I’ve Found What I’ve Been Looking For!

Since I began my quest looking for Feminist Romance, I’ve had a lot of recommendations fall flat. Most were just the standard “strong heroine” trope of a kick-butt, sassy lady devoid of any supposedly “feminine” emotion like sadness or despair. Some were allegedly feminist in that they bashed men, which is not part of my value set. Some were just terribly written with boring, go-nowhere plots.

But in Ankaret Wells’ “Firebrand” – recommended by folks on my Goodreads Feminist Romance group – I finally found what I was looking for: a romantic story that fits my feminist values without being a polemic, and a thoroughly enjoyable adventure with fully-rounded characters I came to genuinely care about.

The story isn’t about feminism, and it doesn’t need to be. It’s about a woman – told in her first-person voice – who has just lost her mother and not long before was widowed, though her husband’s death was clearly no loss. Kadia begins the story in the somewhat-stunned position of trying to figure out her place amidst these deaths when, by virtue of her mother’s will, she and her new airship become prizes sought by the most powerful men in Wells’ extremely well-developed world of an expanding empire versus last-ditch holdout provinces. Through a mixture of self-empowerment and being tossed about by forces outside of her control, Kadia gets caught up in intrigue upon intrigue and, of course, a romance.

The romance element is very nicely done, with enough questions about how things will turn out to keep it interesting. The sex scenes are lovely for someone like me who likes fairly normal heterosexual love scenes without any of the currently trendy faux-BDSM stuff. If you’re looking for exotic, non-het, multiple-appliances-involved sex, “Firebrand” isn’t for you. It’s for the rest of us who are still happy with the main thrust (heh) coming (heh heh) from the love and passion of the characters instead of slapped-on kink for kink’s sake.

Kadia as a character has her moments of impressive resolve and strength, but also entirely human moments of despair and longing. She is three-dimensional, her voice differs from other characters in the story, and even when she screws up she’s inherently likable to the reader.

The genre is steampunk romance, and this is the first steampunk book I’ve read since that’s usually not my cup of clockwork tea. But this is a solid story independent of its genre. The genre stuff forms the setting, the background, and the stage but is not a dictator over the characters. The people are just that: people, not puppets made to fit genre requirements, and it was very refreshing to read a book where I genuinely cared about what happened to the humans (and not-entirely humans) inside.

“Firebrand” isn’t a world-changing, life-altering book. It’s exactly what it should be: a great story that doesn’t rely on outdated anti-feminist tropes. I loved it and truly hope there’ll be a sequel.

Writing About Gender Issues For Fun and Profit

I taught a whole generation that sexual harassment is okay

Image source: http://cheezburger.com/2247703296

Yesterday I wrote a bit of the “Finding Gaia” sequel in which Trish and Anna discuss their relative perspectives on women as prizes for men. It included Trish using the phrase “Pepe le Fucking Pew”.

Those of you who have read the first book and seem to love Trish so much no doubt want to read that conversation.

But I want to remind you all that I write more when I get sales. I’m almost at 150 copies sold, which is pretty good, but my break even point is just over 500 at the standard $4.99 price (and a lot of those 150 were with coupons, so really the required count is higher now). This is an indie book, but it had a professional editor, cover artist, and other costs to produce.

If everyone who bought it so far convinced three other friends to buy it, I’d be in the black and well on the way to getting the next one out.

Of course the “next one” may be a prequel since several of you have been begging for those as well.

So go get three friends to buy it, please. If you run a book blog or club that you think can get even more sales, let me know and I’ll make a coupon for you to share.

The main website lists many purchasing options, as does the sidebar on this post. If you’re holding out for a print copy, tell me here.

And if you liked it and haven’t posted a review, please do, especially on sales sites and Goodreads. These things do influence other potential buyers, and we indie authors depend on fans to help spread the word, especially those of us standing up to disempowering trends in the romance, science fiction, and fantasy genres in favour of actual examination of gender tropes. That’s never going to be mainstream, but you can help make it at least self-sustaining.

Thanks so much for all of your support. I am actually working, I promise!

New Goodreads Group, New Stores

Exciting news all over the place today!

