Sami Lee's Blog, page 5

Diversity In Romance – My Perspective

Yesterday I read this blog about the trends in romance predicted for 2016. Paranormal Romance is predicted to make a comeback and we might also see less of these angsty MC club, bad man books (I say bad MAN because I consider that different to a bad BOY, but that’s a topic for a different blog). That’s all good. I’d like to see the nice guy hero make a return, not least because those are the types of guys I tend to write.

Then there was this section:

working toward diversity in publishing is a crucial step forward. Readers are asking for more books that represent the world we live in, not just small portions of it—whether it’s race, culture, religion, sexuality or physical differences.

I’d like to talk about this now.

In 2013 I published a book called Unforgettable Summer. It’s heroine was Summer Campbell, an Aussie girl through and through whose mother was half Filipino and whose father was from Scottish stock (hence the surname). We live in a melting pot here in Australia, where most everyone comes from somewhere else. I’ve often said we are all immigrants, save for the original inhabitants of this land who existed here an estimated 125,000 years ago. The rest of us are from somewhere, and living here is a great privilege. I love this country most of all for its diversity, and although we’re certainly not perfectly integrated (but really, do we need to be? Is it integration we should strive for or acceptance?), we are generally a peaceful and harmonious community. At least I like to believe so. It’s the way I see things, rose-coloured view point or not.

So when the character of Summer came to me and she was of south east Asian appearance, I thought cool. I’ll write that. I wasn’t fully aware of the minefield I was stepping into, although instinct told me to tread fairly carefully. I am, for want of a better term, a white girl. My ancestry is English, with I think a little French thrown in. I’m aware that I speak about diversity from this standpoint, and that I can only fully comprehend what my own background and experience allows me to. I’ve met many people from different ethnic backgrounds in my life, but I’ve never been in a multi-racial relationship. I have no knowledge of what that’s like, only my own imagination to guide me.

When I wrote Unforgettable Summer, I didn’t intend to write an inter-racial book. I still don’t think I did, but I’ll talk more about that in a bit. When I sat down to pen the story I decided that Summer’s race would simply not be an issue. It wasn’t an issue for me, so that made sense. Other than a couple of mentions it’s hardly even noticeable that she is part Filipino. That was intentional. Ty loves her, and how she looks or where her grandmother emigrated from is of no consequence. I wrote a book about two Australians who loved each other from the time they were teenagers and reunite in their thirties.

So when it came time to publish the book, I was surprised to find edits were trickier than usual. Certain words were banned from use, for eg. exotic. I had no idea that might be considered offensive, but was told not to use it, as it emphasized the heroine’s different appearance. (I’ve since seen the term used in other romance novels, one in particular where the heroine was of Indian descent. I’d love to hear from anyone who can clarify this for me. I have no desire to offend anyone, but being a writer, do like to have access to all the words I can). Not that I wanted to make a big deal about her ‘different’ appearance, but, well, she looked Asian in small town Australia, where basically everyone else looked white. She was different and in real life that would probably have been remarked upon at some point but in the novel I felt that it couldn’t be, which made physical descriptions difficult.

When it came time to do the cover, I chose to use a naked male torso because do you know how impossible it is to find a multi-racial couple on stock sites? More specifically to find a Filipino/Anglo combination? When book 2 came along and it was about Summer’s sister Jasmine, it was very much her story and both my editor and I felt she should be on the cover. But again I had a lot of trouble sourcing suitable photos due to a limited supply (the covers have since been updated, because when I realized I was going to write 5 books in this series I wanted a more cohesive series look with couples instead of single models).

I’m posting the old and new covers of books 1 and 2 here:

(Incidentally even though her head isn’t visible, the girl on the updated Summer cover does look almost exactly as I pictured Summer, so I finally found that needle in a haystack–an Asian/Anglo couple in a romantic clinch!)

Then there was discussion about whether the book should be categorized as interracial. I didn’t think so, because as I’ve stressed in this post, both characters were Australian, and I’d intentionally decided not to make her race an issue in any way. The fact that Summer’s grandmother was Filipino should be of no more consequence than the fact her grandfather was Scottish. But for some reason, that made the book interracial (it was later put in that category), whereas Summer’s Scottish ancestry was a non-issue.

The point of all this is to provide food for thought. The original argument set forth, that the romance industry needs to address the lack of diversity in romance, is a solid one. I agree. But we can’t have a discussion about diversity without acknowledging the lack of suitable stock photography for diverse romance novel covers. We can’t have the discussion without acknowledging that the majority of romance authors are women of Anglo Saxon descent (this is anecdotal, my experience of the many conferences I’ve attended. I don’t have figures) and that our more narrow experiences make it difficult to write with confidence the more broadly inclusive stories we want to write. We also cannot ignore the fact that while articles like the one cited state that readers are ‘crying out’ for more diverse romance, authors have no data on exactly how many voices this represents. Because diverse romance is out there, yet the best seller lists on Amazon, the largest sales platform, are chock full of books with ‘billionaire’ in the title and covers that look like a Calvin Klein underwear ad. There appears to be very little diversity in what is actually selling and for authors who are trying to treat their writing as a business, what’s selling becomes a factor for consideration. Diverse romance does exist already, but it appears not enough people are buying it to inspire a rush of authors to provide more of it (this could very well be because readers can’t find what they’re looking for, which comes back to discoverability and the books that giant players like Amazon are willing to promote).

