son, I’ll be wondering…is that author singed by the scorn aimed at her work, or is the sting soothed by satisfied readers and laughing all the way to the bank?

Every year, I work with a student from a local high school who wants to intern in writing. Some of the students are eager learners; others are just there for an ego stroke on their writing. One thing I have noticed about these young people, however, is that by and large they are still trying to find their niche.

At sixteen, few of us know what we want to do with our lives. We want to be a surfer, writer, veterinarian, whatever—depending on the day of the week and the kind of day we’ve had. I find the same has been true of my interns—they’re still trying to figure out whether they even want to be writers, or pick a career that’s just a bit more stable, like being the greeter at Wal-Mart.

All this angst translates onto the page in the form of writing that doesn’t yet have a voice. I see glimmers of voice in their work, as if it’s trying to peek out behind all the conventions and rules they learned in English class (that diagramming sentences thing has ruined more than one budding writer )

The problem with voice is that it’s one of those indefinable things, which makes it very difficult to teach. I have struggled to explain it to my interns, but more often than not I ended up with them looking at me with a blank stare.

Of course, that could be because thinking about what they’re going to wear to prom instead of me. I don’t blame them. Heck, even the dog doesn’t listen to me in this house.

Then I attended my first art auction (on board a cruise ship, which was both weird and cool) and realized there was voice in the art. It was one of those duh moments that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t had before. I have looked at art, admired it in museums, talked about it with friends, but never have I brought what I see in direct contact with the way people write.

The way Picasso paints is radically different from the way Chagall paints. The vibrant colors of Tarkay are vastly different from the soft settings of Kinkade. The Ostritsky that we bought is rich in minute details, unlike the airy softness of Benfield.

There is voice in these paintings, so distinctive that you can instantly tell one artist from the other. Think about it—Norman Rockwell’s American images are recognized around the world even fifty-plus years after they first appeared.

In fiction, it’s the same. The art of the writer’s words is distinctive and clear. You’d never confuse the sweet heartstrings pulled by LaVyrle Spencer with the hard-hitting comedy of Janet Evanovich. These authors’ voices are as distinctive as fingerprints, and they are part of what has made them famous and well-loved.

I’m sure these authors didn’t sit down and say, “Hmm…no one has a snarky voice in their work, I think I’ll do that.” Rather, their voice is their true selves appearing on the page, much like an artist’s canvas is his medium for expressing himself. Instead of using paint brushes, we use keyboards and pens. Instead of canvas, we paint on blank pages.

However, too often, writers try to fit a voice that isn’t them. Sort of like when you lie on your bed, convinced that you can zip up those size six jeans if you let your size-ten waistline flatten against the mattress. It might work, but when you stand up you find you’re dizzy from cutting off all circulation below the waist.

You can’t squeeze into the wrong genre or try to be someone you aren’t, even on the page. If you are searching for who you are as a writer, then take a moment to flip through an art catalog. Walk around your local art museum. Look at the image of voice, captured on canvas, and you’ll see what it takes to differentiate yourself among the masses of new books.

While you’re there, try to find an artist whose images match the words that are inside you. Are you a Kinkade, a Rockwell, a Picasso? Or is your style unlike anyone else’s?

Then get out your brushes and paint a story that is uniquely yours. Who knows? You could end up in the Finger Painting Hall of Fame…or the Louvre. Either way, the creation will be distinctly yours.

Romance’s worst enemies are the reviewers who won’t criticise romances.

With 1,500-2,100 romance novels published per year, readers can’t afford to buy nor browse them all. This is where reviewers step in. And where it gets hairy.

Most would find that the majority of romance reviews are very author-friendly. Often, those reviewers don’t review bad books at all. I asked some why they don’t acknowledge ‘flaws’ in romance novels. Their replies:

a) They feel they shouldn’t criticise “free” books they receive from authors

I’d expect professional authors to want balanced reviews, not glowing but meaningless reviews. A reviewer should respect the author’s work enough to take the “free” book seriously and provide constructive criticism that benefits the author and readers.

Some review for “free” books. Free book, nice review. Authors who encourage this practice should be ashamed of themselves, especially as it hurts them in the long run.

b) They don’t “trash” books / “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

Reviewing means criticism. According to the American Heritage Dictionary, a critic “expresses judgements of the merits, faults, value or truth of a matter.”