First, yesterday I launched a Feminist Romance discussion group on Goodreads after seeing other topics pertaining to it. It turned out other folks were asking for the very same things I was in my blog posts (parts 1 and 2) but being pooh-poohed as “thinking too much” or otherwise failing to enjoy the “fantasy” that works for others. I had considered starting a group before, but was worried it’d just be me sitting there looking like a lonely weirdo. I’m so happy that there are at least 18 other no-longer-lonely weirdos joining me already. I’ve even had two others excitedly step up to help moderate. Yay! Come chat with us about this burgeoning sub-genre!

Second, Apple’s iBooks (through iTunes)icon and Diesel now list “Finding Gaia” for sale. They’re through Smashwords, so I get a lower cut on those, but a sale’s a sale and I’ll happily take it if those are your preferred channels. I get the biggest cut from the Gumroad links (see sidebar), then Smashwords, then Amazon, then Barnes & Noble.

I’ll be posting the iBooks and Diesel links throughout the site later today.

Feminist Romance – Part 2 – What Defines Feminist Romance?

Trigger Warning: this discussion and comments may contain triggers for sensitive readers, as it addresses feminist issues including sexual assault, sexual themes, etc.

In the first part of this series on Feminist Romance, I discussed why I want to both read and write romantic stories that contain erotic sex scenes within a framework of feminist values. In this post, I want to focus on defining Feminist Romance as a sub-genre. I can only define it in terms of how it’d suit my desires and tastes, so while I will attempt to be open and inclusive, it’s inevitable that other people will have different opinions on what they’d like to see. Some will say I’m being too general or lenient, and others will say the opposite. But hopefully many of us can come together to create a fair list of what we believe Feminist Romance should and should not include.

To that end, if you create your own blog posts on the topic, please share and I’ll update as needed with a list at the bottom of this post. My goal isn’t to tell people what they should or should not want, but to foster a community of like-minded women and men who want to read great love stories without being put off by the typical anti-feminist tropes and clichés that unfortunately tend to typify the romance genre.

First of all, it’s important to declare some firm rules to which I believe most feminists would agree:

Feminist Romance must never contain any of the following:

  • Positive portrayals of rape, sexual assault, any non-consensual sexual act, or physical abuse.
  • Glorification or lauding of any perpetrator of rape, sexual assault, any non-consensual sexual act, or physical abuse.
  • Positive portrayals of empty objectification of anyone as a sexual object alone.
  • Positive use of any sort of hate speech (not limited to feminism: I believe most feminists would be equally appalled at racism, homophobism, etc.)

I’m not saying the above concepts can’t exist in the story; in fact, clearly some of them are prime motivators to feminist action. It’d be quite the fantastic world where rape or bigotry do not exist. The key is they must not be presented in any way that even implies that they are acceptable. A rape survivor can reclaim her inner strength and move on, but at no time should a rapist be shown in a sympathetic light. A suitor can tell a lady she’s beautiful in a lovely romantic scene, but at no time should a woman’s fuckability be held up as a defining characteristic. Characters who objectify in that regard must be portrayed negatively.

As far as I’m personally concerned, any sex scene in which any party is cajoled into it through false, manipulative means or by being incapacitated constitutes non-consent. I’m not interested in reading about sleazy seductions unless they’re framed as wholly negative acts from which the heroine rises later as a newly defined, wiser, stronger self. I don’t want to see her go back to the seducer at all. I don’t want him forgiven later just because he’s ostensibly changed his ways. I don’t find such story lines romantic: I find them nauseating.

The same goes for abuse: if one partner beats the other, they’re a villain and there can be no redemption for that in an equitable love story.

Next are things I’d like Feminist Romance to avoid, but I concede that others may disagree with some elements, so further discussion is warranted.