I’ve always wanted to write a story featuring an aboriginal hero or heroine, or a man in a wheelchair, or with a disability. I’ve had a hero with OCD in my head for a while but haven’t found the right person for him yet. But writing so far outside your own experience is no easy feat and when you throw in the potential to misrepresent and offend it can be terrifying. I’m terrified I got Unforgettable Summer and Irrepressible Jasmine wrong by not making an issue of their race. Was I only writing about a Utopian world in which race truly doesn’t matter to people, and in so doing dismissing the feelings of people who know from experience the world is not like that? Was it okay to write it that way because after all, its romance, and Utopia is what we sell?

I’m not sure. All I know is that my characters come to me the way they come to me and Summer was who she was, and I couldn’t have changed her if I wanted to.

Sami

 

2016 Here I Come

I was going to do my usual end of year type post where I look back on what I’ve achieved and set goals for what I set out to do. But I’m taking things down a notch this year and focusing on the simple things in life. You’ll see in a bit what I mean.

First off I guess I really should do the ‘what I’m proud of in 2015′ part. I don’t feel like it, which probably says something about how exhausted and stressed I’ve been for most of the year, but here goes.

1. I wrote and released Twice As Daring. I tried a new thing! It was a Kindle Worlds novella, so an exclusive to Amazon thing written in a world created by another author (in this instance the amazing Carly Phillips!). I was thrilled to be asked to release alongside Erin Nicholas, Mari Carr and some other awesome writers. I got a slow start with the book, because let me tell you it’s strange to write in another author’s universe. I’m so used to having COMPLEEEETTEE CONTROOOOOL right? I wondered more than once if I was doing the right thing. But once I finally hit my straps with that story, I ended up writing something I loved. Twice As Daring is fun, and has been described as “ a funny, smart, and amazingly sexy romp… A novella that reads like a full length novel Twice as Daring is a shining example of good things that come in small packages.” So yay me!

Would I do another Kindle Worlds story? Probably not. The only reason being that I can never get that story back now. The rights belong to Amazon FOREVAAAAAHHH (hear the echo?). So Sam and Abby feel like a couple of kids who went backpacking and never call their mother. I’ve lost them and it doesn’t sit well with me, so unless there was some amazing opportunity… I can’t see myself going there again. It’s too hard. I like my book kids close where I can control–er, I mean love them.

2. I wrote Imperfect Penelope, Wild Crush Book 4 (release date March 22, 2016). Now I’ll be honest and say I struggled with this one too (are you seeing a pattern?). Eternal Brand was such a harrowing story to write and in my head Penny’s story was always much lighter, a rom com with hawt sex. I wondered if the shift in gears would be too obvious. I tried a storyline that was a bit more angsty but a beta read soon showed me that it wouldn’t work. I had to stick with something relatively light and the way I was feeling about writing, the industry etc, I struggled with light. I had to reschedule a deadline for the first time ever. Eventually though the characters spoke to me and now that it’s done and dusted I think imperfect Penelope is one of the best books I’ve written. I crushed hard on Greg which is usually a good indication that you’ve written a character that’s real and loveable.

Yes, a hero named Greg. To me Greg is an Uncle or that guy in accounting who doesn’t look you in the eye, so I had to try hard to see Greg as a sex machine, but when I finally saw what he had to offer…. oh yeah baby! So one of my greatest achievements this year has got to be making a Greg hubba hubba sexy (no offense to any Gregs out there, it’s just not one of those names that usually brings a big hunka burning love to mind. Sorry. But this book will change all that. Gregs of the world stand up and be counted! and lusted after!)

3. I wrote and released Hot In Here, book 3 in the Ashton Heights Fire trilogy. This was another book that took sometime coming (oh yeah there’s definitely a pattern). I’d originally started it in 2014 but stopped because I lost my nerve. I thought it sucked. When I looked at it again I realized I did have something I could work with, so work I did. It’s a fun, wickedly sexy MFM novella with BDSM elements. Consider the title a warning. I love the book now, I really do, but it was somewhere in the midst of writing it that I realized I might be tapped out on writing menage.

So cue the writing of Unbreakable Hope, the biggest baddest menage book EVA!

4. So yes, tapped out on menage and emotionally and physically exhausted, it was time to write Wild Crush book 5, the long awaited BOOK OF HOPE. Dear readers, I wrote that book, although hope was hard to come by throughout the process. As of this date I’m still awaiting edits and I swear late at night I can hear my editor cursing me across the seven seas for making her earn her paycheque and then some. It will need much work, because I fear my exhaustion shows in the writing. Luckily I have a Samhain editor who will literally not let me get away with anything. The book will be the best it can be by the time she’s done with me. I’m sweating each time I open my emails, anticipating what I’m sure will be a long list of grievances that will result in scene rewrites that will have me crying into my keyboard.

I say all of this in the desperate hope it won’t put any of you off from reading it. LOL. I swear it WILL be whipped into shape.

As for me, I’m not whipping myself into shape this year. I’m not telling myself I have to lose 10kg like I do every year. Don’t get me wrong, I should lose 10kg. But I’m not going to tell myself that over and over and over until I feel like the 10kg overweight I am is somehow something to be deeply ashamed of. I’m 44 years old. I’ve had 2 kids. I do not one, but two sedentary jobs for a living. Just to make it extra interesting, I’ve hit perimenopause, which makes losing weight next to impossible for hormonal reasons. And reasons of ‘I’m fucking cranky so get out of the way of my wine, god damn it’. I’m doing the best I can for ME right now, and for 2016 I’ve decided that will be enough. Hence this:

My deceptively simple goals. There are some writing intentions I have, but no contracts to fulfil, no firm dates to adhere to (oh, there is one but it’s self imposed so I can probably flexi it if I have to). Right now I’m not making peanuts from writing and all the effort I’ve been putting in the last 4 years was supposed to lead up to me being able to leave my day job. That’s not happening now so I’m giving myself and my family a break. I’m living my life first, and putting writing a little down the list for a while, at least until I refill the well. I’ll write what I want, when I want and drink wine when I want to and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.

