Romancing the Blog | Romance Authors and Readers Who Blog

Confession: I loved Castles by Julie Garwood. I have a thing for goofy humor. And I loved the fact that Princess Alesandra was a list-maker. I live and die by my lists. When Colin discovers that she keeps a master list of her lists, I was, “Yeah, so?”

Recently, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night in a state of panic. Sometimes it’s the fault of the demon kitten (when she’s awake, the world’s awake), but mostly it’s the “omigod, did I remember to…?” feeling that comes with starting a new business. There are a million little details, with a million more behind them.

Now I think one master list isn’t enough.

In my last post, I announced the formation of Quartet Press, a digital partner. Since then, the four partners have been engaged in a whirlwind of activity. Even though I was prepared, the amount of work that goes into starting a new publishing company is immense. I have heard the joke that all it takes to start a digital publisher is a computer and website.

I wish. I’d sleep better.

Building the infrastructure has been an all-consuming process. It’s definitely true that it takes a village. One day, I was minding my own business (aka Twitter) when I heard “Kassia’s here, let me get her, she’ll want to see this.” I then spent the next hour in a demo for title management software. It’s a nifty system that does everything from capturing details about books, authors, metadata to feeding critical and accurate information to retailers like Amazon — basically everything I ever dreamed a system could do. And more. Trust me when I say this was a very cool way to spend an hour.

Ditto for the royalty system (okay, I begged to be included in that demo; I’m so geeky it’s embarrassing). When we were a young, innocent company, was it only May?, we thought, “Sure, no problem, in the beginning, we can manage all this stuff on spreadsheets. We’ll scale up when the time is right.” I mean, I can calculate royalties in my sleep. Come to think of it, I probably have. Doing these calculations manually would be no problem.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Yes, in theory it can be done. But the more data you manage, the messier it gets. We want to make sure we feed the right data to retailers, and we want to make sure we pay our authors correctly. That means capturing and reporting the inbound data correctly.

Our days range from long discussions about marketing, systems, websites, and, ahem, commerce platforms to the head-beating frustration that can only come from trying to convert a Word file to clean HTML. If you’ve ever copied-and-pasted something from Word into your blog, only to see resulting (and this is a technical term) gobbledly-gook, then you know what I mean. From this first HTML file, all kinds of magic happens, so it’s important.

The goal here is to make sure we can release every title we publish in the formats readers want, in the most efficient manner possible. That should be every publisher’s goal, right? Give the readers what they want. Make them happy. It’s a challenge, though. The ebook market has evolved into a crazy quilt of formats, and the fact that so many readers are able to buy and read ebooks is a testament to their fortitude and love of reading. Making it easy for people to read our books was the first item on our business plan.

This is where hanging around some of the coolest people in digital publishing comes in handy. Not only do we know the right people, but we speak the same language (okay, maybe I am less fluent than some, but, hey, I’m a quick learner). This has allowed us to build some lovely tools to streamline some messy, complex processes. Oh yeah, the acronyms fly fast and furious, but they’re our friends. I swear it.

(Except DRM. For the most part, we do not have friendly thoughts toward DRM. Rarely have three letters created such negative feelings in law-abiding book consumers.)

Oh, then there are the books. The actual stories. The things we are publishing. The reason we exist. The books are the absolute best part of what we’re doing. We’ve acquired a few and have asked to read many more. As we get our editorial team in place, I’ve read every query we’ve received. Except one. It was so clearly wrong for our house, so absolutely not a romance, so very much destined for someone else, that I gave myself permission to pass.

To every author out there who has ever sweated over a query letter, ever gritted her teeth while undergoing the painful synopsis process, ever edited and re-edited and re-re-edited a manuscript, I salute you. You make my afternoons so much better. I’ve heard many of you complain about this effort over the years (I’ve done it myself!), but I assure you it’s worth it!

As we race toward our official launch, we’re talking about what we’re doing with readers, authors, and other members of the publishing community. We’re getting feedback and responding. A lot of what happens in publishing is a mystery to readers and authors, and we all believe the first part of dialogue is sharing information.

