ROMANCING THE CRONE, PART TWO...

LAST POST, I TALKED ABOUT HYBRID BOOKS, The Tattooed Witch, my debut novel that spans both speculative fiction and paranormal romance, and my frustration with the Big Five NY publishing houses that insist that fantasy and romance genres remain within strictly defined guidelines. (Thank heavens for my publisher, Five Rivers Publishing, which diverges from the traditional publishing model and allows its authors an authentic voice.) I went on to criticize some of the traditional romance formulas, which include a dominant alpha male hero and a tolerance for rape. Shortly after I posted Romancing the Crone on Suzenyms, there was a lot of discussion on my Facebook Timeline about the romance memes, why romance writers adhere to them, and how readers don’t necessarily think the same way writers do. Diane Walton, friend and fellow editor at On Spec, sent me this e-mail (slightly edited, so as to protect identities). She wrote: I asked two acquaintances to read your post about romance writing, since they write romances and paranormal romances. Here’s what one of them said: 

“As much as I agree with her (meaning me) about romance writing, we still have a publisher's formula to follow. In fact, we tried to write a thoughtful, exciting, and historically accurate romance novel, and a lot of it was edited out…as new authors, we are at the mercy of editors' and readers' preferences. If these formula novels were not popular, they wouldn't be selling.”

This note started me on a very interesting back and forth with the writer in question. I suggested to her that perhaps I’d been a bit harsh in my criticisms. I asked her if I could share our correspondence, to which she agreed, as long as we maintained her anonymity. She was worried about offending her publisher. I find what she writes very illuminating:

“I don't necessarily think the formula is a good thing, and for some women who are far more educated and sophisticated in their reading habits, they still love romance, but not the ‘old style’ romance. Many are shifting to historical lit with romance stories built in to get better stories with more depth and richness. I got into romance on the whim of my publisher—the book I co-authored was written as historical lit. She changed it and edited it to fit the romance cube.

If you hate formula romance, you will also hate this one, I think. We had a damn good book until the publisher and editors took out all our careful research and wonderful plot and had my co-author, who took over the rewrites during editing for the experience, insert some hackneyed, horrible ‘sensual scenes’  that are stilted and awkward. (I already had experience working with editors and publishers so I wanted her to have the opportunity.) I’m not putting down my co-author—being a new writer she was intimidated and obeyed—but I wish I’d known. She had to insert love scenes where they didn't belong. I didn't know what was going on until it was too late. It was my mistake. I should have taken over the editing process with the editors and publisher of  this book. 

Frankly, I'm on a mission to change the ‘formula’ and make romance into an intelligent, sophisticated, thoughtful, and exciting genre, instead of the same old crap that’s being pumped out there. If I have to write romances for this publisher, I want them to be good stories. From what I hear, most women readers are shifting towards this as well, but the romance industry is simply not listening.”

She goes on to point out the romance book industry accounts for 68% of overall book sales in North America (I haven't verified this number and I've seen other stats that differ, but the percentage is substantial.) With regards to women romance readers wanting to see a shift in terms of what the industry offers them, she said this is what she continually hears on discussion panels. 

So, how do we change publishers' minds in terms of what readers might rather see in romance novels or hybrid books? We speak up. We offer differing opinions, whenever and wherever we can. We encourage our readers to do so, too. 

ROMANCING THE CRONE...

RECENTLY, I CHECKED OUT NovelRank to see how my debut novel The Tattooed Witch was doing. Sales are slow; I wish they were better. I have to remind myself to have faith in my publisher’s advice that over the long haul, the book will likely make as much money as it might have in six months, if a bigger NY house had picked it up. Sometimes, it’s hard to keep the faith.

As much as I like sharing what I’ve learned about writing in my ‘ABC’s' posts or my more recent ‘Letters to the Slush Pile’, I also use Suzenyms as a platform to promote The Tattooed Witch and the rest of the trilogy. Part of the trouble is that the books are hybrids. My agent told me last year (before the book sold to Five Rivers) that the marketing departments of the NY houses didn’t know where to place it – the concern was that there was too much ‘strange’ magic in it, which might unsettle romance readers, and too much romance in it to appeal to the fantasy reading crowd. 