Do you think I should have T-shirts made?

Here’s wishing you all a fulfilling 2016

Sami

 

Is It Getting Hot In Here?

I can’t tell you how excited I am to announce that my MFM romance, Hot In Here, is now available for purchase.

Yaaaaaaayyyyyyy!

I’m thrilled that I finally (and yes it did take me a while due to interruptions from other projects) wrote and released this book. I set up the third installment of the Ashton Heights trilogy in book two, Giving Off Sparks, and always intended to write the book quickly. It didn’t turn out that way, but I’m hoping the wait was worth it.

How to describe the style of this book? A little BDSM-y, a little funny, some tender moments, but always super HAWT. I’m calling it a sexy three way romp that will leave you smiling. How’s that for a marketing hook?

**Taming these firefighters promises to be one wild ride… the third installment of the Ashton Heights Fire series**

Best friends Leo and Blair share everything—a workplace, a house, and even women. When they meet the mysterious Ally she seems destined to be another notch on their bed posts. Yet one night of passion has them wondering if there’s more to life than an endless string of meaningless hook-ups… and if their wild Ally Cat might be the one to tame them both.

Ally figures fooling around with a couple of hot firefighters is a one-time deal. Her over protective family can barely stand the idea of her having one boyfriend. Introducing them to two could cause mass hysteria. But after one night of lethally hot loving, she’s seriously tempted to go back for more…

Even though, when they find out who she really is, there’s every chance Leo and Blair will run screaming for the hills.

BUY

Exclusive excerpt:

Nothing turned Blair Bowman on more than a woman who drank beer straight from the bottle and knew how to play pool. Except maybe a woman with all the above and a penchant for wearing brightly colored lingerie.

Most men liked the black. A lot of other guys didn’t care for the lingerie as long as it was easy to take off. But for some reason, Blair liked a woman who wore vivid colors under her regular clothes. It bespoke a boldness he respected in a sexual partner.

He’d noticed earlier that the beer-drinking pool shark named Ally wore a bra that was bright pink.

Now, he barely managed to stifle a curse when she bent over the pool table to line up a shot. She was playing against Leo and totally transfixing Blair in the process. That little denim skirt was driving him mad. It was short enough to give him an excellent view of her supple upper thighs but not short enough to allow him a peak at her underwear. He’d love to know if her knickers matched the bra. If they did, he’d decided he was going to do everything in his power to take this woman home and have his way with her.

Hell. He’d be willing to take her home if she were wearing granny panties. The brief conversation he’d had with Leo while Ally was at the bar had confirmed his friend felt the same way. If Ally was in to the idea, it was all systems go as far as Blair was concerned.

“Wish I’d known what I was getting into when I agreed to this game.” The twitch of Leo’s lips told Blair his comment wasn’t a genuine complaint. The man was clearly having the time of his life facing off with Ally. “I would have insisted on a handicap.”

Ally sank the red ball in the side pocket with ease and stood. She flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and arched a brow at Leo. “There you go, selling yourself short again. Are you always so humble?”

Blair answered for Leo. “Pretty much. Leo Chatfield, the humble hero.”

“Hero?” Ally prompted.

Leo gave him a look meant to shut him up, but Blair ignored it. “Leo here—otherwise known as Chats—regularly saves cats from trees and damsels from burning buildings.”

Blair saw the moment Ally put two and two together. She turned back to Leo. “You’re a firefighter?”

Leo looked abashed. The way some women reacted to his profession—making jokes about his hose and asking to ride on his big red truck—tended to make him uncomfortable. Blair considered it a perk of the job. “Yeah,” Leo said at last. “Blue and I both are.”

Ally walked around the table to line up her next shot, not appearing impressed in the least by their careers. “Oh, that’s funny.”

“Why is that funny?” Leo asked.

She looked about to answer but then stopped herself. Her brow furrowed. “Which station are you at?”

Leo answered for the both of them. “Ashton Heights.”

“Huh.”

There was no discernable change in her expression, but Blair sensed there was something she wasn’t saying. “Why do you ask?”

Ally flashed him a smile and went back to lining up her shot. “No reason.”

There was a reason all right, but Blair couldn’t begin to guess what it was. He let the lie go because trying to figure out the inner workings of a woman’s mind was a fool’s errand. Besides, he wasn’t interested in Ally for her mind. Her body would do very nicely for his purposes.

Leo clearly felt the same way. Blair would know it even if he hadn’t outright asked the man only a minute ago. They had the same taste in women, which had always worked very well for them. Lately, Blair had started to get the impression Leo was losing interest in sharing, but he hadn’t wanted to confirm his suspicions by asking Leo about it. He liked the way things were—sexy, fun, uncomplicated. Truth be told—although he’d never admit it to a soul—Blair did better with women when Leo played wingman. Leo’s nice-guy vibe balanced out Blair’s harsh exterior. On his own, his complete lack of sensitivity tended to lose him a lot of points.

“You’re killing me,” Leo groaned.

Anyone else would have thought he was referring to the fact Ally had sunk another ball. Blair noticed the way Leo’s gaze was trained on the girl’s butt and knew the other man was talking about the physical effect watching her bend over the table was having on him.

Ally flashed Leo that devastating grin. “Don’t worry. Your luck could change at any moment.”

Ally’s gaze tracked over Leo’s form in open appreciation, the same kind of look Blair had caught her giving him once or twice while he’d been playing pool.

Jackpot. The woman definitely wanted both of them.

.99c Sale!

The first book in my Wild Crush series, Unforgettable Summer, is on sale for a limited time for only .99c!

