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Love is in the air, and on the page. For romance writers and their fans, every day is Valentine's Day - Adair Lara, SF Chron
Kate Moore is trying to find a reason why her hero, Alex Devlyn, the darkly handsome son of a British colonel and an American Indian maiden, must marry.
She is one of six local members of the Romance Writers of America having their monthly meeting at the cafe at Borders in San Francisco's Stonestown. And there isn't a pink boa or a toy poodle in sight.
The group fires questions at her. What is the family living on? Did his father marry his mother? Is it OK to make Cassandra, the woman intended for him, a fallen woman? (Alas, Cassandra has been blackmailed into sex by a friend of the family who holds her family's gambling debts and could ruin them. )
But however Moore's plot comes out, many people will dismiss it as trash.
There is no love for the love vendors.
"The only genre that gets less respect than we do is male adventure," observes Moore, who lives in Mill Valley, is the author of six historical romances and daylights as the chairwoman of the English department of the Branson School in Marin.
"If you say you read sci-fi or Westerns, no one raises an eyebrow. But if you say you read romance, people say, 'Oh, those books.' ''
The only place those books get reviewed other than the occasional mention in Publishers' Weekly is in the industry's own magazine, Romantic Times, which manages to scan 150 titles a month.
But these six don't meet to weep in one another's arms. These are serious writers whose books are read in serious numbers. Want to reach the hearts and minds of 1 American in 6? Write a romance novel. According to Romance Writers of America, in 2002 there were more than 51 million romance readers in the United States. They buy more than half of all popular fiction. Romance novels routinely make the New York Times top 15 fiction list.
These readers are always described as "avid.'' It takes only two hours to read a 200-page Harlequin, Silhouette or Temptation. A reader can put away a dozen on a weekend bender.
Phyllis Baker of Fresno, an elementary-school teacher and the mother of two little children, says, "Reading romance is my way of escaping the chaos of Lego blocks, Lincoln Logs, army men, homework and ballet practice. Reading Carol Grace's 'That's Amore' was a great way to escape to Italy without the cost of a plane ticket. And who doesn't need to escape now and then?"
A former translator, Carol Culver lives in Woodside and writes under the name of Carol Grace. She began writing in 1989. "I hit it by chance," she says. Her proposal -- the required three chapters and synopsis -- was about kids, single fathers and nannies, at a time when, unknown to her, all three were big. That was her first book, "Make Room for Nanny."
"That's Amore," her latest, a romance comedy, is a "single title" book, which is distinguished in the industry from category romances -- quick reads under easy-to-spot designations, such as Intrigue, Blaze and Romance, designed to stay on the shelves no more than 30 days. They're put out mostly by Harlequin/Silhouette.
Culver's done 25 category romances, including several about sheikhs, and is working on another. "You try to come out as often as you can or readers will forget you," she says.
Four books a year is typical for many of these authors. Nora Roberts, one of the top sellers, writes one every two months. She has 151 books to her credit, which means she is far behind grande dame Barbara Cartland, who racked up 723 by the time she died (surely of exhaustion) in 1999.
The money varies. Some romance writers make as little as a few thousand a book. The biggest names make several million a book.
"I think it's fair to say that only the very top tier are getting super rich on romance novels; a second tier is making as much as successful doctors, lawyers, and business people; still more make enough not to work a second job; and a majority do it on the side, either holding down a day job or supplementing the family income," says romance writer Diana Dempsey of San Francisco.
But even those bringing in a low four-figure advance can end up earning three to four times that amount because of foreign sales (after their month on the shelves here, category romances are sold overseas) and other subsidiary rights (large-print editions, book-club editions, audio editions and so on).
It trickles in over the years, though, so "you have to write several a year to make a decent living at it," says another member of the group, Candice Hern of San Francisco.
Her first book came out in 1995. She went on to publish five more Regency Romances with Signet, and now writes longer Regency historical romances for Avon.
