Finding Love Near The Office Photocopier

It all started innocently enough. At work, I would wander past her desk, tell weird jokes, and remind her that the Boston Red Sox could never win two World Series in a row. For six months, every time I walked by, she would laugh and always look directly at my face. Although I was older and supposedly more experienced, I shifted uncomfortably from side to side and, more often than not, averted my blue eyes to adjacent cubicles. I feared that moment when our eyes would lock. I thought she was adorable, but I also remembered the old adage about office romance, “You don’t eat and shit in the same place.” I had been on dozens of dates in the previous year, and no one ever truly clicked for me (or vice versa). One day in an email to me, she plied me with a baseball metaphor, “You’ll never hit a home run if you don’t step up to the plate.” After two hours of naïve confusion on my part, I understood. We went out that weekend. A lot of people face the same dilemma we did: These days, it is damn near impossible to meet someone outside of your circle of friends or your workplace. Trolling bars, while providing a reasonably good chance for a quick one-night-shag, hardly satisfies your need for something, umm, longer and deeper. A 2003 American Management Association survey indicates that roughly two-thirds of their respondents approve of office dating, and almost one-third have taken a bite of the apple themselves. Surveys of office managers suggest that 80% of them know that an office romance is in progress in their workplace. But is it worth the risk of living out one of those incredibly uncomfortable moments when you and your ex-office date are assigned a project together? In your minds, you can only see each other naked, with each other’s flaws as glaringly obvious as the smell of dry-erase marker wafting from the whiteboard? Is love so important that you should risk your own career arc, just because that person may be the one? Is love so difficult to find these days that convenience trumps the excitement of the hunt? For the record, unlike Jim and Pam from NBC’s The Office (or Tim and Dawn if you prefer the BBC version), my romance had a happy ending. We were so discreet that few colleagues heard about our relationship. Without that layer of complexity, our romance grew slowly and naturally. We were married and hope to live happily ever after. We also don’t work there anymore!

Justin Timberlake’s Not the Only One Bringing Sexy Back!

Marta Salij recently wrote in an article entitled, “Hot fiction for and by women,” for the Detroit Free Press and reprinted in the Journal News, that erotica has gotten the attention of some of the biggest romance publishers. She mentions that Berkley, Harlequin, Avon and Kensington are launching “more sexually explicit and adventurous” lines than they have in the past. Some of our readers tell us that they want to see more sex in our stories, too. When I hear these types of comments I wonder if these are romance readers who want more sex or erotica readers looking for another source of erotic materials. Or is it simply that if you ask someone if they want more sex in any facet of their life will they automatically say YES! Certainly the larger publishers have room to launch an erotic-style line or produce a couple steamier books each month without alienating their traditional readers. But are smaller publishers supposed to abandon their traditional vehicles (and readers) to jump on the erotica bandwagon? If romance fiction suddenly morphs into erotica where will the romance readers go to find the stories they want? I personally think the situation will work itself out before the flow of romance fiction dries up. Keep in mind that bandwagons get crowded and with all that jostling around the music stops sounding as sweet. Next thing you know a wheel falls off and you’re stranded waiting for the next bandwagon to go by. Or in less metaphor-laden English, trends either become the norm or die. And there is always another trend nipping at their heels. I think our goal should be to continue with those elements of romance fiction that are most appealing: well-defined characters, compelling relationships and stories plus a good balance of sex and romance. That’s way one way to keep the music sweet and our readers coming back.

