Wages of Sin (#taxes #amwriting #motivation)

I have been pulling together the figures for my 2016 income taxes. After looking at my writing business financials, I’m please to report that Lisabet Sarai actually did make a profit last year!

Not a large profit, mind you. In fact, when I amortize the amount over the time I spent on writing and marketing, I’m making far less than the minimum hourly wage.

At least I’m not losing money. It would be pretty hard for me to justify the effort (and expense) associated with my writing career if I ultimately ended up in the red. Given my current net positive financial situation, I can pretend that my publishing, editing and blogging is nothing but a hobby.

I say “pretend”, because in fact being Lisabet Sarai and sending my stories out into the world means a lot more to me than just some way of passing the time. Lisabet is my cherished alter ego. It’s almost impossible to imagine letting her die off for monetary reasons. I pray that doesn’t become necessary in the future (though trends in the publishing world are making it more and more difficult for authors to sell anything at all).

Given my P&L sheet, I’d be in major trouble if I were trying to support myself with my writing. I am grateful I don’t have to do this, because that means I can write more or less for the joy of it. Many of my writer friends don’t have this liberty.

Both my income and expenses were down last year. In fact, I didn’t have many releases in 2016, though I did publish what might be the best book I’ve ever written (The Gazillionaire and theVirgin). Also, I put a significant amount of my scarce writing time into penning stories for charity anthologies. Again, I’m fortunate I can afford to donate my work to support causes I believe in.

The fact that some people are willing to shell out their hard-earned bucks to read my work is hugely gratifying. Ultimately, though, this is not about the money. I was writing long before I published my first novel, and I’d probably still be doing so, for myself and my friends, if I hadn’t happened on that Black Lace novel eighteen years ago. Now I enjoy the thrill of sharing my visions more widely. Profit’s just an ancillary benefit.

Those occasional reviews or emails where a reader tells me he or she absolutely loved my book and couldn’t put it down—that’s the real payoff.

Blessed

A few days ago I learned that there is a small but definite possibility that my husband and I might become rich.

I'm not talking about rich in the league of Bill Gates or Warren Buffett, of course. However, we're in the process of trying to sell an invention, and we've got some nibbles from potential purchasers who would pay several million dollars.

When my DH told me about this (he has been handling most of the search for investors or buyers), I did a double take. It's hard to imagine receiving that kind of money. Although I've been doing what I can to support his promotion efforts, I have to admit it wasn't real to me until DH and I had this conversation.

I began thinking about what we'd do if this deal actually comes through - what I'd change.

And I was startled to realize the answer: not much.

I wouldn't quit my job. I love my work.

I wouldn't want to move. We have a fabulous apartment and I have no interest in buying another house, after being weighed down for years by the burden of owning a fabulously interesting but continuously deteriorating historic home in the US.

I wouldn't stop bargain-hunting. That's in my blood, inherited from my Jewish mother and grandmother!

Aside from a few odds and ends, there's very little I want or need that money can buy. I guess I'd like to be able to travel more, but even now our constraints in that area relate more to time than money, and I've already said I'd want to keep my job. Probably I'd go visit my family in the States more often than we do now.

Overall, though, I'm so blessed at this moment that money would not improve our lives much, because there's so little to improve. The money would provide some security for our future, relieving some stress, but as far the present is concerned, I have pretty much no complaints.

That realization is totally amazing. Here we are, celebrating Thanksgiving - could I possibly have more reasons for gratitude? I love my life, my husband, my work, my family, my friends, our cats. We have our health and strength. I have my writing life, my back list to be proud of, my peers and my readers.

What more could I ask for?

Indeed, I want to share my bounty with others. And I do what I can.

First of all, I have a story in Coming Together's new holiday charity collection, Coming Together For the Holidays. The book will release around December 1st, but you can pre-order it now. All proceeds support Stand Up For Kids, a charity working in local communities to support homeless youth. They provide outreach, education, food, clothing and most valuable of all, responsible adults to whom these kids can turn.

Second, I will donate $1 to Stand Up for Kids, for each person who comments on this blog post. Just tell me what you're thankful for today.

May you have life, and have it abundantly. Or to borrow the sig line from one of my writer friends:

We give thanks for unknown blessings already on their way.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Is Money Sexy?

