Image: “We have it rich.” Washing and panning gold, Rockerville, Dak., John C. H. Grabill [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Is anything ever truly original? Have we already explored every unique avenue, theme and possibility when it comes to creative content? In art? In writing?

I believe that someone who is inherently creative will always manage to show us something new. Will demand that we look at things in a different way or engage us in a manner we never expected. Which is why I think the self-publishing movement is so important: not only does it give writers permission to take risks – those that a traditional publishing house would deem unacceptable – it also allows them to explore themes that may not be in vogue or are ‘off brand’.

Self-publishing gives writers who would otherwise have been marginalised the opportunity to be noticed. To have a voice. To be heard. Often, it is those on the fringes who have the most important and interesting things to tell us.

However, all that said, I am beginning to notice a somewhat frustrating and interesting irony: the very vehicle responsible for giving us exciting and innovative reading material is also responsible for giving us a load of same old, same old. A plethora of stories that stay well within the tracks of those that have gone before them, break no new ground whatsoever, and look like they’ve been edited in crayon by my eight-year-old. For the purposes of this post, I’m going to call this phenomenon ‘theme flood’. (Aquatic references ahoy-hoy!)

So what do I mean by this, exactly?

Well, basically that there’s an increasing deluge of stories in the erotic romance genre based around the same themes, the same types of characters, the same plot structures. To the point that I’m finding it increasingly difficult to identify books that I want to write reviews for. Why would I want to push you all towards a story you’ve already read, albeit in a slightly different guise, a billion times before? One that’s poorly written and edited at that?

I read constantly, although I’d estimate that about five percent of the books I actually consume make it onto Chintz. Quite simply, I don’t tend to write reviews for novels I don’t like. At least, not unless they really (really) tick me off in some way and I can’t contain my angst. But even that five percent has been squeezed over the past year as I struggle to find variety and diversity. One of the negatives of self-publishing, I am discovering, is its ability to push onto the market a veritable tsunami of books that regurgitate, again and again, a raft of flavour-of-the-month themes. Something starts to sell well, garners a few five-star reviews and everyone’s on the proverbial bandwagon. I get that writing is a job just like any other and that people are publishing to make money. And that self-publishing means that anyone – anyone – can get their book out there. I do. But I really, really wish there was some way of better filtering content so that the gold can be extracted from the dross.

Am I being whiny? Yeah. But at the time of writing there seems to be absolutely no escaping erotic romance books that revolve around the following themes and it’s driving me nucking futts:

• Bikers (everyone wants a bit literary Jax Teller);
• Tattooists (buttoned-up businessmen, ala Christian Grey, are out; inked-up boys with street cred are in)
• Mixed martial arts (MMA) fighters (can’t decide whether Warrior or Fighting is to blame)
• College girls going on holiday and getting kidnapped by a human trafficking ring (stories attempting – and badly – to emulate dark erotica fare such as Comfort Food and Captive in the Dark)
• Rock stars (especially those behaving like Guns ‘n’ Roses did back in the 90s)
• Angsty male leads who’re mindlessly screwing everything on two legs (of the female variety at least), have anger management problems, and are coping with some sort of personal tragedy. Enter saving grace female lead. (This theme pretty much accounts for everything in the load of bollocks ‘New Adult’ category that seems to be creepily infecting online bookstore after online bookstore. It’s the literary equivalent of a bloody chlamydia epidemic).

Whereas twelve months ago I would have taken a punt on a book based on its blurb and reviews, the ‘download sample’ and ‘excerpt’ functions have now become indispensible in relation to my eBook purchases. That one chapter – thank God – has been instrumental in preventing me from spending my cash on literary mediocrity. If you’re not using these features – and, thankfully, a number of eTailers offer them – you should be.

Romance novels and erotic stories are often described as formulaic by those who turn their noses up at such ‘low brow fare’: a love story is just a love story and sex is just sex; no real meat – boy meets girl, Part A slots into Part B, right? Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Authors writing in these categories break new ground and push boundaries in exactly the same way that writers in other genres do. And it is my sincere hope that as the self-publishing market matures, we’re better able to identify the writers and the stories that are doing so.

If you’re a writer reading this? I implore you: go where no man hath gone before. I – and a lot of other readers out there – will love you for it. (Just make sure you use a copy editor.)

The post Gold and Dross, A.K.A. more and more (and more) of the same appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Stunning, no?

I’d like to say that I was reading saucy books and writing more but I, um, spent most of my time exploring the gorgeous North Devon coastline and getting myself wet in the mighty Atlantic. Oh, and eating fish ‘n’ chips and scones slathered in jam and clotted cream. (Lush. Totally, totally, lush.)

This week, I’m back in the land of gadgetry and mobile phone coverage but I just wanted to let you all know that I’m going to be quiet for the next few days, too, while I try and catch up with all the writing I should have been doing on that cliff top. Michael and I have some more joint-reviewing to do, too. And the next My Life in Books post and vibrator write-up I promised a few weeks back are still stuck in the queue …

Hmm, maybe I should run back to my camping idyll?

The post Running off to Devon … appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Madeline Sheehan’s Hell’s Horsemen. Joanna Wylde’s Reapers.

Kurt Sutter’s Sons of Anarchy.