Catching the one that got away could be the ultimate ride

Wild Crush, Book 1

Champion surfer Ty Butler is living the dream—a great career, a globe-trotting lifestyle, and his pick of women. Then a visit to his hometown forces him to face Summer Campbell.

A decade on, she still gives him an adrenaline rush to beat the biggest waves. She’s also as unavailable as ever, or so he thinks. When the truth comes out, Ty decides it’s time to lay old ghosts to rest—and lay Summer flat out in bed.

Ten years ago Summer committed the ultimate sin by falling for her sister’s boyfriend. She rejected Ty’s love out of duty, even marrying another man in an attempt to move on. An attempt that failed. She never forgot Ty—or the havoc loving him wreaked in her life.

Her body wants to finish what they started long ago. Her head tells her she can indulge in a wicked affair with no regrets. But when the pro-surfing tour inevitably calls him away, her heart could crumble like a sandcastle beneath his feet.

Warning: Book contains hot sex with a hot surfer. Might warm your heart and heat up a few other parts, as well. Might even inspire you to chuck it all in and chase the endless summer.

BUY

Oh Ty, how I love thee… you can fall for him too if you click buy

Sami

The Skank Thing

So the skank thing pisses me off. Case in point, this interview with Amy Schumer by an Australian radio team (oh man I wish the douchebag wasn’t Australian)

http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/movies/kiis-fm-announcer-matt-tilley-targeted-by-amy-schumer-for-skank-question-20150723-giilfv.html

If you didn’t watch the entire video I’ll break it down into quick bites. Jane asks Amy intelligent questions about her movie and how it portrays young women. Amy says in many ways the movie is autobiographical. Matt implies the character in the movie is a skank.

WTF?

The character drinks a lot and sleeps with men whenever she feels like it. If the character were a man he’d get called… a man. That same behavior in a woman? Skanky

Definition of SKANK

slang :  a person and especially a woman of low or sleazy character

So it’s low or sleazy of a woman to imbibe and/or sleep with men. Which is the part women shouldn’t be doing—drinking or enjoying sex? I’d like to know what to teach my daughters about what is and isn’t allowable (hey that WOMEN CAN DO ANYTHING slogan is just to sell bumper stickers, right?). And what about the men who sleep with these so called skanks? Why is there no derogatory word for them? Are they not also skanky?

Oh wait. The definition specified especially a woman. My bad.

Still on that same movie, a review I read recently (written by a man—is that incidental or not?) described it as ‘pornographic’. Now, I don’t know if that guy has seen any porn or in fact watched Trainwreck at all, but it was not pornography. There is humor, much of it sex related but you never see any breasts. There is only one simulated orgasm and it’s done for comic effect, not for the purpose of titillation, which is the purpose of pornography. Neither of the movie’s stars is objectified physically, which frankly was one of the great charms of the film. Neither Amy Schumer or Bill Hader are ‘heartthrobs’ so they weren’t required to take their gear off and strut around for the cameras. They were both just funny, and very human and real, especially Amy who portrayed a young woman acting out due to inner pain and loneliness so well. Not that I’m saying any woman who is promiscuous (another word I hate but I won’t get into it now) is acting out of pain. They may simply enjoy sex and not want to commit to one person (who didn’t love Samantha Jones from SITC?). But many promiscuous girls and woman are in pain and use sex and alcohol to get through it. Those girls need empathy, love and acceptance, just like anyone else.

The last thing they need is to be called skanks, to be denigrated for behaving in ways that men are congratulated for. Because that is a prime example of a double standard.

Sami

 

Some Like It Hot

Jess Dee, Lexxie Couper and I have put together a box set for your reading pleasure :).

Three steamy romantic stories from three award winning authors

A Single Knight by Lexxie Couper

He gives the term gallant a whole new meaning…

Tagging along to a party outside her normal circles, Casey-Louise never expected to find herself being seduced by a British knight. Sir Addison Lancaster is way out of her league, but damn, he’s sexy. And flirting with her. Things get even hotter when Addison pulls her into his arms and positively scorching when he kisses her.

Rendezvous by Sami Lee

Six days at sea with her ex… Conditions are about to get rough.

Despite having unresolved feelings for her estranged husband, Cassie sends divorce papers in her desperation to move on. To her surprise the move shakes Reed out of his emotional hibernation and brings him to north Queensland, determined to win her back.

Visiting Paradise by Jess Dee

A luxury yacht, a gorgeous man and an idyllic setting. This could be the romance of a lifetime—or the end of her career.

Beth Brown needs a holiday. She’s burnt out, single and in love with her boss, Joe Bastion. Beth’s about to set sail to paradise, and she has no idea Joe’s at the helm.

BUY

 

***Be aware these are backlist books, so do check if you’ve already read them (if you have, thanks!).

If not we hope you have fun discovering these characters.

Cheers,

Sami

The Publish or Perish Era

Royalty time for a working author. It used to be the best time of the month, a time to be thankful that I was able to do the thing that I love and somehow get paid for it. It still is, because the fact that people buy my books still humbles and astounds me. I’m thankful for each and every sale I’ve ever made. Even if I see my royalty statement and see a certain book sold 2 copies that month, I’m like that’s two people who read my book, and there’s an undeniable thrill in that, a gratefulness that I try to remind myself of every day. Every morning that I get up in the wee hours to write, every hour that I spend focusing my attention on writing rather than on my kids, I remind myself to be grateful that I’m able to earn money from doing something I love. It’s fairly easy to be thankful when I’m on a roll with the story, when the characters are speaking to me and it feels very much like magic is pouring from my fast-typing fingers.

It’s much more difficult to do on royalty day.