What I’ve discussed above is just a small part of what goes into building a publishing company, but I hope it gives some an idea of what we’re thinking about in these months leading up to launch. If you have questions or thoughts, I’m eager to hear them, here or at the main Quartet website.

In the meantime, I’ll be creating that master list of master lists! And fighting the neighbor’s cat for the hammock. I’ve developed a whole new appreciation for naps.

¿Habla Español?
Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

If I could, I’d add some more languages, but I have to pass (and I admit, I even had to Google for the Spanish part). Actually while I would have no problems finishing this post in fluent German, my language skills come to a stop then. (And I doubt Latin counts as no one speaks it nowadays anymore).

Assuming now, that most people don’t speak even a second or third language, it makes more sense that foreign book rights are sold so they can be translated and published in non-English speaking countries. Authors are definitely thrilled when this happens, as such a sale means additional income and their stories also reach a wider audience. Today, writers with foreign sales might be on the way to becoming NY bestselling authors, tomorrow making plans to conquer the world.

Of course, the world wide web already allows us to reach out to the rest of the world; entering an author’s name into Google’s search box will bring us, within seconds, closer to the person whose books got us intrigued, fascinated, addicted! We want to know more, more about the author, the world beyond the books and when we should get ready for the next release so we can pull out the phone cable and submerge ourselves in a world we may not ever want to leave again.

But what do you do when Google comes up with search results—including the author’s website—in a language you don’t understand? You may get lucky and find a translation on the publishers site or an online bookstore, but this may not always be the case. How do we close the breach created by language?

At this point, if you are an author, and you know that I design websites, you may have an idea of where I’m going with this. You may even think right now that I can’t be serious. Don’t worry! I won’t say anything about providing different language versions of your own website. Oops. Okay, technically I just did, but I’m so not going there. Believe me! I’m happy when author sites are updated regularly and know that even these ‘normal’ updates take time away from writing. And when I think of authors such as Nora Roberts, I’d say it’s nearly impossible to keep up with all non-US releases (especially including reprints and special editions — oh my).

Personally I’ve never thought about including links or content on author sites geared toward non-US or even non-English readers until a Canadian author mentioned including Chapters.Indigo.ca links on her site. She didn’t want to ignore her Canadian readers by only listing US based online stores. Ignorant as I was, I only asked Chapters who? Today I know it’s a huge Canadian online store, and from that time I tried to pay more attention. You could say I became more sensitive to the topic.

While browsing author sites, I come across a lot of release or/and printable booklists that include non-US books, am able to click on country-specific order links, see foreign cover art featured on blogs, and read happy twitter feeds about foreign rights sales. An author from New Zealand even asked her readers to volunteer in setting up a page for her German books. So now, when you visit her Home page, you can see a small German flag on it that leads you to a page dedicated to her German releases and fans.

There are a lot of individual solutions to include a foreign audience and speak to them, even in their own languages.

What do you do or would you do if your favorite author’s website lacks translation in your native tongue?

And if you are an author with foreign releases, what do you do to attract foreign readers in terms of website or promotion in general?

Have you all seen this cover?

It is causing quite a stir on the Internet. Why you might ask. It is, in my opinion, a fabulous eye-catching cover that as a girl I would totally gravitate toward. But there is one teeny problem. The protagonist is black. And from what I have heard, she doesn’t have long straight hair.

But marketing chose this cover, apparently after a lot of going back and forth with the author. Justine Larbalestier comments on all of this in depth on her blog.

Now my question is, what does all this say about us? Where is the real problem? Or is there a problem?

I think there is, but I don’t know that it is with the marketing department. The marketing department wants to sell books. I don’t think they would purposely put a cover on a book they didn’t think would do that. And, the disconnect aside, the cover is appealing. So, is it true? If a black girl who fit the description of Justine’s character was on the cover, would fewer copies of the book sell?

I suspect it is true. I hate that I suspect that, but I do and I’m really hoping some of you can tell me it isn’t.

But maybe for it to not be true more covers with characters who aren’t white need to be on covers. Maybe it’s a chicken and egg thing.

