So, Paprika and I are both poor, like many of our fellow Americans blahdi blahdi blahity blah recession blah yadda underemployed-di-blah. Being the kind of hard working entrepreneur’s that we are, our first thought was “what totally unnecessary product could we hawk to the unsuspecting public?” This is what came of that particular brainstorming session.
Then we realized that turn of the last century snake oil potions probably weren’t selling the way they used to before the stock market fell– so we’ve decided to try and get a cut of that sweet sweet paranormal romance novel money that you hear so much about on the intertubes these days. Now, Paprika and I don’t read those things, baby cheese-hawse knows, but that shouldn’t be an obstacle when you have the writing skills like us!
We’ve decided to launch our careers based on charming paranormal coastal town family trilogies. Mine will be based in the small aptly-named Oregon town of Filbert Cove (Because it’s a cove. Where they grow Hazelnuts. Magic Hazelnuts. Stop.Looking.At.Me.Like.That!) Whereas Paprika tells me that her flavorful and moist locale will be the small, aptly-named Maine town of Apple Bay (Because it’s a bay. Where they grow Apples…oh nevermind. NEVERMIND! I’ll let her go into that.)
But we run into the troubles! Being feminist, we feel that Romance novels are packed full of both delightfully piquant purple prose and shitty stereotypes. Funny stereotypes. So how do we subvert the Patriarchy (yo!) and also rake in enough of that sweet sweet romance novel cash that we may stuff it down our respective knickers and scamper around laughing gleefully?
Well. I dunno about Paprika, but I fully intend to write the standard romancelandia tropes (no rape though, because thats not how we roll, unless it’s labeled as rape and prosecuted etc.) and then supply a zany cast of supporting secondary characters to ruin the moments with their god damned skepticism and witty feminist bon mots.
In the spirit of my original idea, I will name my first trilogy “Angel Be Gone” “Angel Beware” and finally “Angel Be Mine.” This trilogy will be about a series of plucky heroines and their love affairs with three quasi-angel brothers who are a. Desmond, the sensitive, wounded lighthouse keeper eldest brother who can secretly heal wounded whales, makes crazy awesome herbal tinctures and teasans and also believes the heroine (Liza? No. Dawn? Nah, Sandra! Sandra Jejeune! Art-therapist, woman who discovers the naughty naughty angel-sexxoring family secret) is a Slutty!McSlutpants! He lives in the ancestral manse with their depressed, withdrawn, one-time angel fucking mother, Melisande. b. Quincey the middle brother, who is a surly genius photographer-cum (heh heh) mixologist with the amazing angelic gift of foresight, that he selfishly uses only to predict when people need refills and when to photograph lightning. He lives above the bar, and is broodingly handsome and a well known beach blanket vagina-hound. The heroine (Layla? hmmm. Penelope? Ah, yes, Ysobel Greene, traumatized accountant who needs to learn to love the sex) thinks he is an asshole, wears white blouses buttoned to the neck, dumpy skirts and sensible Oxfords. Finally, last but not least c. Chester, the rebel rebel younger brother who returns to Filbert Cove after serving as a medic in Kyrgyzstan, having used his super magic useless ability to sprout wings to do…well, a whole lot of not much for the U.N., frankly. But! He is tormented/hawt god damnit! He has sandy hair! He has a dusting of freckles and the first flush of young manhood gracing his classically gorgeous features! He rekindles the old (in this case middle school? Elementary school? I don’t know. Details!) flame with the sexxay slightly older lady who broke-his-heart from afar and caused him to leave town for a couple years (plus he totes has jealousy issues with his brothers, you know there’s gonna be angel fighting in this sonovabitch) Robyn Smithwycke! Robyn now owns and operates the Filbert Daily Annunciator, and is a tough sassy editrix with a penchant for coffee and the need for lurve, twue lurve.
Magic and mayhem and small town intrigue! Our heroines will find that they have powers they never dreamt of (maybe), our heroes will…well, they’ll bone. Alot.
Our delightful townspeople will scoff and question and pop in to remind them to “wrap it up and use a dental dam, you hyenas!” Secrets will be revealed! Sexxoring with it’s attend TERRIBLE metaphors and euphemisms will be had! Feminism will slyly laugh at the whole thing! And most importantly, Cash Will be Made! Watch for excerpts, coming soon from my clever, bitchtastic little brain.