Time to Change Genres, Methinks.
I was flipping channels the other evening and stopped on whatever network has Nightline, because it dangled a book-associated carrot under my nose. So I stayed put through the commercials, a news segment on something else I've already forgotten, and then another series of commercials, and then FINALLY they did the book story.
It turns out that in these economically tough times, there is a facet of the book industry that is doing better than ever. In fact, sales are up 32% this past year. We're talking romance novels, Harlequin Canada to be precise. The publisher puts out 1200 new books a year in a number of different imprints (ie -- types of romances) from mystery to the supernatural. Readers can have innocent romance or raucous sex. Since romance and/or sex are part of most everybody's actual lives or fantasies, I guess I can understand the draw.
The thing is that after reading one or three, that's enough. You don't need to be a rocket scientist to figure out the pattern, and any reader with half a brain knows how the story is going to turn out. It goes something like this. Girl meets boy. There is instant attraction, but a misunderstanding sets the would-be lovers at odds. The remainder of the novel pits the lovers' irresistable attraction for one another against their principles and their ever spiraling misunderstanding until they simply can't keep their hands off one another another second. Whilst tearing at each other's clothing and bruising their lips, they confess their worst thoughts and SURPRISE! discover they've been celebate all this time for nothing!
Be still my beating heart. Not because I'm somehow titilated or even entertained by the genre, but because it's a lucrative market and I'm not writing for it. Moreover, I can't even entertain the thought of writing for it. It just isn't right for me. It's not my idea of a good read. Sorry -- I know this sounds snotty -- but it's not up to my standard, and I would never be able to write at that level, even for the money.
Too bad for me, and bravo to the writers who can. They're laughing all the way to the bank.