My first publication was an MM erotic romance novel, Autumn Fire. I had read a handful of MM erotic romances before trying my hand at it. I threw together 50,000 words and submitted it to both an agent and a publisher. The agent turned me down, but she liked me, so she explained some of the difficulties with my writing. The publisher took me on, so I applied the agent’s advice when doing edits for the publisher. (The advice was pretty much just red flags about my writing style and how to make it more professional. And that agent’s advice was simply the best writing advice I had ever received. It’s completely changed the course of my writing career.)
I got decent reviews for Autumn Fire and decent sales too. However, despite the high hopes my publisher had for that book and for my followup with them, Silent Hearts, I never latched onto the sales market that other MM erotic romance authors do.
It wasn’t until years later that I finally understood that I was doing MM erotic romance wrong. While I was doing hot sex and a steamy romance, my protagonists tended to sleep around a fair bit, which is a no-no for romance. In erotic romance, we want hot sex, but only between the two male leads. And, typically, it starts off tamer and grows in intensity — like it’s a handjob first, then a blowjob, then anal. In my books, people pretty much jump right to anal.
What I had essentially done was take a fairly light gay erotica novel and framed it in the context of MM erotic romance. It was too seedy to classify as romance and too tame to classify as erotica. There were some people that loved it, though.
I began to brand my books (at least in my head) as “erotica with a touch of romance”. The stories are filthy and sex-filled, but more often than not, there’s a sweet romance that develops between two of these promiscuous men.
I’ve toyed on and off with erotic romance. My Forbidden Desires series of novellas each explore a taboo MM relationship, but in a way that better aligns with the conventions of romance. (The only people having sex are the male leads.) However, the first Forbidden Desires, Seduced By My Best Friend’s Dad, was the most favourably-received, but with reviewers calling it erotica. So… I guess I officially don’t write romance?
I’ve decided that if that’s how I’m coming across — that I write only erotica — then that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to stop worrying about how I’m perceived and I’m going to stop being overly concerned with genre conventions, and I’m just going to write the stories I want to tell. Readers can usually tell when an author is “into” a book or not — and if I write the stories I want to tell, then that drive is going to come across on the pages and the readers will appreciate it.
Do I regret my tamer stories? Not at all. It was all a vital learning experience and there are people who loved those books. I’ve recently had the rights returned to me for Autumn Fire and Silent Hearts. I’m rewriting them and will release them through my publishing company, but the rewrites are really just to bring the writing up to my present-day standards. (There’s sooooo much passive voice.) I’m leaving the sex and the romance as-is. It was the story I wanted to tell when I wrote it, so I’m not going to change it.
So, what’s a story that could have been dirtier? Pretty much everything where I was trying to be something I’m not. However, I still made it as dirty as I could. Other than the re-releases I’ve got planned for the coming months, my next several books will be filthy.
Cameron D. James is a writer of gay erotica and M/M erotic romance; his latest release is The President And The Rentboy. He is publisher at and co-founder of Deep Desires Press and a member of the Indie Erotica Collective. He lives in Canada, is always crushing on Starbucks baristas, and has two rescue cats. To learn more about Cameron, visit http://www.camerondjames.com.
Showing posts with label genres. Show all posts
Showing posts with label genres. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Under Covers
“Aauuggh!” Carli had never made a sound like this before.
My own sounds were more staccato: “Uh! Uh! Uh!” I reminded myself of an old-fashioned train chugging uphill.
“’We – almost – there?” she huffed.
“Yep.” I couldn’t say more.
Oh the joys of a man-free lesbian life: we get to move our own furniture from room to room. The carved oak chest Carli inherited from her late grandmother definitely belonged in our bedroom, even if it killed us both.
------------------
This is the opening passage of a story which was accepted for the upcoming Girl Fever, an anthology of 69 short lesbian erotic stories.
Does the opening scene look erotic to you?
The history of written and orally-transmitted (ha) erotica is full of double-entendres like the one above. “Off-colour” jokes depend for their effect on clear sexual implications followed by a disclaimer on the part of the joke-teller: why, what did you think I meant? What a dirty mind you have!
The bad reputation of sexually-explicit literature (in conservative circles) is rank with hypocrisy. Apparently it’s fine to make wisecracks about big tools and busy people (wink wink, nudge nudge) among men and women in the average office workplace as long as you can claim you’re not actually referring to sex.
Writers of the past (including the very recent past) had other strategies: phrases in Latin or French and/or metaphoric veils. In Victorian novels, a secret affair may become public knowledge when the couple is discovered “in flagrante.” Or someone surmises that the French lieutenant has a “paramour.” Or a realistic description of foreplay (some shedding of outer garments) is followed by “their hearts and bodies entwined and the earth moved.”
An amazing number of people I know, who say they have read certain “classic” novels of adultery (The Scarlet Letter, Anna Karenina, Madame Bovary), claim they are not the least bit erotic. Even Violet Leduc’s tortured autobiographical stories of lesbian passion (e.g. La Batarde) and Oscar Wilde’s thinly-disguised gay horror story, The Picture of Dorian Gray, are assumed to be “above” the level of erotic fiction.
Yet if sex as a major plot-premise is a defining element of literary erotica, much of the literature that is taught in schools (secondary schools as well as colleges and universities) fits the definition.
And no, I don’t buy the theory that literature is whatever the reader reads into it. A novel about “cheating” (extramarital sexual relationships) must be about sex and all the emotions that accompany it. And although it is possible to be emotionally unfaithful to a spouse or partner without "going farther," the great novels about the great tragedy of being tempted, surrendering to temptation and losing one's respectable public image always include sex as a physical activity that can be discovered.
A whole lot of literature describes sexual feelings. Most of us who include explicit sex scenes in our writing were first inspired by reading-matter that was recommended by our teachers or our parents. We simply imagined what was implied but not clearly described in the original versions. (Note the current spate of rewritten versions of Jane Austen’s genteel romance novels of the early nineteenth century.)
“Erotica” has always been hard to define clearly because it has always overlapped with supposedly non-erotic genres. If I have to define the difference, I would say it’s a matter of awareness. Writers who label their work “erotic” are conscious of writing about actual sex, the desire for sex, and the consequences of sex. Those who would be insulted to be reminded of the erotic elements in their work tend to be writers in denial, or writers of double-entendres.
Sexual feelings seem to be an unavoidable factor in the general human comedy (or tragedy). Differences in genres seem to be largely about how that thread is spun in the fabric of a story.
-----------------
My own sounds were more staccato: “Uh! Uh! Uh!” I reminded myself of an old-fashioned train chugging uphill.
“’We – almost – there?” she huffed.
“Yep.” I couldn’t say more.
Oh the joys of a man-free lesbian life: we get to move our own furniture from room to room. The carved oak chest Carli inherited from her late grandmother definitely belonged in our bedroom, even if it killed us both.
------------------
This is the opening passage of a story which was accepted for the upcoming Girl Fever, an anthology of 69 short lesbian erotic stories.