Let me explain. By today’s standards, I guess I’m what you’d call an ‘old school’ writer (I didn’t think 44 yrs of age was the benchmark for ‘old school’ but life is full of surprises). I had a long apprenticeship. I started writing in school just for fun, then after school I dabbled for years while I worked at things that would actually pay my rent. Sometime during those years the nebulous dream of being a full-time writer began forming in my back brain. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could get paid for doing this? my inner self whispered. Life coaches and other types on Oprah are always saying find your passion and find a way to make a living from it. Oprah is a wise woman, so start to dream I did. I found my passion and it was writing, so ten years plus after I first wrote a story for pleasure, I decided to try to get published with Harlequin. Romance novels were my reading material of choice, so it made sense to focus my goals in that direction.

This was the nineties, let me remind you. Your choices for publication if you were an Australian romance writer were twofold: You wrote something that would appeal to Mills & Boon London or you faked knowing something about America and set your book there, which opened up the possibility of being published with lines like Temptation or Special Edition. Not being confident I could pull off writing an American setting (and not wanting to anyway—I’m Australian, and I wanted to write Australian stories), that left me with one target—Mills & Boon London. I started by targeting the sexy line, what’s known in the US as Harlequin Presents. Secretaries that were blackmailed by their millionaire bosses (millionaires were considered rich back then) or super sweet stories with no sex. I started trying for Sexy, but my heroes were just too nice. I couldn’t get them to blackmail anyone, let alone a defenseless secretary. So I tried to write a sweet romance, only to get a ‘good’ rejection that let me know I was very close to publication, if only my hero had been more ‘alpha’.

Again with the nice guys. Way to go Sami.

A breakthrough came via digital publishing. A few small dig publishers had started selling books online and I thought why not send one of my older rejected-by-Harlequin manuscripts there? So I did. To my surprise and excitement, it was accepted for publishing with Samhain.

I was thrilled. I didn’t expect to make money there, mind you. Digital publishing was a fad, wasn’t it? (yes I was once that dim). But someone thought my work was good enough to sell. I had an editor and everything. I wrote another book for them and had it accepted, then another and another. It was a terrific time for me creatively because I started experimenting with storylines I never would have conceived of writing only a couple of years previously, when I was restricted by the Harlequin guidelines. Menage a trois, BDSM elements. I had some struggles with writer’s block then, but by 2012 I was right back on track with a great comeback book that did surprisingly well for me. I was selling now, and not just the 10-20 copies here and there that I’d sold in the beginning. In 2013 I made the same amount of money from writing as I made from my part-time day job. By my reckoning (and everyone else’s at the time) if I kept writing good stories and publishing them, the dream of one day being able to write full time was attainable. I was excited. This was it at last. Readers had started to discover me and the adage ‘backlist is gold’ put me in good stead to keep earning royalties into the future. I was building up a backlist, and it stood to reason that the more books I published, the more my income would slowly but surely increase.

Fast forward to 2015. Now when I receive royalty statements, both from my publisher and from my self-published books, it’s like a kick in the guts. Remember what I said earlier about being thankful for every single sale I’ve ever made? It’s 100% true. I’m so grateful to every single reader who’s bought one of my books. But the bald fact is these days the money I make from my writing has halved. More than halved if I’m comparing now to the good months I had back in late 2012. If I’m to make that comparison I’m now making 20% of what I was making this time two and a half years ago. I’ve been writing consistently. I have more books out (17 in total). I have two separate publishers and I’ve done some self-publishing. I’ve had an extremely successful boxed set happen, which sold well and won an award, and I also had a book go to number 1 on the Australian iBooks sales chart twice in 2013. I’m incredibly grateful for those successes, and know that a lot of other authors would look at that story and say ‘Wow, I wish I had that’. Believe me, I’m aware of how lucky I am. I’m also very aware, in every ache in my back and my wrists, how hard I’ve worked for each one of those successes. Although there’s always some luck involved, nothing that I’ve achieved has come easy. And I’m okay with that. Hard work does not frighten me.

What frightens me is what’s changed about the publishing industry. That adage I spoke about—backlist is gold? It means nothing now. It’s all about ‘frontlist’, which means your recent releases. Nobody cares too much about the stuff you wrote years ago, not unless you’re Nora Roberts. For every other author the implicit question being asked is ‘what have you done for us lately?’. What’s just come out, what’s about to come out, what’s current? That means to gain interest from new readers—readers who find their books largely on Amazon—you need to have not only published something within the last couple of months, you need to have something coming out next week too. To stay on Amazon’s radar, you need to perform some kind of ‘activity’ every 30, 60 or 90 days. If you write long complex books, that’s just not going to work. A year, even six months, is too long between releases for a midlist author (for Stephen King these rules don’t apply, but for the rest of us they do). Amazon’s algorithms start asking that insidious question ‘what have you done for us lately?’ and drop you out of the equation.

Bear in mind, this is best case scenario, i.e. if the books you do have out in your frontlist have been successful. Success according to the Amazon machine is judged not only by past and current rankings, but by the number of positive reviews. The more positive reviews your book has, the more likely it is to be shown in another author’s ‘customer’s also bought’ section. The more people who have reviewed you, the more readers Amazon will show your book to. If your book has never gotten many good reviews or ranked very well, the sad fact of life is that it probably never will. Unless you start cheating, like for instance buying reviews.

I won’t even start on that. This post is ranty enough.

