I’m going to rant. I’m sorry, I don’t usually do that on this blog (although I do it quite a bit in real life), but I’m going to do it anyway. Ready?
I’m sick and tired of 50 Shades of Grey. I’m sick of hearing about it, reading about it and most of all, having my work compared to it.
There, I’ve said it.
Now, to be perfectly honest, I haven’t actually read it. It’s not my style. I don’t particularly want to read erotica, and if I ever decide to read that type of book, I know many authors whose work I’d prefer to read first. So I’m not complaining about the actual book itself.
And I don’t believe in trashing authors online, especially when they can’t defend themselves, so I’m also not discussing the quality of the writing, the story, or anything else.
I’m complaining about the people who have either read it or heard enough about it to assume that they are now experts in all things romance and who also assume that all romance writers are writing books like that.
Say whatever you want about the book itself, 50 Shades is a very specific sub-genre of romance. While many of us would love to see our own books rise to the success reached almost overnight, it seems, of this book, we do not all aspire to write a 50 Shades knock-off.
For the record, I write contemporary romance. My books have various heat levels to them and the amount of sex in the book is totally determined by how it fits into the story, how my characters develop and frankly, how well I’m able to write it. But regardless of how hot my books are, they will never be as hot as 50 Shades.
My upcoming book revolves around the story of Purim, a Jewish holiday during which we dress up. The fact that there is a mask on my cover does not in any way mean that it’s being used as a sex toy. At least, not in this book. Now, if a random reader sees my cover and is intrigued enough to check out my book, awesome! That’s exactly what a cover is supposed to do. But please, please, please, do not ask me, with a wink and a smile, if my book is like 50 Shades of Grey. It’s not and you’re starting to creep me out.