The other day I bought a book by one of my Short List writers — people whose fiction I buy on sight. A writer makes my Short List because I’ve always loved everything she or he has written, and I’ve come to trust that I probably always will. I’ll buy a Short List writer’s book even if it has a setting or theme or subgenre I don’t usually enjoy; I’ll give it a shot out of trust for that particular writer.
So I started reading this book, which was the latest in a long series which I’ve been enjoying up to now, and it suddenly hit me that I didn’t care for it at all. And looking back, I realized that the same flaws which were annoying me so much in the book in my hands were also present in the earlier books.
It’s as though I’d spent all this time believing I was in love with this writer, only to suddenly snap out of it and realize it’d been infatuation all along. For the several years since my mom loaned me the first however many in the series, I’d been focusing on the good parts and how much fun I was having, and my bubbly, “Oh wow this is so cool!” feelings blinded me to the pretty major flaws the series has, or at least blunted the effects of those flaws so much that the coolness won.
Now, though, it’s like I’m looking at it clearly for the first time. The stories are all alike — she’s been telling the same tale over and over and over, with essentially the same characters. If you reduced each book to a half-page outline and replaced the character names with Bob and Mary, they’d be pretty much identical. The guys are major jerks, agressive and jealous and overbearing and smug about it. The girls all start out telling themselves how strong and independent they are, and their “character development” throughout the story always has them ending up with the “realization” that the right thing to do is surrender completely to these men who love them so much, stop their “selfish” struggle against someone who only wants them to be happy, and settle into their fluttery, admiring little mate role, The End. And of course, as the series goes on, each guy has to be bigger and badder and tougher and more dangerous than all the previous guys, so we’re at the point now (and actually have been for like ten books) where the whole Uber-Hero thing is just ludicrous.
The point isn’t the specifics, though, or whether or not this particular series is or isn’t enjoyable. The point I’m making is that I’ve had boyfriends like this.
You know, the kind of relationship where you’re swept up into the wonderful love and romance of it, all gleefully bouncy and OMGInLove!!! for however long, and then suddenly you wake up one morning and all the euphoria is gone and you’re looking at the guy and wondering what the heck you were thinking. You feel a crushing shame that your friends and family actually know that you thought you were in love with this jerk or idiot or whatever, and now that you’ve come to your senses, you’re sure they’re never going to let you live it down. That’s classic infatuation. Up until now, I thought it only happened with romantic relationships.
Sometimes a writer decides to try something different (which is certainly their right) and you just don’t like the new thing they’re into, so you move on. I imagine it works out, and they get new fans who are into the new thing as much as they lose old fans who aren’t. But that’s a different sort of situation.
In my case a couple of days ago, it wasn’t that the writer and I were slowly growing apart because she was heading into new territory I didn’t care to explore. This was a sudden falling out of love, almost exactly like falling out of love. I’m just as annoyed with myself, and just as embarassed that there are a few people around who know I used to love this writer and this series. And I feel like eating a lot of chocolate or something.
(Do you have any idea how much chocolate I could’ve bought with the money I’ve spent on these books?!)
Has this happened to anyone else? Or am I the only one who’s experienced a long infatuation with a writer’s work, and then a sudden and embarassing falling out of love?
Angie
No related posts.
I don’t think you fell out of love with that author either. You simply grew up.
Congratulations! Now, go out there and find a Real Man…uh, I mean, an author more suitable to your current stage of development. 
I have fallen out of love with several authors. Mostly, same reasons. Same plot, same type characters. Dialog tells the story. Boring.
I won’t name authors, but I wonder if talking about the same ones.
Kimber An, you smart girl! I was “in lurrrrve” twice with two spectacularly bad choices and wasted many years on each of them. When those relationships ended, I had tried everything I knew and the guys had effectively killed whatever good feelings I had had for them. Emotionally, I was done and felt nothing. Right before that, I felt sad as I realized that I would not look back on this time fondly, but that was pretty much it.
