I’m still in a good mood!
Even the latest RWA bullshit can’t dull my high spirits. In fact, I had actually planned to do a tiny amount of ranting about that, but I’m too cheerful. Besides, a lot of other people have already said what I would have said.
Well, okay, except this. The idea that gay people falling in love is somehow unromantic is fine. (No, it isn’t, of course, but stay with me.) But according to the same types of people who would say something like the above statement, sex doesn’t really belong in romance anyway. They prefer their romance squeaky-clean and sex free. These are generally the same people who remind us over and over that romance novels aren’t about sex, and the physical aspects of the relationship aren’t so important, it’s the people and their sweet kindness and the way they manage to find each other and blah blah blah anything that doesn’t involve cocks. Sex in romance is shameful! What sort of person wants to read about such things? They have loftier interests, they do. They’re interested in people’s souls, much like Satan waving those contracts around.
So that being the case, what difference does it make if the people falling in love are a men/woman combo, or man/man or woman/woman, or man/woman/man, or whatever? If the filthy little sexual aspects are unimportant and don’t belong in a romance novel, what difference does it make? Information about people’s dirty bits and how they fit together has no place in romance anyway, right, because somehow sex is not romantic. So why not just submit a novelization of Lethal Weapon or, my favorite, John Woo’s The Killer? If romance novels are basically just man/woman buddy movies, why not?
I’ll tell you why not. Because romance is for adults. If it wasn’t, we’d call it YA. It’s for grown-ups, and grown-ups not only have sex but sometimes like to read about or see other people having sex. (Remind me to rant about porn sometime, and how if the porn industry would film some erotic romance novels–not the books themselves, you understand, but scripts based on them–women would probably enjoy porn more. I’m not a fan of porn, but I’d sure watch it if it was costume porn, with knights and lots of ass-kicking in between the graphic sex scenes. Make that romantic graphic sex scenes, that is. Oops, guess I ranted about porn when I wasn’t paying attention. My rants have developed a life of their own.)
Anyway, romance novels are for grown-up people, by grown-up people and about grown-up people. If you want to read books where nobody has sex and only pretty ladies and squeaky-clean men fall in chaste love, read inspirational romance or shit written for teenagers, and get your nasty little hands off my sex scenes.
But, as I said, I’m not going to write about that. I’m too happy. Why?
Because I just saw the cover art for Prince of Death, and I am really, really, REALLY pleased with it. I love it. I think it’s beautiful, I think it’s romantic, I think it’s just a little sexy. The artist, Nancy Donahue, did a smashing job and was more than willing to fix my little nitpicks to make it perfect. I’m not allowed to post it until we get the okay from WCP’s EIC/Publisher, but the minute I do I will put it up. I really love it and hope you will too, and all is right with the world (except those damn RWA bitches and their pissy little letters. But screw them–I have a pretty cover!)