Sassing back

Moriah

I’ve been on the hunt for a blog feed I like. I’ve used various Firefox plugins and only tried Google reader as a last resort.

While I don’t exactly love it, it’s the best thing I’ve tried so far. Problem is, I don’t get inspired to comment very often because I read, move along. I have too many blogs of interest: romance, LDS, Kansas City, politics, diet/nutrition, traditional and independent publishing, other artsy fartsy craftsy type things (you don’t want to know how many of those I follow), and healthcare industry-related things.

I know I read a blog post/thread a while back commenting on lack of comments all over; someone suggested that this situation was part of the problem. I didn’t understand it then (most of the readers I’ve tried listed how many comments a post had and it would prompt me to check them), but I do now.

The 37-year-old virgin heroine

Moriah

The Virgin Heroine has always been (and remains, IMO) a staple of genre romance. It’s getting not so much that way anymore, but as time goes on and society gets freer with its sexcapades, it’s harder for a writer to justify the Virgin Heroine, especially beyond, say, college age. On the other hand, we still have historical writers who are perfectly capable of pulling off the “wicked virgin widow trope,” which I have to admit is cracktastic and I never ever get tired of it. (Kind of like “I had to do it to fulfill the will” plots, but that’s another post.)

I don’t believe I’ve ever read a contemporary romance (other than an inspirational or sweet) that used religious beliefs as a solid, if not defiant, reason for the heroine’s virginity. And in any case, religious or not, if the heroine does lose her virginity before she marries the hero, she still marries (or commits to) the hero, so it’s all good.

For Mormons, the matter of celibacy until marriage is an expectation, a requirement. You don’t have sex with your one and only twu wuv before the vows are said no matter the commitment level. This also means you can’t have sex with yourself since, well, you aren’t married to yourself. Masturbation’s a no-no, folks.

Oh, yes, I just now heard all 4 of you non-Mormon readers gasp in shock and dismay. I know. Me, too. Think about being 29, 37, 46 and still a virgin. It’s a bitch. You think I’m kidding or talking about a very small minority of single women in the church who had no plans for default nunnery? I assure you, I am not. There’s a lot of ’em. I will never find a non-Mormon romance with a Virgin Heroine who’s 29, 37, 46 without some trauma or serious psychological issues that requires therapy. Nobody’d believe it.

So. For the more adventurous of LDS women who read genre romance of the steamier variety, I have written the unapologetic 37-year-old Virgin Heroine as a tribute to you (and when she finds her one and only twu wuv, she takes one for the team so you don’t have to); if you’re older than that and still can’t relate to Giselle’s celibate angst, I apologize from the bottom of my heart (although if you disagree with her choices, well, not apologizing for that).

For the non-LDS women who can’t relate to such a thing at all, I hope I’ve written for you a decent reason she is the way she is and a realistic picture of the way she deals with it. If you still can’t believe it, my only defense is that I know these women—a lot of them.

Publishing potpourri for 100, Alex

Moriah

Jasmine or honeysuckle, if you’re offering. Lavender and gardenia make my nose itch.

THE JEWEL OF MEDINA
by Sherry Jones

A resident of the Ivory Tower, who apparently called dibs on A’isha (child bride of Muhammed) as her personal and exclusive domain of study and forgot to send the memo, raised a ruckus about a book she didn’t like and managed to get Random House to pull it after the author had been paid her $100k advance and the presses were rolling. I say it’s an academic hatchet job.

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By gosh and by golly

Moriah

A meme with two cats snuggling. Text: “Luv We haz it”Harlequin. I *lurrrrve* you.

Got an email from Ms. Malle Vallik today on the subject of my ebook shopping woes. She will be addressing my concerns for the Harlequin digital team and wanted me to know that.

And you know what? With that one little email, all my lingering irritation vanished.

Harlequin is not hurt by the fact that I am now also in love with Kristan Higgins.

My credit card is trembling at this very moment. With anticipation or fear, I don’t know, but it’s going to get abused.

And you know what else? With that one little email, Harlequin got a customer for life, delivery issues be damned.

Blond heroes

Moriah

Upfront aside: On Amazon, Breaking Dawn is getting trashed for typos and grammatical errors and spelling errors, like … “blond” versus “blonde.” I didn’t bother to ask if the different usage was gender-specific. So for those who might misunderstand my usage of both “blond” and “blonde” in my book, let me disclaim that “blond” (no “e”) is to describe a male and “blonde” (with “e”) is to describe a female (you can apply that to “brunet” and “brunette” as well). Just your regular ordinary Latin declension.

That out of the way, I want to know how many people really don’t like blond heroes. I don’t remember where I ran across some “fact” with “data” that proclaimed that blond heroes don’t sell well.

I’m reading a book now with a blond villain and crimony, now that that I have that swirling around in my brain, I recall a good majority of the books I’ve read that have a slimy villain, they’re all blond. Not fair!

I love ’em. This is because of Wulfgar in The Wolf and the Dove. And other particular contributors to my life experience.

Two questions:

1. Do you have any particular dislike of blond heroes?

2. Is there evidence that blond heroes don’t sell as well as dark ones?

Thinging

Moriah

A meme of a calico cat relaxing. Text: “i gotz u a rly good book … but i eated it.”Late to the party, as usual. LibraryThing has been on my to-do list forever, and I finally got a decent start on it today. Mind, it’s far from complete.

I’m not going to be reviewing much of anything in the future unless someone asks (I doubt that’ll happen much) or unless I’m totally blown away. I don’t think I write very good reviews, for one thing and for another, after thinking about it, I only have three categories: liked, didn’t like, and didn’t want to finish.