Does the opening scene look erotic to you?
The history of written and orally-transmitted (ha) erotica is full of double-entendres like the one above. “Off-colour” jokes depend for their effect on clear sexual implications followed by a disclaimer on the part of the joke-teller: why, what did you think I meant? What a dirty mind you have!
The bad reputation of sexually-explicit literature (in conservative circles) is rank with hypocrisy. Apparently it’s fine to make wisecracks about big tools and busy people (wink wink, nudge nudge) among men and women in the average office workplace as long as you can claim you’re not actually referring to sex.
Writers of the past (including the very recent past) had other strategies: phrases in Latin or French and/or metaphoric veils. In Victorian novels, a secret affair may become public knowledge when the couple is discovered “in flagrante.” Or someone surmises that the French lieutenant has a “paramour.” Or a realistic description of foreplay (some shedding of outer garments) is followed by “their hearts and bodies entwined and the earth moved.”
An amazing number of people I know, who say they have read certain “classic” novels of adultery (The Scarlet Letter, Anna Karenina, Madame Bovary), claim they are not the least bit erotic. Even Violet Leduc’s tortured autobiographical stories of lesbian passion (e.g. La Batarde) and Oscar Wilde’s thinly-disguised gay horror story, The Picture of Dorian Gray, are assumed to be “above” the level of erotic fiction.
Yet if sex as a major plot-premise is a defining element of literary erotica, much of the literature that is taught in schools (secondary schools as well as colleges and universities) fits the definition.
And no, I don’t buy the theory that literature is whatever the reader reads into it. A novel about “cheating” (extramarital sexual relationships) must be about sex and all the emotions that accompany it. And although it is possible to be emotionally unfaithful to a spouse or partner without "going farther," the great novels about the great tragedy of being tempted, surrendering to temptation and losing one's respectable public image always include sex as a physical activity that can be discovered.
A whole lot of literature describes sexual feelings. Most of us who include explicit sex scenes in our writing were first inspired by reading-matter that was recommended by our teachers or our parents. We simply imagined what was implied but not clearly described in the original versions. (Note the current spate of rewritten versions of Jane Austen’s genteel romance novels of the early nineteenth century.)
“Erotica” has always been hard to define clearly because it has always overlapped with supposedly non-erotic genres. If I have to define the difference, I would say it’s a matter of awareness. Writers who label their work “erotic” are conscious of writing about actual sex, the desire for sex, and the consequences of sex. Those who would be insulted to be reminded of the erotic elements in their work tend to be writers in denial, or writers of double-entendres.
Sexual feelings seem to be an unavoidable factor in the general human comedy (or tragedy). Differences in genres seem to be largely about how that thread is spun in the fabric of a story.
-----------------
Saturday, December 5, 2009
The Limits Of Willpower
By Ava March
“It’s the third house from the end. Left side. The white one.” As if that last bit was all that helpful. Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Most every house on his street resembled his own - a small white bungalow built around 1950.
“I know. I remember.”
Alex glanced to Mark. The man had only been to his house once. A handful of hours ago to pick him up, and it was dark now. He couldn’t help but be impressed.
Mark turned into his driveway and put the pickup truck in park. Without the noise from the street, Alex could hear the song that played on the radio. Billie Holiday’s scratchy voice seeped from the speakers in a low melodic rhythm. Old jazz? Interesting. He would have never guessed Mark was into it, but now, well, it seemed to fit him as perfectly as the navy polo that stretched across the broad width of his chest.
Discreetly rubbing his damp palms on his thighs, Alex shifted in the passenger seat and looked out the window. The outdoor light he’d flicked on right before leaving the house illuminated his front door. Well, he was officially home. Should he just get out of the truck, or did Mark want to kiss him? Or maybe he wasn’t really interested in him? Mark hadn’t said a word since they had left the movie theatre parking lot. Hell, Alex hated first dates. Truth be told, he sucked at them. Especially if he was attracted to the guy. Nerves clashing with the attraction heating his skin, tying his tongue into knots. Two hours at the theatre sitting next to Mark, so close every breath held a light, teasing hint of his cologne and every move brought some part of Alex’s body brushing against his…
“I had a nice evening.”
Alex swallowed, trying to find his voice, and looked to Mark whose shoulders were turned slightly toward him, left wrist resting casually on the steering wheel. “Yeah, me, too.”
Breath held and pressing down on his thigh to keep his leg from jittering, he waited as Mark’s gaze swept over his face. If he could just get past the first couple of dates. Past that awkward place where every word, every move, could be the wrong one. Constantly second guessing himself was damn tiring. He liked Mark, at least what he knew of him so far, and he was definitely attracted to him. He had a thing for strong, dark haired men and Mark, even with his good looks, didn’t seem to be an arrogant ass. A definite plus.
The song faded, offering a brief moment of silence before another began.
And then it occurred to him. He’s waiting for you to get out of the truck, idiot.
Disappointment and embarrassment washed over him. “Thanks for the movie,” he mumbled, as he reached for the lever on the door.
“Alex.”
“Yeah?” he said, turning back to Mark. But the word was lost in his throat as warm lips met his.
****
Contemporaries. I love to read them. Most of my favorite of favorite books are contemporary m/m romances. But as much as I love them, I simply cannot write them. My voice just isn’t suited to them.
It’s odd. It’s not like I talk like a woman from Regency England in everyday life. But if I tried to write a contemporary, my heroes would come out sounding like stuffy old men (did you notice how there isn’t much dialogue in my short little scene? - yeah, that was on purpose *g*). It’s like my muse has one track - historical - and that’s all it can do. You’d think with the amount of contemporaries I have read, that some of it would have sunk into the writing part of my head. But nope.
I tried once, a couple years ago, to start a contemporary. The idea for the scene was right there, I could see it playing out in my head, but damn if it wouldn’t go down onto the page. Seriously. I couldn’t even get past page one. Very frustrating exercise in futility.
And that little scene above? Took me two nights to write.
I’ve come to accept that just because I love to read something doesn’t mean that I can write it. It’s like the time I tried to learn how to play the violin. I bought one, practiced every night for like a year, and…damn I sucked. Will power can only go so far. At some point talent has to kick in, and like with my violin (that’s really pretty and has a beautiful rich tone…when my hubby plays it, that is), the talent for contemporaries just isn’t there for me.
Fortunately, I love historicals, too. Love my men in their stark white cravats and embroidered silk waistcoats. Love how they are mindful of the rules of proper decorum, but are very willing to throw the rules aside when behind closed doors. Still, it would be nice if I could write a book someday where my heroes could hold hands in public. Ah well, since that time will never come, I’ll get my hand-holding fix from books written by authors who have that talent to translate today onto the page.
Authors like Devon Rhodes. :D A huge thanks goes out to her for the invitation to guest post on Oh Get A Grip! *muwh* She knows I love her ;)
Thanks!