If you scan the blurbs for recent romance best-sellers, you might come away with the notion that billionaires make the best lovers. Even before FSOG, rich guys were popular fantasy fodder, but the number of obscenely wealthy protagonists has climbed exponentially since. My primary romance publisher, TotallyBound, has a whole series of “billionaire” anthologies – Bound to the Billionaire, Promoted by the Billionaire, Sharing the Billionaire, and so on – and they sell very well. Apparently many readers feel that money is sexy.

I guess I can understand this, at some level. Today's billionaire plays the same role as the fairytale prince of yesteryear. He can fulfill the heroine's (or second hero's) every desire – not just physical desires but material ones. Especially given the worldwide economic downturn, I can see how a hero who could solve your financial problems with a snap of his fingers might be very appealing.

At the same time, I've never personally cared whether a lover (or a hero) was wealthy. The whole question seems irrelevant to me (perhaps because I've always been able to support myself by my own efforts). The trend seems a bit of throwback to an earlier time when women married mostly for financial security. Furthermore, relationships between a rich individual and someone less financially advantaged are not nearly as easy as some romance novels would have you believe. There are likely to be huge gaps in values and expectations that are bound to take their emotional toll.

I grew up in a middle class environment. I'm a third generation bargain-hunter at Filene's Basement. (If you don't know what that is, Google it!) I don't care what brand of watch I wear, as long as it tells the time. I'd consider spending $500 on a pair of shoes just because they had a designer label to be a ludicrous waste of money. On the other hand, my wealthy brother-in-law, although he's no billionaire, cares deeply about things like this. They're part of his self-image. I'm not criticizing him, just highlighting the differences in our perceptions of what is important.

Given the above, you might well ask why I have contributed a story to Totally Bound's most recent billionaire book, Bound to the Billionaire. Okay, I admit I'm hoping to cash in (so to speak!) on the billionaire craze. However, I also wanted to explore the sort of issues I've raised above. What happens when two individuals from different social worlds are drawn together? Can love indeed bridge the gulf in circumstances, expectations and ideology?

You'll find the blurb and an excerpt from my historical “billionaire” tale Challenge to Him below. It's part of the anthology Tied to the Billionaire, which also includes stories by Amy Armstrong, Sam Crescent, Tanith Davenport, Cheryl Dragon and Willa Edwards. It's also available as a single author title.

What do you think? Is money sexy?

Oh, and you might be interested in knowing that I'm working on a new book, entitled The Gazillionaire and the Virgin. It's not what you think! But I'll leave that for another post.

Challenge to Him by Lisabet Sarai

BDSM historical erotic romance

All the wealth in the world can’t buy willing surrender.

Andrew MacIntyre, heir to a vast empire of railroads, mines and mills, is the second or third richest man in America, and by far the most eligible bachelor among the society folk summering in Newport, Rhode Island. His mother has filled their opulent mansion with marriageable daughters of bankers and industrialists, but Andrew knows none of these callow young women can satisfy his perverse sexual needs. No respectable girl would ever consent to being bound and beaten, to serving and obeying him the way he craves. His money gives him the freedom to purchase anything except his heart’s desire—a submissive partner to share his life.

Independent, progressive and well-educated, labour activist Olivia Alcott has dedicated herself to improving the lot of the workers who toil in the factories that have made Andrew and his class so wealthy. The strike she organises triggers a confrontation between her and the handsome billionaire. Although their disparate backgrounds and values make them natural foes, something stronger draws them to one another—an intuitive recognition of complementary fantasies.

Andrew offers Olivia a bargain— better working conditions for the mill staff, in return for a weekend of her unquestioning obedience. Olivia will help him deflect the attentions of the potential mates assembled by his mother, as well as providing more intimate services. Given Olivia’s origins, a more enduring relationship appears impossible—but Andrew is not the sort to give up something he wants.

Excerpt (rated R)

“I can’t do this, Andrew. I’m sorry.”

Andrew and Olivia paused together atop the mezzanine stairway that led down to the Great Hall. Music filtered up, along with the swell and ebb of conversation. Although it was barely nine p.m., Catherine MacIntyre’s ball was already in full swing. Her guests had arrived earlier than they would have under normal circumstances, eager to survey the competition—and to catch a glimpse of the unorthodox house guest Andrew had invited to participate in the closely scripted rituals of the wealthy. Gossip had spread the news far and wide. Functions at Wavecrest were usually well-attended in any case, but no one wanted to miss tonight’s festivities.

