Yes, I know you are probably sick of hearing about RWA, but I thought I’d share some observations about the conference from one reader’s POV.

First, my disclaimer, these thoughts and opinions are just that thoughts and opinions. They are not meant to be gospel or represent anyone else’s experience but my own. I share them because I was curious and wanted to know every last detail about RWA in Dallas last year.

So, you might wonder why RWA. Well, I attended an RT reader event some years ago in San Diego and pretty much made up my mind then that RT run events were not for me. Yes, I met authors, yes I got books signed, but the experience was just not one I wanted to repeat. I know there are fans that love the RT convention and I say “good for you!” Go. Enjoy. It’s just not for me.

1. It’s not about you. I know this has been said else where, but it bears repeating. This is a conference of ROMANCE WRITERS. This isn’t a fan event. RWA is an excellent professional organization that provides education and support of its members. There are panels for just about everything related to the publishing industry many of which are conducted by well known published writers who are giving back to the community that supported and helped them when they were starting out.

2. “I’m workin’ heah!” Are there smiles and fun at RWA? You betcha. However, most attendees are there to work. There are writers meeting agents, pitching stories and attending or conducting the panels.

3. Everyone’s a fan. This is so true. The conference is attended by primarily writers. There are also librarians, book sellers, readers, reviewers, bloggers, editors, publishers, the media, lots of different people. For the most part everyone is there because they love the books. Authors were spotted standing in line at publisher signings or seeking another author’s signature on a favorite book. Most writers start out as fans first.

4. Who am I and what am I doing here. You need to answer this question before you leave home. In my case, even though I talk about a variety of topics on my personal blog, I also talk about and review romance novels. I’m also endlessly interested in the writing process and publishing business. At the same time, I have no interest or intention of ever writing a book. Knowing the conference was not fan based, I made my plans for the conference before I left home. I knew which panels I wanted to attend, I planned my attendance so I would be there for the literary event and most importantly I knew other readers and bloggers who would be attending. I said many times during the conference that meeting those people was every bit as important as any of the publisher signings and authors I met.

5. Is there room for one more? This can be applied any number of ways. I loved the people I roomed with this year. I wouldn’t trade the experience, conversation and laughs for anything. However, if you want to sleep, be rested and get the most out of the conference, then I don’t recommend rooming with 3 other people. This is why knowing why you are there is so important. Once you do decisions like accommodations are easier to decide and make.

6. You got to have friends. While you can strike up a conversation with just about anyone at RWA about books, ultimately it’s good to be there with friends. For instance I attended as a blogger and reader. I have no special contacts with authors, publicists, agents, or publishing houses. Some people do. I don’t. You can find accounts of bloggers who have those sorts of contacts and had lunches and dinners with their contacts. It sounds glamorous and exciting. However, if you don’t have those contacts before you go, it is unlikely you are going to make them at RWA. Like any professional organization part of the reason for the conference is to connect with people. It was my experience, however, that many of these engagements were made prior to their arrival at the conference. Fortunately, I had a group of fellow readers and bloggers who were attending that I was able to spend time with.

I had a wonderful time at RWA. I liked it because while I often lament that women are their own worst enemy, they also celebrate one another. I liked it because there is a different sort of energy in a room full of women who aren’t trying to get a man’s attention. That’s true liberation. I liked it because I don’t know of any other place, situation or event that would have brought the group of readers and bloggers I know together in one place for five days. Mostly I think I liked it because I knew what to expect. Do you?

I know there’s going to be a lot of RWA talk this week, and I can’t wait to hear the different perspectives on the magnificent chaos that inhabited the San Francisco Marriott this past week. Despite the persistent debates over who should and shouldn’t attend the conference, the fact that so many different representatives of the genre and the industry attend the conference is a revelation of how intertwined the online community has become.

Most of the time I believe that everything I write is projected out into some foggy ether that a few people happen to stumble into. I am still surprised when people comment on my reviews or columns. Maybe it’s that way for everyone, but it tends to make me feel like more of a bystander than a central player. Which, as someone who is very outspoken, might seem a bit paradoxical. But it’s a function, I think, of the ever-fluctuating boundaries of the online genre community. Intellectually I know that this really is an ongoing conversation among a very diverse collection of voices. A conversation that, despite all the scandals and dramas, creates and reflects a profoundly symbiotic relationship among all of its participants.