A reviewer could be gentle or she could be blunt as long as she’s willing to be fair, and acknowledges strengths and weaknesses in every book. Otherwise don’t review at all.

c) They don’t want to hurt authors’ feelings

Reviewers occupy a literary no-man’s land. They’re not authors’ friends, they’re not readers’ friends. Attacks come from all sides, and feedback and thanks are scarce. Some reviewers do thrive for balance in their reviews but sometimes they aren’t allowed. One reviewer says that she’d like her reviews to be “more balanced”, but her editor had her removing “negative comments” from her reviews. Example: “The prologue is a little too long”.

It’s a tough job, but if a reviewer writes ‘author-friendly’ reviews to avoid hurting authors’ feelings, in the long run, they’re hurting the authors by not acknowledging the truth of each book’s flaws–and by contrast, its merits.

d) They want to support and promote the romance genre

Reviewers aren’t publicists or promoters. Their primary audience is readers — potential customers, the best promoters. If reviewers praise every book, readers check in for the information, nothing more. Readers then have no incentive to venture from their “hot buttons”, favourite themes and settings. “Author-friendly” reviews often promote bad books.

e) If it’s good enough to be published, why criticise?

Why review? Not criticising a book is an ethical compromise, and noncritical reviews let readers and authors down.

When reviewers work hard to provide fair, balanced reviews, I admire and respect them. I’m quite sure that some readers and authors will hold that view as well. Yet there are other authors, readers and “author-friendly” reviewers who label those reviewers “bad guys”. But, those “bad guys” are promoting the genre. A lot more than those “author-friendly” reviewers do.

When a reviewer develops a reputation of being trustworthy, she wins a larger following of readers, which gives greater weight and value to her reviews, which in turn will give romance novels the fair treatment that each deserves. Which could end with the romance genre with higher standards of professionalism, writing and respect.

If we want the genre to be taken seriously, we have to respect the honesty that must exist between reviewers and their readers. Starting with not bullying and encouraging reviewers into penning “author-friendly” reviews. Constructive criticisms can only help those who want to improve. Talent, hard-won craft, and hard work often take authors to top, so making allowances for “bad” writers does not do anyone a favour, including these “bad” writers.

Simms sums it up for me:

“Neither praise nor blame is the object of true criticism. Justly to discriminate, firmly to establish, wisely to proscribe, and honestly to award – these are the true aims and duties of criticism.”

Reviewers should be professional, impartial and fair. Readers, authors, fellow reviewers and the Romance genre deserve it. Otherwise what’s the point of doing reviews at all?

[My apologies to Mr. Shakespeare.]

Taboo, or not taboo—that is the question:
Whether ’tis wrong to write a romance in first person
The deep point of view your only solace
Or to create a hero who isn’t alpha
Who loved his late wife. To love, to dream—
And by dream I mean erotic fantasies
Kinky or otherwise, possibly involving battery-operated toys.
The heartache of infidelity, the tragedy of psoriasis
Devoutly to be wished upon the evil Other Woman.
To dream—perchance of Mel Gibson or Colin Firth: ay, there are two heroes.
For in our sleep, what dreams of dishy men may come
When we have closed the covers of the book,
And run to Amazon to post our review.
What of she who falls victim to a seductive rogue?
Succumbing to a lusty studmuffin bent on pleasuring
The gentle heroine within an inch of her life?
The pangs of illicit love, so shunned by society,
Yet so knee-meltingly fabulous it’s impossible to resist
Should we spurn the lovers?
Or celebrate the glorious thing between them
And no, I’m not referring to his penis
Although that too is worth celebrating.
But the dread some readers have of perceived taboos,
The non-virgin, the woman who loves more than once
The man who prefers sheep to his wife
(Well, all right, that one is truly icky).
Should the reader fear such novelties?
Thus pickiness does make poops of us all,
And make us miss some books that are pretty darn slick.
Nay, we will not shun the taboo story!
(Unless it’s something really creepy, then shun away).
But first person, and non-virginal heroines, and battery operated boyfriends
Soft you now, they have their places
The fair Ophelia could have done with a few
But that’s another story.

For years, one of the most bitter questions considered by couples might be this…. From the man’s side: “Did she fake it?” From the woman’s: “Would I be better off if I did?” Personally, I’ve never seen the point. And I have to admit that I think I can sympathize with those who find out that they have – in the most intimate of situations – been victims of deceit.