Ava March
-----------------
From Afar - Samhain/Feb 2009
Convincing Arthur - Loose Id
http://www.avamarch.com/
http://www.avamarch.blogspot.com/
M/M Erotic Romance…in the Regency Era
“It’s the third house from the end. Left side. The white one.” As if that last bit was all that helpful. Alex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Most every house on his street resembled his own - a small white bungalow built around 1950.
“I know. I remember.”
Alex glanced to Mark. The man had only been to his house once. A handful of hours ago to pick him up, and it was dark now. He couldn’t help but be impressed.
Mark turned into his driveway and put the pickup truck in park. Without the noise from the street, Alex could hear the song that played on the radio. Billie Holiday’s scratchy voice seeped from the speakers in a low melodic rhythm. Old jazz? Interesting. He would have never guessed Mark was into it, but now, well, it seemed to fit him as perfectly as the navy polo that stretched across the broad width of his chest.
Discreetly rubbing his damp palms on his thighs, Alex shifted in the passenger seat and looked out the window. The outdoor light he’d flicked on right before leaving the house illuminated his front door. Well, he was officially home. Should he just get out of the truck, or did Mark want to kiss him? Or maybe he wasn’t really interested in him? Mark hadn’t said a word since they had left the movie theatre parking lot. Hell, Alex hated first dates. Truth be told, he sucked at them. Especially if he was attracted to the guy. Nerves clashing with the attraction heating his skin, tying his tongue into knots. Two hours at the theatre sitting next to Mark, so close every breath held a light, teasing hint of his cologne and every move brought some part of Alex’s body brushing against his…
“I had a nice evening.”
Alex swallowed, trying to find his voice, and looked to Mark whose shoulders were turned slightly toward him, left wrist resting casually on the steering wheel. “Yeah, me, too.”
Breath held and pressing down on his thigh to keep his leg from jittering, he waited as Mark’s gaze swept over his face. If he could just get past the first couple of dates. Past that awkward place where every word, every move, could be the wrong one. Constantly second guessing himself was damn tiring. He liked Mark, at least what he knew of him so far, and he was definitely attracted to him. He had a thing for strong, dark haired men and Mark, even with his good looks, didn’t seem to be an arrogant ass. A definite plus.
The song faded, offering a brief moment of silence before another began.
And then it occurred to him. He’s waiting for you to get out of the truck, idiot.
Disappointment and embarrassment washed over him. “Thanks for the movie,” he mumbled, as he reached for the lever on the door.
“Alex.”
“Yeah?” he said, turning back to Mark. But the word was lost in his throat as warm lips met his.
****
Contemporaries. I love to read them. Most of my favorite of favorite books are contemporary m/m romances. But as much as I love them, I simply cannot write them. My voice just isn’t suited to them.
It’s odd. It’s not like I talk like a woman from Regency England in everyday life. But if I tried to write a contemporary, my heroes would come out sounding like stuffy old men (did you notice how there isn’t much dialogue in my short little scene? - yeah, that was on purpose *g*). It’s like my muse has one track - historical - and that’s all it can do. You’d think with the amount of contemporaries I have read, that some of it would have sunk into the writing part of my head. But nope.
I tried once, a couple years ago, to start a contemporary. The idea for the scene was right there, I could see it playing out in my head, but damn if it wouldn’t go down onto the page. Seriously. I couldn’t even get past page one. Very frustrating exercise in futility.
And that little scene above? Took me two nights to write.
I’ve come to accept that just because I love to read something doesn’t mean that I can write it. It’s like the time I tried to learn how to play the violin. I bought one, practiced every night for like a year, and…damn I sucked. Will power can only go so far. At some point talent has to kick in, and like with my violin (that’s really pretty and has a beautiful rich tone…when my hubby plays it, that is), the talent for contemporaries just isn’t there for me.
Fortunately, I love historicals, too. Love my men in their stark white cravats and embroidered silk waistcoats. Love how they are mindful of the rules of proper decorum, but are very willing to throw the rules aside when behind closed doors. Still, it would be nice if I could write a book someday where my heroes could hold hands in public. Ah well, since that time will never come, I’ll get my hand-holding fix from books written by authors who have that talent to translate today onto the page.
Authors like Devon Rhodes. :D A huge thanks goes out to her for the invitation to guest post on Oh Get A Grip! *muwh* She knows I love her ;)
Thanks!
Ava March
-----------------
From Afar - Samhain/Feb 2009
Convincing Arthur - Loose Id
http://www.avamarch.com/
http://www.avamarch.blogspot.com/
M/M Erotic Romance…in the Regency Era
Monday, November 30, 2009
A Beatific Bard I Am Not
By Devon Rhodes
Disquiet.
I list to port
Sailing upon unfamiliar seas
Without a compass.
Silken threads bind.
Insecure in my security,
Uncertain.
A feathery touch doesn't reach
Yet leaves a bruise.
A scar.
A brand.
Marked invisibly within,
Anonymous, I move among the hordes
Alone.
Recognition is impossible.
With a stretch of flesh
The impermanent grafts,
Never to sunder.
A crack.
Snap.
Pain is fleeting but irrevocable
As I move beyond
Vows.
Creation degrades.
Erodes.
Hull is breached,
She is boarded
By a fated foe.
Irrelevancy.
Capsize complete,
The impact inevitable.
Awaiting salvage.
******
I have a very organized mind for the creative sort. I drive with a bird's-eye view map in my head, I'm equally at home with literature and accounting, and although I love the blurred edges of Impressionism, I am comfortable, happy with its definition of images, boundaries.
Anything abstract takes me right out of my comfort zone. I like to be able to clearly label things, have organization in my world.
When it come to either reading it or penning it, poetry makes my heart stop...not in a good way. Too open to interpretation, too vague, too few rules. Now, I'm sure that someone who is an afficianado of poetry will tell me there are rules, however my mind can't wrap itself around them or easily sense their boundaries. They are not readily apparent to me, and my mind revolts when I try to read it.
Even my sample above, to my mind, came out more like a draft of an idea than poetry. Time and again, I had to restrain myself from breaking into prose. I tried my best to feel my topic and take the process seriously, but I felt silly writing it, and even more silly putting it out there for others to read and roll their eyes over.
I love the idea of free-flowing thought and truly admire those who are able to express themselves in this manner.
But I ain't a poet...and I know it.
Historicals are a different matter. I absolutely love to read a well-done historical, of any subgenre. And I aspire to write one someday. However the attention to accuracy, the placement of things and events, the language and vocabulary, all overwhelm to make it seem a daunting task.
Every time I attempt one, the littlest details pull me right out of the story.. Was that even a word back then? What did they call underwear in that period? How did you address someone of that rank again?
Before long I've lost my thread amongst the minutiae. Harrowing to say the least, especially for someone who writes by the seat of their pants often as not.
But I do love the craft of historicals done well, and I haven't given up all thoughts of attempting one.