But emotionally it sometimes feels like a complex negotiation of rival gangs, with the threat of ostracism and/or retaliation for crossing a boundary you didn’t even know existed. I understand why people feel that it’s too dangerous to get involved, even though I believe that these conversations are important, crucial even, to the process of building and maintaining the public realm of genre Romance. That no matter how insignificant we might think some issues, no matter how annoying we might find certain reviews, no matter how hotly we debate the wisdom of critical attention to Romance, we’re all already engaged in the process of building and maintaining a common infrastructure in which everything we do and say matters.

It matters in part, of course, because we’ve all been brought together through a shared love of reading, and more particularly of reading Romance. But even beyond that, I think it all matters because what is being created over and over again, through books, blogs, messageboards, websites, and the like, is what free speech dorks like me call a “marketplace of ideas,” which is basically a fancy way of describing a public space in which people exchange views on the things that matter to them. Because books matter to us, reading matters to us, and ultimately, sharing that experience matters to us. Romance holds some of our most profound values — love, forgiveness, redemption, integrity, happiness, and justice – at its center, so it’s no surprise that it should invoke passionate reactions. It concerns the creation of a more perfect union, so to speak, through the love match of the central couple, so why should we be surprised that it brings so many people together. Whether we like it or not, whether we’re in concert with our views or not, everyone reading and participating in this online experience already comprises a community. All that remains for us is to define and refine our community experience.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I’d like to see more of in this community, and my primary wish is for more active disagreement. Not screaming and yelling, insulting and censoring, but the passionate exchange of differing views, with an equally passionate desire to understand the nature and limits of those differences. Because our differences define us as much as our similarities, and our own views gain significance and depth most powerfully when they are in play with competing ideas. Beyond that, I think that the easier these discussions become, the less animosity will erupt when strongly divergent opinions share the same public space. And ultimately, the more interesting our points of agreement will be, because we will feel empowered to push past any circumstantial disagreements to deeper levels of understanding and conversation. Which, in turn, may actually make reading even more fun.

So what about you? What qualities would you like to see more of in the online Romance community, and what would you like to see us become in five or even ten years?

*note: I have been traveling all weekend and did not realize that I am up on the same day here and at Romancing the Blog. So I have been lazy and have posted the same column here and there.

I’m sure many of us have friends and relatives that don’t share our love of romance. Who find our TBR piles amusing, and scoff at our assertions that there is more to romance novels than gender cliches and sex. In real life, no one shares my reading habits. Except for my mother, whose taste doesn’t really intersect with mine. I turned to reading Amazon reviews for some kind of discourse on the books I love. Then came the lucky day I discovered blogs.

Back in the days of my little ol’blog Is That a Stake in Your Pocket?, I had this brilliant idea wherein I would match my non-romance reading friends with a book, chosen by me, based upon their personal interests and tastes. They would read and review it. I thought it would be an interesting new perspective on books I already loved. It never quite panned out, but I was able to get a review out of my younger sister.

Avowedly anti-romance and quite the cynical hater, my sister is a sports and pop culture fanatic. I knew I would need something startling, something different, that wouldn’t conform to her expectations. So I gave her a book that makes me happy to just think about: Simple Jess by Pamela Morsi. And this was the result. She didn’t quite share my feelings. But to my surprise, she continued to read romance, using the dubious methodology of picking books based upon title and cover. The cheesier, the better. Not surprisingly, this has very hit or miss results.

After she described a paragraph which could only be the work of Cassie Edwards (she was unable to finish the book), I decided to try again. She just left for Beijing for a month to work on the Olympics, so I gave her a care package. Since she seems to be drawn to historicals, I gave her my favorite: Lord of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase. I’ve got the old cover, so it’s suitably cheesy. Had to throw in Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas (we’ll have to wait and see if we can add her to the cult of Craven, KristieJ). And since she’s a soap fan, I thought she might enjoy the large cast of characters in Eloisa James’ Duchess in Love. For super-hotness, I gave her Dangerous Lover by Lisa Marie Rice, and Twilight by Stephenie Meyer, for some vampires (and I just know she’ll love the angst).

A mixed bag, but it’s so hard to choose. There’s so many ways to go. This is a topic that has probably been done to death, but I always find the answers interesting. What five books would you give to a friend you were trying to convert? What books do you feel are examples of great writing, character development and romance? Any and all genres included.