She's not one of the ones making seriously big bucks yet, she says, "but I will be someday. I quit a six-figure job in high-tech marketing four years ago to write full time."
Her 11th book is due in six weeks, and she still has no title. As the group continues its meeting, she passes out a sheet with 50 or so titles already rejected by her publisher. The women put on glasses and study the list. "My Lord Thief," "The Heart Thief," "Taken by Surprise, "My Lady Thief, "Heart to Handle."
Culver looks up. "The last book you did had 'bride' in the title and did well," she offers, referring to "The Bride Sale" published by Avon.
"They do like consistency," puts in Lynn Hanna of Orinda.
"Like mine," says Dempsey. Her three titles to date are "Falling Star," "Catch the Moon" and "Too Close to the Sun."
"I have it," Moore says. "The Bride Price."
There is a chorus of approval. No one minds that there's no bride in the book. "The title is to sell the book," explains Culver. "We try to make it fit the story, but the publisher wants one that will sell."
"You have seven seconds to get a browser to commit after they pick up your book, marketing says," says Barbara Freethy of Burlingame. The star of this group, she's been using that seven seconds well, apparently, as her contemporary romances come out in print runs of 250,000. Her latest, just out this month, is "Golden Lies," set in San Francisco's Chinatown.
"And the readers are investing more money, so they're pickier," says Hanna. Prices have gone from $2.99 a book to $5.99.
They're picky about what kind of romance they want to read, too. Readers right now are scooping up Regency (set in England from 1800 to 1811) "and anything Scottish -- guys in kilts," says Hern. Other genres popular now are Christian and African American. Harlequin Books started its Steeple Hill imprint to supply inspirational titles, as they're called, and Avon is, according to its Web site, "actively seeking" romances with African American heroes and heroines. Small towns are in since Sept. 11, 2001. "And chick lit is big, ever since 'Bridget Jones's Diary' and 'Sex in the City,' " adds Hern. Out is medieval, American West and Civil War.
Whichever genre a writer chooses, there are rules. An untidy or unhappy ending is verboten. Readers have enough of those in their own lives, thank you very much. And bosoms still heave and everybody is still great looking, but the virgin in torn lace now sports Armani, or pilot's wings.
The heroines of Dempsey's three books, for example, are an anchorwoman (which Dempsey was), a deputy district attorney and a winemaker.
"There is not a lot of rescuing these days," she says.
"Unless the heroine can turn around and rescue him," says Moore tartly.
"And you can be edgier, have more foreign settings," says Culver. More than England or Scotland, she means, settings with a lock on the imaginations of romance readers.
And sex is no longer communicated with a coy cutaway to waves breaking on a beach but with an explicitness that would make a knight blush.
Within the formulas, these writers work hard to make the books as good as possible. Hanna has been studying Gaelic for seven years and is studying 19th century British literature at Cal State Hayward -- and taking a course in serial killers. She just switched from women's fiction (sweeping sagas -- think Catherine Coulter or Danielle Steel) to suspense.
These books are written by women for women. With some exceptions, few men succeed at writing romantic fiction.
"Men will describe the article of clothing coming off a woman and how she looks underneath," says someone in the group. "But a woman will write about how the fabric feels as it comes off her skin."
Still, the most recent past president of Romance Writers of America was a man named Harold Lowry who writes as Leigh Greenwood, Hern says. And other men write as part of a team. Best-selling author May McGoldrick, for example, is really the husband-and-wife team of Jim and Nikoo McGoldrick. And sometimes the male authors get away with passing off such obvious romances as Nicholas Sparks' "The Notebook" or "The Bridges of Madison County" by Robert James Waller (a book this group regards as shallow and manipulative) as mainstream fiction.
What all successful romance writers share is, well, sincerity.
"We are speaking to our sisters when we write these books," puts in Hanna. "We understand every trial and triumph at gut level."
"We start out as readers of romance," says Hern, whose hand has unconsciously gone to her heart. "There's a hopefulness we still share with them. We believe in the possibility of love that will last a lifetime.''