My guest blogger this week, Ava March, has a beautiful historical style and voice which effortlessly pulls the reader back into the Regency period, whether in her Ava m/m novellas, or what I call her "hot het historicals" as Evangeline Collins. Sigh. So wonderful.
A published historical by Devon? One day, I hope.
Poetry? Not so much.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
How to sell your soul and avoid rejection
by Lisabet Sarai
I have a confession to make. Rejection doesn't bother me much. I almost feel embarrassed to admit that, unlike some authors, I don't burst into tears, smash china against the wall, curse the editor, go out and get drunk, or sulk in my room for a day when I get the news that one of my submissions has been rejected. Obviously, I'd rather have my work accepted, but when it's not, I'm relatively philosophical.
My equanimity in the face of rejection derives from two sources. First, I'm not as emotionally invested in publishing my writing as many authors. I started writing on a lark. I continue for the fun of it, for the little bit of cash it brings in, and most of all to please my readers. I know that I write reasonably well, but I have no illusions of being a Great Writer. My scribblings explore the many facets of love and lust, occasionally in relation to spirituality, but I have no deep conflicts that I am trying to resolve, no heavy messages to deliver, no absolute Truth to impart. Sometimes I feel that I am not a "real" author, since I don't burn with the overwhelming desire to share my insights with the world. In the larger scheme of things, it doesn't matter much whether I'm published or not.
The second reason that I don't get too upset when my work is rejected is that, quite honestly, it doesn't happen very often. Again, I'm almost ashamed to say this. I'm well aware of the struggles some of my colleagues face, trying to get their work published. My debut novel, Raw Silk, was contracted by the first publisher to whom I submitted it. Of course, the book was more or less tailored to fit the guidelines of that publisher (Black Lace). And it is true that they rejected my next two novel proposals -- because they ventured too far from the formula, I suspect. However, both were accepted by the next publisher I tried (the now defunct Blue Moon Books), an imprint that handled a broader range of erotic fiction.
Much of what I write is targeted for a particular publisher or at least a specific genre. Most of my short stories are written in response to calls for submissions that detail what the editor is seeking. This significantly increases the odds of being accepted. In fact, when my work is rejected, it is mostly because it's not a good fit to what the editor wants. When I first starting submitting to Total-E-Bound, which focuses on erotic romance, Claire (the wonderful owner of TEB) rejected everything that I sent her because 1) it didn't have a happy ending or 2) it didn't focus on a core relationship or 3) it was written in the first person present, a perspective that I like but she abhors. Now that I understand the conventions of the romance genre (as well as her personal pet peeves!), my acceptance rate has gone way up.
I think that the people who receive the most rejections are often the authors who are most creative. Their work doesn't fit nicely into the cubbyholes of a popular genre. Their stories are perhaps too long or too complex or too challenging, emotionally or intellectually, to be appealing to most publishers. Garce (who proposed this week's topic) is that kind of writer. I know that he's gotten far more rejections than acceptances, at least so far. My heart aches for him, because I love his work and I think that the world should read it. He has a lot to say -- a lot more than I do.
Yet I'm more successful than he is, at least if you judge success by number of publications. Something is not right about this. It definitely makes me uncomfortable.
We authors perennially bemoan the short-sightedness of an industry which looks not for the fresh voice or the original premise but for more of what is already selling. But that does make it easier to avoid rejection. You just have to give the publishers what they want.
Am I really that bad? A literary whore? A hack who can bang out a three or four thousand words a day, once I sit down to it, with the comfortable conviction that if my first choice of publisher won't accept it, my second choice probably will? Is there no room for inspiration? For flashes of insight? For a truly original approach to my chosen genre?
Well, I try. I look for new angles. I overturn stereotypes in a quest for novelty. But if I want to be published, I can't stray too far from the publisher's specs (and perhaps the readers' expectations. I'm brought back to the issues we raised when we talked about genres a few months ago.)
I've always been good at following instructions. (Hey, I'm a submissive at heart!) I know how to mold my writing into the shape that will at least be acceptable to my target publisher and audience. Rarely does my writing take over and drive me furiously in unexpected directions, the way other authors report. It's tamed.
This makes me somewhat sad. I envy them that madness, the thrill of being overwhelmed by inspiration, "the buzz" that is so intoxicating but which seizes me so rarely. On the other hand, as I add credits to my publishing history, I recognize that other authors probably envy me.
I have a confession to make. Rejection doesn't bother me much. I almost feel embarrassed to admit that, unlike some authors, I don't burst into tears, smash china against the wall, curse the editor, go out and get drunk, or sulk in my room for a day when I get the news that one of my submissions has been rejected. Obviously, I'd rather have my work accepted, but when it's not, I'm relatively philosophical.
My equanimity in the face of rejection derives from two sources. First, I'm not as emotionally invested in publishing my writing as many authors. I started writing on a lark. I continue for the fun of it, for the little bit of cash it brings in, and most of all to please my readers. I know that I write reasonably well, but I have no illusions of being a Great Writer. My scribblings explore the many facets of love and lust, occasionally in relation to spirituality, but I have no deep conflicts that I am trying to resolve, no heavy messages to deliver, no absolute Truth to impart. Sometimes I feel that I am not a "real" author, since I don't burn with the overwhelming desire to share my insights with the world. In the larger scheme of things, it doesn't matter much whether I'm published or not.
The second reason that I don't get too upset when my work is rejected is that, quite honestly, it doesn't happen very often. Again, I'm almost ashamed to say this. I'm well aware of the struggles some of my colleagues face, trying to get their work published. My debut novel, Raw Silk, was contracted by the first publisher to whom I submitted it. Of course, the book was more or less tailored to fit the guidelines of that publisher (Black Lace). And it is true that they rejected my next two novel proposals -- because they ventured too far from the formula, I suspect. However, both were accepted by the next publisher I tried (the now defunct Blue Moon Books), an imprint that handled a broader range of erotic fiction.
Much of what I write is targeted for a particular publisher or at least a specific genre. Most of my short stories are written in response to calls for submissions that detail what the editor is seeking. This significantly increases the odds of being accepted. In fact, when my work is rejected, it is mostly because it's not a good fit to what the editor wants. When I first starting submitting to Total-E-Bound, which focuses on erotic romance, Claire (the wonderful owner of TEB) rejected everything that I sent her because 1) it didn't have a happy ending or 2) it didn't focus on a core relationship or 3) it was written in the first person present, a perspective that I like but she abhors. Now that I understand the conventions of the romance genre (as well as her personal pet peeves!), my acceptance rate has gone way up.
I think that the people who receive the most rejections are often the authors who are most creative. Their work doesn't fit nicely into the cubbyholes of a popular genre. Their stories are perhaps too long or too complex or too challenging, emotionally or intellectually, to be appealing to most publishers. Garce (who proposed this week's topic) is that kind of writer. I know that he's gotten far more rejections than acceptances, at least so far. My heart aches for him, because I love his work and I think that the world should read it. He has a lot to say -- a lot more than I do.