The library sent me an automated email notice on Friday: a copy of a recent release of a NYT best selling author had become available;, and as I was next in the queue, the copy was mine and would be held for 7 days. Yesterday morning I picked it up while out running other errands. Regular weekend chores had to be done, but I spent most of the afternoon and all of this morning reading the book.

When I turned the last page, I felt rather ambivalent about the entire reading experience. Objectively, the books was good, though not a keeper (which I suppose is fortunate since this is a library book). But it seemed much less romantic than this author’s earlier work, more focused on the adventure and suspense. That’s no surprise — she’s been moving in this direction for some time now. The various action plots were well-done and meshed together without being jarring or clunky, but in the end, I didn’t feel as if I knew the hero and heroine particularly well, or as if I could believe in their HEA. While this hero and heroine were off adventuring, another sort-of couple was being tortured more, and a third potential couple was introduced. As I read, all I could think was that in order to get to that third couple’s HEA, I would have to read about them being separated or hating each other or having Big Misunderstandings or just being plain old stupid and immature. Frankly, while they were a semi-interesting subplot, I’m not interested in them enough to hang around for their book, which likely is several books away in the author’s plotline for the series.

One of my complaints about genre romance has been the brevity of the courtship. So many novels take place over a period of days only. And during those days, the hero and heroine are busy not only falling in love but with saving the world at the same time (or so it seems). Is it really love? Is their HEA really EA, or will they learn that the enforced intimacy of their adventure doesn’t carry over into the real world when there are bills to pay, jobs to do, and the pedestrian details of everyday life come into play? But I’m about to contradict myself now: a courtship that extends over 5 or 6 or 7 books? Too long. It is hard for any author to write a story that will live up to that much anticipation. In the back of my mind, as I read these drawn out story arcs, I just don’t care — I’m thinking that one or both of them just needs to move on.

Since multibook series and continuing story arcs seem to be the thing in publishing today, I’m guessing that they aren’t going away. Is there a way to balance the longer courtship period with the multibook story arc? Or do you think that the multibook story arc is the way that more and more romance writers are going to go?

“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. Once in a while I simply can’t believe an impossible thing. It’s just too much. Recently I came across two impossible things and I thought I’d explore the world of wallbangers. As a corollary to Meriam’s recent post about the rules of romance, I thought I’d ask a few questions about your last couple of wallbangers, aka DNFs. Are rule breakers automatically wallbangers? Are they unrelated? Intertwined? After thinking about it, none of my DNFs were due to breakage of the rules Meriam listed.

Speaking for myself, wallbangers generally fall into four general categories. I find my reasons drift across genres. Not only that, age of the book doesn’t seem to make a difference either. In other words, I’m just as likely to toss a ‘classic’ against the wall as I would a new release if the classic makes it into one of my categories. Another issue is that I’ve a relatively large TBR bookcase which severely cuts down on my motivation to continue reading books I have problems with.

I alluded to the first category in the first paragraph. Sometimes I simply can’t suspend disbelief or perhaps I don’t believe enough. It depends which side of the coin you’re on, I suppose. One of the DNFs I blogged about had several plot devices that, taken together, were one device too many. Singly it might have been fine. Clumped together in one book, not so much. It depends on how the author presents unbelievable things too. Readers can always think of at least one example that breaks the rule, but we’re not necessarily discussing the exceptions here. We could if you really want to, but I’m not prepared to discuss those today. Too much thinking is bad for me, especially in the summer. LOL 

The second category is for characters I don’t like. Really really don’t like. Generally speaking I’m talking about the main characters. I often enjoy and root for secondary characters I dislike. I have to like the hero and the heroine especially in romances. If an author wants me to root for the relationship she’s building between her characters I’m a reader who needs to like them. At least one of them. Again, one can always think of exceptions, but primarily I have to like your folks. In other types of fiction, this rule isn’t so hard and fast.

Third is for characters who do something I probably wouldn’t approve of or tolerate or be able to come to terms with if that person was a real life friend of mine. For example, in one romance I read the “hero” had sex with the heroine’s sister and fully intended to hide this fact from her unless forced to come clean. Even when his best friend urged him to tell her he consistently and strongly refused. Um. This person is NOT hero material for me. I hope for and expect growth from characters, but there is behavior that throws me totally out of a book, sometimes for good.

