Fifty Writers on Fifty Shades of Grey (4 page)

LOUISE FURY

I
STARTED WORKING as a literary agent two years ago, and one of the first books I signed was a self-published erotic steampunk novel. I discovered it on Twitter, seduced by its gorgeous cover. I emailed the author and read the book in a single sitting. The writing drew me in with seductive phrases and beautiful storytelling. I was hooked. Addicted. I took it into our office and everyone read it. Everyone loved it.

“This is a six-figure book,” said one agent.

“This will go to auction,” said another.

Both agents had been in the industry for many years. One of them didn’t even read erotica, but like me, in reading this book, had been drawn into a world she couldn’t forget.

Determined to break the stereotype of self-published books, I sent it out on submission. A good book is a good book, I figured. This one just happened to be erotic. The editors offered praise. One at a Big Six house emailed me halfway through and said she loved it. Some editors took it to their boards. But in the end the content was too scandalous, too controversial for their
publishers. The main character was a man who liked to have sex—lots of sex—and the story was told in first-person from the male point of view. Because of that, we knew exactly how much he liked sex. A little rough sex even appeared. It was delicious. One editor emailed me several times to let me know it was fantastic and that she thought it would be perfect for her list.

Then her publisher canceled her erotic line, killing the potential deal.

For two years I shopped this amazing book, determined to find it a home. I felt frustrated by the market’s limitations. Was the book too erotic? Was self-publishing its downfall? Those issues played a role. But an even bigger factor? The book was simply too kinky. Most publishers believed readers weren’t ready for that.

But readers were ready for some kink, and they didn’t care if the book was traditionally published. They just needed to be able to find it. They just needed to be able to buy it. And then they just wanted to read it and enjoy it—in the car, on the train, on the couch, or in the bedroom.

My struggle to find a publisher for that self-published book—which, months after
Fifty Shades of Grey
burst onto the scene, started receiving offers, both foreign and domestic—wasn’t the last time our agency battled to break through the prejudices about erotica and BDSM writing. At the 2011 Romance Writers of America Conference, I sat down with a traditional, female-owned publisher and pitched them an exclusive erotica line. They said they didn’t do erotica. However, after we revealed book sales and royalty statements for writers who were publishing in the digital marketplace they got excited. They thought it could work, especially because at that time a large book retailer was looking to fill a void left after the closing of an erotic publishing imprint.

Then they wanted the dirty details.

Exactly what kind of books were these, they wondered. Well, BDSM, male-male, and ménage. For starters. Those are
the digital bestsellers, the genres readers crave. But when we sent one of their romance editors some erotic manuscripts, she passed on the entire line and said it didn’t fit into their list. We knew it didn’t fit into their list; that’s why we approached them. It was something new and different. In the end, it was simply
too
different—too erotic.

Now? Just one year later, it’s all changed, and it’s all because of one English author, E. L. James, and her three naughty books. Foreign agents call wanting more erotica. Scouts approach us wanting to talk about erotic publishing. I have an exclusive erotic imprint now at Coliloquy, a digital publisher that delivers customized erotic adventures to their readers, and created an erotic audio imprint with Audio Realms just for my clients at royalty rates that beat all competitors. (Customers don’t just want to read about spankings and bondage and dominance and submission—they want to listen to it, the better, I think, to free their hands.) A famous book packager approached me, searching for erotic authors.

The changes are obvious throughout the industry, marked by headline-grabbing sales. Berkley snapped up veteran romance writer Sylvia Day’s self-published erotic romance in a major deal and later bought author Sylvain Renard’s
Gabriel’s Inferno
and
Gabriel’s Rapture
from a small digital publisher for seven figures.

E. L. James helped BDSM and erotica burst onto the scene, but for a decade, a select few people—almost all of them women—have been working outside of traditional publishing, using their knowledge that women love to read sexy, scandalous books to create erotic digital publishing houses. This is not self-publishing; they support their authors in all the ways that count. These women built websites and published erotic writers, then provided gorgeous covers, amazing online and in-store distribution, wonderful editing, promotion, and high royalties. Today some of these companies are multimillion-dollar businesses. They were ahead of the trend, and now that the rest of the publishing world has caught on, they are leading the way.
Older publishing houses are trying to catch up, and one of the ways they are doing that is by buying out books from the digital-first publishers who have already figured out this new market.

Fifty Shades of Grey
forced the world to accept that women have always enjoyed erotic romance. The reading public has spoken, even as the media, bloggers, and book world attempt to figure out what it all means. The traditional publishing industry has had to acknowledge that there is a strong market for erotic fiction written, edited, and purchased by women. These aren’t the bodice rippers of old. These aren’t the books you hide in your bedside table or inside a copy of
Ulysses
. Romance is a multibillion-dollar business and erotic content is a huge part of that market.

My colleague Lori Perkins likes to consider herself (as she mentions in the introduction to this book) a “feminist pornographer,” a phrase that offends some people. Honestly? It makes me cringe, too, but I cringe not because I think the term degrades women, the romance genre, or the industry, but because I actually like the way it sounds and I know that as a publishing professional I’m not supposed to use words like “pornography,” “smut,” “bodice ripper,” or “mommy porn.” I cringe the same way when I add an extra scoop of ice cream to my sundae or sneak chocolate while on a diet—because what I’m doing feels so good, it must mean trouble. Secretly, I want to embrace those terms, wear them on a T-shirt, tattoo them to my body, and whisper them to those who take offense. What
The Vagina Monologues
did for women and their vaginas,
Fifty Shades
has done for women and smut. No matter what anyone says or thinks, no matter how they feel about the book or the author, E. L. James has revolutionized publishing. For fans of romance books, and especially for fans who enjoy erotica and a bit—or a lot—of BDSM in their stories, this is the best time ever to be a reader.

