Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
If you were to ask me, later on, to describe the exact moment the wheels came off the wagon… I’d probably have to point to this moment.
“Okay,” the moderator attempts again, “let’s—”
“Yeah, if you don’t like the language, don’t read the books!” someone shouts.
“Leave her alone!” someone else rings out. “She’s entitled to her opinion!”
“Honestly, I’d rather have too much than not enough!” yells someone else. “I hate it when I pick up a book with a sexy cover and there’s barely any sex in the book! Feels like I’ve been robbed! Like all that ‘fade-to-black’ stuff! What’s that about?”
“I could never write stuff that dirty. I’m mostly a fade-to-black kinda girl.” I can feel myself hyperventilating a little.
“Girls, girls, settle down!” the moderator implores. To no avail.
“You sound like someone who just wants smut,” shouts the woman who started this whole thing to the woman who just said she wants more sex in her books. “Some of us care about the story.”
And now, suddenly, the image of the big, beautiful panoply of romance readers is replaced by something altogether different. Something dangerous and feral. Something with teeth.
And then, out of the growing cacophony, a voice rings out.
“Ladies, ladies, please,” Raven Lark cries. She is standing, holding her microphone. “Please. Not everyone has to like the same thing. These books are supposed to be for enjoyment. For escape. To forget about real life for a little while. I have to tell you, when my husband died, I was… It was hard. It was a very hard time for me. He was the great love of my life and I missed him so, so much. And you know how I got through it? Books. Romance books.”
Quiet falls over the room as all faces look to Raven. She goes on.
“First reading them, then, later, writing. It helped me heal. That’s what all of us up here write for in our own ways. We write for grieving. For hope. For hurt and for healing. For seeking to find and breathing deep and easy when we finally do. That’s the whole point. It doesn’t matter if one book isn’t for you. That’s fine. Just put it down and go find one that is. That’s all.”
She puts the mic back in place and sits. A hush absorbs what feels like the whole universe.
I spot Steve at the back. He looks… moved, I guess? Maybe kind of emotional? I can’t be sure.
The moderator appears shaken, but she tries to rally. “Yes. Well said. So…” It’s obvious to me that she’s debating about whether it’s a good idea to continue or not. If I got a vote, I’d say no, but I don’t. I’m starting to realize I’m probably not even going to get a question. That’s fine. I’m too wrapped up in the realization that I may not have any idea of what I’m doing to be able to answer one anyway.
“I have a question.” A voice. From the back of the room. A man’s voice. Oh, Christ.
The PA heads over to Steve and hands him the microphone. What. Is. He. Doing?
“First,” he says, taking the mic and nodding to all the women, “some of you may know me. I’m Steve, SS’s brother.” Applause. Not as robust and rowdy as before, but we’re heading in a better direction at least. “And on behalf of SS, I just want to thank you all for being here. One thing you can say about romance conventions, they’re never boring!”
Some giggles, some chuckles, pretty much everyone staring at Steve like he’s sweet intoxication.
“Second, Raven, that was beautiful. Just… It was really beautiful and gets right at the beating heart of this whole romance thing. It really is about inclusion and finding your tribe and… well, all of that. Or, at least, that’s what I’ve learned from my sister.” He smiles. But it’s layered over the top of something else, and I’m starting to get increasingly anxious about where he’s going with this.
“And, of course, at the end of the day, it’s really about finding your HEA. Right? Your happily ever after. And that can come in a lot of different ways, just like love can manifest in a lot of different ways. And so, in the spirit of inclusion and finding your tribe and all that good stuff, I’d like to throw a question to Ms. Lear.”
What the fuck is he doing? What is happening right now?
“If you don’t know Cynthia Lear, she is an up-and-coming writer who is going to be a force to be reckoned with. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask Audrey, sitting next to her.”
Audrey nods at me, turns to her mic, and says, “Absolutely.”
“So, Cynthia,” Steve goes on, “as a new voice in the community, I was wondering if we could get you to weigh in on a subject that I know is of great significance to many readers… What, exactly, in your mind, is necessary to have something be considered an HEA?”