“Of course you can.” He tucked her arm under his and pulled her body closer. The French perfume he’d bought surrounded her with an aura of roses, but underneath, he thought he caught a whiff of her feminine musk. “You look exquisite—the gown is perfection—and you’re far cleverer than any other girl attending. You’ll charm everyone.”

He surveyed his companion with smug approval. With its simple, elegant lines, the peacock-blue silk he’d commissioned suited her to a T. The low-cut neckline left her arms bare and exposed a generous but not improper expanse of fair skin. The fabric clung tightly to her breasts and torso, then flared out over her hips and swept to the floor in a sapphire cascade. Unlike some of the fussy fashions he’d seen, the gown had little ornamentation, aside from the ribbons that hung from the waist, draping the skirt in gleaming loops of satin.

Diamond teardrops swung from her earlobes. A matching diamond on an almost invisible chain nestled in the hollow of her throat and a blue-dyed ostrich feather arched over her upswept, mahogany-brown curls.

Yes, the outfit was worth every penny of the small fortune he’d paid for it. Olivia Alcott was a pearl without price.

Olivia shook her head. “They’ll know the instant they set eyes on me. I’ll die of embarrassment.”

“Nonsense. No one can tell whether you’re wearing undergarments. With your figure, you’ve no need of a corset, and it’s warm enough that your nipples are scarcely visible…” He punctuated his assertion with a tweak that made her gasp.

“Don’t!” She jerked away from him. He held her fast.

“Olivia, did you not agree to be my consort this weekend?”

“Yes—yes, sir…”

“And to obey me without question?”

“And have I not done so?” Her eyes sparkled in her flushed face and he knew she was reviewing the same glorious recollections that had him half hard in his tailored tuxedo trousers.

“Yes, yes, you’ve satisfied me in every way, my lovely slut. Tonight, though, I need you more than ever, here by my side. I must make it clear to my mother and to society at large that I am not in the market for a wife.”

“So I’m to play the role of your mistress, then?” The sharpness in her voice surprised him. He brushed his lips across her ripe ones, savouring her sweet breath.

“What do you care what those hypocrites think of you? You’ll never see them again.”

Olivia did not answer. She peered down the stairs, into the brightly lit hall—the lion’s den. “You’re right,” she answered at last, her voice low and resigned. “It doesn’t matter at all. Let us go.”

Why I'm Not Rich

On my recent trip back home to the U.S., I had dinner with my cousin. She and I were really close when we were kids, and I've never understood why we haven't kept in better touch, because whenever we do meet, it's always fabulous.

Anyway, as we were enjoying our gourmet pizza and craft beer, she said: "You're so incredibly smart. Why aren't you rich?"

I had to laugh. I apparently still have my childhood reputation within the family as a genius, though I haven't exactly achieved fame or fortune because of my intellect. I mean, I haven't won the Nobel prize or discovered a cure for cancer, the way I thought I might. But then her question got me thinking. I realized that at least one reason I'm not rich is that I've never tried to be. Wealth for its own sake has never, ever been a personal goal.

It's not that I don't know the value of money. I've been supporting myself since my mid-twenties, and count myself as financially responsible. I work hard and I appreciate being well-compensated. As long as I have enough to meet my needs though (which are fairly modest, at least by some people's standards), I don't care that much about having more. I mean, I wouldn't be unhappy to win a lottery or receive an unexpected inheritance, but I don't spend much time thinking about that. Other things are more important to me.

The really rich people in the world - people like Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Carl Icahn, Carlos Slim - have put a huge amount of mental and emotional energy into the process of becoming rich, probably since they were quite young. They understand money. They love (I suspect) money. They find the process of pursuing wealth to be satisfying in a way that I never could.

Not me. I can't be bothered with all the hassle necessary to get rich. Okay, that's a bit facetious, but honestly, I don't want to devote my time to the process of accumulating money. I have other things to do.

For me, prosperity covers a good deal more than just having cash in the bank (or invested in the stock market). A companion that I love and whose company I enjoy - a job that challenges me and lets me make a difference in the world - good health - a comfortable home - tasty food - the occasional chance to travel - these are some of the things that contribute to my definition of  "personal wealth". I'm not rich and never will be, but I have a fantastic life - interesting, rewarding ever-changing.

