NaNo Waffling, or Hating on Fluff
I have such a freakin' complex about what I "should" be writing. I've been writing my little smutty stories for a while now, mostly because I like writing the sexy parts. But to call myself a "romance writer", like, bugs. And I don't know why (well, I do know why), because I like a good witty Regency romance. But I like them in the same way that I like a snickerdoodle -- they're delicious, but they're fluffy and unhealthy and not something I gorge on in public. Much as I argue with myself to the contrary I can't get over this bias of romance novels as un-literature, as the Britney Spears of books. It's a huge genre that sells more books than almost any other, and that has a passionate and dedicated readership. But it can't convince myself to call it real literature. Even though I like reading it. And writing it. The self-hatred is real. When I call my sexy stories smut, it's a tongue-in-cheek nod to those bodice-rippers, b...