Romancing the Blog | Romance Authors and Readers Who Blog

You all remember that movie? The one with Lindsay Lohan before she was strangely blond, uber skinny, and the media was trying to convince all of us that made her ultra sexy? Uh, but I digress…

Mean Girls the movie was about a group of popular and yeah, mean, girls. They said and did bad things to others, but in general they tried to be sneaky about it–they didn’t as a rule tromp up to the PA system and announce all their issues with everyone else in the school. Manners of some twisted sort or fear of social suicide, I’m not sure, but generally when women have something snide, insulting, and catty to say about another we do it in our small private groups and let it “leak” out into the world. We’re fun that way.

Which brings me to the real topic today–reviews.

I am sure you have all noticed the growth of what have been termed “Mean Girl Review Sites” (and not just by me–remember those little groups that “leak” their real feelings). They vary by site and by reviewer and probably by mood from snarky to condescending to just plain ole obnoxious, and they attract big followings. This alone is interesting, but recently I noticed that the readers of said blogs/sites are joining in the fun with total abandon. Many trying to outdo the other in their ability to tear apart books and in some cases authors while gathering up the accolades for their wit from the rest of the pack.

So, here is my question for you. Is this rude? The Internet most certainly gives a sense of anonymity, but come on, we all know those authors Google themselves, or if they don’t they have a friend who will stumble upon the site and scurry back to said author with tales of their slaughter. So, knowing that, is chatting in the open, slicing and dicing a book and the author, rude? Or is it somehow part of what the author agreed to when she put that book out there for public consumption? Would you make these same comments to the author’s face? (Please know I am NOT recommending that.) Is there something about the Internet that makes us braver, ruder, what ever you would term it–and which is it? Brave? Honest? Rude? Good? Bad? What????

I’ll be honest, I’m a bit on the fence on this one. On the one hand I despise reading a review or a comment that is obviously nothing more than an attempt to show how smart and witty the writer of the review/comment is–especially since it is at the cost of someone else. But I have no problem with a rough review. It’s all about the tone for me. It’s the difference between a wolf hunting down and eating a hapless rabbit because he’s hungry, and my well-fed husky finding a nest of baby bunnies and tossing them in air with abandon. I guess it’s the abandon I object to.

And, I will also admit, that while reading a review of a book/author recently that was being tossed about, a deep sympathy pierced me. I have never read this author’s books, I don’t know this author, but much like I would feel if I saw a group of bullying girls picking on one with knock-knees and braces, I wanted to rush in and protect her. But say what? Naughty, naughty?
So there you have it. Back to the original–is this wrong or are we authors just way too thin skinned?

My love of all things nautical, not to mention all things Johnny Depp, means that the Pirates of the Caribbean movies are high on my list of favorite films. With swashbuckling and pirates, a spunky damsel, curses and treasure, plus some great one-liners, these movies are summer escapism at its best. Pick up some popcorn and a soda, and you’re all set for a few hours of fluffy entertainment. And yet, as amusing as these movies are, there’s one running joke that makes my inner-agent cringe: the repeated reference to the pirate code being “guidelines.” Apparently, in Captain Jack Sparrow’s world, guidelines are optional. In my world, however, guidelines are the rules by which we live.

Agents put out guidelines for a very straightforward reason: we want what we want. Guidelines tell writers what an agent is looking for, from the genres they represent to their preferred query format. Writers can easily eliminate agents who aren’t looking for their type of book by checking their guidelines ahead of time, saving themselves the effort and cost of submitting to an inappropriate person. They can also learn whether an agent wants a synopsis or pages, e-mail or snail mail, and how long they might take to respond. Guidelines are a gift that helps the writer along, pointing them in the right direction so they can narrow down their options and concentrate on agents interested in their type of material, and telling them what they can expect in return.

Yet writers constantly ignore submission guidelines, or fail to look for them at all. Each day I receive direct queries despite our clear instructions, paper submissions though we only read electronic, complete manuscripts that I never requested. A small percentage of all submissions fly directly in the face of our guidelines, sending the message that the writer either wants to stand out by going against our wishes (which ultimately makes them memorable, though in a negative way), or that they did not take the trouble to find out what we wanted.

