In the last two months, I have been contacted by two different publishers. It appears that one of them had been scouting me for awhile. Their pitch was that they could make me more money by teaching me to write romance. <insert long, drawn out sigh>
Unless you count The Dysfunctional Chronicles, I do not write romance. I know it. My readers know it. People I randomly meet and admit that my job is “novelist” knows it.
This is not because romance is beneath me, it isn’t. It’s just not my thing. I don’t enjoy reading it, so why would I write it?
If I was going to write romance, it wouldn’t actually be romance. Romance sells, sex sells better (look at 50 Shades). I’d be writing erotica. And slapping a different name on the cover, because I prefer to be known for my skills as a blood and gore writer.
Now, there is a lot of money to be made in both romance and erotica. Mysteries may be the #1 seller in book genres, but romance is second. I have no idea where thrillers and erotica rank, but I’m sure there is more money to be made in erotica than thrillers… particularly, my thrillers with the blood, guts, and gore that have earned them a reputation (and category placement) as horror thrillers.
But at that point, I would be writing solely for the money, not the joy of writing. I haven’t quite lost my mind enough to put money over artistic enjoyment. If I think writing horror thrillers are hard work, I can’t imagine how much I would struggle with erotica or romance… even cranking out a novella would be taxing.
However, for the first time, the offer was not on the Dreams & Reality series. The publisher was interested in The Dysfunctional Chronicles. They wanted to “spice them up” and add some romance to the chicken-shit marriage debacle that Nadine entered. They wanted to expand the novellas to novels with some steamy, married couple love scenes that didn’t get graphic and were tasteful. I told them “thanks, but no thanks.” That chicken-shit marriage debacle was funny. The aftermath has been just as entertaining without any steamy, married couple love making regardless of the tastefulness of it.
At the rate I am gaining publicity, it will be another six years or so before I’m making more than a couple grand a month on my gory horror thrillers, dark fantasy novels, and comedic whatever, that is The Dysfunctional Chronicles. And I’m ok with that. We’d all like to make more money for some reason (it doesn’t buy happiness and you can’t take it with you… so I’m not sure what it does besides sustain us), but to change ourselves to do it seems unrealistic. Honestly, I’d rather make a few grand a month off what I enjoy writing than to make several grand a month off of stuff I hate writing. I already work hard, no need making the job harder.