Erotic romance writer, traveler, journalist, reader. Lover of dark chocolate, female protagonists, yoga, and sexy stories.
I often speak about the wage gap, fists in the air feminist issues, so let’s think a little smaller now and discuss an issue that, though subtle, though nuanced, is just as feminist and just as important.
Food shaming in romance novels.
Here’s what you need to know about being a writer. You have to get up. Because no matter how long it takes you, no matter how battle-weary you feel, no matter how many times you’ve cried this year, if you don’t get up, that’s game over.
Each book follows its own journey and that’s okay. As long as I still arrive at the final product, I’m pleased.
That being said, there are still a few rituals I follow for all of my stories, no matter the genre, length or series.
What do I do when I’m not writing? The things that will inspire me. The things that make me happy.
I either write vigorously, passionately, insanely – scribing pages in messy script every night before bed, in between tasks throughout the day, at breakfast and at lunch. I write down everything.
Or I don’t write at all.
Looking inward to see the great gifts I’ve been given over the years helps me to reconcile some of the worry and nerves I feel over these new next steps and reminds me what really matters.
He was kind, loyal and protective of those he cared about. And I had become one of those he cared about.
Your own book release shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.
Erotic romance, despite being a genre as old as time itself, can be very divisive, even in today’s world, and I’ve encountered a remarkable amount of ignorance, backlash and shaming to go along with it.
That being said, I’ve also encountered support, acknowledgment, and recognition that, yes, erotic romance is a feminist genre and oh hey, we didn’t invent the wheel.
It was a big contest too. There was pomp and circumstance and flowers and a big prize package to work with a self-publishing house.
My first instinct was ‘this is amazing.’ My second instinct was, ‘what did I just get myself into?’