Every so often, a genre will send me on a complete and utter bender. I find something that strikes a chord and that’s it; for as long as I can find the reading material (or in this case, the celluloid) to feed the addiction, I’m a total junkie.

A few weeks back, I bought Madeline Sheehan’s Undeniable, the first book in her series about a biker club known as Hell’s Horsemen. It was, loosely speaking, a romance, but a brutal one. There were a lot of things in it that morally and ethically I didn’t agree with (the treatment of the women, the sanctioning of criminal activity) but the bottom line? It was like my eyes were super-glued to the train-wrecking pages.

Murder? Check.
Extreme violence? Check.
Abuse? Check.
Completely dysfunctional relationships between the characters? Check.
A happy ending? Eh. Well, Eva and Deuce are still breathing at the close.

In short, I haven’t buried myself in a book the way I did with Undeniable for quite a long while. I liked that it wasn’t a conventional romance. That it didn’t colour inside the lines. That I was kind of disgusted with myself for cheering the bad guys. I went and downloaded the second instalment in the series, Unbeautifully (which turned out to be just as compelling), the second I’d finished reading. When I hit the end of that one, though, my genre thirst was in full swing, the need for more of the same clawing at me like a hungry crow. Cue online searches for decent comparable material. My next stop? Joanna Wylde’s Reaper’s Property. More tattooed bad guys on bikes doing, once again, not very nice things. While a lot softer and not quite as deep and textured as Madeline Sheehan’s two offerings, it did go some way to quenching the thirst.

Then the discovery to end all discoveries: Sons of Anarchy.

There’s no denying I’m more of a reader than a TV-watcher but, holy shit, I can’t seem to tear myself away from this thing. It’s everything that made the Hell’s Horsemen books so compelling and then some. Sons is far more stylish, the characters infinitely more engaging, the plot lines far wilder. (Given that the series began in 2008 and is five seasons deep already, I’d be very surprised if it didn’t have at least some influence on Madeline Sheehan’s series, which debuted in October last year). Aided and abetted by Netflix, which is loaded seasons-deep with the lure of episode cliff-hangers to battle against on a daily basis, I’ve been roaring through five-years’ worth of biker drama with barely a pause for breath. The last series I had this kind of obsession with? Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I can recall being heavily pregnant during a re-run season and telling my husband I couldn’t go into labour until after Tubula Rasa, the one in which Buffy and Spike finally hook up, aired. (Yeah, yeah. I know.) Let’s just say that if Sons of Anarchy had been on then, I suspect I would have been 10 months along.

I think what’s pulled me so deeply with this show is the strength of the leading characters. Gemma Teller (played brilliantly by Katey Sagal of Married … with Children fame) is one of the best anti-heroines I’ve come across in a long time and Jax, who plays her son, the perfect knife-edge balance of criminal, bad boy, and gentleman. That deliciously unholy mix of dirty hands and good heart. The cast of slightly eccentric supporting characters is no less engaging. Tig (who reminds me in a lot of ways of Mr Blonde from Reservoir Dogs), the corrupt and completely loveable Chief Unser … they all add to the unusual (and sometimes unsavoury) SOA flavour. It’s not as tightly plotted as, say, The Sopranos, but the rawness of the Sons of Anarchy draws like a magnet. Oh, and the music? Well, this girl’s a die-hard rock chick and there are some beautiful, beautiful originals and covers to go with the drama (see my title clip choice), although I wish the sound team would stop plaything thrashy rock whenever the Sons ride down the highway.

I will nearly always push a book over a TV programme. But I’m going to break my rule for Sons of Anarchy.

In the words of Neil Young: Hey hey, my my.

Need an MC fix? Pick your poison …

• Sons of Anarchy – Amazon.co.uk
• Sons of Anarchy – Amazon.com
• Undeniable – Amazon.co.uk
• Undeniable – Amazon.com
• Unbeautifully – Amazon.co.uk
• Unbeautifully – Amazon.com
• Reaper’s Property – Amazon.co.uk
• Reaper’s Property – Amazon.com

The post The Crow Flies Straight – A Sam Crow Love Affair appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Image: Lupa – Julo (own work)

Since July of last year:

• Thirty-five book reviews.
• Fourteen Garden of Earthly Delights episodes [*please note these are no longer available on the blog].
• Three five-minute erotica stories.
• Twenty-eight sex toy reviews and countless other sex toy references.

As I’ve added more and more reviews and articles to Chintz, I’ve become increasingly aware that it’s more difficult for visitors to find what they want quickly. Chances are, if you’re diving into the Toy Box or Words sections, you want to know what’s in them without having to scroll through all the pages.

Behold.

Two hyperlinked lists to make your Chintz navigation life easier: the Toy Box Index and the Words Index.

You can find the relevant links to them at the very tops of the Words and Toy Box pages, or simply scroll down to access them via the Behind the Chintz Curtain footer. (The plan is to update the indexes every time a relevant post is added, but you’ll have to forgive me if there’s a short delay.)

For now, I’m leaving out Alert Me posts and Toy with me Tuesday entries, but I may add these in over the coming weeks, too. We’ll see how things go.

Here’s hoping that these indexes make finding your way around Behind the Chintz Curtain quicker and simpler.

The post For the love of an index appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.