When I go into a reading experience, I admit I have a certain expectation of being led to the end of the book by a series of deft touches. And there have been times when I’ve been faked out. I don’t recall the title or the author, but I do remember the scene. It was only a momentary glitch. But it was enough to disturb the narrative flow. In that particular case, the hero and heroine met and discovered their mutual attraction. I was settled in for some (hopefully) spicy scenes and building tension (a stolen kiss, a clandestine meeting perhaps). However, due to a misunderstanding between the characters about who was to call whom, and the subsequent recriminations when neither followed through, they instead spent a large portion of the story avoiding each other, and to my mind, artificially prolonging their separation and falsifying the conflict. At the time, my reaction was to feel cheated. It seemed to me that the author was using what struck me as thinly disguised manipulation to keep the hero and heroine from getting together before the end of the book. Instead of making their struggle to be together more poignant to me, it robbed me of genuinely sympathizing with the obstacles to their relationship. To this day, it is an element that will cause me to send a manuscript back. Or, if – fate forfend – one of my own clients commits this crime, ask for revisions.

I’ve seen the same basic issue crop up in other genres: a mystery where an amateur sleuth who had seemed fairly clever in previous pages suddenly misses a clue made patently obvious to the reader; the deus ex machina device often seen in science fiction and fantasy, which appears to be used to gloss over details and expediently solve difficulties. The former artificially prolongs the investigation. The latter interferes with the necessary suspension of disbelief. To me, these boil down to a lazy approach on the part of the author; taking the easy way out to satisfy the forms of a genre, but not the spirit of the story. Maybe it’s putting it too strongly to say this violates my trust as a reader. But that’s how it feels. And then, to get to the climax of the story, I have to fake my way through the rest of the pages. Or just stop reading.

I’m an ageless romantic trapped in a forty-something year old body. Yes, I inhale stories of first love, young love, Generation-X love. But every now and then I get the itch to read about women my own age or thereabouts. Women with grown children, or almost grown children or no children. Women who never married, or married and lost a husband to an accident, illness or another woman. Women convinced they’re doomed to spend the rest of their lives alone, or think that they prefer to because they’re bitter or . . . happy. Women who meet the most unlikely man at the most unexpected time and BAM!—fall in love . . . again.

On the reading front, I got a real kick out Jennifer Crusie’s “Fast Women”, a story that featured a slightly older hero and heroine. I could totally relate. Hollywood offered up a couple of recent film favorites. “Under The Tuscan Sun” and “Something’s Gotta Give” both toyed with the older woman/younger man angle. The latter proved that falling in love can be just as exciting and HOT in your sixties as it was in your twenties. Somehow, I found that inspiring, not to mention heartwarming.

On a whim, I searched the Internet for “older heroines of romance”. As far as trends go, older heroines seem to be getting a second chance/life.

In July, Harlequin is launching NEXT. According to eharlequin.com these books “…feature women facing a wide variety of life stages: from that first baby at 45 to the first date after divorce or widowhood; from that first day of college – accompanied by your freshman daughter! – to dealing with three generations living in the same house.” However in these novels “…romance is a piece of the pie, rather than the whole one.” Okay. I’ve been warned. These won’t be traditional romances, but at least I’ll get a hint of romance, right? I’ll definitely check these out.

My search for older heroines continued. I came upon Hen Lit and Mommy Lit. Almost every major publisher offered some form of mature Chick Lit. I scanned titles and blurbs. “Angry Housewives Eating Bonbons” by Lorna Ladvick. The title cracked me up, but I didn’t see mention of romance in the blurb. “Julie and Romeo” by Jeanne Ray. Cute title. Definite romance mentioned. “Flip-Flopped” by Jill Smolinski. One reviewer said, “…if you are of an age to have any lingering romantic memories about Davy Jones of the Monkees, you will love it.” Raising hand. That would be me.

All right. I’m intrigued. But . . . okay, I’ll admit it. I don’t read Chick Lit. I’ve never tried Hen Lit or Mommy Lit. Even if the blurbs mention a romance, are these books going to feature heroes and heroines as I know and love them? Am I going to get my thigh-sweating sexual tension? I know I’m not guaranteed my happily-ever-after.

What’s a HEA addicted middle-aged woman to do? Firstly, I can start by asking fellow romance readers for recommendations. Have you read a good romance lately featuring an older heroine? Do tell. Secondly, I can broaden my horizons and give Hen Lit a whirl.

So, where do you stand on older heroines, and heroes for that matter, and the publishing industry’s current offerings?

I have a closet full of Betas…not the men, the video tapes. That may have no meaning to you whatsoever, but originally there were two videotape formats – Betamax and VHS. My husband and I went Beta and unfortunately lost in the great videotape wars. Betamax eventually went the way of the Dodo bird. We keep an old Beta player around because of the hundreds of dollars I have invested in old movies, but it’s relegated to the most un-used room in our house.