Feminist Romances should avoid the following:

  • Positive depictions of sexual humiliation – I personally don’t want to read BDSM even though others might be into that. If it is included, it needs to be 100% consensual, and even then, I don’t believe that humiliating aspects of some sexual kinks are conducive to a romantic love story between equal partners. That falls more into erotica, which is a separate genre. Further, any of this sort of thing would need to have trigger warnings, which in and of themselves aren’t very romantic.
  • Strong female protagonists giving up their strength or independence in order to pursue the romance – Don’t set up a character as having a wonderful trait only to make her abandon it so the guy will love her. Don’t make her give up her bow in order to be a proper princess. Don’t make her sacrifice her independence to find true love (because true love is two independent people sharing their lives, not taking each others’).
  • Glorification of patriarchy, of male dominion over women, or of willing female submission – Again, it’s one thing for the story to take place against a patriarchal backdrop, since that will include most known societies, but I don’t consider it the least bit romantic for a woman to give herself over to a male power figure. If the story has the male protagonist in a higher position of power than the female protagonist – which again will inevitably be common because life works that way more often than not – both sides should be aware of the power difference and be actively working to mitigate it. A man boffing his secretary on his desk is neither romantic nor sexy to me, but a boss who falls in love with someone in his employ and wrestles with that as a moral and philosophical dilemma does interest me, as long as when they come together it’s done in such a way that she’s clearly not being subjugated by the process.
  • Positive use of misogynistic slurs – I don’t find it the least bit sexy for a woman to be called a bitch, whore, slut, or any similar term. Again, others may not mind so much, but I don’t want to see those words used in any positive context in Feminist Romance. That’d put me off a character quickly, especially if used during sex scenes.
  • Pandering – Don’t stick a traditionally male trait or role on a woman (“Look! She’s a mechanic!”), tack on a conversation between two women about some feminist concept you dug out of a Wikipedia article (“Patriarchy bad!”), have a lady-on-top sex scene, and say, “There! Feminist enough for ya?” Because no, it’s not. Just like those of us who are geeks to any other topic can tell when we’re being pandered too, so too can feminists, and nobody likes it. Don’t even bother.

Those are the things that occur to me off the top of my head that I’ve seen in romance novels that put me off the genre. There are no doubt other unpleasant elements, so I’ll add to the list with an Update note as necessary.

In terms of what I do want to see, there are no absolutes beyond the obvious things I expect of any story such as good writing, professional editing, solid characters, rich plots without gaping holes, etc. I want good love stories with fun sexy scenes without the nonsense listed in the points above, but I’m not looking for formulaic feminist polemics. I definitely don’t require any particular percentage of the book be dedicated to feminist principles. I don’t believe authors should be restricted to specific themes or elements, so long as they leave the nasty stuff listed above out. However, below is a list of things that would please me if I did see them, be they small parts of sub-plots or dominant themes.

Positive things a Feminist Romance could include:

  • Redefined traits without gender attachment – It’s easy to cast a female protagonist as being tough or having a particular skill usually attributed to men. Fine. But feminism isn’t about taking on traditionally male tropes and reshaping them to fit women: it’s about redefining what being female is without sexist constraints in the first place. Give the princess a sword and let her fight, but don’t prevent her from crying when her friend falls in battle. Likewise, when the prince’s friend falls, he should cry too. I’d love to see more juxtapositions of both supposedly male and supposedly female attributes, casting them all as part of the human condition and not limited to a particular gender.
  • Self-Rescuing Princesses – Or generally speaking, women that solve their own problems, at least partially. A good partnership love story will obviously have room for both parties to assist and rely on each other throughout the plot – be it as part of grand adventure or more inward, personal struggles – but empowering female protagonists to lift themselves out of pain and danger is likewise empowering to the female reader.
  • Survivor strength – Regardless of how a female protagonist managed to survive an ordeal, her recovery should show at least some level of self-determination and empowerment. That doesn’t mean she has to go it entirely alone without support from those who care about her. Again, a romance with a balanced partnership ought to include a loving shoulder to cry on should she need it, and there’s nothing wrong with needing that from time to time. But I – and I’m sure other feminist readers – appreciate heroines who overcome trauma by using love as a foundation from which they can grow in their own way, on their own terms, and using their own inner strength. This is particularly true for misogynistic trauma such as rape; a female protagonist who has gone through that horror is more compelling if she’s active and powerful in her healing process in a way that doesn’t dismiss the trauma as inconsequential.
  • Discussion and contemplation of gender roles – I don’t require protagonists to be perfect feminists (if there even was such a thing), as long as they recognize problems and work to correct them. I personally have a thing for heroic men who struggle with what their role is in a relationship with a woman who routinely saves herself from danger. I don’t want to see the man being positively portrayed for resenting that, but I find it very compelling for him to have to reconsider social norms in that context. Likewise, I enjoy seeing women discuss gender issues from opposing yet sometimes equally feminist viewpoints, bringing classic debates down into the microcosm of individual lives. Having characters question themselves and each other on specific plot points and how they each deal with them is fertile ground for feminist discussions, and I’d like to see more of that.
  • A version of The Bechdel Test – That test was made for movies, but I see no reason why it shouldn’t at least be loosely applied to Feminist Romance. I say “loosely” because any heterosexual romance is going to necessitate a lot of conversations about the male protagonist. But since I prefer rich plots in which the love story is a central aspect – as opposed to stories that are solely about the relationship and sex – I’d love to see a lot of Feminist Romances that pass the Bechdel Test. That could mean something as basic as two women talking about something tangentially related to the love story, or perhaps about wider feminist ideals as noted above.
  • LGBT normalization – I’m mostly straight so I’m personally looking for heterosexual sex scenes, but that doesn’t mean LGBT themes should be absent. I appreciate inclusion of LGBT characters not out of tokenism but out of casual, normal, daily life, particularly in cultures that are permissive of openness. Obviously, there will be a certain segment of the Feminist Romance audience that specifically want lesbian love scenes, so that will no doubt come up on many lists of requests for this genre.
  • Shared child-rearing – Few things make my heart beat for a male protagonist more than if he has good fathering skills beyond being willing to throw a football on Saturdays or occasional diaper changes. Give me stories of men who perform heroic acts for children not merely out of duty and certainly not to impress the ladies, but because they have big hearts and can’t bear to see a child suffer. Tell me about a man weeping in joy when he first holds his newborn child and I’ll be crying along with him. It’s fair to expect any male protagonist in a Feminist Romance that includes children to be a decent dad, but I’d appreciate it if authors went beyond the typical to really delve into fatherly love and gladly taken responsibility. Clearly not all Feminist Romance would even include children at all and some would argue that motherhood in a feminist context is a whole separate discussion, but if the love story does include children, I expect them to be raised in an equitable partnership. Dumb-Dad Syndrome is equally offensive to women and men and doesn’t belong in a Feminist Romance at all.

Again, those are elements I’d personally enjoy and there are no doubt more so as with the negative points above, I’ll add update notes as necessary.

What about you? What does Feminist Romance mean to you? What elements do you crave? What’s lacking in the love stories you’ve been reading? What typical tropes make you angry or otherwise ruin the mood? What would make your heart pound in delight, and what turns your stomach?

Please share in comments or point me to your own posts on the subject. I sincerely hope to start a wider dialogue in this area. I believe if more writers know we want this stuff, more will endeavour to create it!

And if you have book recommendations that fit these criteria and suggestions, please share those as well. Authors are welcome to do so, but please be honest. I believe my novels fall within these guidelines, but if fellow feminists have concerns about anything I’ve written, I’m open to constructive criticism.

This is the second part of my musings on a potential sub-genre in the romance field. Part 1 is here.


Further Reading

Why Aren’t Romance Novels Feminist? Ask David Wong. by April Line Writing

Feminist Friday: Kimberly Chapman and Feminist Romance by Allyson Whipple at How can the poet be called unlucky?

Feminist Romance Group on Goodreads – Come join the conversation!

Do you have a blog post, article, or other relevant item to share? Please let me know and I’ll list it here.


Please note that while conversation is encouraged, no comments attempting to hijack this discussion away from feminist topics will be approved.

Feminist Romance – Part 1 – It Can’t Be Only Me

I like sex. I like reading about sex. I like writing about sex. Sex is awesome.

But I don’t like sexual stuff intruding where it doesn’t belong (e.g. a professional space that has nothing to do with sex). I don’t like sexism. I don’t like rampant objectification. I don’t like anyone – men or women, straight or LGBT – being defined by their genitals.

I don’t read a lot of romance because too often I end up finding parts that conflict with my values as an educated, independent-minded, political woman. The tropes that tend to be associated with romance heroes – the bad boy, the rebel, the pirate, the power-hungry alpha male – thrilled me when I was fifteen, but I’ve since outgrown them in favour of reading about more introspective, three-dimensional, and emotional men. I’m not interested in any fantasy in which clothing is torn from me by a lusty so-called hero. Bodices are expensive, uncomfortable, and tough: I don’t want one ripped off!