Yet I'm more successful than he is, at least if you judge success by number of publications. Something is not right about this. It definitely makes me uncomfortable.
We authors perennially bemoan the short-sightedness of an industry which looks not for the fresh voice or the original premise but for more of what is already selling. But that does make it easier to avoid rejection. You just have to give the publishers what they want.
Am I really that bad? A literary whore? A hack who can bang out a three or four thousand words a day, once I sit down to it, with the comfortable conviction that if my first choice of publisher won't accept it, my second choice probably will? Is there no room for inspiration? For flashes of insight? For a truly original approach to my chosen genre?
Well, I try. I look for new angles. I overturn stereotypes in a quest for novelty. But if I want to be published, I can't stray too far from the publisher's specs (and perhaps the readers' expectations. I'm brought back to the issues we raised when we talked about genres a few months ago.)
I've always been good at following instructions. (Hey, I'm a submissive at heart!) I know how to mold my writing into the shape that will at least be acceptable to my target publisher and audience. Rarely does my writing take over and drive me furiously in unexpected directions, the way other authors report. It's tamed.
This makes me somewhat sad. I envy them that madness, the thrill of being overwhelmed by inspiration, "the buzz" that is so intoxicating but which seizes me so rarely. On the other hand, as I add credits to my publishing history, I recognize that other authors probably envy me.
Friday, February 20, 2009
A Porno By Any Other Name...
By Helen E. H. Madden
I have a dirty little secret. When Lisabet asked us all to pick days for our posts, I deliberately picked Friday so I could crib notes off of everyone else before writing my own post. Then I toss all that in the trash and pull something out of my... assets, shall we say?
Anyway, in regards to this week's topic, I have recently had several discussions on erotica - what it is, what it isn't, what I read, what I avoid like the plague, etc. Many of these conversations have been had with other writers and podcasters (in and out of the genre). All of the discussions have been intelligent, and most hysterically funny, and after having debating the finer aspects of what is supposed to be the erotica genre, I can definitely tell you this:
I don't know jack about this stuff.
For starters, what is erotica? I looked it up once. Dictionary.com offers multiple definitions - literature or art dealing with sexual love; literature or art intended to arouse sexual desire; creative activity (writing or pictures or films etc.) of no literary or artistic value other than to stimulate sexual desire (i.e. porn). I don't know about these definitions. Do they really reflect how and what **I** write? Keep in mind, I churn out a story a week for my so-called erotica podcast, so I do write a lot. Yeah I write about sexual love... maybe one out of every six stories. And yeah, maybe I'm out to make horn-dogs out of my readers... one out of every eight stories. As for the creative activity with no value other than to stimulate said horn-dogs to a frenzy?
Are you frikkin' kidding me?! Screw Dictionary.com if they think my writing doesn't have artistic value! And actually, screw them if they think porn doesn't have any artistic value.
Definitions for genre suck. How can anyone define what a genre is? I have said in the past that I am not a huge fan of the porn genre (Sex Trek VI: The Undiscovered Booty pretty much killed the genre for me), but that was before all the debating I've done on what the difference between erotica and porn is (it's not just the lighing!). Now I can't tell what is and isn't porn anymore. The super-talented Jay Lygon, who writes the hottest and smartest m/m BDSM I've ever seen, swears upon his mother's grave that what he writes is porn. I would just call it damn good story telling (it has plot! it has characterization! I love plot and characterization!!) that makes me attack my husband the moment he walks into the door (it has naked men being kinky! I love naked men being kinky!). And I do not kid on the whole it has plot, it has characterization thing. Jay's Chaos Magic has one of the most intriguing ideas behind it - a man recognizes the divine in certain people and they literally become his gods as a result. How that affects his life and his attempts to grow past an abusive relationship make for intriguing reading. I'd call it contemporary fantasy (with a healthy side-order of lust and kink) and put it on the same shelf with Laurell K. Hamilton, but to Jay? It's porn, and he's proud of it.
Then we come to Nobilis of the Nobilis Erotica Podcast. Nobilis defines his work as erotica. His stories have plenty of sex in them. In fact, his latest serial on the podcast was about spaceships powered by orgasms. On the surface, that sounds pretty porny, right? Maybe even Sex Trek VI porny. But the world-building behind it (how are the pilots selected and trained, how does their job affect their relationships) is pretty damned impressive. What really impressed me though was recently hearing Nobilis talk about how he finally realized he could write entire chapters without having any sex in them.
Tell me, if you don't have sex in every chapter, is it still erotica?
I could go on and on about other writers and what they call what they do, but it all comes back to the same thing. Different writers define their writing by their own terms. Then they must find a publisher who is willing to take their square peg story and stuff it into a round hole definition of a genre.
Aaaaaaah! See, that's the trick. Finding the publisher who's willing to do that. So many of our OGG bloggers this week all said the same thing. I don't write what other people write. I don't write what publishers say they're looking for. And this can be a real pain in the patootie. Or at least it used to be a real pain in the patootie, before the evolution of internet book stores and the e-book.
Now the e-book industry isn't perfect, but it has the delightful advantage of allowing individual books to be tagged with multiple genre labels, and this is key. If I write an m/m, BDSM, dark fantasy with yaoi elements story (Demon By Day, anyone?), then my book can be listed under: m/m, BDSM, dark fantasy, and yaoi. As long as the publisher sets the tags correctly, anybody browsing those categories will find my book. That's the beauty of the online bookstore. It isn't that we no longer need the stinkin' genres. We don't need the stinking shelves!
And for a freak-a-zoid like me, that's a godsend. I can write all the fantasy/horror/science fiction/romance/mystery/comedy/hard core porn that I like! And by producing my own podcast or maybe self-publishing my own book, I don't even have to answer to a publisher!! I can write anything, ANYTHING, and get it out there. I just have to find a way to let people know my writing exists, and the internet with all its social media tools like Twitter and MySpace and Yahoo Groups and everything else makes that possible too. No longer do we writers have to be pigeon-holed into what will and won't sell!! No longer must we be slaves to such narrow definitions of what constitutes erotica vs. romance vs. porn! If I want to write about punk lesbian mermaids who fall in love with paraplegics, I CAN! If I want to write about luscious plus-sized women being seduced by fuzzy green tentacle monsters, I can do that too! If I want to write a touching romantic story about clown sex, guess what!! I already did it, baby!! And YOU!! Yes you, the discerning consumer of great literature that you are, can find all of these goodies thanks to the wonders of e-books and podcasting and the internet!! Brothers and sisters, let me hear you say "HALLELUJAH AND PRAISE THE INTERTUBES!! I AM A SLAVE TO GENRES NO MORE!!!!!"
Uh... eh? What? What was this week's topic?
Oh yeah! Favorite genres. Um, I like science fiction, horror, fantasy and the occasional naughty tale. Thank you for asking ;)
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Welcome to my world...