I’m worrying about that today as I try to decide what kind of device to buy so that I can begin reading e-books, and as I have no intention of reading entire books on my desktop (been there, done that), I’ll be buying something portable. And the more I get into it, the more confusing and difficult my decision becomes – everything you’ll read below is entirely new to me, and unless you’ve got one of these devices, it’s likely new to you too. While PDA’s (personal digital assistants) provide the greatest coverage in terms of the platforms sold by most mainstream publishers and e-bookstores (Adobe, Microsoft Reader, and even Mobipocket), my eyesight is horrendous and I cannot imagine reading a book off a small screen even though others seem to have no trouble doing so – and apparently aren’t annoyed by constant scrolling or whatever it is you have to do to advance the text. At the other end of the spectrum are tablet p.c.’s, but they cost more than many laptop computers. Well, what about a dedicated e-book reader? And this is where things become problematical.

It’s true that not all PDA’s have itsy-bitsy screens, but the larger screens are accompanied by hefty pricetags and even these larger screens are far smaller than the dedicated readers. The iPAQ with the largest screen, for instance, offers view space about 3/4 the size of the largest reasonably priced dedicated reader, and is a $500+ purchase. In my younger days I was very much a Day-Runner person and if I still had a "real" job I’d probably be addicted to a PDA, but not so in my current life style. No PDA, no Blackberry, no laptop – just a cell phone and iPOD.

As for dedicated e-book readers, the Cybook crosses most platforms (but not Adobe…they’ve hopes for Reader), and while its screen size is a whopping 10 inches on the diagonal (not much smaller than a magazine), it also weighs more than two pounds and costs a prohibative $400 – I could buy a refurbished laptop for that amount. The Hiebook, at $250, offers substantial power and memory. With bad hands and wrists as a result of years of computer work, it would be perfect for me in terms of weight ( 8.8 oz.) and screen size (5.6 inches on the diagonal). This Korean invention is slightly less than twice as expensive as a reader with similar dimensions – but the less expensive version weighs twice as much and offers only half the memory. Were I to buy the Hiebook, though, I’m faced with the fact that its technology is unique. While most e-book publishers provide e-books available on this platform, most e-book stores and mainstream publishers do not. That could easily change if more people discover the product and use it, but if they don’t, I’m not only limited in the short run, but, like the Rocket Reader, the product itself may become the next Betamax. And then, that final option – the less expensive but much heavier eBookwise, with a screen size of 5 inches on the diagonal and price tag of $130 – is actually the old Rocket, put out by a new company that I am assured is adding print publishers daily (it too has its own platform) and has no intention of going out of business (although, does anybody in business ever intend to fail?). But the continuing trend in consumer electronics is toward smaller and smaller devices; I wonder whether or not dedicated readers have a real future.

Those of us who love books are constantly stymied by what’s in print and what’s not. I’d hoped the POD concept would solve that, but it seems to be an idea whose time has not (yet) come, while the e-book idea is in the here and now. Will I ever be able to simply download every book – new, old, and never OOP – whenever I want? I don’t know, but I’ve pretty much run out of room to store books, and until our daughter goes off to college in 2010, I may need to take drastic measures and purge lesser keepers to compensate if I want to continue buying books. That’s a frightening prospect, and if, by storing ebooks on my huge hard drive and reading them via a reader I can avoid that, I’d be happier. Sigh…what’s a bookie to do? I’ll let you know when I decide.

Hearing from those of you who read e-books would probably help.

Confoundedly yours, Laurie Likes Books

I read something on Kathryn Anne Dubois’ website that made my jaw drop and the great big light bulb go on over my head; that erotic romances appear to exclusively feature dominant heroes. Wow. What an insight! Is that the reason so many people love them and so many people hate them? And is that why I’ve ended up in Romantica, both as a reader and a writer?

I know I love those old-fashioned barely-housebroken alpha heroes, and I know they aren’t everybody’s cup of tea. They’re not politically correct. They’re not particularly up to the feminist line. They have flaws and those flaws are right up in plain sight from the first time they come on the scene.

That’s why I like them. They’re strong enough to go by their own values instead of what Nice People think they should do. They’re honest enough to be who they are, flaws and all, instead of hiding the dark side so it can come as a nasty shock later. And most importantly, they’re not mean bullies. The alpha hero uses his strength and his leadership abilities to protect and care for others, not to push them around and abuse them.

