In the first few weeks of 2007, I had an epiphany; to give credit where it is due, my husband started it, but it blossomed into a full-blown realization some weeks later. 

We were snurfing and my husband commented on the amount of romance novels present on the popular book-selling websites. I have never read a novel (of the type we saw splattered everywhere on the screen ) and we spent a good deal of time laughing at the similar covers: some lady in an amazingly revealing dress/shirt/robe/whathaveyou with the first button at her navel, aparently fainting away (struck senseless by the sheers sexual power of the hero) into the arms of said burly rouge/misunderstood hero with breeze-blown hair; the hero on the cover always appears to be crestfallen that his interest has been rendered disfunctional... you can almost hear his thoughts: "not again... must this always happen to me?"

My husband and I were both finishing our first fiction novels at the time; him an historcial /action adventure... mine a nostalgic humor/memoir. After our amusement had worn off, my husband turned to me and said: "I bet you could write a good romance novel... you know, without all that fantasy crap in it."

Unbeknownst to me, my brain started working on it; that night I had an incredible urge to read Pride and Prejudice, one of my favorite books. About halfway through those hallowed pages, I realized what I was reading. Of course it is a romance novel, I knew that.... HOWEVER... Jane Austen showed the world that one can write an excellent  romance novel, but one with class, taste and intelligence. 

I have never read a romantic story better than her works; once as a punishment my teacher brought in a romance novel from the store and read the first chapter aloud. We were studying great literature fo England at the time and it was truely an awful, yet humourous experience.  I simply could not believe writing could be so shallow and hold nothing rooted in reality: female pirates running about with complete freedom, demanding modern-type respect and rights from almost animal-like barbarians, women swordsmen winning swordfights and going to battle, all the while thier hair perfect and chanel scented. I merely point out how it appears to me. Then again, I was one of those girls whom in high school sat in the library ensconsed in C.S. Forester or E.R. Burroughs while my more 'modern' classmates were grouped around the well-worn Sweet geographical-landmark High display.

Inspired by Jane Austen and with the never-fading encouragement of my husband and content editor, I leapt into the fray, writing furiously; however I bore in mind that one golden rule of writing: write what you know.

No pirates, nor swordsmen, nor buxom women cavorted over my pages; just a simple love story with a reality check: a man and woman meeting as if designed to, going through funny life-situations and some mild arguments and getting married. In the sentances I so slaved over were woven my own treasured memories, moments of laughter and the witty banter of long loved conversations. I would read the chapters aloud to my husband, and he would comment on what sounded good, or if it seemed too far-fetched. He, being a character genious, even introduced a beloved character into my story and wrote along with me most of the time. Not only did the book soar past my expectactions of merely producing a more 'shallow' novel to sell, but I had a great time writing it. It was not a solitary or lonely endeavor in the least. 

After getting some independant reviews, we put part of the book online on a fiction 'forum' of sorts, just to get some unbiased opinions. I for one did not explect many people to like it. 354 positive, adoring reviews later, I was thinking along different lines. They demanded to read the whole thing and also demanded a sequel. Dazed by the response we sent the book off to the US Copyright offcie and began to send out quieries to various literary agents and publishers, like most authors do; the responses were typically elitist and almost macabre in nature. One lady even went so far as to suggest putting more 'sex' into it. I responded 'as if there isn't a glut of that around'. Really...

Undaunted, we made a website and put the book online with a few others, with the first three chapters free hooking ti up with PayPal (a wonderful invention) and waited to see what happened. Within the first week (on an unknown site), twelve people bought the book and sent back rave reviews. On the fifth days afer launch, Capital One sent the website a credit card; we laughed over it before ripping up the invite. Online books are a great business, being the overhead is so low. 

My book and my husband's book are selling still;  though it is a fledgling site, hundreds fo people visit it every day. That's up from 55 the first day. I did not pay for advertising, and several people whom bought my book the first week recommended it to their friends and family, etc...

So, chin up, all you writers of tasteful, elegant books. There is yet a market for your pieces and an appreciation hidden among the surfers of the net. As one of my readers put it: "So many of the novels I read today (and I read a lot of them) are so focused on including as many explicit sex encounters as possible, that more often than not, the romance gets lost. Usually, at the end of those, I am left yearning for a missing something and feeling like there should be more..."

Wow. The sentiments of this discerning individual were to be repeated many many time among those whom bought my book. I am completing my sequel and have many more such books in me to write. I shall write them with gladness, knowing there is a tasteful, classy and elegant audience waiting to read them. 

Cheers,