From some of the reviews I’ve received, the fantasy readers (many men, surprisingly) haven’t minded the romantic elements. I’m sharing a portion from Dave Laderoute’s review of The Tattooed Witch on Goodreads, here:

“Honestly, going into this book, I was a little wary; it came across as a ‘woman's book’ and, well, I'm a guy. Two or three pages in, I realized I was wrong, wrong, wrongity-wrong. This is a fantastic book for anyone to read (okay, perhaps not for some younger readers, as in some places, the book—if not actually explicit—is pretty clearly treading into mature places involving violence and/or sex). The author has drawn some extremely compelling characters, and placed them in a well-constructed, consistent and richly-textured world that resembles our own Medieval Spain. Miriam, the main character, is both strong and vulnerable; she is far more than the dreary old female tropes that plague most speculative fiction i.e. ‘the guy with boobs’ or ‘the shrinking flower/damsel in distress’….” (Dave goes further. If you’d like to read the rest of the review, you can read it here: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18174746-the-tattooed-witch.

Anyway, I very much appreciate his thoughts. But it does occur to me, if fantasy readers are okay with some romance depending on how it’s handled, just how far are romance readers willing to go? I’ve given this a lot of thought. So far, I haven’t done much to promote the book to the romance reading crowd. The Tattooed Witch doesn’t follow classic romance formulas. Before the book was published, my agent warned me that most romance readers want only one love interest. The Tattooed Witch has two. I wanted to explore the different types of love we experience – so, two very different men representing different kinds of love. Alonso, a disembodied spirit, is my protagonist Miriam’s ‘soul mate’. Joachín is her earthy, physical love; they share a strong sexual chemistry but don’t see eye to eye. Neither man is the typical love interest portrayed in most romance novels, ie. the strong, arrogant, and potential rapist that so many romance novels present.

Years ago, long before I wrote Witch, I bought a ‘how to write romance novels’ book and quickly set it aside. Its suggestions turned my stomach. Here are a few of them, slightly revised:

1). Make the hero rich. (Alonso is dead, and Joachín is poorer than poor, a vagabond and a thief.)

2). Make the hero proud and disdainful, sure of himself, strong and virile. (Neither Alonso nor Joachín is disdainful, nor are they always sure of themselves. Like most men, they’re vulnerable and make mistakes – sometimes terrible ones. They also let Miriam know, fairly early on, that they love her. I have never liked disdainful men. Why should I expect my readers to? Miriam’s problem is she loves Alonso and Joachín both in different ways. I explore their relationships further, creating an unusual and frustrating love triangle in The Tattooed Seer.)

3). The hero sees the heroine as an utter innocent or a schemer. (To me, this kind of ‘innocence’ is just another word for stupidity. Why should my heroine have to be innocent? Why should men see women in one of these two ways, which also reflect the Madonna and whore stereotypes? Why should Miriam have to be any less than what her counterparts are?)

4). Early on, the hero scorns the heroine. This is shown through how he smiles at her (cruelly, mockingly, etc.) (Oh, please. I hate this kind of crap. First of all, portraying the hero in this way is stereotypical. If you’re going to make your hero a ‘bad boy’, do it in ways that are provocative. Push the morality borders, but keep him likeable. Any man who sneers at a woman isn’t likeable, he’s abusive. I find it disturbing that some women find this attractive.)

5). The heroine sees the hero as a threat. There is often the potential for rape. If he does rape her, it must be for some reason that excuses him – he was drunk, for example. (This is where I stopped reading the book years ago and set it down. I understand that this is a sexual fantasy, but I don’t condone the message it imparts – it’s okay to victimize women; they find it desirable.)

I will never, ever, write this kind of schlock. Because I don’t, this may be why the book hasn't yet appealed to the romance reading crowd.

I can’t believe it won’t, though. Surely, we’ve outgrown such lame excuses for a good story. If romance readers are quick to embrace novels like ‘Twilight’ and other books that include a fantastical hero—a vampire—then I fail to see why they wouldn’t like a ghostly priest who falls in love and is an honorable man. Or how my protagonist is faced with two impossible loves – one, a spirit, and the other, a man who loves her more than life but is her complete opposite. Romance readers are tolerating supernatural elements now, more than ever. The boundaries between paranormal romance and fantasy overlap and blur.

(If you'd like to read a sample of The Tattooed Witch, Amazon includes a free peek of the first four chapters here, plus a five star rating with more great reviews. If you're wondering about the release of The Tattooed Seer, I'm hoping it will be available by summer, 2014.)