So what’s a hard-working low to midlist author to do in today’s world to get their books noticed? Cheat or get lucky, that’s what it boils down to. Hard work alone doesn’t cut it. We all work hard. Bloody, fucking hard, actually. Yet, if you don’t cheat or get lucky, full-time writing is little more than a pipe dream. I’ll be working at a day job for the rest of my able-bodied days, I know that now. The high of 2013 is gone. It’s probably not going to happen for me, and I’ve come to terms with that. I just finished a book, number 4 in a series that is seriously—like seriously—not selling, but I’m proud of the work I’ve done on it, especially considering I was in a very, very bad place when I started it. There were moments when I thought about breaking my contract and not finishing it because of the bad place I was in, wondering what the point of it all was if only a handful of people were going to buy it. Like I said, writing a novel is bloody, fucking hard work.

But then I simply began. I got up before dawn, in winter, every week day and some weekends for six weeks in a row, without fail, to write this book I’d promised to my editor. And they came—the moments when I loved these characters, when I remembered what started me writing in the first place (if you write it, they will come…). So for now, I’ve been saved by my characters, bless em. I’m going to keep going and try to ignore the numbers, because I never got into this gig to make money. That was just a really nice by-product, a dream that has faded with time and the crushing reality of a romance fiction industry that’s been flooded by content due to the ease of self-publishing, which has dumped an unimaginable number of books onto the market and effectively diluted everyone’s royalties (oh sure there are some great self published books, but there are also a LOT that are utter drivel full of grammar mistakes, inconsistent plot elements and just plain bad writing, and those books, once sampled by the readership, put potential readers of trying new authors again. If you’re a new author to people, this is a problem). An industry where $2.99 is considered too expensive for a book by many who’d rather just read whatever’s free. An industry where authors who are reliant on their royalties have to change what they’re writing to suit the trends. They chop up whole books into endless serial installments that they sell for between .99-$2.99 each rather than write a longer complex book that will be creatively better, but will surely sell fewer copies when priced at $4.99. They write a romance about a billionaire bad boy step brother twin who’s into BDSM with a BBW because that hits as many popular categories as its possible to hit and might increase their chances of being seen in a junkyard of the unseen. Trust me, nobody wants to be on the bottom of that pile, so I understand these authors. I do. I don’t blame them. Hell I’ve thought about doing the exact same thing, so have other authors I know, authors that are talented and hard-working and deserve to be read for what they write, not because they use the key buzzwords of the day.

And isn’t that the scariest thing of all? That authors capable of so much more would consider writing a poorly plotted trash book just so they could get noticed? Just so they can pay the rent? If that starts happening across the board, the good, long, complex, funny, emotional, wonderful journey books I grew up reading will become a thing of the past. If Margaret Mitchell were a writer today, no way in the world would she write Gone With The Wind (not unless she sold it in 15 installments at $2.99 each). This is what’s at the root of that feeling I get in my gut when I get a royalty statement that makes my one time dream of being a full-time writer fade just a little more. It’s not about the money—I’ve indicated numerous times this post that I consider earning any money from writing a privilege. It’s about the death of the dream. It’s about the eventual disappearance of the kind of books I grew up loving—long, beautiful stories of ordinary people faced with extraordinary circumstances, falling in love, changing their lives one step at a time. These are not the books that sell well in today’s market, generally speaking, and if that doesn’t change pretty soon there will be no one left to write them. Because there are only so many years that a writer can get up before dawn and crank out stories as fast as possible in order to adhere to the demands of a ‘what have you done for us lately?’ industry before they get really, fucking tired. Before they give up to save their sanity, or lose it. These writers will eventually buckle under the pressure to write short shitty books in order to survive, or they’ll give up writing altogether because it’s all so terribly demoralising.

And that’s why my gut takes a blow every royalty day. It’s not about me. It’s about all of us.

Oops, I Did it Again

I keep doing this, breaking the unwritten but cardinal rule of ‘how to make money in romance publishing’. I try to go against my instincts but they win out every time—or my characters win out. I keep telling hubs they’re the ones who actually write the books, I’m merely the typist. He doesn’t really get that, but other writers out there, I know you do. So when I titled my post Oops I Did it Again, I probably should have called it Bloody Annoying Men. Or maybe Bloody Nice Imaginary Men. Because that thing I’ve done, that rule I broke? It’s this:

I wrote a nice guy.

He’s a lawyer, a workaholic and an alpha male who gets possessive and can be extremely bossy and opinionated. He thinks badly of the heroine for the first two chapters, before she reveals some home truths. He truly does come across as a bit of a repressed asshole for about fifty pages. But then… then he realizes he was wrong, actually has the humility to apologize, and proceeds to kiss the stuffing out the heroine, then stumbles all over himself in a thoroughly adorable manner trying to work out how to exist in a state of happiness when he’s not used to that. From that moment I fell for Greg Danvers, and the bastard took over. He became loveable and soft-hearted and protective and sweet and nice damn it. In a world where the dominating, arrogant, whip-wielding alphahole billionaire reigns supreme, how’s an author supposed to get readers to take notice of her nice guys? Huh?

Sigh.

Imperfect Penelope should be off to my editor in a day or two, assuming these kids let me edit it properly. Release date is around March next year. The following is an unedited snippet.

Greg’s hand was now drawing circles on her back. He used his other to tilt her chin until she was facing him. His brown eyes were steady and earnest in a way Bryan’s never had been. “You’re not foolish. You’re kind hearted and you have faith in people, that’s not a bad thing. You’ve even been gracious to me, when I haven’t deserved it. Trust me, Bryan’s the fool for not seeing what he had in you.”

To her mortification, Greg’s generous words made Penny’s eyes well up. She tried to turn her head away so he wouldn’t see, but it was too late. He cupped her chin more firmly to keep her in place, frowning at what he saw. “Oh, Penny. Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” As she tried to blink the moisture away one fat drop of it fell down her cheek, making a lie of her denial. Her face flamed with embarrassment. “Let me go.”