Oh, what’s does it matter, you might think. How hard is it to read the occasional paper query, after all? And the truth is, it’s not hard. I can read on paper as easily as on my computer screen, and I can reply to queries just as quickly as our manuscript coordinator. My schedule might be busy, but none of these small tasks take that much time from my day. They require very little effort.

But the fact is that I generally don’t make that effort, nor do I take the time to respond to submissions that ignore our guidelines. Not because I’m being lazy or childish, but because I already know that writer does not interest me, regardless of the quality of their manuscript. Writers who don’t bother to look up submission guidelines tell me something about their work habits right from the start. If they can’t manage to find our guidelines, they might not manage to make deadlines, either. If they cannot put their best effort and attention into finding representation, will they put that effort into revisions for an editor? Or will they come up short, leaving me to make their excuses or clean up their mess?

This might seem like a harsh response, but the fact is that agents look for more than a great project when they read submissions; they look for writers with whom they can build a working relationship. We want writers who have strong skills and exciting ideas, but who also pay attention to details, turn work in on time, and take pride in their work. And let’s face it, competition is steep in this business. For every writer who doesn’t bother to do a bit of research and check out our guidelines, there are twenty-five who do. Your query is your introduction to your potential agent, so make the best possible first impression. A clean, articulate submission is vital, but so is a business-like approach. Making a point to do your homework and follow guidelines will eliminate needless distractions in your query, and allow the agent to focus their attention where you want it: on your fabulous story.

It’s started already – my daughter’s not even three, but she knows who Cinderella is already. (I mean, how could she miss her? Disney princesses are everywhere – cell phones, dishes, sheets, probably toilet brushes.) In fact, up until a few months ago, that’s what she called dresses in general — if it had a skirt with any kind of twirl to it, it was a “Cinderella”.

I don’t really mind. I was raised with them, too. I have a real fondness for Sleeping Beauty because I love the music and the fantasy hair, but I love Snow White and Cinderella, too. But I like the new generation a little better, to be honest. Let’s face it, Cinderella doesn’t do much to earn her happy ending, despite her virtue, thanks to a convenient fairy godmother, and Sleeping Beauty sleeps through half of her story. Snow White, too – aside from homemaking for the dwarves, she pretty much lies there waiting to be kissed.

Ariel, now – she had some choices to make, and hard ones. (Which is not to say she didn’t get herself in trouble in the first place.) Jasmine helps save Aladdin, which is a nice twist on the fairy tale rescue. And then there’s Belle, who’s not a princess at all, although you wouldn’t know it based on the array of toys and books out there. The default Belle is the “after” model, the one who got her man (sans fur) and her castle, too. But she definitely earns her happy ending, when you think of what it takes to tame her savage beast (and the fate she avoided with Gaston).

Still, the final outcome is the appeal, isn’t it? The tiara and the wardrobe and the castle, if not the prince himself? (Come on, Cinderella’s Prince Charming is kind of a nonentity.) It’s not really about journey (especially when you’re not even in first grade yet) but about the prize at journey’s end.

How does this relate to romance? Well, the fairy tale ending is still what so many of us are looking for it, isn’t it? And for good or bad, that fairy tale ending isn’t just about the man, or the idea of true love, but about security, and sometimes the privilege. Take a trip to Regency England in almost any of the historicals set in that period and you’re not going to find the happy couple living in a cottage, or a tiny flat in London. No, we’re talking about nobility (the economic class, not the virtue) and wardrobe allowances and town homes with staff. On the contemporary side, there are the billionaire and tycoon heroes, which don’t need much explanation.

It’s not a bad thing. If someone handed me a castle tomorrow (or least a nice big mortgage-free house) I wouldn’t turn up my nose. Who doesn’t want financial security? But it’s a little weird to suspect that the idea of the happily-ever-after is not tied only to the discovery of true love, but to the idea of a conflict-free, conveniently solvent future.