Finally, I wised up and realized that that excited feeling wasn’t what love was all about–and probably wasn’t love, exactly. More like need, and working out my own issues. Apparently I did, because I’ve now been married almost 9 yrs to a great guy, who is a wonderful husband and father, and–hey, no drama!
My parents had a good marriage, but my father died when I was young, leaving her with 14 children to raise alone. So I know about the poverty that comes with single parenthood, and the impact that can come with not having a father–for both sons and daughters. I’m grateful to have such a steady partner, and will do whatever it takes to make this work.
Now when it comes to books…. I have one author who, yeah, honestly, writes the same book over and over–or maybe the same couple of books. But the one type is just creepy enough that I put up with all the more cookie-cutter aspects. Some of the others, I’ve not been getting into lately. I feel bad about it, but I’m really trying to get through my TBR pile this yr., so I’m putting them up to swap. I did kind of “break up” with a mystery writer when the personal life of her character began to overshadow the mysteries in her books, and when she had to ask me to accept huge (to me) coincidences to keep all the family members heavily involved in each new plot. So I haven’t read her last 2 books (or maybe 3). But then I think, well, maybe I’ll try her latest…and to get its full effect, I’ll have to read the ones I skipped….
I’m beginning to see why I stayed with the losers so long…..
Not in an embarrassed way.
I’m a series reader, so yes, that dynamic happens: like this book by new author, like this one too, auto-buy, auto-buy, auto-buy, auto-buy, auto-buy, and that’s enough of that…
Perhaps, instead of like boyfriends, it’s more like friends: some friends you keep forever, some you mightn’t see for ten years, but when you do you like them as much as ever – and some friendships are of the moment – fun at the time, but when you’re not at the same school, or workplace anymore, you let them go without regret.
I think some authors are of the moment: you enjoy them very much for a particular time – and that’s okay.
The beauty of romance
is that there is enough variety
to give you what you need at that life stage.
My mom started reading novels with innocent heroines,
then she moved to mom’s and second chances at love.
Now she reads romances with mature heroines.
She tells me she can’t read the innocent heroine novels she once loved so much because she finds them ’silly.’
I don’t.
I like the first love stories
but I do find my heroines are getting older.
Hi, all. I have the same disenchanted feeling, only as a writer instead of a reader. I want to break out of the “and she lived happily ever after” because I know it’s not that way in truth, plus . . . it’s boring. But all of the writerly advice I get is about following the tip sheets for the genre, and that means . . . well, you know. What advice do you have for me? I’m ready to break out. Alexa
I’ve “left” a fair number of authors. I’ve also stopped watching a fair number of television shows. Or movie sequels. Tastes change, quality changes. I don’t regret the time I spent; there are always things to learn (even if it’s “Don’t do this.”)
Reading your comments reminded me strongly of an article that was in The Times on Saturday, Valentines Day, about being in love (http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/relationships/article5719906.ece). I know that is talking about human relationships rather than loving an author’s works. But Oh, the parallels….!
So now we know what we don’t want. What is it that we do want? I’m developing a protagonist right now who is not interested in being a martyr; on the other hand, she is interested in developing new roles for women in love. How should I go about working the right amount of romance into her soul without creating a wimpy sap? Alexa
Kimber An — right, it never was love in the first place; it was just infatuation. The problem is you can’t tell the difference when you’re in the middle of it. [laugh/flail]
Jenn — quite possibly. The one I’m referring to is quite popular. And hey, I’m sure she laughs all the way to the bank, you know? I’m more annoyed with myself here than anything else. The “awakening” was this major headdesk moment, you know?