Fourth: language, characterization, plot or word usage that I feel doesn’t fit with a book. Note that I said feel, not that something definitely is wrong with usage or setting. I’m not a historian or a linguist or a grammarian, but I do need things to mesh properly. In one book set in 1821 the author used the word cartel in the modern usage (last 80 years) in dialogue. Even though cartel has been in usage since the seventeeth century, it didn’t sound right, didn’t feel right the way the author used it in her book. Dropped me right out. A pet peeve of mine is names. Meaning contemporary names given to characters in historical novels. Place names, ie: Devon, Brittany, etc. given as first names especially in UK set historicals. I either won’t buy them or else they get traded immediately.

Those are my reasons for wallbangers: being unable to suspend disbelief, dislike one of the primary characters, behavior or attitude I find wrong no matter the circumstances or reasons, and issues related to the author’s research or writing (or maybe editing?). What makes a book a DNF or a wallbanger for you? Are these reasons usually consistent? Do you always finish a book no matter what?

So, how many reviews does it take?

I was visiting a review site the other day and there was a review for the new release of a book by one of my favourite authors. This author is one of the very few who, for me, has never written a ‘bad’ book. I have read her entire back list and enjoyed every single one to one degree or another. This is a very rare thing for me as just about every other author has written at least one book I’ve considered a clunker.

But the reviewer gave the new release of this author a low grade. Now that didn’t bother me whatsoever – we readers have wide and varied tastes and the low grade didn’t really phase me as I trust this author to write something I will enjoy – she hasn’t disappointed me yet. But what did – for lack of a better word – miff me, was a thread a reader started on this author saying oh – well because this reviewer didn’t like the book, I certainly won’t be reading it – or words to that effect. A couple of others joined in a said pretty much the same thing and the nasty bitchy part of me muttered “sheep”. Yes, there is a nasty bitchy side to me. I try to keep it hidden but it’s coming out a here. Here is what one of the posters had to say:

“She’s one of my few favorite authors that I have left, oh well it pains me but after reading the review I’m not touching it.”

And I’m left wondering why????? Because ONE reviewer didn’t like the book? This person has enjoyed this author in the past. Why be such a sheep and not try it yourself if you like this author? I’m not saying you have to go out and buy the book; rent it from the library or try it from Paperback Swap or something, but to right off an author? To me that’s just nuts. What if most readers were so easily swayed? What if when some of the classic romances came out and a reviewer didn’t like the book; a book such as Lord of Scoundrels by Loretta Chase or Windflower by Laura London? Believe it or not, there are readers who don’t like those books – and that’s fine.

That’s why I am so glad there’s been explosion of reader blogs that do reviews. They counter balance some of the less impressive reviews at review sites. After all is said and done, it’s only one person’s opinion and before I rule a book out that I want to read, I need a heck of a lot more than one review. I don’t trust, never have trusted and never will trust Amazon reviews. While I know there are some readers who give honest and heartfelt reviews there, time has proven it’s a corrupt system. But reader blogs have no hidden agenda – I don’t think most anyway. They just love books and want to share their thoughts on a book they’ve enjoyed or in some cases not enjoyed.

I’m somewhat of a gambler when it comes to book buying. I love buying books by new authors and trying them out. And I like to think that grades don’t really affect me – even though I give grades myself. They are more of a guideline for what I thought of the book. I hope if it’s a book I’ve enjoyed, someone might be tempted to give it a try, but if it’s one that didn’t work for me – I still hope someone will give it a try and like it more than I did. In fact I don’t even really like calling what I do a review. I prefer to think of it as my thoughts on a book.

So, I’m curious. Would you be swayed away from an author you’ve enjoyed by one negative review? Do you pay attention to reviews or prefer to make up your own mind? How many reviews does it take for you to decide not to try a book you were interested in – or will you go ahead and try it anyway?

A few days ago Meriam brought up the “unofficial rules” of romance:

I’ve just read two romances back to back which, in their own way, broke the rules. Not in extreme ways… but just enough that it got me wondering what the unofficial rules of the genre novel are, and how much importance we place on them.

When was the last time you read a romance that made you think - hey, you’re not playing by the rules!?

Oddly enough, every romance that I’ve read recently has struck me that way. But it’s not a random sample–I’m on a re-reading binge.