It’s an even better time to be an author of erotic romance. E. L. James helped pave the way for these writers, but I can’t wait
for new voices to emerge and follow in her formidable, trailblazing footsteps. They might be longtime erotica writers finally being discovered by the public. Or maybe they’ll be writers who have written traditional romances but have always cultivated naughtier ideas in their heart and can now sell those stories to mainstream readers. Maybe they’ll be conservative writers who simply realize this is a viable market for their careers. Perhaps the new face of erotica will be an author who has only written thrillers or horror or nonfiction and was too embarrassed to write the story she’s thought about for years, or a writer who had fantasies of telling the tale about that night her husband put her over his knee for a sexy spanking followed by a night of passionate lovemaking. Inspired by E. L. James’ success—and by the response of readers—she’ll finally be ready to write that book
…
but only after she makes her husband give her some more firsthand experience. These books sell. Not only can authors make money, they can make a living off books like these. Readers want them.

I want them, too. I want writers to send me their erotica. To paraphrase the poem associated with Lady Liberty—who may have been reading something a tad naughtier than the Declaration of Independence on that tablet of hers all along—give me your spanking tales, your bondage love stories, your fetish fanfiction, your sexy, forbidden fantasies yearning to breathe free.

Fifty Shades of Grey
isn’t the first popular BDSM romance, but it’s certainly been the most successful at bringing erotic literature into the mainstream. I can’t wait to sell similar books. And I can’t wait to read what authors in this genre will produce next.

SYLVIA DAY

I
’VE BEEN TOLD I write “those” books.

The first time someone said that to me I was startled, then slightly offended as I realized she was referencing the erotic content in my stories.
Hell
, I thought,
didn’t anyone tell you the days of brown paper bagging your naughty books are over?

In a way I was right, but I was wrong, too.

I was a new author and an arguably lucky one. I sold my first story to Kensington’s erotic Brava imprint less than a year after I began writing. A few weeks after that sale, the submissions I had out with Black Lace and Ellora’s Cave—both erotic imprints/publishers—were acquired. Writing erotic romance is what I do, and I was very happy to be placing my stories with publishers who knew how to publish it well.

Within the next year, other publishers created erotic imprints, spurred by the stunning success of Ellora’s Cave. Berkley and New American Library had Heat, Harlequin had Spice, HarperCollins had Avon Red, and Kensington added Aphrodisia, which was marketed as leaning more toward erotica than its
sensual sister imprint Brava. By 2005, so many members of Romance Writers of America were writing erotic fiction, or wanted to learn how to write it, that I cofounded the Passionate Ink chapter with friend and fellow author Shayla Black. When we applied for affiliation, over four hundred writers’ names were on the application paperwork.

But there was controversy surrounding the subgenre. It was said that erotic romance wasn’t actually romance. Many disdained it. Others swore there was no market for it, despite the proliferation of new erotic writers and imprints. They were certain erotic romance would never sell in large enough quantities to hit national bestseller lists. And still others didn’t believe that writers of erotic stories were “real” authors. After all, we didn’t write “real” books; we wrote “those” books.

In the meantime, many of us writing erotic romance were making very good money. We had avid and dedicated readers. Some of us were selling an impressive quantity of digital copies before the invention of the Kindle or Nook.

But the writing community wasn’t the only place that didn’t embrace erotic romance in the mainstream. Some of the retail outlets that carry books didn’t welcome them either.

Being a published author of erotic romance meant that your books were published as trade paperbacks at a higher price point. The titles were often suggestive (such as
Sex Drive
and
Pure Sex
) and the cover art left little to the imagination. As a result, distribution was limited and writers often heard from readers who had difficulty finding the books.

Some publishers, however, chose to publish erotic romance in mass-market paperback format with traditional romance titles and cover art—the new brown paper bag. Long before
Fifty Shades
disguised the sexual nature of the story through packaging, authors such as Lora Leigh and Cheyenne McCray were being published incognito. And with the expanded distribution the format and packaging enabled, the books were easier to find and therefore easier to buy, and they hit the national bestseller
lists—the very ones the naysayers had insisted were beyond reach. Lora Leigh swiftly hit the number-one spot on the
New York Times
bestseller list.

Is that the happily-ever-after to this tale? Not quite
…

Distribution was still problematic if the erotic content wasn’t subtly conveyed. The mass-market format remained key, but it was a format in decline in the industry as a whole. Trade paperbacks still held a steady market share, but it was rare to find a trade paperback romance outside of traditional bookstores. It’s very difficult, if not impossible, to reach a large audience if your books aren’t conveniently available. Many books are acquired at grocery stores, membership warehouses such as Costco and Sam’s Club, and at general stores such as WalMart and Target. Readers want to one-stop shop, not make an extra trip to a specialized store, where most romance trades are sold at full cover price sans the hefty discounts general retailers and e-tailers often apply.

The media spotlight on
Fifty Shades of Grey
changed that. In a tragic economy, retailers couldn’t afford not to stock an in-demand item. They made room on their shelves, and once that room was made and the demand remained, they continued to fill it. My novel
Bared to You
, which was a
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestseller as an e-book but had nonexistent print distribution, was suddenly eagerly welcomed in brick-and-mortar venues where erotic trades had previously never been stocked.

Yes, the covers being used on erotic trades are now uniformly subtle, with flowers, scarves, feathers, pearls, belts, and stilettos, but the latest brown paper bag is an immediately recognizable one, which means it’s not really there at all. We know something sexy is going to be found between those innocent-looking covers and we don’t care who sees us with them. Better yet, we can buy them pretty much everywhere.

Erotic fiction is finally out, proud, and widely available.