And assuming it is true…why is it? What does the (assumed) fact that covers with black characters don’t sell as well mean? Are we racist readers? Or is it just that white readers are so shallow we can’t imagine bonding with a character who doesn’t look like us? Do we somewhere deep inside think the color of our skin truly makes us so different we won’t enjoy the book…or maybe that it isn’t “written for us?” ‘Cause I assure you if people of color felt that way, they would have a mighty short TBR stack.

So, since we don’t run the world and can’t jump in and design covers, how can we change it?

I think there’s only one way…by proving marketing wrong…by proving me wrong…by buying every book with a black character on the COVER, not just in the text, that we can.

Because, I don’t know about you, but this is one time I really want to be wrong.

When I started reading romance back in the early nineties, I knew next to nothing about the personal lives of my favourite authors. For biographical information, I was solely reliant on the brief author bio at the back of the book, and the occasional grainy, black-and-white photograph.

Fast forward eighteen years, and the author-reader relationship has taken on an entirely new dimension. Thanks to the internet, almost every author has a website. Many have blogs, Facebook and Twitter accounts, give interviews, and participate on reader message boards. I now know quite a lot about the authors whose books I read. Some choose to share more or less information on their private lives, but I generally know if they’re married, have children, their level of education, former professions, favourite authors, influences, etc. The grainy black-and-white photos have been replaced by glossy, colour shots. Many also have extra photos of themselves on their websites, plus everything from writing tips to favourite recipes.

This begs the question: is this increased intimacy between authors and their readers a positive development?

As readers, we expect to have access to our favourite authors nowadays. We are annoyed if they don’t have a website, or if they don’t update it on a regular basis. Ditto with author blogs. We feel entitled to see a photograph of them. We feel cheated if author interviews focus solely on their books and don’t provide at least a glimpse into their private sphere. Yet we don’t have a right to any of this information. We don’t automatically assume we’re entitled to know the intimate details of our dentist’s home life, so why should it be any different with authors?

From an author’s perspective, the internet provides a relatively inexpensive way to interact with readers and fellow writers and promote their books. For those who write full-time, it offers a social outlet with like-minded individuals who understand the passion of the pen. Seeing how positively readers respond to their work must give authors a buzz and encourage them to continue writing, even on days when the muse is not cooperating.

The flip side of the coin for authors is the pressure of expectancy. An author might not feel comfortable interacting with her readers and sharing personal details. She might wish to keep a strict divide between her private and professional lives. She might not want to provide a photo for fear of being judged too fat, too thin, too pretty, too unattractive, too young, too old, badly dressed, the wrong skin colour, and so on. Perhaps she doesn’t want to share information about her marital status and family members. Neither an author’s appearance, nor her family situation, has an influence on her writing abilities. These things shouldn’t matter to her readers, yet it seems they do.

Actors and other celebrities have PR experts to help them navigate the treacherous waters of interaction with fans. Writers are left to wing it on their own. I’m sure we’ve all seen blog posts on Authors Behaving Badly and read with glee the tales of a certain writer’s ill-advised remarks or otherwise untoward behaviour. There are some cases where an author is clearly acting like an idiot. However, there have also been occasions when I’ve felt she was clearly out of her depth when it came to dealing with the public, particularly when responding to criticism of her work.

Do you feel entitled to personal information about your favourite authors? Does an author’s online persona influence your opinion of their work? If you’re a published author, do you feel pressurized to reveal more of yourself than you would like?

We’re in the midst of summer, which means hot days, steamy nights, and one of my absolute favorite things—beach reads.

Now, I won’t be lucky enough to actually get to a beach this year, much less lounge by the ocean and listen to the soothing sounds of the waves rolling in. But I can still lose myself in the pages of a good book, even if the location is only the brown plaid expanse of my not-quite-tropical couch. If you squint real hard, my beige carpet sort of looks like sand. Okay, maybe not.

I don’t know where the term came from, but I think of beach reads as books that are light, frothy, and just plain fun. Something that fits in with the slow flow of the days. After all, if you’re actually at the beach, there’s also lazy lounging by the ocean to be done and perhaps a fruity boat drink or two in the offing. A girl has to have her priorities in order.