I’m curious whether people will disagree with my list. I’ve been re-reading these books because something in them strikes me as unusual. But where I read an element as breaking the rules, others may read it as conventional; where I dwell on one aspect of the story, others may see it as tangential.

A heroine you don’t want to anger
Jennifer Crusie’s Agnes and the Hitman combines elements of romantic comedy, romantic suspense, action, and caper, but there’s plenty of rule-abiding romance in the book. Shane is more an old-fashioned cipher hero than the gushier type currently in vogue, and he’s a killer who’s ready to reform once he finds love. Agnes, on the other hand, stands out as an rule-breaker. In contrast to some of the genre’s idealized heroines, Agnes has a serious anger management problem. The anger isn’t Agnes being tough or cool. She’s not a kick-ass heroine in a hostile fantasy world, or an assassin, or a detective manqué; for her, rage really is a “violent” anger.

A Gothic where the girl saves the day
Mary Stewart’s The Moon-Spinners was first published in 1962. It surprises me a little that heroine Nicola’s competence and decisiveness still seem unusual in romantic suspense today. The new kick-ass heroines are fun, but where are the ordinary women who cope with the unexpected? It’s not that I believe every heroine must speak Greek, know local legends, lie glibly, hike like a mountain goat, know first aid, look good in a teenage boy’s jeans, and have an interesting aunt. No, “I never saw such a woman“. But I find it refreshing that in some of Mary Stewart’s novels the heroine saves the day, Gothic conventions and 1950s culture notwithstanding.

An erotic romance about grandparents
In Robin Schone’s Scandalous Lovers, Frances is 49 and post menopausal; James is 47. The story has the usual trademarks of a Schone novel: unsubtle thematic repetition like Wagner played through a bullhorn, and big statements about women in Victorian society. But the hero/ine spend much of the book parsing mundane concerns about their age, their marriages, their attractiveness, their physical ability to be sexual, and the roles of older people in society. Unlike some of Schone’s earlier novels, and unlike some of her peers’ erotic romances, it’s the small details that make the personal political. For example, Frances’ son is offended by her dyed hair; it symbolizes a sexuality that’s inappropriate for his mother.

Looking for love but not very hard
Elaine Dundy’s The Dud Avocado is a predecessor to chick lit; it’s also a post-War travel narrative, and it involves a romance. Much of the book fits the usual patterns: the first-person coming-of-age story, the succession of aimless relationships, the constant self-examination. But Sally Jay Gorce’s insouciance is refreshing: she’s not desperate to couple up, but she experiments with being in love, being a mistress, being attracted to a bad boy, and other hijinks in 1950s Paris. Her voice has the frankness that so much of chick lit strives for, and her scattiness is more about trying on attitudes than acting like a ditz to be attractive. Most of all, I appreciate her lack of concern over finding True Love.

Extinction can be a happy ending
Ann Maxwell (Elizabeth Lowell)’s science fiction romances borrow conventions from both genres. What’s old school in one genre can be startling in the other; Lowell says

They were considered “girl books” by science fiction reviewers because I included the possibility of heterosexual attraction, of love, in the story.

Both The Singer Enigma and The Jaws of Menx have endings that resolve the relationships but aren’t don’t obviously lead to domestic bliss. In Menx Rhane can never return to his world, and his absence may cause war and chaos. In Singer Lyra and Tarhn… dissolve? Are part of the mass extinction of Lyra’s species? I’m not sure precisely what happens when Lyra’s kind “flows from the galaxy”, but it isn’t two people settling down and making babies. Nevertheless, it’s not a sad ending, and it’s fitting: both novels emphasize higher purposes and painful duties.

Unofficial rules
At first I thought Meriam’s term, “the unofficial rules of the genre novel”, meant “the current vogue in romance”. But the books I’m re-reading are mostly oldies, and I find elements in them that were striking at the time as well as today. The Dud Avocado was a smash hit in 1958, long before chick lit. Lowell’s sci fi romances were strange in the 1970s and ’80s, and they’re still strange today. Schone’s couple nearing 50 would be unusual in any period of the genre.

Some of the books I called rule-benders above reflect what’s in vogue now, and the cross-section of romance that I read. However, I think there’s something to the idea of “unofficial rules” (that is, rules secondary to the all-important happily ever after, etc) that outlast immediate fads. I’m still thinking it over. Opinions?