The frown never left his face, but somehow it didn’t look as formidable as it usually did. It looked pained. “No. Come here.”

Penny knew she should have challenged his autocratic command, but he tugged her forward with such surety and gentle purpose that she found herself sinking into him. He eased against the back of the couch as he drew her against him and wrapped his arms securely around her.

See? He’s nice. Ugh.

Sami

Non Writers Say What?

I stumbled upon a great hashtag on twitter today whilst glancing at my phone intermittently as I supervise the children during school holidays (hey I deserve to look at my phone. I sat through an entire movie of Spongebob this morning that I’m certain lowered my IQ significantly). It’s called #NonWritersSay and it’s all about the things that, well, non-writers often say to authors, the things that the non-writers—bless them—have no idea are actually incredibly insulting.

It’s now the 3rd highest trending item on twitter, not because writers do nothing but fart around on twitter (although we’d all confess to latching onto any and every distraction when the MS isn’t going well), but because there’s this deeply-routed painful ball of frustration and near insane anger that lives inside us, a ball that sits tight in our stomachs and gets bigger and bigger every time somebody makes some (often well meaning, many times simply callous) remark about what we do and why it’s easy/not relevant/stupid or pointless.

To be clear nobody’s saying ALL non-writers say these things. We know there are so many of you out there, especially our lovely loyal readers, who appreciate what we do and may even admire it. I don’t even need or especially want admiration (but hell it never hurts), but what I would like is a bare modicum of respect, the same kind of respect bankers get for being bankers, or lawyers get for knowing the law, or even that waitresses get for delivering meals (I bet they never get asked to deliver the meals for free because it’s not like waitressing is real work now, is it?)

So just for the hell of it and because I haven’t done a top five in quite a while, I thought I’d give you all my top five unintended insults from non-writers who—again I say bless ‘em—are completely missing the damn point.

1.  “Oh, you’re a writer? I don’t read books”

I can’t even overstate how :0 my face becomes at this one. Not only to encounter somebody who is literate, has the capability to read but CHOOSES NOT TO READ BOOKS (are these pod people?), but to meet somebody so insensitive to your feelings that they basically dismiss your passion—what was the passion of Hemmingway and Austen and the Bronte Sisters—as something not even worth their time (I mean, not even one book a year people? NOT ONE?). Not only that, but they’re the kind of people who TELL YOU THIS TO YOUR FACE. Do artists get this? “Oh you’re an artist? I don’t look at paintings. Saving my eyes for something more important.” What about plumbers? “Oh you’re a plumber? I don’t use toilets. I shit in the woods. Plumbers are completely pointless and irrelevant.”

Like I said. Pod people. Pod people who shit in the woods like bears and don’t read books

(original quote tweeted by @allisonmaruska, but I have heard this many times myself)

2. Would I have read anything you’ve written? Me: do you read ebooks? Them: oh no. I only read real books.

I can’t help but wonder if these people also play Angry Birds, or do they always have to break out the traditional version of Monopoly and dust it off before they consider they’re playing a ‘real game’. Is the point of playing games to touch the Monopoly board? To physically move the pieces around the board? Or is it to have fun? Pass the time? Challenge yourself and your friends? Give you something to take your mind off a shitty day.

Guess what? Stories, like games or movies or music, can do all those things. Even when they’re read from a screen. The essence of the experience doesn’t change, only the method of delivery. I totally understand that not everybody has the technology to comfortably read ebooks. I have no problem at all with that. What I do have a problem with is somebody telling me that ebooks are not ‘real’ books.

Again it’s like saying that what I do is irrelevant. Pointless. Not real.

3. “I haven’t read any of your books but I want to. There’s just so much available for free though. Are any of yours going to be free?”

I don’t know what to tell ya. I’m sorry I feel I have the right to charge for something that took months of my life to get right, for something I did that ate into family time, that I slogged away at from 5am til 7am before I got my kids ready for school and then had to head to my day job, something that caused me countless hours of angst. I’m sorry you feel that a story that will give you hours of entertainment (hopefully!) isn’t worth what you pay for your daily Grande Skinny Mochachinno that you sip on the way to work and don’t even notice the flavor of anyway. I mean, that thing costs $6 and it took the barrista all off 1 minute and 45 seconds to make it. But my book that I spent six months on? Nah. You just wait for that to come out for free one day. Otherwise I’m just robbing you blind

(coffee to book price comparison idea thanks to @sonyacraig15)

4. “Oh you write romance? But you’re good enough to write a real book.”

I know when people say this it’s meant as a compliment. They’re trying to say that I’m a good writer. That I could find a more mainstream audience for my work. That I don’t have to waste my time writing fluffy little books that only borderline illiterate housewives read. I mean I could be read by reviewers from the Sydney Morning Herald if I put my mind to it (which clearly, I have not been doing thus far because the Herald hasn’t noticed me). Yep, all I need to do is apply myself and I could write something respectable. Since I’m already applying myself between the hours of 5am and 7am writing books that actually make me and my readers happy, I suppose I could find this extra time to impress the Board of Wanky Literati Snobs between 3 am and 4:55am. Who needs sleep? The deprivation will probably give me the gloomy frame of mind necessary to write something depressing and gritty that educated people would find worthy of their consideration.

Perfect plan really. Maybe I will write a ‘real’ book one day

5.  “Are they going to make a movie out of your book?”

@Whitcummings on twitter said it best

“I’ll get right on that. “Directors! Producers! Get your asses over here.”

This one belongs right up there with “You should write a bestseller”, as the best advice Captain Obvious ever gave. Why don’t more writers think of that? Just get a movie deal FFS! I could kiss those early mornings goodbye that’s for sure. Maybe I could even meet Bradley Cooper.