Leah — right, when you know the shine is wearing off but you stick around anyway, it seems there’s a lot of habit or momentum at work, and a lot of it seems to be hope that the object of one’s attachment will improve at some point. [nod]
Marianne — there’ve been writers (and friends) whom I’ve slowly drifted away from, right. That’s not what happened here, though. It was very sudden, like I’d been squinting or something and suddenly opened my eyes and got a good, clear look for the first time. It’s hard experience to describe; I think maybe it can only be recognized. [ponder]
Kimber Chin — sure, our tastes often change and grow, or we’ll just get tired of something and want to move on. [nod]
Angie
Alexa — that’s another issue, but what the heck.
If you want to write within a genre, then yes, you’re best off following the rules, at least the unbreakable ones. And particularly when you’re an unknown newbie, publishers tend to be reluctant to take chances. There are some famous exceptions of course (Diana Gabaldon comes to mind right away) but it’s like winning the lottery — not something to count on. Within romance, one of the strongest rules is an HEA at the end, or at least a strong HFN.
I absolutely empathize with your desire to break out of the mold and do new things, though. I like trying new things myself, and get frustrated at times. Some of the more ossified rules can feel like they’re strangling your creativity, forcing you to tell stories which are much too much alike — like being required to use stencils when you want to draw freehand.
One thing to consider is writing in a different genre, but incorporating a strong romantic subplot. For example, if you write your story within the genre definition for Women’s Fiction instead of Romance, but include a romantic plotline within the book, you can have the love story turn out badly if you want, and let the overall storyline focus on what the protag learns from that experience, or whatever it is you have in mind. So the romantic plotline serves your story, but the story wouldn’t be A Romance.
Or if you choose a genre defined by its setting, such as SF or Fantasy, your main plot can still be a romance, so long as you’re following the SF or Fantasy genre conventions. Since you’re not writing in the romance genre, you’re not constrained by its rules, and you can write a romantic plotline where the protag doesn’t get the fairy-princessish HEA if you don’t want to, and people reading it for the SF or Fantasy (or whatever else) won’t mind the deviation, so long as you do a good job with the SF or Fantasy aspects.
Another option is to switch to the other side of the street.
If you have an interest in writing m/m or f/f romance, the romance genre over there is very similar to the het side, but the genre in its current form is new enough that the rules are… let’s say scratched in the dirt rather than cast in concrete. Or etched in titanium. [wry smile] You still have to be careful playing with your protag’s happy ending, but you can bend and shape the rules a bit more there than on the het side, if you really want to stick with some area of romance.
And of course, with Erotica, you can do just about anything so long as it’s sexy.
It’s a matter of flexing, and finding an area of the industry which will also flex in the direction you want it to. When it comes to the HEA expectation, mainstream het romance doesn’t flex much at all, but looking outside it, you might find an environment which is perfect for the story you want to tell.
Angie
Hi, Angie. You’re an obvious pro. I’m defnitely a newbie, but I have a powerful–and I’m most likely typical of newbies–to simply break every rule and do it MY WAY! When it comes to reading, however, I’m an old hat: I’m bragging, I know, but I’ve read thousands of HEA, and I really don’t want to write that way. Still, I know I must follow the rules, and I’m planning on it. I think I can distinguish myself by my style, anyway, and that will satisfy me–for a while. It’ll at least get me through my first romantic suspense trilogy, and then lord knows what might be up to trying.
You made an interesting note about erotica, too. The rules don’t apply? Hmmmmm. I’ll have to digest that. In a sense, the most boring material I’ve ever read has been erotica (except for Hustler Magazine, and that doesn’t count). I would personally find that the most difficult stuff to write because, it seems, the plot has been mined to death in most cases. I don’t want to appear narrow-minded, however, and seem as if I don’t think someone can come up with something new: I know it can happen.
Alexa — sorry I missed this one, but I’m just now noticing that comments have started nesting! [laugh/flail] Shows how observant I am.
Anyway, I remember when I started writing, I had very strong ideas of what I wanted to do and how I wanted to do it, and I resented anyone who told me I should follow the rules. I did a lot of writing which was completely unsaleable (to say nothing of various school papers which were marked down for one technicality or another) but the result was that I did a lot of boundary-pushing, a lot of experimenting, and a lot of learning for myself what works and what doesn’t.