Romance Novels
Kate Moore is trying to find a reason why her hero, Alex Devlyn, the darkly handsome son of a British colonel and an American Indian maiden, must marry.
She is one of six local members of the Romance Writers of America having their monthly meeting at the cafe at Borders in San Francisco's Stonestown. And there isn't a pink boa or a toy poodle in sight.
The group fires questions at her. What is the family living on? Did his father marry his mother? Is it OK to make Cassandra, the woman intended for him, a fallen woman? (Alas, Cassandra has been blackmailed into sex by a friend of the family who holds her family's gambling debts and could ruin them. )
But however Moore's plot comes out, many people will dismiss it as trash.
There is no love for the love vendors.
"The only genre that gets less respect than we do is male adventure," observes Moore, who lives in Mill Valley, is the author of six historical romances and daylights as the chairwoman of the English department of the Branson School in Marin.
"If you say you read sci-fi or Westerns, no one raises an eyebrow. But if you say you read romance, people say, 'Oh, those books.' ''
The only place those books get reviewed other than the occasional mention in Publishers' Weekly is in the industry's own magazine, Romantic Times, which manages to scan 150 titles a month.
But these six don't meet to weep in one another's arms. These are serious writers whose books are read in serious numbers. Want to reach the hearts and minds of 1 American in 6? Write a romance novel. According to Romance Writers of America, in 2002 there were more than 51 million romance readers in the United States. They buy more than half of all popular fiction. Romance novels routinely make the New York Times top 15 fiction list.
These readers are always described as "avid.'' It takes only two hours to read a 200-page Harlequin, Silhouette or Temptation. A reader can put away a dozen on a weekend bender.
Phyllis Baker of Fresno, an elementary-school teacher and the mother of two little children, says, "Reading romance is my way of escaping the chaos of Lego blocks, Lincoln Logs, army men, homework and ballet practice. Reading Carol Grace's 'That's Amore' was a great way to escape to Italy without the cost of a plane ticket. And who doesn't need to escape now and then?"
A former translator, Carol Culver lives in Woodside and writes under the name of Carol Grace. She began writing in 1989. "I hit it by chance," she says. Her proposal -- the required three chapters and synopsis -- was about kids, single fathers and nannies, at a time when, unknown to her, all three were big. That was her first book, "Make Room for Nanny."
"That's Amore," her latest, a romance comedy, is a "single title" book, which is distinguished in the industry from category romances -- quick reads under easy-to-spot designations, such as Intrigue, Blaze and Romance, designed to stay on the shelves no more than 30 days. They're put out mostly by Harlequin/Silhouette.
Culver's done 25 category romances, including several about sheikhs, and is working on another. "You try to come out as often as you can or readers will forget you," she says.
Four books a year is typical for many of these authors. Nora Roberts, one of the top sellers, writes one every two months. She has 151 books to her credit, which means she is far behind grande dame Barbara Cartland, who racked up 723 by the time she died (surely of exhaustion) in 1999.
The money varies. Some romance writers make as little as a few thousand a book. The biggest names make several million a book.
"I think it's fair to say that only the very top tier are getting super rich on romance novels; a second tier is making as much as successful doctors, lawyers, and business people; still more make enough not to work a second job; and a majority do it on the side, either holding down a day job or supplementing the family income," says romance writer Diana Dempsey of San Francisco.
But even those bringing in a low four-figure advance can end up earning three to four times that amount because of foreign sales (after their month on the shelves here, category romances are sold overseas) and other subsidiary rights (large-print editions, book-club editions, audio editions and so on).
It trickles in over the years, though, so "you have to write several a year to make a decent living at it," says another member of the group, Candice Hern of San Francisco.
Her first book came out in 1995. She went on to publish five more Regency Romances with Signet, and now writes longer Regency historical romances for Avon.
She's not one of the ones making seriously big bucks yet, she says, "but I will be someday. I quit a six-figure job in high-tech marketing four years ago to write full time."