I love reading all year long, of course, but there’s just something about summer that appeals to me. It’s the perfect time to just read whatever you want to, instead of all those boring office reports. To treat yourself to that one special book you’ve been looking forward to for a while now. To re-read your favorite author’s series. Or to pick up something on a whim at the bookstore because it looks good. Or maybe even because there’s an actual beach on the book cover. Whatever floats your boat.

Me? I’ve been whittling down my TBR pile this summer, reading everyone from Jim Butcher to Kresley Cole to Jeaniene Frost to Eric Van Lustbader. Now, I don’t know if wizards, Valkyries, vampires, and a superspy named Jason Bourne exactly qualify as beach reads or not.

But I’ve been having a blast with them—even if I’m stuck on the couch at home. Hey, at least there’s air conditioning. I’d take that over sand any day.

What about you? Which so-called beach reads are you looking forward to? What great books have you already discovered this year? Share in the comments.

For no reason I can pinpoint, I found myself in a reflective sort of mood at the Romance Writers of America conference last week in Washington DC. I’ve just turned in my 38th book. This was my 17th or 18th conference (I missed a couple here and there. (And I write that so casually, even though I know exactly which ones I missed because I was miserable every time: Hawaii, too far and too expensive, though I wish we could go there again; Orlando, because it was a bad year for me financially; and the most recent trip to San Francisco because I was going to Australia later in the summer and a writer has to actually write some time. I hated being home so badly that I vowed I will not miss another.)).

I’ve been writing professionally my entire adult life, and I have the scars, the Ritas, and the name changes to prove it.

But at my first conference in 1990, I was a dewy, hungry, terrified young writer. I had sold two Special Editions (one of which had won a W.I.S.H. award, an honor I’d only dreamt of) and had another under way, with my third editor. I’d just hired my first agent. The conference was in San Francisco, and I didn’t know anyone. Until my editor told me about it, I’d never heard of RWA, and had taken all my information about romance novels from Romantic Times.

The conference coordinators found me a roommate from Canada, and using a portion of the advance for my third book, I arranged the flights, the travel, everything on my own. It was only the second time I’d even been on an airplane, and I was leaving my two very young sons behind, and as the plane left the runaway, I remember being so terrified that my heart felt like it would explode. Why am I doing this? What if the plane crashes? What if I’m killed some other way? How dare I go so far away when they are so small! The subtext is, of course, that I was afraid I’d have to pay some terrible price for daring to reach for my dream.

The dream encompassed the books, writing, being a writer, of course, but also a certain kind of life that wasn’t usual for the women in my world–a world where women were powerful professionals in their own right, where we discussed our craft and wore good clothes and met with important publishing professionals and traveled with confidence. It thrilled me to walk into the Marriott that first time, to check in and go to my room and look down at the lobby and see all the other women looking around, too, their voices rising up the corridor like their perfume. My room looked out directly at the bridge that had fallen down in the earthquake, and my memory might be faulty, but I think I had $125 to buy my food & incidentals for the entire conference. (It was highly alarming to discover my breakfast in the hotel the first morning would take $11 of that.)

I was terribly self-conscious and shy. I had not had a lot of money left for clothes, only a couple of dresses I pressed very carefully, but I was pretty and young then and relied on my hair and good manners to see me through, which more or less worked. I met with my editor at a group lunch in the revolving restaurant, and my agent for breakfast, alone, and I didn’t know if I was supposed to pay or not, but prayed I wouldn’t have to because of that budget thing. My roommate turned out not to like Americans very much, so I spent all my time going to workshops and learning everything I could. The Harlequin party was a dazzlement and I had no idea what to do there.

I was dewy, earnest, badly dressed and impossibly young.

But I also remember that I met Liz Bevarly, who had debuted with me in Special Editions in October 1989, so I wrote her a letter (actual snail mail, which we exchanged regularly thereafter) and we have now been friends for all these years (we will be doing some celebrating of 20 years still standing in October, so keep your ears open). In the halls outside a workshop, I met a very pretty girl/woman who was beaming over her new book cover–Teresa Mederios has stayed that pretty. I also met another writer who debuted with Liz and I, and we hit it off marvelously and were friends for several years until she finally drifted away, having only published that one book.