I wonder, too, what the romance readers of tomorrow will want. Because Bratz dolls are just as popular as their Disney counterparts. I won’t turn this into a rant (I swear – I think), but while some people question the value of “princess indoctrination,” I have to say that I have much more trouble with the idea of preteen girls with ubersexual pouts, a crack whore’s wardrobe, an obnoxious sense of entitlement when it comes to bling, and an encouraged diva mentality. The Disney girls, and their mirrors in romance, may enjoy life at the castle (or the rake’s estate, or the billionaire’s houseboat), but even when they’re not what I would always call active participants in their own stories, they’re at least loving, intelligent, generous women.

That’s the kind of “princess” I want to see in a romance – and the kind I want to encourage my daughter to be. How about you? Do you have a problem with “princess culture”?

Recently, a friend and I were discussing trends in the romance industry. She would like to see an upswing in historicals, specifically, Victorian-set historicals. “But,” she says, “historicals seem to have gone either super-sweet, or super-erotic. I want something in the middle, like they used to be.”

Well, maybe eventually…

“No,” she said. “Because erotic romance is here to stay. No matter what people say, it’s NOT a trend.”

Now, people have been talking about how erotic romance is nothing but a fad. A trend that will eventually fade away. And in a way, I guess I thought the same thing. Until she got me thinking by saying this:

“Erotic romance is addictive. It’s like a drug. Or adrenaline rushes. Once you start reading it, it’s hard to go back to sweet,” she says. “Like in high school health class, where the teacher tells you that once you go all the way with a boy, there’s no going back to holding hands, or even heavy petting.”

Er…great. Thanks for taking me back to the trauma of co-ed sex education with the creepy lech of a teacher.

Anyway, I scoffed. And then I started thinking about my reading preferences. And you know…while I don’t necessarily agree with the “addictive drug” thing, I suspect there might be something to the “it’s hard to go back to sweet” thing. Because I’ve been gravitating toward more sensual, sexier stories, and now, if I read a “tamer” book, I get antsy, wondering where the sex scene is and wanting the hero and heroine to jump into bed already.

Is it possible that the “high” we get from reading erotic romance has changed our preferences for content…permanently?

Now, before you freak out and start screaming, “OMG, Larissa Ione just said that erotica is like heroin!” that’s not what I’m saying.

I’m saying that reading or watching sensual material does cause physiological reactions. Our breathing and heart rate increases. Our pupils dilate. Blood pressure shoots up. We experience a rush of endorphins. In essence, we feel good. (Conjuring Dr. Ruth here – “If it feels good, do it!”) These are the same responses that lead adrenaline junkies to higher mountains. Steeper ski slopes. Scarier movies.

Think about it. Once someone has climbed Mt. Everest, hiking Nobb Hill out behind the house just isn’t going to do it for him anymore – at least, not in the same way. Fans of horror movies laugh at films that scared the crap out of people in the 50’s. They want more. More gore. Higher body count. More creative ways to die. Which isn’t to say they can’t appreciate old horror and suspense, but it no longer scares them. They don’t get that “high.”

Maybe romance has taken the same permanent turn. Fans of erotic romance want more. They might be able to enjoy and appreciate milder stuff, but maybe they aren’t getting that “rush” from it anymore. (Note that I say “fans” because not everyone who reads an erotic romance likes them and is instantly “addicted.” Some people, like my friend, for example, are uncomfortable with the way graphic material makes them feel – much like the way skydiving makes me uncomfortable. Adrenalin rush? Try mind-numbing terror that isn’t pleasant AT ALL. She doesn’t get erotic romance, I don’t get jumping out of planes for fun. Different strokes, and all that.)

Let me be clear though; I still get the warm fuzzies and a certain rush from the romance element alone – I need the emotions and relationships that are the backbone of the romance genre. I still need to fall in love with the hero. But I’ve noticed that the more I read, the more I want a very sexy story to accompany the romance.

And again, I can appreciate a less-sexy book on its other merits, and some of my favorite books contain no sex at all. But I would still say that 80% of my romance reading material is of the steamier variety, which is a big change from just a year or two ago.

So the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that erotic romance is here to stay, that it’s not a trend that’s going away. In fact, the only changes I can see happening is that eventually some erotic lines/imprints will fold, that maybe some publishers will slow down their production — but not because people are burnt out. If erotic romance slows down, it’ll be because readers will grow tired of the same old, same old. They’ll want more creativity. Edgier sex. Better marketing. Better writing. Basically, higher mountains, steeper slopes, and faster cars. And the publishers and authors who give them that will stay strong.