I’ve just read two romances back to back which, in their own way, broke the rules. Not in extreme ways - the eight narrative elements being present and correct - but just enough that it got me wondering what the unofficial rules of the genre novel are, and how much importance we place on them.

The two books I read were The Slightest Provocation, by Pam Rosenthal and A Personal Matter by Karyn Langhorne. Neither author did anything genre shattering, but their little subversions were amusing and interesting, because they are quite rare in my experience.

Heroes don’t smell (bad)

Take Alayna and Ice from A Personal Matter. I think there was something gleeful in the way Langhorne chose to emphasize the physical defects of her protagonists, often elaborating on their less than appealing traits the way other authors might describe the physical appeal of their protagonists:

It took a couple of seconds to shut up and realize she hadn’t met the boogeyman and that the surface she was up against wasn’t anything more dangerous than a normal man’s chest. Torso, really, He was pretty tall… and the said chest was hard as rock. But he didn’t have a knife. The most dangerous thing about him was a medium-bad case of B.O., but when you had run face-first into a man’s armpit, it had to be expected.

and

Ice dripped his glasses-less self into the War Room just before lunch wearing a dark blue suit that didn’t do a thing for him and a pair of bleary slate eyes above a puffy set of matching gray bags.

Romances have to walk a fine balance between the mundane and the glamorous in order to truly work, and in this instance I found Ice (hairy, sometimes stinky, often tired and worn out), a brilliant creation. At once believable and utterly heroic, but with the heroic qualities expressed mainly through his actions. Nonetheless, it felt strange reading a novel in which the hero’s physical beauty wasn’t extolled in every other page.

Heroines Aren’t Bitchy

Alayna is. She has a great big chip on a shoulder, a short fuse and attitude to spare.

Take this perfect encapsulation of her character:

He was already striding out of the room when Alayna’s fist found her hipbone and nestled itself in its favorite spot.

And this response to an office worker making a friendly overture:

“So why don’t you do me a favour and drop the let’s be girlfriends routine, Trixie. The day you and I are friends is the day there’s a Sister in the White House and you’re playing my Mammy on TV”.

(Meriam: Whoa!) This heroine finds it difficult to apologize and say thank you. She is quick to react, suspicious and proud. There’s character growth, but the essence of Alayna - the take no prisoners attitude - remains fixed.

HEA Forever and Ever

Similarly, when confronting her happy ever after with the man she loves, Alayna isn’t completely thrilled. A part of her recognizes that in loving Ice and choosing to be with him, she will lose a part of herself (the independent, carefree part) she has only just discovered. Intriguingly, the prospect of the happy ever after - her life mapped out and foreseeable - doesn’t thrill Alayna, but initially gives her the feeling of a jail door slamming on her. This is almost anti-romance, where it is usually the practice employed in epilogues everywhere to reassure the reader that the Heroine and Hero are living in a patented domestic bliss forever more.

I confess, I very much enjoyed A Personal Matter, with its subversive elements and knowing pokes at convention.

In a different way, Rosenthal’s The Slightest Provocation also felt like a rule breaker. In a stylistic sense because it read as a more literary stab at the genre, and in its probing character study of the H&H. In an earlier post on the Wallpaper Historical, RfP wrote:

Perhaps a “wallpaper” historical is simply a romance that emphasizes character or plot over setting; more pages of relationship-building isn’t necessarily a bad thing in a romance.

My feeling then was that it would be great if romances did concentrate on character and plot, instead of relying on archetypes and cliches (the ‘romantic shorthand’). After reading Rosenthal, I thought - yes, more of this, please.

Interestingly, Rosenthal talks about her desire to explore the realm between romance and erotica, and wonders what role ‘ultimate monogamy and the marriage ending plays in all of this.’ (Which is rule-breaking in a more controversial sense, and a matter for another post.)

In what small ways do you enjoy breaks from convention; what works and what doesn’t? When was the last time you read a romance that made you think - hey, you’re not playing by the rules!?

From the thumbnail research I’ve done the genesis of street teams was in rap record labels. The idea was to organize a grass roots “team” of people who already liked the music and start a word of mouth campaign to promote a particular album or artist.

This practice was brought to my attention by a recent article Jane at Dear Author wrote voicing her concerns about street teams. As I read the article I had a light-bulb moment.