That year, the crowd was so large for the awards banquet that we had to sit in the hallway. I hardly knew what I was watching, but I’m pretty sure Kathleen Eagle won for something and I loved her books, so it seemed important. I wondered what it would be like to be her, to be on that stage. I went home dazzled and sloshing with information and a little worse for the food and drink, but full of excitement! Possibility! I was a Romance Writer!!

Fast forward to 2009 (and it really does feel like a fast forward, let me tell you)–we’re in Washington DC for the second time, and I cannot for the life of me recall when we were there before, even when we actually get to the hotel and check in, because after twenty years of conferences and hotels, they begin to blur to together. On the way here, I ran into a few small problems with the airlines, but since I’ve traveled to six countries and most of the US since those days and spend an average of 60 days per year on the road, I don’t worry about crashing in a fiery ball any more. I’ve learned how I travel, what I need, and have also learned that if I loose my luggage, the world will not come to an end.

In 2009, my roommates are my beloved friends Liz Bevarly and Christie Ridgway and we’ve shared many, many stories now, all of our ups and downs, and have a shorthand that is the language of all old friends. This year, I have a complicated schedule of meetings, many with friends, some with students, and a number of important business meetings, one dinner that’s making me slightly nervous, though not even that one really bothers me. Although my eccentric tastes will never win me a fashion award, a good black dress, a pair of attractive sandals and a couple of scarves will get me through almost anything. I’ve had the same agent for over a decade, and the same editor through five books (though we had a break in between) and no one would call me dewy or shy, though I’m not yet to wise woman, either.

I am, however, still standing. At this point in the game, that’s pretty important. Still standing. Still writing. Still publishing. The numbers of those who drifted away or were crushed by the business or some life event that left them unable to work are legion. Some of the writers at that first conference are big, big stars now. Some big stars then have fizzled out, or died or blazed across the heavens then disappeared or reinvented themselves. (Nora was a star then and remains a star now and I always like her for wandering around with everybody else, dancing at the party, smoking in the alcoves, being present.)

Everywhere in DC, I saw the dewy, young, terrified writers at their first conferences, clutching hope in one fist and passion in the other. I sat in on workshops and drifted out again, and listened to stories of editor meetings and asked every writer about her first sale ribbon. I circled the bar after the RITAs to congratulate anyone carrying her golden statue. One young woman who’d won her first RITA remembered a luncheon speech I gave a few years ago–at her first conference. When she thanked me for that talk, what I felt was a rush of extreme gratitude that this organization and this career has given me such a rich life. A life of intelligent conversations with fascinating women—readers and writers and publishing professionals; a life of intellectual challenge and ever-changing stakes; a life of travel and reading and brilliant moments all over the world. And I am–heavens willing–about midway through. What a great choice it was to write romances, to strike out despite the disapproval and nervous worry of my family, to discover just who I might be if I wrote a book and dived into this world with all my heart! It has been more rewarding that I could possibly express, even better than I imagined, way back then.

Time rushes by, and we see it in the children of friends and at RWA conferences. This year, for whatever reason, I was startled by the sudden recognition that time flies by so very quickly, that once I was among the youngest of all attendees. Now I’m middle aged. In six more minutes, I’ll be a grandmother, and after that, a dowager writer in a sparkly pink dress at the Harlequin party. I hope I’m rooming with Liz and Christie at my 48th RWA conference. I hope Nora is dancing at the Harlequin party. I hope I get a chance to sit next to a dewy, terrified young writer at lunch and tell her what a lucky woman she is, to have chosen this path. Oh, the adventures she will have!

Barbara’s most recent novel is THE LOST RECIPE FOR HAPPINESS.

Hi, my name is Barbara, and I am addicted to romance novels.

When I began reading romance–some twelve or so years ago—I had never heard of such a thing as a TBR pile. What the heck is TBR anyway?

Sure, like most avid readers, I had a book or two that would be sitting on my nightstand, patiently waiting to be cracked open. But, by no means did I ever have what one might consider a “pile”.

From day one, I always loved browsing the bookstore looking for the newest releases, and even spending a few minutes simply admiring beautiful cover art. Let’s face it; romance novels have some of the best cover art out there. Okay, okay, they also have some of the worst, but we’ll save that for another post.