I have a few friends and family who are much richer than I am. When I'm in their company I always feel a bit self-conscious, as though they might be judging me based on my income or my bank balance. Some people do feel that your net worth is synonymous with your worth as a person, and in many societies status and wealth are closely related. I fight that feeling. They made their choices. I've made mine. And I'm intensely grateful for the outcomes.

It's a day to count one's blessings, and I have many. So being rich isn't one of them... well, that's fine with me.

Happy Thanksgiving to all! 

May you be showered with blessings!

What Are You Worth?

Recently our downstairs neighbors invited us to a party. We didn't really know them, except to say hello in the elevator. Their invite said they'd be "having a few friends in". Imagine our surprise when we found there were at least fifty guests! The party was catered by a local, very fancy German restaurant. There was a massive buffet. In addition, the caterers brought in kegs of draught beer, which was being served by the restaurant staff (dressed in Bavarian costume, yet!)

I have to admit it. I was intimidated by this show of wealth.

We live in the same building. Their apartment had more or less the same layout as ours. However, they'd obviously spent thousands of dollars renovating their space. Now I love our apartment - it's huge and comfortable, and for its size and location, incredibly cheap. But it's a bit rundown. We don't want to bother the landlords concerning cosmetic improvements - we don't want them to raise the rent!

My family brought me up to feel that being thrifty was a virtue. I was budgeting my allowance from the time I was eight or nine. I worked as a department store salesgirl and a supermarket clerk in high school so I could augment my pocket money. I learned the thrill of bargain hunting from my mom and grandma. Even now, I really can't enjoy a new purchase if I have to pay full price for it.

My husband and I live modestly. Our salaries are low by American standards; our expenses are pretty low as well. We have virtually no debt and even manage to save a bit. We're self-sufficient. Yet experiences like our neighbors party sometimes make me feel as though we're worth less because we're not rich.

These days, it seems, people equate money and value. The wealthy are admired as role models. If you're rich, that must mean you're smart and skillful. If you don't have a lot of money - and the material things to show it - this implies that you're either lazy or incompetent.

Well, I'm not either of those things. It's just that I've chosen comfort and lower stress instead of chasing after the cash. I hate myself for allowing the current adoration of wealth to affect my self-image, but sometimes it does.

I really liked our neighbors. We seemed to have a lot in common with them. So my husband and I left an invitation in their mail box, suggesting that they come up for a glass of wine.

They never replied. And I wonder whether it's because they think we're poor - and thus not worth much. Or am I just being paranoid?

Does anyone else suffer from this sort of delusion - the notion that you're being judged as less worthy because you have less money? I'm really curious.

Who Decides What You Read?

If you're reading this blog, you're most likely someone who, like me, loves the written word. The typical reader of erotic romance consumes dozens of books per month. The advent of ebooks has made it easier and cheaper than ever for us to feed our addiction to reading. Hop over to Amazon, or Barnes and Noble, or All Romance Ebooks, or Smashwords, and in minutes you can be opening the latest scorcher from your favorite author. What a fantastic system!

In the last two weeks, though, we authors have been confronted with the darker side of this publishing revolution. Author-oriented lists and blogs have been filled with frantic, frightened, angry commentary regarding PayPal's recent ultimata to independent bookseller sites. I'm really not sure, though, how much visibility this issue has gotten among readers.

The situation in a nutshell is this. PayPal is trying to decide what you may and may not read, by restricting the content its customers may offer for sale.

Booksellers like ARE and Smashwords depend heavily on PayPal - not only to handle customer sales but also to pay royalties to authors and publishing companies. PayPal has threatened to cut off service to these enterprises unless they remove from their virtual shelves all books with the following categories of content:

1. Incest, including sexual relationships between distant relatives such as cousins, unrelated individuals like step siblings, and also "pseudo incest", that is, role play in which the partners are not related but are pretending to enact an incestuous relationship
2. Sexual activity involving "apparently" underage characters, including pretty much any story that includes a couple in which one member is a teenager of legal age but the other is significantly older
3. Bestiality (sexual activity involving animals) including sexual acts in shape-shifter books if the shape-shifter is in shifted form
4. BDSM stories about rape fantasies or role-playing, even when the submission is actually consensual.