But truly, I think we’re on an erotic ride that won’t be coming to a stop anytime soon, if ever.

Trend? Maybe. But I don’t think so.

What do you think? Fade away or here to stay?

I’ve been blogging for about a year now. Not because I felt I had all that much really worth blogging about, but because I was guilted into it, truth be told. For months, I’d been hearing from every corner of the romance universe that in this insanely competitive marketplace, writing the best book you can isn’t enough anymore. It’s all about forging that bond with your readers. Blogging, “everybody” said, would get me there.

Fine, fine, fine I muttered, and got me a blog. Not that I really bought into the idea that my success as an author depended on how well I hawked myself, but I finally figured, what did I have to lose by trying? And for the first few months, I discovered I had a lot more to say than I thought I did. Okay, I enjoyed it. Happy now, all ye who gave me grief about being out of the loop?

Except, as I said, it’s been a year. And here’s what I’ve learned:

1. Blogging really is as time-consuming as I feared it would be. A decent entry takes me a good hour or more to compose and edit. Oddly, readers expect me to be funny. Funny ain’t easy. If I blog at least three times a week, that’s three hours I’m not writing. Or reading. Considering how challenging it is for a columnist to churn out a piece three or five times a week (and they get paid for it!), is it even realistic to expect an author trying to juggle family and deadlines to spew out something clever and pithy nearly that often?

2. After a year, I’ve kind of run out of things to say. New stuff, anyway. Really, there’s very little happening on the industry front that warrants daily commentary, let alone in my personal life. Trust me on this.

3. I could say my stats are up by 200%, which sounds impressive. Until you take into account how pathetic they were before. We’re talking 65 or so visitors a day — now, not then. Many of whom are looking for sissy mama’s boys, Prada panties, snake noises, and whether or not Lauren Sanchez is pregnant. Again. And of those 65 visitors, many are the same people checking to see if I’ve updated my blog. Not that I don’t love you all, but if, out of a thousand visitors a month, only a hundred or so are clicking on the Books page. . .hmm. My web addy has been published in my books for years; I sell a fair number of copies of each title. And yet, readers are not exactly stampeding my website. Or my blog.

4. But then, this ties in with what I’m reading all over Cyber Romanceland, which is that – contrary to current Marketing wisdom – most readers are not interested in getting to know the author and hence do not seek out their blogs. They don’t want to be our friends, they just want to read our books. In fact, many readers feel the more they know about an author personally – the more real she becomes to them – the harder it is to separate her from her stories.

Marketing? Are you listening?

5. Except for Big Name Authors, writers’ blogs generally seem to attract other writers more than readers. Many readers, if they visit blogs at all, are more interested in other readers’ musings than authors’.

6. Blogs are like booksignings: The more books you already sell, the more people come to your signings. If you’re a peon, fuggedaboutit.

So. Opinions? Experiences? As a reader, do you prefer reader or author blogs? Has an author’s blog ever influenced you to buy a book (or not)? Or, if you do visit author blogs, are you more likely to visit those of authors whose work you’re already familiar with?

And authors, do you find more writers than readers visit your blog? If you’ve been blogging for a while, are you still finding it easy to come up with something fresh on a regular basis, or is the whole thing feeling more forced than it used to?

Does blogging work as a promotional tool, or should we (authors) not even bother burdening it with that kind of expectation?

Every year, the last week in September is the official national celebration of Banned Books, sponsored by American Booksellers for Free Expression, the American Library Association, the Association of American Publishers, the American Society of Journalists and Authors, and the National Association of College Stores, and endorsed by the Center for the Books of the Library of Congress.

Bookstores and libraries find this week a popular promotion. According to the ABA’s site, “[Readers] are surprised when they learn that there are hundreds of book challenges every year–and that some of their favorites are on the list!” Maybe it’s the inherent rebellion in all of us. Nothing makes us want to read a book more than being told that we shouldn’t. I get such a kick out of some of the Banned Books Week buttons and other paraphernalia, like the ones that say, “I F***ing Love Banned Books!” But, cheek aside, the true message of this week is much simpler: you celebrate freedom by reading banned books.