Anyhow, those bi-weekly trips I made to the bookstore had been—and still are—my escape. They are my relaxation. You all know what I mean. I’m talking about that hour or so where you don’t have to worry about work, or cleaning or anything even remotely stressful. Dinner? Kids? What kids? Oh, no, no, no, during that time as you wandered along the aisles aimlessly, your sole purpose in life is to find that one book that will completely knock your socks off.

However, as the years past, and I began making more frequent trips to my local B&N, I began to notice a change in my shopping habits. Although I knew full well there was no way I could read more than four books a week, I found myself irresistibly drawn into purchasing more and more. I may have gone into the store looking for a historical romance, but gosh darn it, that new paranormal looks pretty good if you ask me. How could I possibly pass it up? Besides, what if it was “the book”? Ha! I’d be a fool not to grab it. In to the shopping bag it goes.

Oh, and of course, let’s not forget that GORGEOUS cover that goes along with that new contemporary release. Ugh, there’s no way I could leave that one behind, either. In to the shopping bag it went.

Before long, those two or three books that had once been waiting patiently on my nightstand suddenly began to grow. And grow. And grow, until before long, I found myself knee deep it what I now know to be the dreaded…*queue scary music* “TBR”.

So here I am many years later, and as of now I have not two, not three, but 300 books waiting to be read. Does that stop me from buying more? Nope.

Thanks to the online blogging/reading community, I now know I’m not alone in this. It seems to me that the majority of romance readers are in same boat as I am. They simply can’t turn down the chance that a book will rock.

I’ll admit that in those rare moments of guilt—often after charging an obscene amount of money on my credit card—I will find myself trying to validate my reasons for spending so much. I have a cousin who will spend any amount on shoes. Why? She absolutely loves shoes. It’s her “thing”.

My “thing” is books. I LOVE BOOKS. Is that really so bad?

But, then I wonder, when is too much, too much?

So here is my question, and one that I’ve asked myself over and over: Are we buying so many books because it’s truly our passion, or could our love of “happily ever after” have possibly become addiction?

Emotions are vitally important in romance novels. They tend to manifest in physical ways: skin blushes, tingles, and heats, eyes darken, dance, and shift, breath hisses, comes fast, shallow, or gulping, postures shift, spines straighten, hands clench, hearts speed up. Emotions are often aligned with the body, the physical, and pitted against the mind, reason. They are characterized as “passions”, characters literally passive to them, fighting to regain “control.” The women and men of romance novels “follow their hearts, not their heads,” and not just in lust, but in anger, fear, courage, sympathy, jealousy, compassion, and revenge.

We sympathetically identify with characters and feel, to some extent, their shock, horror, anger, fear, lust, humor, joy and sorrow. The fact that we do so is one of the great joys and wonders of reading fiction, but it has puzzled philosophers for some time. Why should I feel scared when the hero or heroine is in danger? I know they aren’t real, after all. As readers, we have the same physiological manifestation of emotion as the characters, but our behavioral response (doing nothing) reflects the fact that we are aware that the events in the book are not real.

This emotional reaction becomes especially problematic when we consider that emotions are not just bodily reactions, but have cognitive content. For example, the emotion of fear is not just the sweaty palms and racing heart, but the belief that something bad is about to happen and that you can’t prevent it. Several emotions, like anger and fear, are actually very hard to distinguish by bodily criteria alone: we need to understand what’s going on cognitively (what are they thinking about) to tell what a person is feeling. To feel real joy when reading a declaration of love in a romance novel, we seem to need to believe that the hero and heroine really exist. Otherwise, what are we getting mushy about? But we don’t. So are we not actually feeling those emotions? Or what? This is called the paradox of fiction.

My view is that I am really feeling emotions when I am reading a romance novel — or at least when I am reading a well-written one — but I am not sure how to square this with my knowledge that fiction isn’t real. As a reader, I just accept it as one of the gifts that a good writer bestows.

