Shocking Lessons

Like many writers, I’ve been glued to the latest incarnation of Romantic Times and Dorchester Publishing’s American Title. The latest round of eliminations centers around descriptions of the hero and heroine. Though there are usually a few howlers in the judges’ comments, I’ve found the latest entries to be particularly enlightening (read: frustrating). Every aspiring writer should read the judges’ comments on the entries. Heck, every writer period should do it. Anyone who wonders why an agent can say “I just didn’t fall in love with it,” or an editor can feel free to reject something that may sell, and well, because they don’t personally care for it — in short, anyone who has the slightest idea that this business isn’t subjective should take a gander upon the latest in feedback.

Lindsey Brook’s entry gets a comment about the unsuitability of firemen as romantic heroes, “especially since 9/11” from editor Hillary Ross. Gotta say, this is new information for me. I read category romances all the time, and usually, firemen heroes are advertised as a hook (Jill Shalvis writes them a lot), in the same manner as other likely-to-be-killed-in-the-line-of-duty heroes like cops or Navy SEALs. Is this a new thing? Perhaps in the last five years or so?

Later, with Kimberly Howe’s entry, Ms. Ross says a military heroine is a turnoff because she “disapprove[s] of women who choose to go into combat.” That was definitely a double take on my part. Note to self: kickass heroines are not for Ms. Ross. Finally, Ms. Ross takes to task a writer (Raz Steele), whose twenty-eight year old heroine is a junior in college:

“Someone so neurotic is a psychology professor, not to mention the hero? And the heroine has more problems than those listed if she is still an undergraduate at 28.”

This last bit offended me, though perhaps I was already touchy from the whole women-in-combat thing. There could be any number of reasons she was an older student! (Lack of funds, going back to school for another degree, sickness, military duty (even non-combat!), never wanting to go to school before, etc.) But now, rereading, I think it likely that Ms. Ross is only saying that there probably is a reason, and the writer’s short description doesn’t list it, but should. At least, I hope that’s a case. I really hate the implication that someone has a “problem” if they’re an older student.

Moving on to… RT columnist and reviewer “Flavia Knightsbridge,” who is supposed to be the “Simon” of the group. Flavia’s schtick is to call every author on using “cliches.” She skewers the usual cops, secret agents, librarians, chefs, etc., until you get a really different relationship, which she then also skewers. Jenny Gardiner’s chick lit (so, obviously not going to be focusing so much on the hero, but don’t get me started about how unfair these “categories” are) is lambasted for not giving enough insight into the “boring husband’s” perspective. In contrast, she drools all over the quirks of the neurotic prof and late-in-life student the other judges despised. It’s the same old: fresh and new, but only in the way we want it. Apparently, Flavia wants quirks.

Sometimes, she doesn’t even comment on the characters, as in the case of Linda Thomas-Sundstrom’s entry. She’s too busy making fun of the names:

Finally, a romance novel starring Barbie and Ken! Because I always wondered what happened behind the Malibu Dream House doors … Seriously, if your characters are as plastic as their alter egos, we’ve got trouble.

Yeah, because a heroine who describes her exercise routine as “jumping to conclusions” and a hero whose profession is “graveyard keeper” sound incredibly plastic.

The final judge, editor Leslie Kazanjian, is supposed to be the nice one. She always gives the mildest comments, and is, I supposed, instructed to “like” everyone. But she had some difficulties with this one. Check out a few of her backhanded compliments:

The chaos of Claire’s life and the confusion of Jack’s could add up to two slyly sweet, endearing and sympathetic characters whose happiness we’ll root for, but the proof will lie in the execution — it’s gonna take both wit and wisdom to handle this pair!

However improbable, I like the idea of a tough-minded nurse going to bat against dangerous Japanese bad guys to rescue her sister, and I trust that the ex-Army undercover operative she encounters will prove sexy as sin.

Over and over again, I was seeing “improbable,” “boring” and “cliched.” So there’s the real trick, ladies and gentlemen. Believable, interesting, and original but not too out-there. Unless of course, you’re sending to someone who lives for quirks. That’s the other trick. Sending to someone who gets you. This is pretty hard, because you’re not necessarily going to know what an agent’s or editor’s little turn ons or turn offs will be. But hey, if this were easy, everyone would do it.

Reading stuff like this is really valuable, in the “refreshing, humbling, and painful” definition of ‘valuable.’ It gives you a little insight into what exactly is going on in the minds of the publishers evaluating your work. The old “not right for us” could be anything from, “I don’t do women in combat,” to “this set up was old when Methuselah wrote it.”

I know who I want to win… but I ain’t saying. Anyway, go read and vote!