In recent months I’ve been contacted by three different publishing houses. In the email I receive they offer me free books and/or ARCs in exchange for my mentioning the publication of the book and, if possible, a review of the book. Sounds like a sweet deal for books right? I can also honestly say I replied to two of the publishers affirming I would accept the books.

All the correspondence has been polite and politic, but here’s where the story takes a turn and makes me squeamish. When I accepted books from the first publisher all I was requested to do in exchange was mention the release of the books. I thought, sure, why not? I wasn’t being asked to endorse or review anything. A few months later the same publisher asked if I wanted to read and post a review of a book. They also asked me if I would like to contact other like minded people to do the same thing.

Without thinking about any of this I declined because I honestly didn’t feel like I could make a commitment. My real life was just too busy at the time. I must confess I was very flattered to be asked. For a fleeting moment I thought my previous scintillating reviews were what prompted the overture. As the joke goes, and then I woke up. I was certain it wasn’t based on the tepid traffic I get at my everything-but-the-kitchen-sink blog.

Flash ahead several weeks and I’m reading Jane’s article and make a connection. Street teams aren’t just formed by the rabid fan who is already enamored with the writer or artist. If a publisher starts by sending you free books. Then free books asking for a review. Then free books asking for a review and to tell a friend. Then asking you to form a “group” with those friends for book signings and other promotions by the publisher, isn’t that a street team?

It’s okay. Scratch your head and think for a moment. I have a couple of times.

It sort of insidious and sneaky, isn’t it? I don’t like the feeling. Since I have a pretty decent book budget each month, I don’t have a financial need or sense of urgency to say ‘yes’ to free books. The offers that tempt me are when a publisher offers an ARC of a book for a favorite author. Publishers can pick a blogger out for these by doing a search and finding a previous favorable review of the author’s books. I know myself well enough to know that as long as there are no apparent strings attached I’m going to say a resounding YES! to that offer.

On the other hand, I’m going to be darn careful of every apparent golden goose that comes my way. Although after this post I’m not expecting much email from publishers to be in my mailbox.

It should also be noted that the authors themselves could do the same sort of campaign that the publishers do. I have been the fortunate recipient of a few ARCs from authors. In every case the author has asked for nothing in return and has presented the ARC to me as a happy and interested fan. The only other request an author has ever made was to give a review. Good or bad, they requested a review in exchange for the book. That seems very reasonable to me.

So have you received like offerings? Do you think you’ve already been tagged for a street team?

For anyone who doesn’t have a tv, radio, internet, or newspaper, this might come as news: supermodel Christie Brinkley is having her divorce adjudicated in open court, leading to all sorts of daily revelations and speculations about the breakdown of her marriage to architect Peter Cook. And here’s another tidbit of newsworthy info: Christie Brinkley is angry, “boinkered by anger,” according to some “independent doctor” to which Cook’s attorney recently referred. Whatever “boinkered” may mean in medical parlance, did they actually need a doctor to diagnose Brinkley’s anger? I mean, come one, the woman is getting divorced for the fourth time (clearly marriage means something to her) amid accusations that her husband bedded and paid off a teenage intern at his office, that he indulged an expensive porn habit, and that he was abusive to Brinkley and Billy Joel’s daughter. No kidding she’s angry. I’ll go out on a limb here and suggest that if she’s only angry that she’s probably made some serious strides from where she started.

Seeing the coverage of the Brinkley/Cook divorce reminds me how taboo anger in women still is. Every day, it seems, Cook’s attorney makes some assertion of how Brinkley is just looking for “revenge” or how she wants to punish Cook. As if her anger is somehow unnatural, unfeminine, and illegitimate. Feminism is also still associated with anger, and therefore with something beyond what is femininely respectable (think of the persistent misattribution to Andrea Dworkin of the quote that ‘all heterosexual sex is rape’ – that she didn’t say that at all doesn’t stop people from dismissing her, and feminist activism, with the sentiment). And let’s not even get started on the PMS jokes. The angry woman is a bitch, a shrew, a Medea, something, ultimately, unwomanly and definitely unattractive.