JOAQUIN CORTES in True Life, JOACHIN DE RIVERA in THE TATTOOED WITCH

THERE IS A SCENE early in my novel, The Tattooed Witch, where one of my characters, Joachín de Rivera is in a Spanish inn where flamenco is played and danced.  Because he's new in town and knows a different style of dance than what the locals do, he's persuaded to perform. In the book, how well a man dances is equated with how well he makes love. I have no idea if this applies in the real world.

It dawned on me that many folks who aren't familiar with flamenco, may not realize how precise, passionate, and emotive this form of dance is. Joaquin Cortes has a rock star-like fame in Spain and in many parts of the world. This YouTube clip shows him performing with the same kind of passion that I think my Joachín would in The Tattooed Witch. The clip runs 9:05 minutes. If you want to watch less, start watching at the 5:30 mark.

To go along with the clip, here's a small portion from The Tattooed Witch where my Joachín performs as the real Joaquin Cortes might today. The Taltell isn't the name of a real flamenco palo. I chose to manufacture the name rather than use a real one. The current names for the styles of flamenco have only been around since the 1800's. The Tattooed Witch takes place in and around 1550. From The Tattooed Witch, Chapter Eight:

“I want to see a Taltell,” Carmella demanded as the girl danced. “I’ve never seen one.” She pointed at Joachín. “He says he can do it!” Her claim brought shouts of encouragement from the crowd. Carmella pulled him to his feet. Inez glared at her, but she didn’t object.

“I’m out of practice,” Joachín said. “I haven’t danced in awhile.”

“Show us how it’s done!” A stout fisherman clapped him on the back. He was one of the ones who had nearly won himself a kick to the chin. “Carmella’s stale. She needs new tricks!” Roars of laughter rose about him. Carmella lunged at him and missed.

“I don’t dance on tables.” His mother had done that. He refused to do it on principle.

“Clear him a space!” Tables were pushed aside to make room. The dark girl was shooed away. Joachín looked to Inez for support.

“Go!” she shouted, giving in to the crowd’s enthusiasm. “It doesn’t matter if you dance like an ox. It’ll give them something to talk about.”

He wasn’t much comforted by her encouragement, but he wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t dance either. He thought of Estrella, his mother. She’d been the best dancer in Taleda, had taught him how to dance before their lives fell apart. He couldn’t afford to be unworthy of her. Let him dance in her memory.

“I see I’m outnumbered,” he said. The crowd crowed in approval. He turned to the guitarists. “Can you give me a measure in repeating eights? Something like a march, in a minor key?”

The middle guitarist strummed a few notes. “Something like this?”

Joachín nodded, took his place in the circle they had made for him. The crowd quieted. He looked down at his feet, hoping it would all come back. How ironic that he should remember his mother in a place like this. But he wouldn’t think of that, now. She was his mother, first and foremost, beautiful and talented, before she turned whore. She’d done what she had to keep them alive.

He let a few bars go by. Then slowly, he brought up his arms and snapped his fingers to the beat, his feet stepping to the entrada, the opening. Knuckling the tables or clapping their palms, the crowd took up the rhythm, their accompaniment insistent and martial. He added to it, his toes and heels beating first in time, then in counter-time. As his body remembered, his confidence built. He held himself tightly, always keeping the basic tempo but experimenting with doubles and triplets. Soon, there were gasps from the crowd. He executed a series of sharp turns, and then, when he could hold back no longer, he exploded into a flurry of footwork. He thought of the scarred priest and his mother. His feet hammered into the floor. A mug dropped, and he smashed it beneath his heels, his face florid as he ground it to dust. Finally, after an execution so rapid that the crowd could barely follow it, he came to an abrupt halt. He stood, panting heavily. Then he slapped his chest, a gesture telling them that he was done, but he bowed before no man.

The crowd surged to their feet and howled their approval. Hands clapped him on the back. They entreated him for more. Carmella screamed and reached for him, but Inez was there, sliding into his arms. “Where did you learn to dance like that?” she asked, leaning into his ear. She smelled of oranges.

“My mother.” He ached at the thought of her. His passion lay too close to the skin.

“You must teach me to dance like that,” Inez murmured. “Later. Tonight.”
And he knew she wasn't speaking of dance at all.