It strikes me that there’s something extra challenging about certain of our emotional responses to romance: we know that the book will have not just a happy ending, but a particular kind of happy ending, one in which the hero and heroine are in love and together. So when I get to that low moment in every romance novel, when I am absolutely devastated by the unfolding events and positive, along with the sorrowing or angry hero or heroine, that this relationship cannot be saved (Pam Regis called it the “point of ritual death”), why can’t I count the pages left, reassure myself it will all work out, and stop feeling what I am feeling? All good fiction engages our emotions, but isn’t it amazing that romance novelists can achieve this kind of emotional reaction in readers, even under the constraints and predictability of the HEA? I think so.

The first of five boxes of books arrived at my house today. They’re the books I picked up in DC at the RWA National Conference. I have to tell you, opening Box #1 was like Christmas morning. I can’t wait until the other boxes arrive. While many of the authors are favorites of mine, the vast majority of titles are ones I’ve wanted to read but haven’t had a chance to.

You see, I went through a period of non-reading that lasted a couple of years and now I’m scrambling to catch up. There are so many awesome premises out there and favorite writers that I’ve lost track of. It’s terrible how I relegated my reading to being a luxury. I’d feel so guilty that I couldn’t get past a few paragraphs before the little voice in my head said, “You don’t have time for this. Go write.”

At the start of this year I made a New Year’s resolution to read at least fifty-two books in 2009. That’s a massive drop from my reading habits of three years ago, but also a massive leap up from last year. I’ve found that there’s a direct correlation between how much I read and how much I write. Authors have to refill the well and that means watching movies, getting out of the house, spending time with family and friends, and losing themselves in another writer’s world for a spell. Now I look at reading as a necessity that happens to feel like a luxury.

How about you? Have you ever gone through a reading dry spell? Did lack of reading affect you negatively in any way? Do you make reading a priority in your life?

We all know that too much of a good thing can often be a very bad thing. Chocolate cake, for example. And suntanning. But what about romance novels?

Most of us would agree that reading good romance novels can inspire and empower women. But just how much romance can we read before we cross the line to unhealthy self-indulgence? We can’t spend every waking moment with our noses buried in a Susan Wiggs novel. Not when we have livings to earn, children to rear, despotic cats to serve, and so on. Clearly, it’s important to maintain a good balance between our reading and the other facets of our lives. So from time to time, a wise woman asks herself, Am I reading too much romance?

I’m not here to tell you how many romance novels you can safely consume without turning into a wild-eyed book junkie who cares about nothing except her next Sherrilyn Kenyon fix. That threshold is going to be different for every romance reader. But I have compiled a list of warning signs that might indicate you are skating dangerously close to the edge of addiction.

You might be reading too many romance novels if:

1. You don’t understand why your boyfriend is insulted rather than flattered when you accidentally call him by the name of a hunky Suzanne Brockmann hero.

2. Your best friend gets engaged, and instead of being thrilled you worry because you know that immediately before the wedding, the couple will face a Dark Moment when all will seem lost.

3. Although you’ve never seen a man with azure eyes that darken to midnight blue when he’s feeling amorous and black when he’s angry, you’re certain such men exist because Julia Quinn wouldn’t make up stuff like that.

4. You put your Kindle in a Ziploc bag so you can read in the shower.

5. You promise your dog a walk after you finish just one more chapter and are annoyed when, three chapters later, the sound of your dog peeing on the floor pulls you out of the big love scene.

6. You ask your landlord to wait another week for the rent because Nora Roberts has 37 books out this month, 19 of which are certified first-time releases.

7. You blame Jennifer Crusie for your weight problem because even the most disciplined woman couldn’t read all those references to Dove Bars and Krispy Kreme doughnuts and the like without eventually reaching for her car keys and heading to the store.

When I started this list I was planning to include eight or ten bullet points, but I can’t think up any more right now because I just got an e-mail alert from Ereader.com saying they have a new Loretta Chase book available, and–

Oh, wait. I just thought of another one:

8. Your Romancing the Blog column for Monday was supposed to be turned in on Saturday morning, but you didn’t even begin writing it until 10:00 on Sunday night because you spent a big chunk of the weekend reading Eloisa James’ latest “duchess” novel.

Uh-oh. I might have a problem…