Thinking Outside the Box(ers)

What would you do if you knew you only had a year left to live? In one of my favorite episodes of the 1980s sitcom “Designing Women,” Julia Sugarbaker receives a call from an old high school classmate who, having found out that his days are numbered, asks her to spend the night with him. It seems that as a skinny, awkward, shy teenager he’d nursed a long-distance crush on her. Years later, the bad news from his doctor gave him the courage to call the object of his teenage affection. Understandably hesitant and suspicious, Julia nevertheless agrees to meet him for dinner in a restaurant. After much talk of old times and the turns their respective lives had taken over the years, though, Julia feels comfortable enough to invite him back to her home for a drink. Now by today’s television standards (and I use the term very loosely) the next scenes would involve heavy breathing and Julia and her old school chum grunting and rolling around naked on any available surface. To their credit, however, the writers chose to take a different route. While admitting that she suddenly found this man quite attractive, Julia goes on to explain that she is in a committed long-term relationship, which she would not dishonor with a one-night stand. So the two of them do, indeed, spend the night together – slow dancing to old music from their high school days. – a scene made all the more erotic because it did not end in sex. Backing up the clock fifty or so years, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers danced their way through over a dozen films and never so much as kissed until their last, "The Barkleys of Broadway." Of course, in those days of screen censorship they were hardly likely to go much further. But many of their dance numbers were so erotic - such vertical expressions of clearly horizontal wishes - that any further physical contact between them would have seemed superfluous, even if it had been permissible. The amazing Eleanor Powell didn’t have a partner – or need one – in the 1939 film "Honolulu" to be the sexiest woman in seemingly constant motion. But forget movies and television. Words by themselves can be sexy. For example, from Act V, Scene 2 of Shakespeare’s The Life of King Henry V: By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, Kate. By which honour I dare not swear thou lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage . . . . Therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, will you have me? Put off your maiden blushes; Avouch the thoughts of your heart with the looks of an empress; Take me by the hand, and say 'Harry of England I am thine,’ Which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will tell thee aloud 'England is thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and HarryPlantagenet is thine,’ Who though I speak it before his face, if he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music and thy English broken; therefore, queen of all, Katharine, break thy mind to me in broken English; Wilt thou have me? Just words – but erotic words, with only the most covert and subtle reference to sex. You say you have trouble deciphering the Immortal Bard? Okay. Here’s something a bit more down to earth. A few years before the people who make the James Bond films discovered what I have known for years, namely that Pierce Brosnan was born for the part,** Brosnan made a couple of commercials for (you won’t believe this) the Maidenform Company. Elegantly dressed in a tuxedo, he loosens the formal tie, folds his arms, looks into the camera, and casually tells the following microstory: “It was our first time in Monte Carlo. We were heading out for the evening and she said, ‘I feel sure we’re going to win tonight. I’m wearing my lucky bra.’ So we headed downstairs and, sure enough, we lost our shirts. At least one of us was dressed for it.” Maidenform Bras? You bet your sweet life! He could have sold me swampland in Louisiana and the Brooklyn Bridge, too. That 15 or 20 seconds was sexier than any physical act that I have ever seen portrayed or read in any novel. Albert Einstein said, Imagination is more important than knowledge. As always, old Albert said a mouthful. ** I know. I know. Sean Connery is the favorite "Bond" among many. But you know the old saying: You pays your money and takes your choice, and for my money Brosnan was born to be "Bond."