In our films and fiction, though, angry women are quite popular. From the women scorned of The First Wives Club to almost every romantic heroine Meg Ryan has played in the past ten years, angry women are the stuff of romantic comedy, dramedy, and family drama. Wives being dumped for younger, shinier, secretaries; women being saddled with job and family responsibilities while hubby plays golf and watches television (how many sitcoms feature this scenario?); women seeking revenge for some horrible teasing or humiliation they suffered in youth. Romance seems to be an especially safe haven for the angry woman; in fact, of the three books I’ve read in the past week, two feature pretty peeved heroines. One, an upcoming historical release, features a heroine who has turned her anger into vigilantism, and the other, a contemporary category, finds the heroine using anger to push away the man she loves but fears doesn’t love her back. From heroines who are merely “petulant,” like some of those younger misses who popular historical Romances, to those who are downright angry, like some of Jennifer Crusie and Susan Elizabeth Phillips’s heroines, the genre seems quite adept at tolerating female anger.

Take this scene from early on in Susan Elizabeth Phillips’s last release, Natural Born Charmer, in which Blue, our intrepid heroine dressed in a beaver costume, is confronting Monty the now-ex boyfriend (and Sally, his new 19 year old girlfriend), who has unceremoniously stranded her in a strange town without a job, money, or friends:

“I know you’re upset,” Monty said, “but someday you’ll be happy for me”

This guy had graduated right at the top of stupid class. Dean watched the Beav rise up on her paw tips. “Happy?”

“I’m not fighting with you,” Monty said hastily. “You always want to turn everything into a fight.”

Sally nodded. “You do, Blue.”

“You are so right!” With no more warning than that, the Beav hurled herself through the air, and Monty went down with a thud.

After using her beaver paws and tail to whack the newly-ex boyfriend silly, Blue ends up leaving with Dean Robillard, a guy who isn’t exactly resentment-free himself. Like many of Phillips’s heroines, Blue Bailey has a certain coating of bitterness around her, a brittle shell she protects with her wits and wisecracks, until someone breaks through to the softness underneath and wins her fragile but loyal heart.

Now to some extent, these angry Romance heroines are “healed by love,” right along with the wounded, insecure, and otherwise deficient heroines (and are often among these otherwise injured character categories), which may not make Romance the best genre to talk about breaking the taboo of women’s anger. But at another level I do think there is something significant to be said for the fact that Romance is, at least, so comfortable with angry heroines – that it tolerates this anger and does not automatically turn it into something monstrous or unwomanly. And in some cases, the genre celebrates the angry heroine – take Eve Dallas, for example – or at least does not hasten to flatten out or exorcise her less than loving emotions.

One of the reasons I love the Charlaine Harris Southern Vampire series so much is the bittersweet development of Sookie Stackhouse’s character. Sookie started out a pretty insecure young woman who strove to be polite and well-behaved, as her grandmother taught her and expected her to be. As the books progressed, though, she grew a bit more disappointed, a bit more jaded, even lashing out a bit at some of the things she had had to bear and face. Those feelings that so often rest underneath the shiny feminine exterior have emerged, and, in my opinion, made Sookie a more interesting, more fully dimensional character. She should be angry at some of the things she has had to do, at those who have betrayed her, at some of the dangers that have come to pass and passed her by (just barely). Recognizing her anger is part of her growth, part of her own self-definition and of her standing up for herself. It makes her more active in her world, more engaged in her determination to run her own life instead of letting life run over her. While not embittered, Sookie no longer shies away from resentment, doesn’t try to talk herself out of it before she can fully feel the disappointments of her life. Although Sookie is no teenager, her life reminds me poignantly of how the anger we often witness in adolescents is ideally a precursor to grown-up independent thinking and self-determination.

We talk a lot about how Romance can subvert or sustain particular social expectations around gender, and in this case, I think the genre functions to do both. The feisty heroine, the bitter heroine, the vengeful heroine – these women are everywhere in the genre. And even though their anger might be magically healed by love rather than transformed or better integrated or grown away from, that the genre seems to willing to embrace the angry heroine strikes me as a bit of a social accomplishment, because the angry woman is still so demonized in real life. If Christie Brinkley were a Romance heroine, this would be the exact moment at which she would meet her True Love, but in real life, it’s more like the time when the Lorena Bobbitt jokes begin. Which, I must admit, makes me a little bit angry.

So how about you — what do you think of the angry heroine? Is she just an immature whiner, or a multi-dimensional woman? Both? Neither? Don’t care enough to think much about it?