Only Myself to Blame

I'm feeling grumpy again. I got my monthly royalty statement from my main publisher. Let's just say it was disappointing. Once again, I'm asking myself why I bother to work so hard writing and marketing when nobody's buying my books.

Then I remember I have only myself to blame. I could boost my sales if I wanted to do so. All I'd have to do is write what's popular. A few years ago, that was vampire and werewolf tales. At the moment, the sub-genre de jour seems to be stories about a woman's initiation into BDSM by a mysterious, arrogant, dominant male.

Been there. Done that. That was my first novel, Raw Silk, more than a decade ago. For a long time, in fact, most of what I wrote was BDSM-flavored. I still love the genre. Well-written tales exploring the thrill of sexual surrender still push my personal buttons. After a few years, though, I started to worry that I was writing the same story over and over again. I wanted to branch out, to challenge myself. I didn't want to get stale.

I wrote a couple of erotic thrillers. Two M/M erotic romances. Some paranormal. Some science fiction. Just for the hell of it, I did a mash-up of  every genre I could think of, in Rajasthani Moon. Menage-BDSM-steampunk-shapeshifter-Rubenesque-Bollywood-interracial...That was so much fun that my next project is likely to be steampunk BDSM, too. 

So what kind of author am I? An erotic author, certainly, but beyond that, I don't fit into any pigeonholes. And that's at least one reason why my work doesn't sell better. I don't have a brand. Unlike some authors, I don't write one book after another with basically the same plot and characters. And okay, I admit it, when somebody tells me I should write the sort of book that's currently "hot", I feel an overwhelming desire to do exactly the opposite.

Call me contrary, but I don't like to be a sheep. And I figure the world doesn't need yet another take on the gazillionaire Dom and the virgin.

When I do tackle a popular genre, I find myself irresistibly tempted to turn the stereotypes on their heads. So in fact, I have been thinking about a gazillionaire and virgin book - one in which the hero is the virgin and the heroine is the filthy rich dominant.

Sigh. I know that won't sell at all....!

I can write to spec when I want to. I'm on the staff at Custom Erotica Source, a service that provides individually crafted sexual fantasies for its clients. You wouldn't believe the detailed scenarios some of our customers have given me. And somehow, I've managed to get into their heads and give them exactly what they wanted.

But otherwise, I want to surprise and delight my readers, turn their expectations upside down.

Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to bet much of a market for originality - at least not in erotic romance.

I know I could analyze what's selling and write more of the same. I'm good at taking direction, as my Master will confirm. But I just can't stomach the prospect.

So if my royalties are a pittance, I have only myself to blame.

If I Stopped Publishing, Would Anybody Notice?

Warning. I'm feeling sorry for myself.

Just got my royalty report for January from my main romance publisher. Yup, the total went down again. For the sixth month in a row. This is despite the fact that I had new releases in July, August, November and December.

And I have to say, I am starting to wonder why I bother. I mean, I love writing. I love interacting with my readers. I love blogging, too - the sense that I have a way to communicate with people around the globe.

I love giving things away.  ;^)

But I'm not sure I can afford to spend my time and my money on this any more. With what I spend on web hosting, advertising, and so on, my writing business is edging closer to being a true money-losing proposition. My husband drops frequent, not-so-subtle hints about how I could be devoting myself to more remunerative undertakings, as well as pointing out how stressed out I get sometimes about all the writing and marketing tasks to which I'm committed. He'd never tell me to stop writing, but I don't think he'd mind it all if I tapered off.

The depressing thing is, I suspect that if I simply disappeared from the world of publishing, it would make a difference to - oh - maybe a dozen people.

Am I angling for you readers to jump in and say, "Oh, don't feel bad, Lisabet! I love your writing. Don't stop! I'd miss you!"

Well, I wouldn't mind. I'd appreciate your support. That wouldn't do anything about my royalties, though, which offer hard-to-ignore evidence that very few readers really do love my writing.

Sigh. I know the revealed wisdom is that one shouldn't post negative stuff on one's blog.  Heck, though. It's my blog. If I can't vent here, then where?

And it could hardly make my sales worse, could it?

Don't worry. I'll probably feel better tomorrow. When I page through my notebook and see all the story ideas I have stacked up there, I wonder, how could I possibly stop?

Crazy, aren't I?