A Bit of Romance Comic History

We often describe MyRomanceStory.com as a cross between a romance novel and a graphic novel. The romance comic is also a close relative. A recent discussion of the life and death of the romance comic (and any earlier posting by Devin Kellogg) prompted our own Poison Ivy to unlock her vault of comic book knowledge as well as her archives of classic romance comics. (We'll be putting up some classic romance comic covers on our site soon.) See below for A Bit of Romance Comic History by Poison Ivy In the mid-1950s, faced with ruin after the congressional investigations of EC Comics and the salacious accusations Dr. Frederic Wertham made in his book, Seduction of the Innocent, the major comic book companies decided to self-censor, establishing the Comics Code Authority. A rich vein of dramatic, true-to-life stories were abandoned, and romance comics became quite bland and innocent, tiresomely reiterating themes insisting that women should pursue marriage above all—in other words, the typical party line of the 1950s era. Cover art, which had been mostly photographs in the early romance comics, became equally bland. In fact, mid-1950s romance comics are notable chiefly because they were so boring. By the end of the decade, the publishing of most romance comics ceased, presumably due to lack of sales. DC Comics, even though left with the field largely to itself, was constantly updating its image to try to hold on to readers. For a while there was even a separate romance comic logo—National Romance Group—on the covers, and prominent house ads were run in the mags encouraging readers to buy the entire line of titles. As the 1960s opened, DC was actively trying to invigorate the moribund romance comic genre. DC bought up titles from other companies, including Heart Throbs (from Quality Comics) and Young Love and Young Romance (both from Prize Comics). Soon DC Comics had a big line-up of romance comics. Dramatic and handsome cover art was done by people who would go on to fame as superhero artists, notably John Romita and Gene Colan. Dynamic covers were matched with beautifully drawn stories. But the themes didn’t change until DC tried romance serials: Nurse Mary Robin kept falling for various doctors and patients. At the end of each story, it all came to nothing, of course. Sometimes, she was in the arms of a man who by the next issue, had mysteriously vanished and was never mentioned again, but often, she was tearfully saying goodbye to love. Airline stewardess Bonnie Taylor had similar serial experiences, falling in love with a Scot from a Brigadoon-like village, a doomed fisherman, a soldier with post-traumatic stress syndrome (he mistakes her for his lost love!), and so on all over the world before finally finding true love with an airline pilot. A Hollywood starlet, April O’Day, kept falling for unsuitable men, like older actors. Then there was the advice columnist, Amy Ames, who somehow became directly involved with the lives of the girls who wrote to her, and often had some romantic adventure herself as part of it. These soap opera-style stories could be read separately or in series. Each issue would feature another story about the same heroine and a different guy. A lot of fantasy was involved; sometimes the heroine and her new love interest barely exchanged a word, just embraced. All the series eventually ended in a happily ever after that was no more or less than some of the individual chapters. In other words, no big wedding finale. (I don’t have all the comics, so I’m guessing that Amy Ames lived happily ever after.) It was all very innocent, of course; a kiss or two was the most that happened.

Ok, Get Your Noses Out of the Air and Stop Picking on Romance Fiction!

An unctuous article in the New York Times tells of an uproar about an advertisement in Washington, DC Metro stations that basically says Washington’s subway riders are smarter than other city’s subway riders. The comparison is made with an image of a man reading Plato’s Republic, with the caption “Greater Washington Subway Reading.” The same man reading Abandon, a romance novel, by Kaitlyn O'Connor is labeled “Average Subway Reading”. The article goes on to quote romance writers and readers including Nora Roberts. Roberts who knows her way around a romance novel, and given her proximity to Washington, DC, maybe the Metro system, too, zeroed in on the fact that 50% of mass market fiction sales are for romance fiction, so that’s likely what people are reading on the Metro. And those same people are likely to be offended by the ads. The Times article was basically a features piece that writer Ian Urbina got saddled with. I’m not suggesting in the grand scheme of things that the story deserves to be front-page news. But Urbina should understand that not all romance fiction can be classified as a bodice ripper. O’Connor’s novel is actually a futuristic romance. Romantic Times Bookclub gave it three stars. Urbina muses on the time when it was possibly safe to suggest that Plato was superior to a romance novel. But should it ever be in vogue to bitch slap another genre to feel superior. Republic and Abandon appeal to different audiences. Does one publication or their readers have to be judged “greater”? And finally…unlike the New York Times, we at MyRomanceStory.com are not afraid to give a shout out to Smart Bitches Trashy Books. In fact the first thing I see every day when I enter the lobby here at the Arrow Towers is what we affectionately call the “grotto”. The life-size papier-mache sculptures of the Smart Bitches Devin Kellogg created are quite breathtaking! On a crisp fall day the warmth from row after row of candles make the grotto downright toasty.

Are Middle-Aged Women the Largest Consumers of Pornography in America?