(Yes, we’ve all seen the Bad Wanna-be Alpha who’s really a misogynistic SOB the heroine should drop-kick straight to the curb, but I’m talking about the Good Alphas.)

The alpha hero can be guaranteed to make the heroine furious, which makes for a fun story. If two perfect people meet and are in perfect agreement all the time, what kind of story is that? I want to see the clash of the Titans! I want to see Mr. Unmovable Object meet Ms. Irresistible Force!

Alphas are strong characters who create instant drama and I find them infinitely appealing to read and write about. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, I don’t think anybody’s indifferent to the alpha hero. I can’t bring to mind any example of a romance that featured an alpha that was too boring to read. There were some who I could never forgive and didn’t think the heroine should have, either, but they didn’t bore me.

What do you think? Are alphas boring? Out-dated? Or the stuff of molten-lava hot romantic fantasy?

Writing has, unfortunately, started to ruin reading for me. Not always and hopefully not forever, but I see a definite decline in my reading for pleasure appetite since I started this writing gig.

I used to read everything and anything I could get my hands on. When I first fell for romance, I read them voraciously. Constantly. Couldn’t get enough, and every romance I read fueled the fire for me to write more, write better, stretched my imagination and inspired me.

And then something changed. I’d like to say it’s because my productivity went up, writing-wise, and something had to give. But that’s not exactly true. I’m a fast reader, so the couple of hours spent reading wouldn’t kill my writing time. Not anymore than staring blankly into space or watching some mindless TV show.

I think what happened is that I’d learned ‘the rules.’ Now, you can argue that knowing the rules before you can break them is the key to being a good writer. I’m not sure I believe that anymore (although this could be a growing pains type of thing). I was much happier as both a reader and a writer before I knew the rules because I was reading authors who didn’t follow rules. For example, a few of my favorite authors are head-hoppers. It’s something I used to do in my writing, and something I never even noticed until it was pointed out to me. But once it was, my reading went something like this…

She changed POV’s. Again. And Again. She’s breaking rules. Why can’t I break rules?

And so it goes. As time went on, I found authors who wrote athletes and rock stars and actors even though those topics are on the forbidden, no-editor-will-ever-touch-you-if-you-write- this, list. So I found myself increasingly annoyed with both people on lists who ranted about rules and with authors who broke them. Mainly, because I was told I wasn’t allowed to break them, that only established authors could get away with rule breaking. And that little voice in the back of my head would not shut up whenever I opened a book.

This trend followed me into other genres too, where, once again, the rules didn’t seem to matter. I’d hear agent/editor voices in my head – not realistic, we just bought something similiar, too many characters. I started seeing ‘rules’ in neon, flashing-light form: WARNING: BACKSTORY DUMP or, FLASHBACK AHEAD.

Apparently, both are no-no’s in the mystical kingdom of rules. Apparently, many bestsellers, romance and otherwise, have a plethora of both, and I used to enjoy both exposition and flashback scenes.

(The voices are getting louder…)

So I ask, when does analyzing stop and enjoyment begin? Is it possible, or is this an occupational hazard? Because now, this analysis has carried over to my own writing, and I have book reviewers voices in my head, can almost picture them looking over my shoulder: Oh look, another Navy SEAL with a tortured past. Another heroine who did something stupid. I’d never act that way in real life.

Argument from self: It’s not real life. It’s fantasy.

Argument from evil voice inside head: Mrs. Giggles thinks that argument’s weak and is ruining the genre. And she makes a compelling argument.

How do I stop the voices and get back to my happy place of writing? Can I get around the whole, you-can’t-please-everyone-all-the-time, syndrome? It’s getting too crowded in my head – the rule mongers, book reviewers, editor/agent comments – well, you get the picture.

I think Stephen King found the answer for me. In On Writing, he ponders the person he calls the Ideal Reader:

Do all opinions weigh the same?…If you’re writing primarily for one person besides yourself, I’d advise you to pay very close attention to that person’s opinion. And if what you hear makes sense, then make the changes. You can’t let the whole world into your story, but you can let in the ones that matter most. And you should… Call that one person the Ideal Reader. He or she is going to be in your writing room all the time: in the flesh once you open the door and let the world back in to shine on the bubble of your dream, in spirit during the sometimes troubling and often exhilarating first draft, when the door is closed.

Repeat after him: You can’t let the whole world into your story.

I think the voices just stopped. And maybe one day, I’ll actually get back to becoming someone’s Ideal Reader too.