Now, you may not personally like to read some of these categories of erotic content. However, some readers do. You may argue that PayPal is only enforcing the law, but in fact these definitions of prohibited content go far beyond what is illegal, forbidding fantasy as well as completely legal activities such as BDSM. In any case, nobody is trying to stop the sale of murder mysteries, despite the obviously illegal acts they describe. No, this action targets erotic sexual material only.

Many authors are screaming "Censorship!", with good reason - but since PayPal is a private company, with a commercial relationship to the booksellers involved, they cannot be accused of violating free speech protections. Well, they can be accused (and have been), but most commentators agree that there's no possible legal grounds for attacking these policies.

You may shrug your shoulders here, saying, "Who cares? I don't like this kind of book anyway. Maybe this sort of content should be treated as obscene." But wait: will you still feel this way if PayPal decides that M/M sex is a no-no? How about ménage? Or even sex between a man and a woman who aren't married?

"That will never happen," you may say. Think about the virulent opposition in some quarters to gay marriage. Remember the "amazonfail" incident, where Amazon systematically purged GLBT content? I'll wager even money that if PayPal gets away with this ultimatum, we'll see a ban on homosexual content within twelve months.

Am I making you a bit worried? You should be. PayPal and the conservative forces behind it want to decide what you can and cannot read, based on their definitions of what is appropriate. Sweet romance will probably survive, but if this trend continues, erotic romance is likely to become a lot tamer - or maybe disappear entirely.

However, you have some power to influence this situation. You're the reader, the buyer, the one who's money greases the wheels of the huge ebook publishing industry. Speak up! Tell your favorite bookseller that you, not PayPal, should be the one who specifies your reading list. Contact your legislators and express your concerns. Contact PayPal and tell them you're an adult; you can decide for yourself what to read. You don't need them to babysit or protect you.

And share news about this situation with other readers. Post a link to this blog on your Facebook page, or link to the open letters from the National Coalition Against Censorship or the Electronic Freedom Foundation, both of which offer well-written rebuttals to the notion that PayPal's action is defensible. Tweet, blog, make noise! Help make PayPal realize how hugely unpopular this policy is, and how much it will cost them and their customers.

You'll see other authors blogging about how this is the first step toward a police state, with total control over the media. They may be right. As far as I'm concerned, this first step is bad enough. Nobody should have the right to control what I read. And that's true for you, too.

Love and Money

The start of a new month always involves some extra work for me. I have commitments as a reviewer and newsletter author that make the first few days a bit rough. Still, I've started to look forward to the transition, because my primary publisher Total-E-Bound sends out their royalty statements, like clockwork, on the first of the month. I open the email from their administrative assistant with mixed excitement and trepidation. Were my sales up or down? How many copies did I sell of my new release? And of course, how much money did I make?

My sales have been trending gradually upwards over the past year. This month (which covered October), though, they dipped significantly, compared to my last statement (which covered September). Disappointment hung on me all day, even though I don't support myself through my writing, and even though I know that third party outlets (like Amazon, B & N, All Romance Ebooks, and so on) normally report and pay quarterly, and that this distorts the numbers.

I was distressed by my own reaction. When did money become so important to me? I began writing for love, for fun. My first novel was almost a lark, a challenge to myself - "I'll bet I can write a sexy novel for Black Lace." Now, it seems, writing has become a business.

Of course, that's the advice I give less experienced authors: remember that your writing is a business. You have to act professional. You need to keep track of your revenues and expenses. You should plan your submissions to maximize your exposure and yes, your financial returns. You can't wait for inspiration; you've got to write even when you don't really feel like it.

I follow these maxims myself, or try to, and seem to be seeing some modest results. Yet now, I feel like a hack. I write because I want to see the numbers climb. Some of the joy has vanished. Although there are still those glorious times when I'm in the groove and the words just flow out onto the paper, they seem to come less often. I spend my time worrying about blog posts and advertising, website updates and deadlines.

I said I don't support myself by writing, but the money I do make is a welcome supplement to my fairly modest income. Sometimes, I wonder, though, if the money is tarnishing the whole endeavor. Am I just prostituting myself? Am I smothering my artistic sensibilities, choosing to write based on what the market seems to demand?

I'd love to hear from other authors about this -- especially those of you who do write full time and count your royalties as your primary income. When money is involved, how do you keep the love alive?

Reminder: If you visited Beyond Romance during my Guest-a-thon, check my Tuesday post to see if you were a winner. If you are, I need you to send me your snail mail address (PLEASE don't post it on the blog!!)