Similarly, the typical romantic heroine tropes – the pure and innocent virgin, the seductress, the suburban mom with suppressed desires – also put me off. I’m none of those things. Most educated, independent-minded, political women aren’t. We have trouble imagining ourselves into any fantasy that requires us to shed the knowledge we’ve fought to gain, to use our sexuality as a weapon, or to pretend that we’ve repressed a secret desire to bang the UPS guy. We want the UPS guy to bring us our Amazon order, not rip off his little brown shorts and have at us on our couches, which are covered with too many books, toys, and unfolded laundry anyway.

I want to read about heroes and heroines who do grand things amidst torturous self-doubt, as any of us would experience if we were cast into plots of intrigue and adventure. I want both sides to be human: flawed and frightened but also bold and exciting. I want to read about awesome people doing awesome things and then having awesome sex. I want both sides fulfilled in joy and love. I want them to respect each other and take each other to new orgasmic heights not in spite of that respect, but because of it.

There are niche markets for romance to satisfy various religious or cultural values, so why not a niche for feminist values? I want to see my ethics, morals, and philosophy reflected in a torrid love story. I accept that those values are sometimes contradictory to traditional romance, but I want more authors to embrace that challenge and work with it. After all, if plenty of feminist women and men can manage to get it on happily together in stable, mutually-nurturing relationships, why can’t that be a staple of fiction? Take those educated, liberal lifestyles and set them amidst great adventures!

Surely I cannot be the only suburban mom looking at the rise of the mama-porn genre thinking, “Is there anything in that for me?” I don’t want to read about Christian Grey flavoured popsicles. I don’t want stark erotica either. If that sort of thing works for others, they’re welcome to it, but I want – no, demand! – something more.

Where are all of the college-aged women with healthy libidos who wouldn’t put up with sexist crap spewed by a guy in person and are equally put off by it upon the page? Where are all the horny suburban moms who have a healthy sense of self-respect, who used to be those college women debating mainstream media and cultural stereotypes, but now want to read an escapist fantasy instead of folding laundry on the couch? Where are all the second-wave feminist grandmas who fought for equal rights, who loved and still love sex but simply demanded not to be seen as sexual objects existing for male satisfaction alone?

Not just the women, either. Where are the men who want to read about sex where their manhood isn’t questioned for not being a bad boy in the first place, where there’s mutual love and respect and all of the sweet tenderness that goes with that?

Where are the nerds – both female and male – who want to read love stories that embrace their love of knowledge and science? Stories that don’t gloss over cool scifi concepts to hurry up and plunge into the zero-G sex tank, but in fact deliver on the nerdisms along with the passionate love scenes? I can’t be the only nerd who has been put off by sterile descriptions of dull, male-focused sex in science fiction. Why can’t we have our lust for science and our lust for lust equally fulfilled?

I know those people are out there. Many women like to read high-brow works by great feminist and humanist authors, but I’m convinced that some also want to occasionally delve into some good smutty fantasy that doesn’t demean them along the way. They have hearts that ache to swell at a longed-for first kiss between adventure-beleaguered characters. They have desires desperate to be stoked by well-written, tasteful-yet-detailed sex scenes. They have eyes that want to weep for angst and loss, lips they want to bite in suspense, and hands that want to tremble in both fear and longing. Most of all, they have minds eager to be engaged by elaborate stories with fantastic locations, massive political movements, believable science fiction, and interwoven complicated story lines rich in plot but devoid of exasperating loopholes.

That’s what I want to write. That’s what I try to write. I know my audience exists at least in this desk chair here: where are the rest of you? Do you fear being seen to read romance will mark you as insufficiently feminist? I do. Are you longing for recommendations of books with great sex scenes that don’t demean the women involved? I am. Are you writing these stories but having trouble finding your niche in a market that seems to reward precisely those elements which conflict with your feminist and professional values? Me too.

I say it’s time more of us stood up and demanded to see our values reflected in fun, sexy literature as much as we’ve been demanding that of other genres for decades. Who’s with me?

Next: Part 2 – What Defines Feminist Romance?