Her 11th book is due in six weeks, and she still has no title. As the group continues its meeting, she passes out a sheet with 50 or so titles already rejected by her publisher. The women put on glasses and study the list. "My Lord Thief," "The Heart Thief," "Taken by Surprise, "My Lady Thief, "Heart to Handle."
Culver looks up. "The last book you did had 'bride' in the title and did well," she offers, referring to "The Bride Sale" published by Avon.
"They do like consistency," puts in Lynn Hanna of Orinda.
"Like mine," says Dempsey. Her three titles to date are "Falling Star," "Catch the Moon" and "Too Close to the Sun."
"I have it," Moore says. "The Bride Price."
There is a chorus of approval. No one minds that there's no bride in the book. "The title is to sell the book," explains Culver. "We try to make it fit the story, but the publisher wants one that will sell."
"You have seven seconds to get a browser to commit after they pick up your book, marketing says," says Barbara Freethy of Burlingame. The star of this group, she's been using that seven seconds well, apparently, as her contemporary romances come out in print runs of 250,000. Her latest, just out this month, is "Golden Lies," set in San Francisco's Chinatown.
"And the readers are investing more money, so they're pickier," says Hanna. Prices have gone from $2.99 a book to $5.99.
They're picky about what kind of romance they want to read, too. Readers right now are scooping up Regency (set in England from 1800 to 1811) "and anything Scottish -- guys in kilts," says Hern. Other genres popular now are Christian and African American. Harlequin Books started its Steeple Hill imprint to supply inspirational titles, as they're called, and Avon is, according to its Web site, "actively seeking" romances with African American heroes and heroines. Small towns are in since Sept. 11, 2001. "And chick lit is big, ever since 'Bridget Jones's Diary' and 'Sex in the City,' " adds Hern. Out is medieval, American West and Civil War.
Whichever genre a writer chooses, there are rules. An untidy or unhappy ending is verboten. Readers have enough of those in their own lives, thank you very much. And bosoms still heave and everybody is still great looking, but the virgin in torn lace now sports Armani, or pilot's wings.
The heroines of Dempsey's three books, for example, are an anchorwoman (which Dempsey was), a deputy district attorney and a winemaker.
"There is not a lot of rescuing these days," she says.
"Unless the heroine can turn around and rescue him," says Moore tartly.
"And you can be edgier, have more foreign settings," says Culver. More than England or Scotland, she means, settings with a lock on the imaginations of romance readers.
And sex is no longer communicated with a coy cutaway to waves breaking on a beach but with an explicitness that would make a knight blush.
Within the formulas, these writers work hard to make the books as good as possible. Hanna has been studying Gaelic for seven years and is studying 19th century British literature at Cal State Hayward -- and taking a course in serial killers. She just switched from women's fiction (sweeping sagas -- think Catherine Coulter or Danielle Steel) to suspense.
These books are written by women for women. With some exceptions, few men succeed at writing romantic fiction.
"Men will describe the article of clothing coming off a woman and how she looks underneath," says someone in the group. "But a woman will write about how the fabric feels as it comes off her skin."
Still, the most recent past president of Romance Writers of America was a man named Harold Lowry who writes as Leigh Greenwood, Hern says. And other men write as part of a team. Best-selling author May McGoldrick, for example, is really the husband-and-wife team of Jim and Nikoo McGoldrick. And sometimes the male authors get away with passing off such obvious romances as Nicholas Sparks' "The Notebook" or "The Bridges of Madison County" by Robert James Waller (a book this group regards as shallow and manipulative) as mainstream fiction.
What all successful romance writers share is, well, sincerity.
"We are speaking to our sisters when we write these books," puts in Hanna. "We understand every trial and triumph at gut level."
"We start out as readers of romance," says Hern, whose hand has unconsciously gone to her heart. "There's a hopefulness we still share with them. We believe in the possibility of love that will last a lifetime.''
Romance Novels