Hmm. Bradley Cooper…. *stares into space like Homer Simpson*

Wait. What was I saying again?

Oh right. A movie deal. I’m going to start EL Jamesing the shit out of that idea. It should be super easy to get ‘them’ to make a movie out of my erotic romance novel.

Oh gosh, there are so many more of these I could do but it’s not a top five if I do ten. Perhaps I’ll do a part 2 next week if the sarcasm hasn’t made anyone drop dead yet.

Cheers,

Sami

Dare to Want More…

The second wave of Dare to Love Kindle World books has been released! These are special books exclusive to Kindle’s Dare to Love world, created by the one and only Carly Phillips. I’m so thrilled to be one of the Dare to Love authors.

My story is about an Australian Rules football player, now recruited to the NFL, who falls for his publicist. It’s a fun, flirty and sexy romp that Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews has called “a shining example of good things that come in small packages!” and “beyond hot”.

This time the player has met his match

Publicist Abby Lehman likes her job—until she finds herself working as a glorified babysitter for cocky-as-the-devil NFL star Sam Cormack. Sam is unpredictable, unruly, impossible—and also impossibly sexy. It has taken all Abby’s willpower to keep from throwing herself at him like one of his groupies. When her boss insists she accompany Sam to a black tie restaurant opening, things heat up even further. And when she finds out Sam has also been lusting after her she throws caution to the wind and indulges in a hot tryst with him that threatens her career as well as her heart.

Sam knows he screwed up with Abby and curses his impulsive nature. Making love to her was something he’d wanted for a long time, but he should have taken things slower with her, made sure they got to know each other. Now she thinks he only wants her for sex, just when Sam’s realizing she’s the first woman to make him want the real deal in a long time.

Can he make her believe he’s ready to put his playboy days behind him and start something real with his Miss Right?

TWICE AS DARING is available exclusively through Amazon US. If you’re from outside the US there are some instructions on my blog post of a few days ago, that detail how you can switch your country to US temporarily in order to get the Kindle Worlds books. If you don’t own a Kindle, you can download the Kindle ap to read Amazon books on any device you like. I did it on my phone and it was super easy! Just head to your ap store and search for the Kindle ap.

Do you want to read an exerpt of Twice as Daring? Hope so, because here it is:

Keys in hand, Abby swung around to face him for the first time since she’d exited his car. She’d thought he was angry with her for ruining his evening. But now that she looked—really looked—at him she read something different in his expression. Frustration, yes. Annoyance, definitely. Yet there was something more driving it, something…

“Did you just say…”

“Wank material.” Sam winced. “That’s way too coarse, but it’s the truth. I’ve been as hard as a flagpole since the second I saw you hours ago, when we were both standing right here. All the blood rushing in that direction has made my brain pretty useless. Scott had to stop me ripping off the arms of that guy who hit on you. Hell, I almost ripped Scott’s arms off.”

Abby watched, stunned, as Sam ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

“Why?” she asked, needing him to say it. “Why did you feel that way?”

“Because I’m a jerk.” He smiled that self-deprecating smile. “And a hypocrite. I’ve been picturing you naked for weeks, but I don’t like it when other men do it.”

Abby sank back against the door because her legs suddenly turned to jelly. Sam had been lusting after her? He was jealous over her? Her heart thundered, damn near rattling her rib cage. Nerves made her mouth dry out and she instinctively licked her lips.

Sam’s gaze caught the action. His suddenly intense focus made her heart knock harder against her sternum, when Abby wouldn’t have thought that possible. She opened her mouth to say something, to ask him why, or when, or how on earth a man who could have any woman in the world had taken an interest in her, but all that came out was his name on a moan full of longing that was far too revealing. “Sam.”

He responded with a groan and one purposeful stride forward. The next thing Abby knew, she was in his arms, her lips melting beneath his as he took her mouth in a savage kiss. She snaked her arms around his neck, opening for him, offering herself. Giving away the secret of her desire that she’d fought so hard to hide. It was all out in the open now. He couldn’t misinterpret the way she kissed him with such pent-up hunger. She’d wanted him for long torturous weeks and now he knew it.

But he was kissing her the exact same way, as though he was starved for the taste of her. Abby’s heart soared at the knowledge. Big, sexy, stud-and-a-half Sam Cormack wanted her. The thought was delicious, and it increased her arousal tenfold. Her breasts ached where they were pressed against the hard wall of Sam’s chest and wetness gathered between her legs.

There was no going back to a place of sensibility now. Abby didn’t want to.

“Abs.” Sam pulled back enough so they could both breathe, but he couldn’t seem to stop sampling her lips in frantic little bites. “Abs. Fuck. I want you.”

He was a client. Sleeping with him could screw up her career. He was a player who could break her heart if she let him. Yet his raw, honest confession destroyed whatever was left of her sense of responsibility.

He can only hurt you if you let him into your heart, Abby. Which you won’t. And you’ll only wreck your career if you lose your head.

Abby unwound her arms from around Sam’s neck and unfurled her clenched fist. She’d held onto her keys so tightly they’d made red marks on her palm. She selected the door key and turned around to insert it into the lock.

“Abby?”

The note of uncertainty in his query made her heart flutter. She wondered if it wasn’t already too late to keep her emotions intact where Sam was concerned. Sex for the sake of it, without love or the potential for it, was not something she’d ever tried. But it couldn’t be that hard, right? Men could do it.

Sam could do it.

Why not her?

Keep your heart and head together, that’s all you have to do.

Abby pushed open the door and stepped inside her apartment. Then she turned and met Sam’s gaze with a smile. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Buy Twice as Daring at AMAZON

Cheers,

Sami