I just received an e-mail from our own Poison Ivy about what she calls “another romance tempest in a teapot”. It’s seems people have been blogging their fingers to the bone ever since Fred Head, the Democrat candidate for state comptroller in Texas, labeled his opponent, Republican Susan Combs, a pornographer. Why? Because in the early 1990s, she wrote a romance novel entitled, A Perfect Match, (Kismet #23), which was published by the Meteor Publishing Company. Poison Ivy writes, “Meteor was fairly middle-of-the-road romance, edited by a respected editor, Kate Duffy. There was sex in the books but only at the Silhouette Desire level at most.” Have we all forgotten that Lynne Cheney, wife of the U.S. Vice President, made romance writing respectable--even for Republicans--with her lesbian romance, Sisters, published by New American Library in November 1981. Don’t let this headline fool you either, romance readers come in all ages. And as we all know, real men read romance fiction, too.

How Private Are Your Privates?

Maryland has recently passed a law making it illegal to secretly take photographs up a woman’s skirt or down her blouse. There already was a law on the books protecting people from being videotaped in private places. Del. Neil F. Quinter (D-District 13) of Columbia, MD, who originally sponsored the bill two years ago said, “I believe that up women’s skirts and down their blouses are private places, too.” Ya’ think! Certainly no criticism of Delegate Quinter for stating the obvious, but shouldn’t this issue been addressed a long time ago? Here’s another law to regulate aberrant behavior… When I first read this I thought there had been a typo, but a co-worker provided some background. There is now a law banning the shooting or killing of birds or animals in the state (Maryland) with a gun or other device operated or accessed over the Internet. It seems with your computer and mouse you can operate another computer, a camera and a gun thousands of miles away to kill something. Is that supposed to be fun? Did these guys run out of blouses to look down? As a man who has done neither of these things, I'm still compelled to say, "Sorry".

I Read…and I Watch TV

I’ve started watching Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip because of Aaron Sorkin’s writing. I loved Sports Night. Enjoyed The West Wing (more with Sorkin than without). So far, so good with Studio 60. Sorkin writes banter. It’s crisp, clever and at times cutting. Every one of the above shows has at least one couple whose relationship is bursting with sexual tension. And while I give credit to his actors, they couldn’t have pulled it off without his writing. Preston Sturges wrote great banter, too. Rent The Lady Eve staring Barbara Stanwyck and Henry Fonda and see for yourself. If you want to write snappy dialogue rife with sexual tension make sure you have the right characters to say it. Mousy heroines as a rule do not banter. Nor do stoic heroes. Look at the types of characters that Sorkin and Sturges use to say these lines. Their heroines are strong, capable and at times playful. The Lady Eve is Stanwyck in her spunky gal persona rather than the later tough broad mode or the much later grand dame of the old west. The heroes are generally bright, but not always as articulate as they might like to be. The women usually get the better of the men in the end. …And Another Thought I saw an ad for the movie Marie Antoinette, staring Kirsten Dunst and directed by Sofia Coppola. At the end of the ad the announcer says, “based on a true story.” Well, Duh! It’s a film biography, so isn’t that statement redundant? Maybe if it was a film about someone less well known then this additional information might be necessary. But aren’t they still teaching the French Revolution in schools? The film did get booed at Cannes, so are they just insecure about their film or do they think filmgoers are dumb?

Things I have learned working at Arrow Publications

Never run away from a tennis star…you might get stuck in an earthquake. Be nice to the local millionaire, he might just seduce you by a fireplace. Never have sex in the woods…you WILL get pregnant. Never go on a trip looking for lost keepsakes, you will cheat on your fiancé…and get robbed… Be careful when re-uniting with lost loves, they might be blind, and will scare easily. Use caution when falling in love on a cruise, you never know who’s getting on at the next port. Don’t fall in love with your police partner, he will get shot. Don’t interfere with love; your aunt’s dog will be stolen! Always carry mace when running in the park, unless you run into an ambassador from Greece. Don’t pick a fight with your childhood rival, he just might do you in a hot tub, and a shower, and his private jet, and on a beach…before a Tsunami… Don’t get on a plane; especially if you’re already pretty, you WILL be scarred for life. When protecting a rock star, proceed with caution, even though he’s sexy, someone will want to kill him. Just wear your holster in bed… When working together with old crushes after hurricanes, clothing tends to fall off easily. If you are a songwriter, you will get framed for drug possession, just sleep with the singer’s ex-boyfriend and cooperate in a sting. Can you guess the story each of these lessons come from?