My fiancé remembers complaining to his mother about being assigned Catcher in the Rye in high school. She told him that he should feel lucky; when she was in school, she would have been kicked out for reading it.

While most of us have heard about the challenges and occasionally even “burnings” and “book-cuttings” visited upon the Harry Potter novels (#1 most challenged book series this century!) because of their supposed “promotion of the occult,” are you aware of the ten most commonly banned or challenged books so far this century? Did you know that Captain Underpants makes the list? (No! Anything but laughter and unmentionables!) How about at title that hits closer to home for romance readers, such as Forever by Judy Blume? (Now in its third decade of being both challenged and adored!) Number twenty on the list from 1990-2000 is the romance-heavy Earth’s Children Series by Jean M. Auel.

I remember wanting to read Auel’s Clan of the Cave Bear as a “tween.” My mother, concerned that some of the material was too adult for me, read through it first, then gave it to me with the instructions that I could come and talk to her if I had any questions about what happened to Ayla. (She was specifically concerned about the rape scenes.) This is the appropriate way for a parent to monitor a child’s reading. Knowledge and discussion; not an angry mob congregating outside a school or library to insist that books be removed and burned, as happened in this chilling case in Norwood, Colorado in 2005. A school book, Bless Me, Ultima, was deemed inappropriate for freshman reading, but instead of having the copies that were confiscated from the students donated elsewhere or sold to help recoup the cost, the school superintendent agreed to the request when “the parents approached the superintendent and asked that they be able to burn the books instead of the school janitor destroying them.” The book contains some light profanity and, since it deals with racism, also contains some characters who never do see past their prejudices.

And yet, the real danger is not and angry mob jumping on the bandwagon and storming principal’s offices or staging book burnings outside of Barnes & Noble. The real danger is that under the pressure of such groups, schools and libraries will quietly remove any book they feel may bring them under scrutiny from their shelves. Booksellers, afraid of the fallout, may refuse to stock sexy romances. (Some already do.) Writers, pressured by publishers to “reach the largest market possible” will censor themselves, veering away from the truth in order to capture only the inoffensive. And children, who are most often the target of these efforts at censorship, will grow up into adult readers who think that only certain things should be “allowed” in books.

Read the rest of this entry �

by Nancy Henderson

I’m really mad. I know you’re probably sick of articles on improving the image of romance, but I have to vent. As a romance writer and a published author with books which range from very sensual to bordering erotic, I hate some of the comments I receive about romance novels. Here are some of my favorites:

1. When are you going to write a real novel?

Gee, I just spent eight weeks drafting this one. I spent another four months fleshing out the plot, putting in enough conflict to make life as hard as possible for my characters, researching about parole officers, wagon trains, guns used in Colonial times, whatever. I line edited until I practically require bifocals. I received rejections, pitched it live, finally received a contract, then edited and polished some more. I proofed galleys, I promoted, advertised, did signings, got some really good reviews, even received a few royalty checks on it, but it’s not a real novel?

Blink. Blink. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. If it wasn’t a real novel, did I just go through all that for nothing?

2. So you must have a lot of kinky sex in order to write about it so much.

Yes, I write about sex, but there is a plot in there too. And the sex isn’t just slammed (pardon the pun) in there at random. It has to advance the plot or characterization or cause conflict in some way. Sex is as natural to a relationship as breathing is to life. However, I also include murder
in some of my novels. No one has ever asked me if I’ve ever killed anyone. However, after hearing this question.

3. “Oh, romances,” they say after learning what I write. “I don’t read those. They’re all the same.”

Really? Which ones were your referring to? Regencies, erotic, erotica, paranormal, historical, contemporary, suspense, paranormal suspense, erotic contemporary, gothic, sci-fi? I wasn’t quite sure which one you meant. And if you don’t read them, how do you know they’re all the same?

I’m sorry if I sound sarcastic. I don’t mean to be. Well, maybe just a little.

(Evil grin) But I’m still mad. Especially after nine times out of ten these people to on to tell me, “Oh, I don’t read. I just like to watch TV.” Yeah. Thought so. Excuse me while I get back to my writing.

*For information on how you can submit to Open Blog Night, click here.