I did have to learn the rules eventually — you can’t break a rule effectively until you know what it is, why it is, how it works and what it’s trying to accomplish — but I don’t consider my wild and unfettered thrashing around to be at all wasted. Looking back, I probably could have benefitted from someone who was willing to sit me down and explain some of the whys and hows of those rules; my teachers were more of the “Because it is” school of pedagogy, which didn’t go over too well with me, to say nothing of not actually teaching much of use. But I made it back on track anyway, despite my long and wandering detour through the underbrush, and I have a lot of experiences that people who followed the signs down the paved path are lacking.
I won’t say it’s made me a better writer than other people, but it’s made me my own writer, which I find satisfying.
If you don’t care for the rules, don’t follow them. Do your own thing, and find your own satisfaction in writing what you want to write. Learn by experiment for a while, rather than by studying How-To-Write books, or lists of DOs and DON’Ts. If you’re the kind of writer who feels confined by rules and boundaries, then you can probably benefit from a period of unfettered creativity. Most likely it’ll take you longer to get published going that route, but hacking your own path with a machete and compass has its satisfactions, and will give you some new and different skills, experiences and points of view.
About Erotica, it does have rules, but they’re different from the rules of romance, and they’re not as strict. (Frankly, I don’t know any genre where the rules are as strict as they are in Romance, on the het side. Maybe Mystery…?) The fences are set farther out, and there’s more elbow room. You’d need to do some research and find out what the rules are, but if it’s mainly the HEA that’s bugging you, Erotica might work for you.
Angie
Terry — true, “Don’t do this” is an important lesson, so the time wasn’t completely wasted. I just wish I’d opened my eyes after two or three books; the lesson would’ve been just as valid at that point, I think.
Adele — great article, thanks for the link.
I particularly like this bit:
A little biology can be helpful here. In the first throes of romantic love you are under the influence of a powerful chemical cocktail: dopamine (which makes opiates look like aspirin) is rushing through your veins. As if that were not enough, a perfect mixture of vasopressin and oxytocin, the attachment hormones, are raging around your body.
That’s exactly it — that’s infatuation. [nod] While you’re in its grip, life is fun and beautiful, but you only have a certain amount of time (I’ve heard two months but that can stretch if you’re not with your, umm, beloved [cough] all the time) to establish the foundation of a solid, long-term relationship. If you do, then you can transition from infatuation to real love and have that long, comfortable, best-friends kind of lov relationship. If not, then you have the experience of waking up and wondering how the heck that got into your bed?!?! [laugh/flail]
My recent experience with a previously favorite author was more the latter than the former.
Alexa again — well, my first thought for not writing her as a wimpy sap is to make her an equal partner of whomever she ends up with. Not necessarily equal in every respect, but balanced, so each one’s weaknesses can be matched and supported by the other’s strengths. Or maybe they’re both lacking in some area but can support and encourage each other to improve. But let both halves of the pair impress and respect one another, and have reason to be impressed by and have respect for each other.
In some books it seems like the only thing the woman brings to the relationship is her Capacity To Love, or something like that, and while that’s important and all, it makes it tough (for me at least) to see them as truly contributing equally to the partnership. Which isn’t to say that if he’s a Navy SEAL, she has to be Israeli Special Forces or whatever, but you need some sort of equivalency. Maybe your guy is a whiz at investing and makes millions per year at his business deals. Your girl doesn’t have to make just as much money, but maybe she’s a biochemist who’s published a textbook used by 1500 universities, and a stack of research papers, and she’s won major awards in her field. If other biochemists say, “Mary Jones? Professor Mary Jones?! Holy sheep, it’s an honor to shake your hand!” then I’d consider that a decent equivalency to her boyfriend’s millions, you know?