Full (Figure) Disclosure

Will romance writers be the last to acknowledge that “sculpted abs,” “lean bodies,” “perfectly rounded breasts,” and “firm rumps,” while all quite nice, are not prerequisites for sexual chemistry and satisfaction? Perhaps not. Perhaps romance writers can instead position themselves at the vanguard of a literary movement to acknowledge that satisfying sexual relationships can exist between persons of considerable avoirdupois, as the French say. The following excerpt (reprinted here with the permission of TenSpeed Press and shortened a bit) is from a story called “Fever,” by Rose Solomon. “She is heavier than she looks. I settle against her large thigh. In its denim casing it is firm and warm. Something stirs - twinges deep in my groin. She stands up and removes her T-shirt. Her breasts spring free before the shirt clears her head. I eye the menu greedily: ripe melons, translucent plum skin, and the fragrance of roasted nuts. I will have them all! She unsnaps her reluctant Levi buckle and rolls down her jeans. The seams have left indentations across her hips and thighs. I run my fingertips over the soft, narrow roadways as she climbs onto the bed and straddles me. Bit by bit I see my shaft disappearing from view. We are architectural masterpieces. She leans over me and presses her breasts to my burning face. I am being buried alive, how alive! I breathe in my fate [and] succumb to it.” Rose Solomon is a member of the Kensington Ladies Erotica Society, a group of six ordinary women who, in the 1970s, found themselves wondering whether women – real women – were actually “turned on” by the same erotic writings that appeal to men. Reluctantly at first, they began to experiment with creating their own erotica, which they shared only among themselves. By 1983, however, Rose felt that they had collected enough material for what would become the first of a series of anthologies of romantic and decidedly erotic short stories and poems about people with whom readers could identify – emotionally, psychologically and, yes, physically. The late (and greatly missed) Erma Bombeck once said, “Gravity always wins.” And so it does. But a less than Madison Avenue-perfect body is no less capable of savoring the sensual pleasures of life and of the flesh. Maybe romance writers, given their vast audience, should be the ones to keep spreading the news. (To learn more about the Kensington Ladies, visit their website at http://kensingtonladies.com.)

A Changed World

I'm reading Romance Without Tears (which I do only for research purposes). It's a collection of old comics that were published by Archer St. John. These were published in the 1950s during the heyday of romance comics. Man, what a different world that was. In a panel from "I Set A Trap For A Wolf," the female protagonist says that women should have "equal rights." Then, she decides that it would, therefore, be perfectly acceptable for her to call up a boy and ask him on a date, much to the horror of her parents. Of course, that was probably unheard of then, but is pretty small potatoes as far as women's rights go today. Some of the attitudes presented just seem bizarre from a contemporary perspective. In another comic, "Masquerade Marriage," two men, whose sexual advances are refused by their girlfriends, stage a fake wedding, so the girls will sleep with them. In the end, the girls feel shamed at what they see as their foolishness. And..they say that they will have to work hard to get back the respect of nice "fellows," who "never ask them out on dates anymore." Things have changed a bit, wouldn't you say?

Have you seen this man?

How Not to Query #2 A hand-written query came in by fax recently. The writer informed me that he had a manuscript that was an action-adventure, mystery, terrorist plot with humor. If I were interested he would forward it to me. Even if we did publish manuscripts there was one problem with this query, I didn’t know his name. The query was signed, but the signature was illegible. All I really had to go on was the sketch of his head—I’m assuming that it is his head—that he'd drawn at the bottom of the page. Yes, there was an address and two phone numbers, but how do I start the letter or the conversation? It’s like talking to the artist formerly known as Prince! Can I speak to Mr…well he has a wispy comb over and he wears glass… Just a thought, if you send a query then make it easy for us to contact you.