My life these past few months has been anything but leisurely. While I’ve learned that sleep isn’t all that important, I’ve also learned that spending extra hours on the freeway really cuts into my reading and writing time, and those long moments that I should spend daydreaming have been reduced. I have to pay attention while on the road because, let’s face it, people don’t know how to drive. “It’s okay,” I keep saying, “it’s all for a good cause.”

Yeah. Uh-huh. Working for the man will never be considered a good cause, though my older cat helpfully notes that the expensive cat food reduces her furball problem. She, apparently, is leading the life of restful bliss that I was supposed to lead. She likes to rub it in.

As does my husband.

As the tensions have increased, I’ve been slipping ever-greater number of comfort reads out of the garage and back into the house. You know how it goes: an Amanda Quick here, a Jennifer Crusie there. Hmmm, maybe I’m in the mood for Linda Howard. Okay fine, stop pouting Anyone But You, since I let Absolutely, Positively back inside, you might as well come, too. Yes, Something Wicked, join the gang. You’re going to be needed at some point, I’m sure.

While I like to consider myself an eclectic reader, in moments of stress, I turn to my best friend books, or sometimes a whole slew of old friends by a single author. Why not reread the whole “Miss Sydney” series by Dawn Aldridge Poore (it’s relatively short, after all)? If I’m going to reread The Black Sheep, I might as well give myself a treat and enjoy

The Nonesuch

as well. It’s smart and funny, and I like smart and funny.

It is the way of things that one old favorite leads to another. And another. Rather like potato chips, another item I’m fond of, especially in times of stress. Actually, any potato product will do; chips are merely a crunchy, crispy, salty version of nature’s perfect food.

My comfort reads all seem to have certain shared characteristics. First, of course, they’re romances. With an exception of To Kill A Mockingbird (and Nine Stories and Of Human Bondage and a few others), all my favorite books are romances. My comfort movies are also romantic. I’m seeing a pattern here. Should probably explore this psychological tidbit, but maybe later.

A second thing about my comfort reads is that I often own multiple copies. Oh there are some (hello, Michelle Martin!) that cannot be duplicated. Out-of-print is the dirtiest phrase in the English language. I have a nasty habit of forcing my favorites on innocent friends. What with one thing and the other, I found my copy of

Open Season

in a friend’s reading stack. It was, like, way down in the bottom third. Rest assured that it was on top when I was done with that pile o’books.

Another thing about my comfort reads is that they’re like my flannel pajamas: soft and floppy. No stiffness, no starch, generally, they’re falling open due to lack of elastic(ity). There are strange little folds and wrinkles, an occasional ink stain, a rip, a tear, and sometimes unidentifiable substances. You know how it goes: don’t ask, don’t tell.

Some books naturally fall open to specific pages, and my eyes hone in on specific paragraphs. Particular sentences. Phrases. I’m not sure if this is legal or not, but I have comfort words. Actual words that, when I seem them nestled in the page, make me smile. Yes, it’s true, I don’t get invited to many dinner parties. I can’t imagine why.

I thought I’d do a list of my ten favorite comfort reads, but it turns out that ten is too few. Twenty is too few. Possibly even a hundred. It’s a bit like looking up and picking out a favorite cloud. Sometimes the heavy steel-gray appeals, sometimes the puffy, whimsical poofs are just the thing. Of course, there are times when it’s the fog that fits the bill. Or a bright, broiling afternoon. In other words, why limit yourself to the few when it’s all about mood?

I will, however, leave with a quote. Not a particular quote, but one from the book on the top of the pile that was closest when I was looking for a book on the top of a pile. It’s the sort of thing that always suits me just fine, no matter when, no matter what:

“Yes, my lord. Quite recovered. I bounce back from ordeals very well, I must say. Why, here it is, only a few hours after finding myself ruined, yet I do not feel any of the remorse and despair one would expect after sacrificing one’s precious virginity to the Beast of Blackthorne Hall.”

Effie was horrified. “Harriet.”

Harriet smiled sweetly. “Well, it’s not like I was planning to do anything all that interesting with it, anyway. Therefore I am not overly concerned about the loss.”