Or maybe she’s recognized for her service work, or she’s a nationally- or internationally-known artist of some sort, or whatever. She doesn’t have to be a household name, but major recognition in her field, even if it doesn’t come with huge paychecks, can balance out his major recognition in his field.
And on another aspect of undue sappiness, I always get annoyed when the woman (but not the man) is joyfully willing to throw away a lifetime of work and service and goals and dreams in order to have her man. Yuck. If he were the right guy, he wouldn’t ask that of her and if he asks that of her then he’s not the right guy, period. IMO of course.
Angie
I have a number of authors I used to be at the store the minute it opened to get their new release. I would look up the release date of their next novel. And then it would end. Sometimes because the plots and characters became repetitive and sometimes because I think I was just tired of reading that type of story. I recently told my sister that my WIP was the last book in my series after having the first three published. She said good because too many authors keep a series going forever and the latter books are not as good as the first ones. Why? I think it takes a really great story teller to keep the plots fresh and the characters interesting over a long series of books. Lee Childs does it with his Jack Reacher series and Elizabeth George has done it with her detective series.
Susan — I agree, and I think a big part of the problem is the Golden Handcuffs thing. The particular writer I have in mind is a huge bestseller, and she might be afraid that if she changes her pattern significantly, her numbers will drop way off. Or maybe her agent or her publisher (or both) are pressuring her to keep milking the cash cow.
I agree with you, though, that it takes a really excellent writer to keep a serious going, and the longer the series goes on, the better the writer has to be to keep the quality up. [nod]
Angie
I’ve had sudden disenchantments like that when I’ve tried an author again after a long gap. It also happens when I try an author, love that her work is new and different, then read her next book and realize they’re all the same–not so new and different after all. As soon as that second book sounds too familiar, I downwardly revise my assessment of the first book. The same thing happens if I read another author in the same genre and realize she’s just one of a horde, not the original voice that I’d first thought.
I don’t think that’s ever happened to me but a) I’ve only been reading romance for a few years and b) I’m easily annoyed so I notice stuff like that pretty quickly. Like it only took me about 2-3 books to realize that Catherine Anderson pretty much always writes the same basic relationship and I had better space her books out pretty widely if I want to enjoy them.
I don’t think that’s ever happened to me but a) I’ve only been reading romance for a few years and b) I’m easily annoyed so I notice stuff like that fairly quickly. Like it only took me about 2-3 books to realize that Catherine Anderson pretty much always writes the same basic relationship and I had better space her books out if I want to enjoy them.
Call me jaded, but that pretty much means “doormat”. Or naive.
(sorry, couldn’t find the quote tags)
I’ve had the experience of not enjoying all of the author’s work. Jude Deveraux, for example. I’ve been a big fan since my teen years, but her more current works aren’t really as enjoyable as her earlier works are for me. I do take a look at it still, but sometimes I end up not finishing the book, or setting it aside for another time.
I think it’s really sad if that happens. I usually “fall” for an author slowly, appreciating their stories, their characters bit by bit until I want more. Losing interest in an author’s work is heartbreaking, but I still take time to read anything from them, hoping for something to revive the love.
I’m glad I’m not the only one to feel that way about JD. I re-read her Velvet series once a year and enjoy it and occasionally re-read the time-traveling knight book (Knight in Shining Armor, was it?), but just couldn’t get into her newer stuff. I think I read one or two of the books set in America and just got so bummed out that those books didn’t have the same feeling.
She’s a decent writer and her stories are intriguing and interesting, but I dunno, she just doesn’t write the books she used to, and that makes me sad. 
Great post. I’m not big on reading fiction, but I relate with movies. Romeo and Juliet ‘97 is my favorite movie of all time, and because I enjoy Baz Luhrman’s vision so much, I was initially excited when his “Australia” was announced. For some reason, though, I was disappointed by the previews. But I’m still in love with R&J, and willing to give Luhrman another chance.
