​I've loved co-facilitating Moving Past Bodice Ripping Toward Shredding The Patriarchy: Romance Novels and Tools for Justice. If you're interested in my debut novel, How To Fail At Flirting (available 12/1/20), click here.

Moving Past Bodice Ripping Toward Shredding the Patriarchy: Romance Novels as Tools for Justice has a guest instructor this week! Rosie Danan, author of The Roommate (coming 9.15.20 from Berkley) is talking about the stigma of female desire.

I’ve spent a lot of time exploring the ways in which societal stigma against female sexuality intersects with both internal shame and external scorn in regards to reading and writing romance novels. 

Before I begin my analysis, I want to acknowledge that any type of sexuality that falls outside of the allo-cis-het-male gaze receives a degree of othering from mainstream media and society at large. In fact, too often, the breadth of the romance genre is minimized as books “by and for women,” when there are many writers and readers who fall outside of that binary definition. ​

In summary, I spent decades trying to unlearn the shame associated with my romance reading and writing—to recognize that the books I love are both important and inherently worth—only to find that reconciling my identity as a romance writer and a respected female business leader is very much still a work in progress. 

When the cycle of scorn associated with romance seems endless, I think of the stereotypical romance audience. The ones for which the derisive genre shorthand “mommy porn” was named. Are these women, arguably removed from eligibility having shifted from the age-old cultural archetype of “the maiden” to “the mother” the only ones able to claim their reading habits publicly and proudly? Is the perspective of giving birth required to unleash full “f*ck it” mode when it comes to owning our genre affiliation? 

My first instinct is to ask, how can we encourage younger romance readers to embrace their passion, on and off the page without fear of reproach? But like other patriarchal structures that blame the victim, I realize after further examination that with that technique, we’re starting in the wrong place. We should instead ask ourselves how we can speak to the shamers in our lives on an individual level and encourage them to address their own biases. 

How many men who consider themselves feminists would still balk at catching their thirteen year old daughter with a book whose cover featured the prominently displayed abdominal muscles of a burly, if often headless, man? How many women who run book clubs would never consider picking a monthly selection with a pink cover? Who exactly does burying art that values female pleasure serve? 

The answers become a bit more clear when you consider the sorry state of sex in America. A study from the American Sociological review uncovered that the rise of “hook-up culture” has introduced a new double-standard in relationships where “doubts about women’s entitlement to pleasure in casual liaisons keep women from asking to have their desires satisfied and keep men from seeing women as deserving of their attentiveness in hookups.” 

Women’s Health went on to name the phenomenon The Orgasm Gap. Some of their more startling findings: 

• Men are 27 percent more likely to report having an orgasm than women during a sexual encounter
• 67 percent of women have faked an orgasm with a partner, compared with just 28 percent of men
• In a survey of college women, nearly 30 percent could not identify the proper location of the clitoris.
• Only 11 percent of women experienced climax the first time with a new partner, although the percentage increased in long-term relationships.

Looking at the data, it’s easy to see who benefits from dismissing romance novels depictions of equal opportunity orgasms as cheap fantasy. Across the board, romance and all its subsequent manifestations in media—whether that's romance novels the way we traditionally think about them or if it's TV shows or movies or even women’s magazines—are branded as bad: trashy, a guilty pleasure. 

Personally, I have processed the dissonance of loving an art form and consistently being told it’s wrong through writing.

A key theme of my debut novel THE ROOMMATE is shame and specifically shame around female desire and sexuality. Writing this book was my own exercise in radi​calization. My journey of accepting my “unpalatable” passion, followed the journey of a main character, Clara, who is really ashamed of wanting more from sex than what she’s been getting from her previous partners trying to figure out if she’s brave enough to own her dissatisfaction. 

All Clara wants in life is to make her family as comfortable as possible. Then she meets this porn star, Josh, who shows her, through ownership of both his profession and sexuality, that she can and should claim agency over her desires. Ultimately, she transcends his advice and not only empowers herself but decides that together they should assist other people in reclaiming their sexual agency at scale. 

It was very powerful for me to be on this parallel path with my main character: doing something I was afraid of, knowing I almost certainly would encounter scorn from both people who know me and potentially strangers, knowing that the more successful the book becomes, the more people I’m exposing to my rebellion. 

Romance writers and readers at large, I think, go on a journey in which we say, in whatever way is right for us, that we like not only consuming books about—but also talking about—things like kissing or sex or romance without sex if that’s what you’re moved to portray/consume. In a very pure form, especially in our current climate, I think people want to feel good, they want to enjoy themselves and they’re becoming less afraid to say so without apology. 

For me, writing about porn as an industry and sex workers, is a metaphor for romance as a genre because both are stigmatized, obviously to different degrees, for portraying desire. 

It was really important to me to portray a marginalized group appropriately and honestly, but at the same time I think a lot of people who don’t fall into the mainstream, marketable allo-cis-het-white desire can see themselves in THE ROOMMATE.

At the end of the day, our society isn’t anti-sex. There’s a certain type of sexuality that’s very mainstream: from The Fast and The Furious movies to Ernest Hemingway. No one is saying it's wrong or shameful to consume that kind of media. No one tells Jonathan Franzen that his books aren't smart or serious because he depicts desire. Though they should tell him that for other reasons. (Don’t @ me Jonathan Franzen). Patriarchy dictates which types of sex we can put on cable and which kind we should hide under our pillows. 

I’m not ashamed of my book. I’m really proud of THE ROOMMATE and the way it handles desire and furthermore, I think that it’s sexy. It's meant to be sexy. But at the same time, I won’t pretend I’m not still afraid. 