I'm not the type of person who naturally likes being labelled. I'm agnostic, I'm ambidextrous, I'm... well, lets just say if there are two different ways to do things, I'd inclined to keep my options open. I'm very at home in a world filled with shades of gray.
A lot of the writers earlier on in this week put forward the idea that genre labels are not always a good thing. They made a lot of good points. I sort of agree with a lot of them. On the other hand, I think there is something to be said for putting the right labels on books. Here's why...
A few years ago, when I started writing seriously, I finally decided to quit trying to write what I thought other people wanted to read and to write the stories I wanted to tell.
One problem. A little bit of looking around and I convinced myself that no one would be interested in publishing what I wanted to write. I effectively felt like I was writing in a genre that didn't exist.
The stories were all about the development of a romantic relationship. So my books were obviously romances. Right?
Except all the romance publishers I stumbled across were vanilla and m/f. And even the ones that seemed to consider themselves very naughty had submission guidelines saying they expected three sex scenes in a 60,000 word book - some of my characters have chapters with more than that in them! So, I obviously wasn't writing romance.
More sex than romance? I must be writing erotica then. But the guidelines I found for those submissions didn't want romance, they didn't want happy ever after, they didn't want commitment between the characters and most of them only seemed to want BDSM elements for shock value.
I wrote for over a year in the complete certainty that I was the only person in the world writing the sort of stories I wanted to write - and wanted to read.
And then a stumbled across this strange thing called erotic romance. That was closer to the mark. There were writers there who seemed to enjoy writing stories that had a lot more in common than what I was writing.
A bit more searching and I found out that there were writers in that bunch who wrote Male/male stories too, and some who wrote BDSM as well!
I found my genre label.
I write BDSM erotic romance.
So, yes, right now I just like knowing that I'm writing in a particular genre that exists - that people might want to read what I want to write.
Although I'm not saying that all my stories fit in a neat little box.
I write about all different combinations or orientations and genders. So far I've had Mm, Mf, MfM and Mmm accepted. But I write all the others too. And I've got some stories that included a combination of all different relationships. At the moment, most of my stories seem to be Mm - and that's the character combination I start writing about in the first place, but it does vary somewhat with my mood.
I write about people who live a 24/7 BDSM lifestyle in one book, and people who would never let the kinky side of their life out of the bedroom in another. And I write about character who have the exact opposite view on what's the right way to do things. As long as it's SSC (Safe, sane, consensual) it's all good with me.
I write about different paranormal species too. Vampires and Werewolves are particular favourites at the moment, but I've got a few species I created from scratch in the planning.
I've got series that are classical/fantasy, mystery, suspense, historical and damn near everything else lurking around in my head.
All that's okay, I have no problem with the idea of putting six different sub-genre labels on a book.
Next Monday I'll have three stories on sale.
The Gift is M/m and M/m/m, Contemporary, Paranormal Time travel, Christmas.
Secret Service is M/m, Contemporary, Valentines.
Whispers is M/f, Paranormal, Contemporary, Psychic, Vampire. (In the Night of the Senses Anthology.)
They are in the same genre in that they are all BDSM erotic romances. But that's just about all they have in common.
I'm quite content with that.
I've found my genre. A label on my book saying that I write what I write is fine with me.
Because that's what I consider the genre labels to be. I don't find them limiting. I just think of them as simple statement to the reader that if you read this book, you will find X, Y and Z. Maybe some of those labels loose or gain me readers. I don't know.
But I do know what I write now.
I write BDSM erotic romance, usually with sub-genre descriptions tacked onto the end.
It's a bit of a mouthful, but it's a damn sight better than calling the stories I write stories-no-one-will-ever-want-to-publish :)
A lot of the writers earlier on in this week put forward the idea that genre labels are not always a good thing. They made a lot of good points. I sort of agree with a lot of them. On the other hand, I think there is something to be said for putting the right labels on books. Here's why...
A few years ago, when I started writing seriously, I finally decided to quit trying to write what I thought other people wanted to read and to write the stories I wanted to tell.
One problem. A little bit of looking around and I convinced myself that no one would be interested in publishing what I wanted to write. I effectively felt like I was writing in a genre that didn't exist.
The stories were all about the development of a romantic relationship. So my books were obviously romances. Right?
Except all the romance publishers I stumbled across were vanilla and m/f. And even the ones that seemed to consider themselves very naughty had submission guidelines saying they expected three sex scenes in a 60,000 word book - some of my characters have chapters with more than that in them! So, I obviously wasn't writing romance.
More sex than romance? I must be writing erotica then. But the guidelines I found for those submissions didn't want romance, they didn't want happy ever after, they didn't want commitment between the characters and most of them only seemed to want BDSM elements for shock value.
I wrote for over a year in the complete certainty that I was the only person in the world writing the sort of stories I wanted to write - and wanted to read.
And then a stumbled across this strange thing called erotic romance. That was closer to the mark. There were writers there who seemed to enjoy writing stories that had a lot more in common than what I was writing.
A bit more searching and I found out that there were writers in that bunch who wrote Male/male stories too, and some who wrote BDSM as well!
I found my genre label.
I write BDSM erotic romance.
So, yes, right now I just like knowing that I'm writing in a particular genre that exists - that people might want to read what I want to write.
Although I'm not saying that all my stories fit in a neat little box.
I write about all different combinations or orientations and genders. So far I've had Mm, Mf, MfM and Mmm accepted. But I write all the others too. And I've got some stories that included a combination of all different relationships. At the moment, most of my stories seem to be Mm - and that's the character combination I start writing about in the first place, but it does vary somewhat with my mood.
I write about people who live a 24/7 BDSM lifestyle in one book, and people who would never let the kinky side of their life out of the bedroom in another. And I write about character who have the exact opposite view on what's the right way to do things. As long as it's SSC (Safe, sane, consensual) it's all good with me.
I write about different paranormal species too. Vampires and Werewolves are particular favourites at the moment, but I've got a few species I created from scratch in the planning.
I've got series that are classical/fantasy, mystery, suspense, historical and damn near everything else lurking around in my head.
All that's okay, I have no problem with the idea of putting six different sub-genre labels on a book.
Next Monday I'll have three stories on sale.
The Gift is M/m and M/m/m, Contemporary, Paranormal Time travel, Christmas.
Secret Service is M/m, Contemporary, Valentines.
Whispers is M/f, Paranormal, Contemporary, Psychic, Vampire. (In the Night of the Senses Anthology.)
They are in the same genre in that they are all BDSM erotic romances. But that's just about all they have in common.
I'm quite content with that.
I've found my genre. A label on my book saying that I write what I write is fine with me.
Because that's what I consider the genre labels to be. I don't find them limiting. I just think of them as simple statement to the reader that if you read this book, you will find X, Y and Z. Maybe some of those labels loose or gain me readers. I don't know.
But I do know what I write now.
I write BDSM erotic romance, usually with sub-genre descriptions tacked onto the end.