For you, Angie, on the other hand, perhaps it was worth it to indulge in purchasing this recent book. Maybe the author is less of the issue, and you have simply grown as a person. You’re seeing things in a new way, and the book offered you the perspective needed to realize that. Now, you’ll move on to better books… just imagine what adventures await!
RfP — the whole point of genre is to find an experience you like, and then know where to go to get more of it. But yes, there needs to be a balance there to make each writer’s work, and each individual book, unique in some way within the genre framework. It’s like writing a sonnet; the format is strict and rigid, but if you work at it you can produce hundreds or thousands of variations within the given rules.
Willaful — in my case, I was enjoying the sameness until the other day. [wry smile] I think if my only complaint had been that the books were all alike, I could do that too; spacing them out to one every couple of years or so would’ve worked fine. Not liking what she’s doing anymore, though, means that just spacing it out probably won’t work.
It’s like, I love See’s milk chocolate Bordeaux.
If my husband gives me a pound or two of them once every year or two, that works fine. By the time I’m done with the box, I’m ready to leave them alone for a while. I strongly dislike marshmallow, though, so if he gave me marshmallow cremes, there’s no interval long enough to make me look forward to getting them. [shudder] Luckily he knows better than to get me anything with marshmallow. ;D
Leah — I agree that “doormat” is a pretty good word there. :/ I’ve seen writers do a good job with that sort of female, and create the story such that there was a point where the man needed the woman’s quiet, emotional strength and would’ve been in a bad way without her there to support him. AND the male character acknowledged his own need, and how she’d helped him.
Too often, though, what the woman seems to “learn” over the course of the story is that she needs to give up her own plans and goals, and surrender her desire to be self-reliant, and completely lean on the man and trust him to take care of her in all ways. While he learns, I don’t know, something about how you have to be firm and persistent with a fiesty woman or some similar piece of whatever, which makes me want to smack both the guy and the writer who created him. Noting of course that even a few of these are “too often” in my view.
Kat — it can be hard to let go of an old favorite, definitely. [nod] I fell out of love with Johanna Lindsay that way, slowly over time, wishing over the course of ten or so books that she’d learn, grow, do something new. She never did, though, and after I finally steeled myself to not buy her next book (which was somewhere in the eighties) I never went back. She might well have learned some new tricks by now (I think she’s still writing) but unless someone whose opinion I trust completely recommends some of her newer work, I won’t try it again.
Qupid — I still mean to see Australia, mainly because I’m a Hugh Jackman fan.
The reviews were disheartening, but we’ll get it from Netflix and if it does turn out to be a disappointment, at least we won’t be out $20 in movie tickets.
And yes, I’m sure the difference is me. [nod] The author certainly hasn’t changed any since her previous book, or even since the first few my mom lent me. And yes again, there are definitely enough good books out there to keep me busy, and then some!
Angie
“the whole point of genre is to find an experience you like, and then know where to go to get more of it.”
Part of what I like is variety, so I usually try not to read similar authors or plots right after one after to avoid that disappointment. I often consider it my own fault when I oversaturate with one type of reading. But as you point out, it’s a genre, and one I like–it’s pointless to try to entirely avoid similarities.
RfP — right, like I said, there’s a balance. If you’re a reader who into a certain genre, you need to poke around and find writers whose books have the genre elements you like, but who ring enough creative changes within those boundaries to give you enough difference in your reading experience that you’re not sitting there wondering why you don’t save a ton of money by just reading the same book over and over.
If you’re a writer, the trick is to be creative in your folding, spindling and mutilating of the genre requirements so you’re doing something new and different (and not just one kind of new and different either, but something different for each book) without fatally breaking the rules such that you can’t get published at all.