(Ravished, Amanda Quick, can be read a million times, easy)

My girlfriend and I try to hook up for lunch once a month to solve the biggest issues facing romance today. It’s a blast, because each of us loves to argue the unpopular side of a debate. In fact, we play advocate for Old Scratch so often, we’re thinking of quitting our writing jobs to become defense attorneys.

Our favorite deliberation, followed closely by the “when does erotica become porn” conundrum, is this:

If the hero and heroine aren’t engaged or married by the epilogue, is it really a romance?

I say nope. No way. For me, a romance follows this simple form:

1. Boy meets girl.
2. Girl kicks boy to curb.
3. Boy — figuratively and/or literally on his knees — learns he can love without losing his intrinsic masculinity.
4. Boy and girl get engaged, get married, or at very least make it clear they’ll probably wed after they’ve lived together a couple years.

I don’t wanna know for nothin’ else.

Oh. Except the love story has to be the stuff — front and center throughout the novel, with nothing diluting it, not plot considerations, not secondary themes, nothing.

I’m preety certain I’m not alone in my belief, because this is the form most readers I know tell me they expect when they pick up a novel published as romance.

Which isn’t to say “present day romance” doesn’t owe props to not-necessarily-Happy-Ever-After styles and influences such Medieval works like the Carmina Burana and other poetry and songs tripped from the minstrel’s tongue to the scribe’s quill, later to become romantic legend.

Also, it’s impossible to read romance and not sketch a bow to Hardy, the Brontës, dear Auntie Jane, et al. We might even force a grudging nod to Stevenson and Dickens.

And, even though currently some romance fiction novelists toy with the “soft” or “open” happy endings of chick-lit and women’s fiction, if the HEA doesn’t include the hero and heroine pledging troth or making it legal – and the love story isn’t central — it ain’t a romance in my book.

Are you with me or agin me? What makes today’s romance a romance? And what’s Happily Ever After got to do with it?

One evening while at RWA in Atlanta, I hung out at the bar with a lovely group of writers. I know. Huge surprise.

One gal mentioned that she worked with a critique group but was shaking her head in bemusement because one of her critique partners, who normally writes romantic suspense, had suddenly decided she was going to write a paranormal because that genre was hot. This gal was shaking her head because she knew that her friend didn’t even like reading paranormals—so why would she like writing one?

I chuckled but to be honest, it’s not the first time I’ve heard this kind of story—an unpublished writer wanting to jump on the trend train because maybe if she did, that would be the magic formula to open the publishing door for her.

I’ll tell you right now. If your heart is not in the book, it won’t be any good and it won’t matter whether it’s paranormal, erotica, or whatever the next hot trend is going to be (and for me, my bets are on SF romance and sexy/sensual historical romances being the next “hot” thing).

As a writer, it’s the kiss of death to jump on the trend train just because it’s at the station because eventually, by the time some writers are ready to climb aboard, the trend train is heading out. And in my mind, that’s exactly what is happening to single-title paranormals right now (and will also probably be happening for erotica in the near future because publishers like to ride the hot trend until the market is glutted).

The paranormal trend train is leaving the station.

To clarify, I’m not talking about the writers who got into the paranormal market four or five years ago when the trend was first ramping up. Or even a year ago when it was still hot hot. They’ll be fine because they already have a solid fan base.

I’m talking about writers trying to break into the single-title paranormal romance market today. It’s hard. Really hard. Why? Because the editors have seen a lot of stuff—most of which is now derivative of the leaders in the genre. I’ve passed on five paranormals in the last 2 months because although well written, there was no unique hook or original world building. It just felt too familiar. And Editors feel the same.

The market is still hot for them and a really extraordinary paranormal can still sell right now but you have to remember, anything bought today won’t hit the shelves until spring 2008. Will paranormals still be hot then? Maybe. I’m no seer.

But as I’m trying to illustrate, it’s a compelling reason not to write to the current trend because the best place to be as a writer is slightly ahead of the curve for the next hot thing. Just ask my author Linnea Sinclair. Two years ago, I didn’t have an easy time selling her science fiction romances but now sales are up, she’s won a RITA, SF editors are asking for more SF romance. It’s building.

But if it isn’t your passion, I wouldn’t be leaping aboard this trend train.