It's a bit of a mouthful, but it's a damn sight better than calling the stories I write stories-no-one-will-ever-want-to-publish :)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
What the heck does genre have to do with it
by Jude Mason
When I first began writing seriously I was asked, what genre are your stories in? My first reaction was, huh? I wrote sex stories. I wrote about people in all walks of life finding different ways to hop into bed/backseat of car, pond, hammock or streetcar to do the nasty. What was this genre thing?
I still feel somewhat like this. I know there's sci-fi, horror, gblt, romance, BDSM, historical and a dozen others, but what did that have to do with me? You mean I'm supposed to put a title on these things and decide on a genre? One genre?
Are you all insane?!
To this day, I rarely stick to one genre. What's the fun in that? Mixing it up, that's what makes it fun. It also just seems to happen. LOL Yes, after years of practice, and working for specific fetish e-zine for three years, I have learned to keep a story in one-ish genre. Sigh. But, honestly, other genres did creep in. I mean you start out writing romance, right? Then, you have the space aliens invade the civilized galazy and ~BAM~ you have science fiction in there. Or, the space captain is gay and you've got gblt along with it. It's just so easy to slip into something else, no matter how you plan things.
I grew up on science fiction and it still has a place in my heart. Bradbury, Heinlein, Burroughs and many more, all recognizable by their last names alone. I loved them and still do. Some of the things I've written I'm sure have a taste of them in it. I hope so, they were amazing artists. But even they strayed into mutli-genre works. Tarzan did meet and fall in love with Jane after all.
Do I think readers want us to stick to one genre? Well, the big NY houses would have us believe so. And they do sell. Although of late, I've heard rumblings that they're not doing as well as they'd like to and seem to be blaming us internet authors and our e-publishing houses. Methinks readers want to spread their wings as well. From the posts I've seen here and elsewhere, it's become pretty evident that readers like to explore as much as we the authors do.
Who'd a thunk it?
True, there are some who read strictly historical romance, and I have no issue with them. What you read in your off time is entirely up to you, and there are writers who love to fill your needs. But, I really do think people are ready for mixed genre books. They crave the escapizm we can give them. E-publishers are always after, something a little different, and the authors are struggling to fill those needs.
Yes, labeling these books isn't always easy. But, what's wrong with having a label that says, 'M/M, Sci-fi, romance' ? That'd be those two space captains I spoke of a second ago. *G* The readers will havea label to help them decide if it's the book their looking for. The publishing house is given an amazing book and the author has been give free rein to explore his or her creativity. I think it's a win win situation here.
But, it's still a hard sell. Too difficult to pigeon hole. Too frustrating for the seller.
Variety truly is the spice of life and I'm afraid if left to my own devices the genres can get pretty scattered. I'll always love BDSM, it's a lovely genre to write in. Femdom is in there too, and I do love a strong man bowing to a strong woman. *G* I'm really fond of m/m and the last few books I've written, both alone and with my co-writer, Jamie Hill, have been in that genre. I could go on with the genres I love to write, but that really could take pages. Paranormal, shapeshifters, historicals, f/f...and so many more. Mix em up, add a dab of another genre and it's got me going. Hopefully, it's got the readers going too.
Anyone have a single genre they like? Is that really a single genre or did one of those naughty sub-genres sneak in? Think about it.
When I first began writing seriously I was asked, what genre are your stories in? My first reaction was, huh? I wrote sex stories. I wrote about people in all walks of life finding different ways to hop into bed/backseat of car, pond, hammock or streetcar to do the nasty. What was this genre thing?
I still feel somewhat like this. I know there's sci-fi, horror, gblt, romance, BDSM, historical and a dozen others, but what did that have to do with me? You mean I'm supposed to put a title on these things and decide on a genre? One genre?
Are you all insane?!
To this day, I rarely stick to one genre. What's the fun in that? Mixing it up, that's what makes it fun. It also just seems to happen. LOL Yes, after years of practice, and working for specific fetish e-zine for three years, I have learned to keep a story in one-ish genre. Sigh. But, honestly, other genres did creep in. I mean you start out writing romance, right? Then, you have the space aliens invade the civilized galazy and ~BAM~ you have science fiction in there. Or, the space captain is gay and you've got gblt along with it. It's just so easy to slip into something else, no matter how you plan things.
I grew up on science fiction and it still has a place in my heart. Bradbury, Heinlein, Burroughs and many more, all recognizable by their last names alone. I loved them and still do. Some of the things I've written I'm sure have a taste of them in it. I hope so, they were amazing artists. But even they strayed into mutli-genre works. Tarzan did meet and fall in love with Jane after all.
Do I think readers want us to stick to one genre? Well, the big NY houses would have us believe so. And they do sell. Although of late, I've heard rumblings that they're not doing as well as they'd like to and seem to be blaming us internet authors and our e-publishing houses. Methinks readers want to spread their wings as well. From the posts I've seen here and elsewhere, it's become pretty evident that readers like to explore as much as we the authors do.
Who'd a thunk it?
True, there are some who read strictly historical romance, and I have no issue with them. What you read in your off time is entirely up to you, and there are writers who love to fill your needs. But, I really do think people are ready for mixed genre books. They crave the escapizm we can give them. E-publishers are always after, something a little different, and the authors are struggling to fill those needs.
Yes, labeling these books isn't always easy. But, what's wrong with having a label that says, 'M/M, Sci-fi, romance' ? That'd be those two space captains I spoke of a second ago. *G* The readers will havea label to help them decide if it's the book their looking for. The publishing house is given an amazing book and the author has been give free rein to explore his or her creativity. I think it's a win win situation here.
But, it's still a hard sell. Too difficult to pigeon hole. Too frustrating for the seller.
Variety truly is the spice of life and I'm afraid if left to my own devices the genres can get pretty scattered. I'll always love BDSM, it's a lovely genre to write in. Femdom is in there too, and I do love a strong man bowing to a strong woman. *G* I'm really fond of m/m and the last few books I've written, both alone and with my co-writer, Jamie Hill, have been in that genre. I could go on with the genres I love to write, but that really could take pages. Paranormal, shapeshifters, historicals, f/f...and so many more. Mix em up, add a dab of another genre and it's got me going. Hopefully, it's got the readers going too.
Anyone have a single genre they like? Is that really a single genre or did one of those naughty sub-genres sneak in? Think about it.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Genres? We don't need no stinking genres!
by Lisabet Sarai
Jamie’s topic for this week at Oh Get A Grip asks the question, what’s your favorite genre to write? My reaction is perhaps not so extreme as my title would suggest, but to be honest, I’m rather fed up with the whole concept. The way I see it, genres are primarily a marketing issue. The market slaps a genre label onto your work and puts you in a box.
I don’t like to be cooped up in a box. (Well, not unless my Master put me there!) My writing tends to cross genres. I write M/M, F/F, M/F/M, M/M/F, and pretty much every other combination of genders that you could imagine – in the same book. I have BDSM elements, paranormal elements, cross-cultural elements and historical settings – all bound up together.
