Self Deprecation at its Finest

I just started, really started, my contemporary paranormal romance with suspense sauce. They get down and dirty within the first fifteen pages. Too quickly, you may ask? No, because they’re possessed by ghosts. It’s all good. Don’t worry, they’ll actually have honest and meaningful sex around the appropriate time – say page 125ish. And yes, it will be emotionally significant to their character arcs.

Karma, aka Kay, is an ethnic mutt newly moved to New Orleans to teach religious studies at Tulane. She is newly out of the life of professional student and is playing house. Unfortunately her house is haunted. You’d think as a scholar of religious studies that she’d be open to that stuff, but no – she thinks of mystical explanations as a crutch for humanity. Lucky for the readers, the ghosts are horny. Lucky for Kay (I have cast Halle Berry, but with blue eyes), her neighbor and chainsaw artist, is hot (Joe Manganiello). Yes, I have been watching True Blood and Saw Dogs.

In other news, Courtly Abandon edits w/beta readers are going well. No one has been turned off by my hero’s virginity, although one commented that the scene were he was trying not to, umm, spend, in his pants, hinted at sexual dysfunction. Changing that. Otherwise, my incredibly well bathed Elizabethans finding love amidst adversity has been well received.

Sometimes I enjoy laughing at myself. Sometimes I don’t. Right now I’m in the process of trying to finesse my queries. In doing so, I’m trying to step back and look at the big picture. What are my stories really about? This morning, this process has resulted in my laughing at myself. A lot. I’m frustrated with some of the cliché necessities of genre fiction, even though I’m confident that I addressed them professionally and made them an organic part of my stories. I like to think that I own the fact that I write romance. I am unashamed, proud even – but then I find myself highlighting all the steamy scenes to make sure there are enough and that they’re well balanced and I get a little sad. But then I read a romance and it lightens my day. I have to remember that, whenever I think of myself as tawdry, that I’m writing what I love, what many readers will love. Romance offers that silver lining and any negative thoughts I have about it stem from external sources. Take that, world!

Here I am writing my fourth book about stunningly beautiful people with baggage. Lucky for them I’m here to help them get past their issues and realize that love is worth it and that they are worthy of happiness. So, watch out Karma and Philippe, I’m about to rock your world way more than the ghosts of the wealthy plantation owner and his Creole mistress ever could. Just ask Jane and Percy, or Mary and Charles, or Frances and Henry.