I won’t review stuff I didn’t like. Now … stuff I didn’t want to finish may be a different animal altogether because then I start wondering why I didn’t want to finish it. Periodically, I’ll post what I’m reading that I like.

The price of nice

Moriah

I was over on Dear Author talking about Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer, which I have not read. One commenter expressed disapproval of Meyer on the basis that she’s a Mormon mother and shouldn’t be writing stuff like that anyway. I will go so far as to guess this commenter was not Mormon because she spelled it “Morman.”

I could crack on Meyer for a couple of different things, but when the religion gets broken out as a generic weapon to say “You can’t write that because you’re a Mormon,” I’m on Meyer’s side. Period.

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Take my money, please!

Moriah

I remember when I was a kid, going to The Jones Store and Macy’s around Christmas time gathering our Santa choices, then wandering around to find a clerk to take your money. Unfortunately, “there was no one there to take my money and they wasted my time by making me go fetch them” isn’t a good defense for walking out of the store with what you want, even if you can break it out on a wage basis and demonstrate adequate opportunity loss.

Harlequin. Bite me.

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The voices in my head tell me to

Moriah

I call them my imaginary friends. When I talk about these people, my husband usually doesn’t know if I’m talking about someone real or not. Occasionally, he doesn’t dare ask because he knows he should know if they are or not. I’d like him to be as invested in them as I am, but that’s not possible. And while he really doesn’t understand, he helps me hammer out details of their motivations and consequences.

I don’t write about them because I want to; I write about them because I must. I am compelled. I don’t think you’ll find another writer anywhere who won’t tell you he’s compelled to write.

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What have you done for me lately?

Moriah

PUBLISHERS

I’d like to see new and different in romance. It took Ellora’s Cave and Loose Id and Samhain to break you out into genres you wouldn’t touch before (and no, they’re not all erotica).

I’d like to see you lead the way into e-publishing but again, you didn’t get in gear until the above-mentioned trailblazers kicked your butts. Apparently not even Baen was able to get to you like those three did.

INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS

The consignment system of inventory management is, I believe, in its late afternoon and Barnes & Noble CEO Riggio wants to push it into that good night. Agent Richard Curtis (and foresightful creator of e-Reads) points out that it’s not going away–on the dead-tree book brick’n’mortar playground, but, he says,

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My guilty pleasure

Moriah

My first full-on real-life romance novel was Shanna by Kathleen Woodiwiss. Naturally, it’s on my keeper shelf right next to The Wolf and the Dove. I have the ones with the original covers, though they are far from mint. The namby pamby covers on the ones with the links are meh. Unlike most of my contemporaries whose first (or close to it) romance experience was Woodiwiss, mine wasn’t with The Flame and the Flower or Ashes in the Wind, neither of which I cared for.

But she’s not my guilty pleasure.

It’s Carole Mortimer of Harlequin Presents circa 1979 through, oh, I guess around 1986.

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An embarrassment of half-assed riches

Moriah

See, the thing is, I keep getting these great ideas to blog about, but then I get distracted and they don’t gel and I have about 6 half-written posts in my drafts folder that kinda sorta mean something to me now, but not really. Prepare for leftovers, kiddies, because mommy’s tired and she doesn’t want to cook dinner.

Re: ANN HERENDEEN AND PHYLLIDA

This is what’s apparently called “good” gossip. I shall take the liberty of bragging.

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Miss Jackson if you’re nasty

Moriah

My subtitle says, “Religion. Money. Politics. Sex.” Okay, I think I’ve covered them all, but my tag cloud says I’m getting heavy on the religion side, so let’s hit the money for a while.

Over on Teleread, while looking for a post on ePub format (I know I read it the other day and I’ll address that in a future post), I found this gem: Top Ten Self-Publishing Myths. It’s all relevant to me, but I’m not going to post it all here. Copyright, you know. Go read, then come back!

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Getting the job done

Moriah

In my review of Phyllida, I made a reference to an average review it earned at Amazon with the caveat that the reviewer “stayed up all night to read the last two hundred pages, because I was engrossed with the characters’ stories.” To which my response was, that’s the mother lode.

I’ve thought a lot about this lately, what I pick up, what I put down. I’ll finish a book regardless; it’s just something I do. I can’t stand to leave a book unfinished, no matter how torturous. Also, I’m not one of those readers who has to be absolutely captivated by the first or third page. I’ll give an author a good 50 pages to live up to the blurb (which is what would have hooked me enough to buy it), sink that hook in my mouth, and reel me in. (Which is kind of a moot point anyway, since I’m going to finish it.)

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Genre, let me show u it

Moriah

I am bored with the below discussion (but don’t let me rain on your parade, so carry on). However, I do need to use it as the springboard for what’s on my ADHD mind today: What, precisely, defines a genre?

We’re very specific in romance. Got an email yesterday from my newest BFF (kidding! but the offer’s open!) who said, “I know you don’t write romance … ” Well, yeah, I do. It’s just got so much other STUFF in it that it can’t be classified, which is why I’m publishing it myself. In fact, it’s got THREE (count ’em, 1, 2, 3) full-length romances going on at the same time all woven together (which is why it’s going to top 700 pages and who-knows-how-many megabytes). And they have sex and there is no fade-to-black and they say the f-word and the c-word. They live a certain political philosophy (some more than others) that will probably be uncomfortable for other types of readers. The story takes place over the course of 5 years and oh, by the way, they’re all in their late 30s and early 40s and wow is that so not part of genre romance.

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