Ms. Jamie, If You're Nasty
I got my Rita scores back yesterday and was only mildly surprised to see that one judge deemed my Jan 2005 book, As Hot As It Gets, a story with "no strong romantic elements," AKA not a romance novel. (Please, nobody tell my editor I'm not actually writing romances!)
My books scored firmly in the lower half of all books entered. This is somehow a badge of honor. I'd rather have downright badness than ho-hum mediocrity. Right? Well, okay, I'd rather be a finalist than either of those, but it's interesting what it takes to be a finalist. You have to not offend enough judges to make them keep reading, and there aren't many people I don't offend.
Until RWA comes up with a Rita for Smut Books, I'm screwed. I have accepted that. And I should probably stop entering. Or else continue to console myself with the thought that most of my judges are people who think sex is ICKY.
In other news, I am horribly behind in finishing up a proposal I promised my editor, oh, like...last October, and also promised her at various other times including two weeks ago, so that is my excuse for not hanging around on my blog as much as I should. I will be better. I will finish my proposal today. I will blog again. Watch me!
(I'm not sure how the title of this entry relates to anything, by the way. I'm just having a Janet Jackson moment, without the nipple exposure.)