My recently released novel Exposure is labeled as “erotic suspense”, and I suppose that is as accurate as any single label would be, but then I worry: will my readers be upset by the F/F scenes? And what about the readers who love lesbian fiction? How will they know they can find it in my book?
Incognito is tagged as “contemporary erotic romance”, yet nearly a third of the book takes place in Victorian Boston. Raw Silk was contracted to its original publisher as “erotica”. Now it’s selling as “erotic romance”. I probably changed no more than 1% of the text. Was that enough to change the genre? Of course not!
I recently pitched a story to one of my publishers, a contribution to a menage anthology. The editor rejected it because it had some male/male interaction, and this anthology was supposed to be restricted to M/F/M only.
Grr! I mean, it’s up to her what she wants to publish, but I can’t help thinking that she has a rather narrow definition of menage.
I understand why publishers want to assign genre labels. It’s a short cut for readers looking for a particular sort of subject matter. You liked the last two werewolf novels you bought? Here, try another one. Or twelve. But perhaps readers might be happier experimenting. As much as I love well-written BDSM, I can’t take a steady diet of it. Am I weird, wanting to have some variety? Wanting to mix it up? (My husband will energetically assert that I am indeed weird, but not for that reason!)
From what I’ve observed in my two and a half years in the ePublishing world, genre labels seem to encourage a distressing level of uniformity. We see piles of shapeshifter books, hundreds of vampire romances. Every week a dozen new volumes set in mystical realms inhabited by beings with magical powers hit the cyber-shelves.
Maybe most readers really are looking for predictability. Not me. When I read, I want to be surprised. Astonished by the author’s original premise. Sucked into places I didn’t expect to go.
Weird, right?
One genre label that drives me crazy is “inter-racial romance”. To me, categorizing a romance based on the race of the protagonists smacks of bigotry and prejudice. Sure, a black woman and a white man (or vice versa) may be more of a turn on for some people than a same-race couple, but to me, using the “inter-racial” label seems to be validating and perpetuating the old myths associated with segregation and slavery.
I’ve been assured by authors who explicitly identify their work as “inter-racial” that this sub-genre sells well. Ah well, I suppose the market rules. As for me, I’ve written stories featuring mixed race lovers, but I’ll never use the word “inter-racial” to try and sell them. Just my feelings.
It suddenly strikes me that my argument against the inter-racial label sounds similar to the complaints some people make about BDSM. It encourages violence against women, they say. It makes cruelty and abuse acceptable and sexy.
Now personally, I know that this is hogwash – at least for the type of BDSM that I write. The BDSM relationships in which my characters are involved are intimate, enjoyable, fulfilling, even healing. I suppose, though, that someone who had never read my work or experienced the potential joy to be found in a D/s relationship might well find BDSM fiction alien and threatening, sick and dangerous.
This, in turn, makes me realize that another purpose of genre labels is to warn readers away from fiction that would make them uncomfortable. I suppose I can understand this, but it still makes me wonder. If they’ve never read BDSM, or FF, or MM, how do they know they won’t like it. Do readers really want the same stories, the same experience, over and over?
Maybe they do. Maybe I’m just weird. Maybe that’s why my writing doesn’t sell better!
What do you think?
Jamie’s topic for this week at Oh Get A Grip asks the question, what’s your favorite genre to write? My reaction is perhaps not so extreme as my title would suggest, but to be honest, I’m rather fed up with the whole concept. The way I see it, genres are primarily a marketing issue. The market slaps a genre label onto your work and puts you in a box.
I don’t like to be cooped up in a box. (Well, not unless my Master put me there!) My writing tends to cross genres. I write M/M, F/F, M/F/M, M/M/F, and pretty much every other combination of genders that you could imagine – in the same book. I have BDSM elements, paranormal elements, cross-cultural elements and historical settings – all bound up together.
My recently released novel Exposure is labeled as “erotic suspense”, and I suppose that is as accurate as any single label would be, but then I worry: will my readers be upset by the F/F scenes? And what about the readers who love lesbian fiction? How will they know they can find it in my book?
Incognito is tagged as “contemporary erotic romance”, yet nearly a third of the book takes place in Victorian Boston. Raw Silk was contracted to its original publisher as “erotica”. Now it’s selling as “erotic romance”. I probably changed no more than 1% of the text. Was that enough to change the genre? Of course not!
I recently pitched a story to one of my publishers, a contribution to a menage anthology. The editor rejected it because it had some male/male interaction, and this anthology was supposed to be restricted to M/F/M only.
Grr! I mean, it’s up to her what she wants to publish, but I can’t help thinking that she has a rather narrow definition of menage.
I understand why publishers want to assign genre labels. It’s a short cut for readers looking for a particular sort of subject matter. You liked the last two werewolf novels you bought? Here, try another one. Or twelve. But perhaps readers might be happier experimenting. As much as I love well-written BDSM, I can’t take a steady diet of it. Am I weird, wanting to have some variety? Wanting to mix it up? (My husband will energetically assert that I am indeed weird, but not for that reason!)
From what I’ve observed in my two and a half years in the ePublishing world, genre labels seem to encourage a distressing level of uniformity. We see piles of shapeshifter books, hundreds of vampire romances. Every week a dozen new volumes set in mystical realms inhabited by beings with magical powers hit the cyber-shelves.
Maybe most readers really are looking for predictability. Not me. When I read, I want to be surprised. Astonished by the author’s original premise. Sucked into places I didn’t expect to go.
Weird, right?
One genre label that drives me crazy is “inter-racial romance”. To me, categorizing a romance based on the race of the protagonists smacks of bigotry and prejudice. Sure, a black woman and a white man (or vice versa) may be more of a turn on for some people than a same-race couple, but to me, using the “inter-racial” label seems to be validating and perpetuating the old myths associated with segregation and slavery.
I’ve been assured by authors who explicitly identify their work as “inter-racial” that this sub-genre sells well. Ah well, I suppose the market rules. As for me, I’ve written stories featuring mixed race lovers, but I’ll never use the word “inter-racial” to try and sell them. Just my feelings.
It suddenly strikes me that my argument against the inter-racial label sounds similar to the complaints some people make about BDSM. It encourages violence against women, they say. It makes cruelty and abuse acceptable and sexy.
Now personally, I know that this is hogwash – at least for the type of BDSM that I write. The BDSM relationships in which my characters are involved are intimate, enjoyable, fulfilling, even healing. I suppose, though, that someone who had never read my work or experienced the potential joy to be found in a D/s relationship might well find BDSM fiction alien and threatening, sick and dangerous.This, in turn, makes me realize that another purpose of genre labels is to warn readers away from fiction that would make them uncomfortable. I suppose I can understand this, but it still makes me wonder. If they’ve never read BDSM, or FF, or MM, how do they know they won’t like it. Do readers really want the same stories, the same experience, over and over?
Maybe they do. Maybe I’m just weird. Maybe that’s why my writing doesn’t sell better!
What do you think?
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