The writer I was talking about had something fairly new and different, and some nice worldbuilding details and all, but she took that new-and-different and turned it into a rubber stamp. She was making a ton of money at it, and still is for all I know, but that might be the problem — maybe she (or her agent or publisher) are afraid that if she stops stamping out those identical cookies, they’ll lose some significant chunk of the fans and their income. Like I said to Susan above, the Golden Handcuffs can really stink. :/
Angie
Angela,
I am so sure I know the author and series you are speaking of. And I made the mistake of reading her first through 14th book in a 6 month period. I didn’t notice the same ‘growth’ in the heroine until later in the series, but I certainly noticed the men were all stamped from the same mold fairly quickly.
However, I enjoy the stories, they move really quickly, and I like learning how she’s working out her larger story arc.
The thing that I think this author did wrong right from the beginning though was to make each hero bigger and badder than the one before.
It can work for maybe three consecutive stories, but after that, I wind up doing a lot of mental eye rolling because that 4th guy can’t really be the baddest ass-kicker around, that title belongs to hero number 2. Oh hold on, hero number 10 is the most ass-kickingest ass-kicker on the whole continent? But… what if hero number 8 visits? Who’s gonna win that throw down? http://www.romancingtheblog.com/blog/wp-includes/images/smilies/icon_rolleyes.gif
In writing her heroes as the all-knowing, all-powerful protector of their heroines, she hasn’t given them the necessary flaws that keep them relatable and allow them room to grow within the relationship.
But, you know, I’m gonna keep reading her. I enjoy that series way more than I enjoy her other series. It’s her cash cow, and I keep returning for the milk.
Oops, guess it’s more complicated using those gifs than I thought.
I was supposed to be rolling my eyes up there.
Venus — The thing that I think this author did wrong right from the beginning though was to make each hero bigger and badder than the one before.
That’s definitely one of my major issues with it too, assuming we’re talking about the same writer. Or even if we aren’t.
I think that’s part of the problem about cutting all your guys from the same pattern, though. Since they all strive for the same goals, value the same achievements, favor the same characteristics, it’s tough to explain how each guy in his own book is the biggest/baddest/best. Especially when you go on for like 15+ books.
In contrast, I think Jo Beverley does a great job with her long-running Company of Rogues series. The guys are all friends, but they’re different, so it doesn’t matter that they’re not all dukes or princes, or that one has more political influence than all the others, or that one is sneakier, or that one is a better soldier-type, or whatever. Her guys are individuals and they all stand out in their own way, by their own standards. She can keep writing Rogues books forever (and I hope she does!) without having to create more and more ridiculously overpowered uber-dudes.
Angie
Angie, who the heck are you, anyway? Everything you say makes so much sense. By the way, I’m sorry about that nesting: I am the culprit! There I go, breaking the darn rules.
You are so wise, and everything you say really is good, sound advice. I always listen when I know someone knows what the heck they’re talking about.
Your comment on erotica is an awakening for me: I had said I thought there were no rules, but what I really meant was (and you pointed this out), it seems to be an extremely challenging genre to attempt. I really respect anyone who takes on the challenge; sadly, I honestly don’t think I have enough material from my own experience to even throw my hat in the ring (grins!). Seriously, erotica is a complex topic today: I’m waaaaaaay behind the times, I am sure. I haven’t read much of the genre: in comparison, I like the het and romance. Actually, I am crazy about the romance genre. The possibilities seems endless. Doesn’t it seem ironic to you that person who has endless synopses stored up to write romance doesn’t even have one idea for an erotica novel. You’ve definitely educated me a bit and, in addition, piqued my curiousity.
Is there a seminal novel (other than M. Bovary–just kiddin’) in the erotica genre that you recommend I read?
Epiphany: I just realized, Angie, that the reason I get turned off with many romance novels is that the flirting with erotica in many of the more hackneyed works, the “and she felt his throbbing member,” is a cheat. It’s not really erotic, nor is it romance, but some hybrid attempt at titillation that doesn’t work. Does this make sense?
I’m on a role, here.
Alexa
The possibilities “seem” endless. I’m an English teacher, so I can’t let my little subject/verb agreement slip alone. Yep, I’m OCD.