Rosie Danan writes steamy, big-hearted books about the trials and triumphs of modern love. When not writing, she enjoys jogging slowly to fast music, petting other people’s dogs, and competing against herself in rounds of Chopped using the miscellaneous ingredients occupying her fridge. As an American expat living in London, Rosie regularly finds herself borrowing slang that doesn’t belong to her. Learn more about Rosie and The Roommate, available from Berkley September 15, 2020.

I was very excited to find How To Fail At Flirting on the list of anticipated romance novels for 2020 in Oprah Magazine. Thank you to McKenzie Jean-Philippe and the Oprah Magazine team for adding my book to this list of phenomenal authors. Click the image below to access the article or click here.

Since late January, over 500 people have been receiving the course emails for Moving Past Bodice Ripping Toward Shredding the Patriarchy: Romance Novels as Tools for Justice. Weekly emails include book and other reading recommendations from the instructors. Additionally, each week, during the Twitter class chat, participants make book recommendations for that week's topic. So, ready to add to your TBR? The data is coded for the week/topic it was mentioned. You'll also see a long list of authors whose works were recommended broadly.

A few notes:

• The data is organized in a spreadsheet and you can sort columns by clicking on the three horizondal lines by the header text.
• I have read some of these, but many I have not. They were suggested by class participants.
• This is by no means an exhaustive list and I encourage you to read reviews for any content warnings or potentially triggering material.
• Finally, I copied the information that was submitted and corrected spelling errors where I noticed them, but please let me know if a name or title is incorrect.

Click the button below to access the spreadsheet!

I enjoyed speaking with Andrea at Shelf Love about cinnamon roll heroes, power and fantasy in romance, and Teach Me by Olivia Data.

2019 was a big year for me. I signed with an agent, I was honored for some awards, I was a finalist for the Golden Heart award through RWA, my book sold, the women's empowerment program I co-lead received high praise, and my kid is cute. All that is to say, I found myself receiving a lot of compliments. That certainly not a bad thing--I like compliments; however, what I recognized in myself was my inability to simply say "Thank you."

Instead, I did what many of us do. I qualified my thank you.

• Thank  you. I really got lucky.
• Thank you. The credit really goes to [this group/this person]
• Thank you. I don't deserve it, but I'm excited.
• Thank you. He is cute. He's also kind of a beast.

I qualified my thank you. I diminished the accomplishment. Also, those statements aren't true. I wrote a good book. I worked with a group of incredible women to bring together a program, but I had a large hand in that. I am a creative and dedicated advocate for social justice. My kid is cute and only a beast like 28% of the time.

• Imposter syndrome. It's a defense mechanism. If someone doesn't like my book, hey, I told you I got lucky. If someone thinks I'm bragging or full of myself, hey I gave credit to others. If I'm found out as a fraud, I've already deflected the credit. Someone else can't break me down if I've already done it, so maybe I'm safe.
• Humility: I know humility is a socially desirably trait, especially for women and people of color. Here's the thing, though, my big secret: I'm not humble. Just ask my husband.
• Learned behavior.  Joy DeGruy is a tremendous scholar who studies multi-generational trauma. If you haven't read Post-Traumatic Slave Syndrome and are interested in this topic, finish reading this, then drop everything and pick it up. It's paradigm-altering. she gives one example about historical threads leading to black women deflecting a compliment about their child with "Oh, he's a handful," or "I'm up to here with her." How many times did I see that growing up? DeGruy connects that to historical survival strategies that were passed down generation to generation. To diminish a child's accomplishments back then was to save them from being sold or taken from  you. I included a short video below if you're interested.

It was a blast to join Andrea of Shelf Love to record this podcast. 

​This weekend, I finished writing acknowledgements which, I have to tell you, feels a lot like giving an Oscar acceptance speech, except that I was wearing sweatpants and Chris Evans was nowhere to be found when I tripped walking up my own stairs.

Still, it’s humbling to thank everyone who supported you during the conception, gestation, and birth of your book baby. Too graphic? Are you trying to decide what the placenta is in this metaphor? Let it go, it’s not that serious (but the life-sustaining placenta for this book would be Diet Coke and Baked Cheetos). There’s a challenge to make the acknowledgements fit the tone of the book—for me, that meant a little touching, a little funny, and a little bit deeper than you thought it would go.

There are a few people I didn’t get to thank, so if you’ll indulge me…

• Thank you to the guy who hit on my friends and I at a bar while we were on vacation. I don’t know your name, but you inspired the hero in How to Fail at Flirting.
• Thank you to the first beta reader who told me no one would read a book about a woman of color professor. Without your jackassery, I wouldn’t have rewritten what is now chapter 1 in a flurry of rage.
• Thank you to our postal carrier who delivered Amazon box after Amazon box of things I could have easily gone to the store to buy. Momming + a demanding full-time job + writing is made just a little easier by having toilet paper and dog food delivered.
• A big shout-out out to teachers at my son’s daycare. They deserve kudos for many, many reasons, but here I thank them for loving my child when I dropped him off, even when I was off work for the day so that I could write.
• Thank you to the Twitterverse. I came to the party late, but Romancelandia on Twitter is a delightful, supportive, funny, and welcoming place to be.
• Finally, thank you to caffeine. Without you I would sleep more and do less. This book came to be because of your constant presence in my life.

​That was a preview, so I hope you’ll make it to the end of HOW TO FAIL AT FLIRTING to read the final cut of the speech. It's not out yet, so I’ll just be here, waiting for Chris Evans to show up.